The Heroines Who Framed Me Are Clinging to Me

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]

Chapter 57 - Magic

Heresy Inquisitor Asmael.

His youthful appearance is like the sand of an antlion's pit. Drawn in by his endlessly soft, radiant smile, one would unknowingly be swallowed whole in an instant.

Despite still looking like a mere boy, Asmael is undeniably strong. In the middle of a war with heretics, he could carve a path of blood through his enemies, even all on his own. That’s the kind of power required to hold the title of Heresy Inquisitor within the Holy Office.

A boy overwhelmingly strong for his age. Asmael is one of only two Heresy Inquisitors within the Holy Office.

But of course, such strength comes at a price. Although Asmael is undoubtedly a genius with extraordinary talent, that alone isn’t enough to explain his power. Asmael offered himself as a sacrifice to God.

The reason? It was nothing special.

Death is a common occurrence on this continent, and often enough, the cause of that death is the Blood Cult. In Asmael’s case, it was no different. His parents and family were massacred.

The village was razed to the ground.

It was a one-sided slaughter carried out by the Blood Cult, offering up sacrifices. They killed people like they were mere objects.

'Don’t breathe, stay still. Wait until everyone leaves.'

He waited in silence, hidden beneath his dying mother. As his mother’s lifeless eyes finally closed, Asmael ran out, making a vow.

That he would kill every last member of the Blood Cult without exception.

- Offer up everything you have.

He heard God’s voice.

That was all.

That day, in a small village in the Holy Land of Constantine, all the residents died except for one boy.

Not only the villagers who were slaughtered by the Blood Cult but also the Blood Cultists who had massacred them.

This marked the birth of the second Heresy Inquisitor of the Holy Constantine.

Of course, Asmael didn’t feel any joy in this.

His parents were already dead. He was merely able to protect their bodies long enough to give them a proper burial.

That was it.

That’s the reason Asmael gained his power and the reason he works as a Heresy Inquisitor.

◆

There’s a traitor within the Holy Office.

Asmael had started to realise this a little while ago.

It used to be that capturing members of the Blood Cult, though difficult, was at least possible after some effort. But recently, it had become nearly impossible.

The movements of a Heresy Inquisitor are reported to the higher-ups in cases of official missions.

From this, Asmael deduced that there must be a traitor within the Holy Office leaking information to the Blood Cult.

And there was someone he suspected.

High Priest Julius.

A man who always wears a mask of kindness with a benevolent smile but speaks colder and more calculated words than anyone. The kind of person who could be plotting something in the shadows. Given his position overseeing the Holy Office, his frequent external interactions only heightened suspicion.

But because Julius wielded considerable influence within the Holy Office, Asmael couldn’t investigate him carelessly.

Then, Julius issued a wanted order. A red notice to capture a man named Lloyd immediately upon discovery or confirmation of his location.

The red notice is the second highest grade of warrant that can be issued by the Holy Office. It was rare for someone of Julius' stature to issue such an order.

Thus, it wasn’t mere coincidence.

Asmael had just happened to intercept Lloyd while pretending to pass by the Inquisition chamber.

'There are two reasons why people worship someone.'

First, to capture and punish a heinous criminal.

Second, to hide their own vulnerabilities as though they were the criminal.

Considering Julius’ personality, it was likely the latter.

So, Asmael was resolute.

Even if he had to break this man into pieces, he would extract useful information about Julius. He would find the link between Julius and the Blood Cult.

For the day when not a single member of the Blood Cult remained on the continent.

Lloyd, who was watching him with tension in his eyes, trembled slightly. Asmael wielded his blade with certainty.

“You are without a doubt a member of the Blood Cult.”

There’s no mistake. More precisely, there couldn’t be.

This was the first stepping stone in tracking down Julius.

- Riiip.

Asmael’s blade sliced through Lloyd’s sleeve.

From the elbow to the shoulder.

The flesh gradually became exposed.

Asmael felt a strange excitement rise within him as he thought of the Blood Cult’s symbol that must surely be etched into Lloyd’s left arm.

And finally, as the last scrap of fabric fell away from Lloyd’s arm...

"...What?"

Asmael unconsciously muttered.

Lloyd’s left forearm was clean.

There was nothing there at all.

“This can’t be right.”

A clear sign of bewilderment. He grabbed Lloyd’s arm, forgetting to even smile.

“I’m not into physical contact with men, you know.”

Ignoring Lloyd’s annoying comment, Asmael inspected his arm thoroughly.

But no matter how much he checked, there was no sign of the Blood Cult’s mark.

“This makes no sense.”

Asmael let go of Lloyd’s arm in disbelief. This was impossible. The symbol should have been there. It was simple and obvious. Asmael had sensed a faint trace of the Blood Cult’s aura from Lloyd.

‘I definitely saw it.’

The moment he first laid eyes on Lloyd.

He had glimpsed the edge of the mark peeking out from Lloyd’s sleeve.

