Chapter 49: The Inquisition (Part II)

Leaning on Cass's arm, I walked slowly. The path ahead was clear and unobstructed; I knew Cass would guide me away from any unforeseen collisions.

The scent of sunlight washed over me. I never knew that sunlight had a fragrance, but it did—a sweet scent, as sweet as candy.

The surroundings were very quiet; I could even hear the sound of the wind brushing through the flowers and grass.

"Where is this?" Though I couldn't see, I still instinctively turned my head, tilting it slightly to "look" in Cass's direction.

He didn't answer, so I gave up asking and followed him quietly.

"Sit." He pressed lightly on my shoulder, helping me down. I felt the chair; it was a rattan chair, identical to the one that used to sit in our backyard. Even the small hole on the left armrest was exactly the same—a burn scar, a souvenir from the time I tried to have a "barbecue" in the backyard and nearly started a fire.

Recalling that time, and how the usually gentle Cass was driven to such frustration that he was hopping mad, I couldn't help but laugh. That was the only time—the very last time—he ever raised his voice at me. After that, he suddenly disappeared...

During the five years he was gone, I had no idea what he encountered or what had happened to him.

The faint aroma of tea drifted through the air, the specific kind of tea Cass liked. I remembered that scent. I, however, never liked tea; I preferred cola, back when I was still human...

So every time Cass brewed tea, I would sit cross-legged on the rattan chair and quite unceremoniously pop open a can of cola with a loud crack, then hold the can and drink while watching him brew the tea.

It truly was watching; Cass's tea-brewing posture was very easy on the eyes, so elegant and refined. I didn't like drinking tea, but I loved watching him make it—a way of pretending to be sophisticated, I suppose.

A crack sound interrupted my memories. A pair of warm, large hands gently took mine and pressed a canned drink into my palm.

I took a dazed sip, and sweet bubbles danced on the tip of my tongue.

It was the taste of cola.

Drinking the cola and sniffing the fragrance of the tea in the air, I squinted my eyes slightly and smiled like a fool.

The warm sunlight made me drowsy. A large hand stroked my hair, so I tilted my head, obediently following his hand to rest my head on his knee, as docile as a kitten.

And so, I fell into a dream amidst that warm sunlight.

When I woke up, I was already lying in bed. Cass wasn't by my side. In the darkness, I couldn't distinguish between day and night, so I fumbled my way out of bed.

Walking barefoot on the floor, I felt a fuzzy carpet—thick, soft, and substantial.

Carefully leaning against the edge of the bed, I reached out to explore, but I couldn't reach anything. One step, two steps, three steps—still, I touched nothing. It wasn't until I had taken ten steps that I realized there wasn't a single obstacle.

So, I grew bold and began to run around playfully. The room was enormous and completely empty; aside from the bed, I couldn't find a thing.

Tired of running, I threw myself heavily onto the carpet; the soft rug was actually more comfortable than the bed.

I started to feel gloomy. What kind of place was this? Why did it seem to have no end, no matter how much I ran?

I felt my stomach; I was so hungry.

"Why are you sleeping on the floor?"

It was Cass's voice.

I quickly scrambled up, pretending to be well-behaved, but my stomach felt as if a cat were scratching inside. I was so hungry.

He chuckled softly and patted my head.

I didn't dare tell him I was hungry.

I couldn't hear anything he was saying clearly; my ears were filled with the sound of blood flowing through his veins. They were tempting me, enticing me to bite.

The fangs in my mouth were more honest than I was; I felt the sharp teeth slowly emerging. Gritting my teeth and retreating, I sat on the floor clutching my head, not daring to let Cass see how hideous I looked.

Would he... would he kill me?

He would kill me, wouldn't he?

On that morning when I woke up, he had said that Aurora was long dead, and that now she was just a pathetic wraith controlled by darkness, maintaining this sinful body with fresh blood. He said he wanted to save her from the mire of darkness.

So now, he would kill me, wouldn't he?

Kill this hideous version of me, this pathetic wraith controlled by darkness in his eyes, this sinful body maintained by blood...

A warm hand rested on the top of my head, and I slowly closed my eyes.

...Is it all over?

A fragrant scent lingered at the tip of my nose. In a daze, the rim of a cup touched my lips. I widened my eyes slightly and smelled the metallic, sweet scent of blood.

"Drink." He ruffled my hair and spoke.

Dazed, I followed his hand and drank the liquid in the cup until it was gone.

"Why?" I caught his hand and asked blankly.

He is an exorcist, he is the Grand Priest of the Inquisition, and now he is actually feeding a vampire with blood?

His hand stiffened slightly, and I felt the veins on his hand bulge slightly.

"Is this... really okay?"

"Won't the Inquisition... punish you?" I asked with a sense of trepidation.

Would my existence cause him harm? Hadn't the Inquisition always been the enemy of the Demon Realm? Yet Cass, as the Grand Priest, had shown me mercy time and again.

Was it really okay to do this?

He withdrew his hand from my palm, and I felt him use a handkerchief to gently wipe away the blood stained on my lips.

"Don't worry." He picked me up and placed me on the bed. "The injuries on your body have mostly recovered on their own, but why can't your eyes see?"

"It was Solano... he said he wanted to take me to the dark kingdom. I was injured by Solano when I escaped the Demon Realm." He rarely spoke, so since he had finally asked such a long question, I hurried to answer him very seriously and in detail, using a tone that was almost pleading.

His hand lingered on my eyes, stroking them gently. "It was Solano..."

"Yes." I kept my eyes closed, being very obedient.

"Being unable to see... you must be very unaccustomed to it."

"This is good, it's very good..." I pulled Cass's hand down and held it to my chest, murmuring.

He used his other hand to stroke my head and remained silent.

Since I couldn't see, I didn't know where I was or what was happening in the world outside. I lived peacefully in that room.

There was only a bed in the room, so no matter how I walked, I wouldn't be tripped. In fact, even if I did trip, it wouldn't matter because the floor was covered in a thick, soft carpet; it didn't matter how I fell. The room was huge—so huge that I still haven't measured how many steps it takes to reach the end. So, when Cass was away, measuring the room was my only recreational activity.

When I was hungry, Cass would give me sweet blood.

Occasionally, he would take my hand and lead me into the courtyard for a stroll, brew tea, and help me comb my hair.

I often thought it was very strange. When Cass led me out of the room, it was only a distance of a few dozen steps, yet when I walked by myself, I couldn't reach the door even in hundreds of steps.

Could my sense of direction be wrong?

However, I would quickly throw these questions to the back of my mind. What could be more important or more blissful than being with Cass?