That mark had been the symbol of the Blood Cult.

So Asmael had assumed he knew everything from the start and began interrogating Lloyd, planning to break him down psychologically and get him to confess even deeper secrets. Secrets like his connection to High Priest Julius.

But now...

"...This makes no sense."

Far from breaking Lloyd’s mental state, Asmael found himself the one thrown into confusion. He had misread the situation. His normally flawless ‘Blood Cult radar’ had malfunctioned. And the mark he thought he had glimpsed was nowhere to be found. It had been a long time since he felt so disoriented.

“Show me your right arm.”

“Just don’t cut it off.”

Ignoring Lloyd’s sarcastic remarks again, Asmael grabbed his right arm. The arm wasn’t overly muscular but had a solid build. For a magician, there was a bit too much muscle.

Even that strange balance was now adding to Asmael’s confusion.

- Riiip!

That’s why Asmael roughly tore off the right sleeve as well.

“That was one of my favourite shirts, you know.”

Lloyd’s nonchalant tone implied that once again, there was nothing there.

“Hah.”

A clearly frustrated sigh escaped from Asmael’s lips. He couldn’t believe it. He had never misjudged the presence of the Blood Cult before.

“Magic. You’re hiding it with magic, aren’t you?”

Asmael demanded, his voice accusatory. Lloyd chuckled lightly as if the notion was absurd.

“You’re a Heresy Inquisitor, aren’t you? You should be able to sense mana flows. Did I seem like I was casting magic?”

“Damn it.”@@novelbin@@

“Judging by your foul language, I guess you didn’t sense anything. So I wasn’t casting magic. Unless you think I’m some magician way beyond your level as a Heresy Inquisitor.”

“Shut up.”

“Why? Does it sting? You were so smug earlier, but now it’s not working out the way you planned, huh? You just made a mistake.”

“You damn…”

Asmael cut himself off mid-curse.

Lloyd was right.

He was behaving disgracefully.

He had been so confident in identifying Lloyd as a member of the Blood Cult, but now he was being bested by his own overconfidence.

It was a complete defeat.

He had misread the situation entirely. The aura of the Blood Cult that he thought he had sensed was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he really had been wrong.

“Does the Holy Office not issue apologies when they falsely arrest someone?”

“I may have been mistaken. I apologise.”

“I’m not sure that counts as an apology, but I’ll accept it.”

“.......”

It didn’t matter.

He had come up empty-handed.

He hadn’t uncovered any evidence that could lead him to High Priest Julius.

Soon enough, someone from Julius’ side would come for Lloyd. After all, Asmael had merely intercepted him midway.

It would be best to just tidy things up and leave.

As he bent down to pick up the scraps of fabric...

“Hey.”

Lloyd’s irritating voice called out.

Asmael realised something. Every time he heard that voice, it disturbed his peace of mind.

There was something strange about this man.

It was like he had a way of manipulating the atmosphere in this room in various ways. That’s why Asmael answered even though there was no need.

“What is it?”

“You know, after accusing an innocent person like that, you shouldn’t act so nonchalant. If you don’t apologise properly, people will think you’re abusing your power.”

“Abusing power... I don’t know what that means, but I’ve already apologised, haven’t I?”

“What?”

“I didn’t kill you, did I? For me, that’s showing restraint.”

Asmael, expressionless, began placing his tools back on the wall.

He no longer wanted to engage with Lloyd. Just as he was about to leave...

“Asmael, huh? You serve the Saintess, not the Holy Emperor, don’t you?”

That was something he couldn’t let pass.

- Swish.

There was the sound of wind.

Before he knew it, Asmael was standing next to Lloyd, glaring down at him menacingly.

Was he going to die?

Lloyd felt a sharp fear course through him, causing his body to tremble briefly. But that was all. He soon regained his composure and began speaking again, word by word.

“It makes sense. After all, the Saintess stands in complete opposition to the Blood Cult.”

“Watch your mouth. Unless you want to lose your head.”

“If you're going to cut it off, go ahead. But if rumours start spreading that a Heresy Inquisitor serves someone other than the Holy Emperor, it could cause you real trouble.”

“What is it that you want? Why are you talking to me like this, risking your life? If you had just stayed quiet, I would’ve walked out of here. Why are you making me consider taking your head now?”

Lloyd.

There was no doubt—he was a strange man.

People like him usually want something.

Something big, something so full of ambition that it requires sacrifices from others.

And at the same time, people like him have a certain power.

A strange kind of magic that compels others to listen to their outrageous demands, whether they like it or not.

Lloyd spoke up, a smile spreading across his face.

"My plan got a bit messed up, but honestly, it might have worked out even better this way."

“A plan?”

“Yeah. Why don’t you join me in a little scheme? Let’s take down someone high up in the Holy Office.”

Lloyd made this absurd proposition with a bright, carefree smile on his face.

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]