Free Web NovelChapter 310: The Omniscient Weaver's Gospel Incarnation
Feeling the soft, springy pressure against the back of his head, Ashe sneered inwardly. Heh. What does she take me for? Sure, it's comfortable, but did she really think I'd fall for such a transparent trick?
With these rational thoughts spinning through his mind, Ashe felt his resolve hardening. But then, he noticed Sonya and Dia. They were watching him with flat, motionless gazes, the kind of look one might reserve for a corpse.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Sonya replied dryly, "Well, you've been in her arms for nearly thirty seconds, and you only just noticed us. What else are we supposed to do but stare?"
Ashe gasped. "What? Thirty seconds? Wasn't it just three? This must be a Miracle! Mistress, did you secretly cast a spell on me? I misjudged you!"
Watching the display, Denzel concluded that Ashe was a lost cause. The man was already firmly within her grasp. She turned her attention to Dia. "I've discovered something that might change your mind. In exchange, I want you to drop the matter of what I did earlier. When it's my turn to answer, I need your help, or at the very least, your silence."
Sonya snorted but remained quiet, deferring to Dia.
Dia blinked, then agreed. "Fine."
Denzel said bluntly, "After the lovers confirmed her first answer through eye contact, I began studying the eyes of the figures in the paintings, and I noticed something. The Witch's eyes... they are identical to the woman's in the portrait."
Her eyes?
Dia immediately looked at her phantom counterpart. Phantom Dia met her gaze openly, still wearing that ever-present smile. But now, that smile felt like finding a cockroach at the bottom of a bowl, making every hair on Dia's body stand on end.
She looked back down at the painting. The Princess in the portrait was not smiling. Her gold-white robes were flawless and did not have a single crease. Every strand of hair was perfectly in place, and even her eyelashes were aligned with mathematical precision. She appeared to be a perfect being that could only exist within the realm of art. She was the very image of nobility and stood as the complete polar opposite of the cheerful, messy Witch.
And yet, deep within her pupils, there was that same unmistakable arrogance. An arrogance that treated everything in the world like puppets on a string.
***
Perception rewove itself, and reason began to reconstruct.
When Dia finally came to her senses, she found herself in a strange place. Everyone else had vanished. She was in a room at the top of a tower, where the night sky outside the window seemed to lull the city into a deep slumber. Dia was lying on a bed in a silk nightgown, looking as though she were either on the verge of sleep or had only just woken up.
As she stepped barefoot onto the marble floor, the cool sensation felt so vivid that she began to wonder if the cabin had been nothing more than a dream.
Suddenly, the murmur of conversation and the rhythmic thrum of footsteps drifted from the corridor. Driven by an inexplicable urge, Dia crept toward the entrance. She pressed her ear against the chilling surface of the superalloy door and strained to listen.
A middle-aged woman said. "She goes to sleep at exactly twelve every night. Then, every hour, Ode to Joy plays for the Armor Ritual. There has not been a single mistake."
A pleasant yet icy female voice rang out. "Three."
The middle-aged woman's tone grew anxious. "Y-yes... during the ritual on the 16th, the Princess suddenly turned over in her sleep. That was the most significant incident this month."
"Two," the cold voice replied.
"On the 23rd, the Princess mentioned she wanted red velvet cake. I had the kitchen prepare one... I'm sorry, that was my fault."
"One."
After a brief, heavy silence, the middle-aged woman suddenly broke into sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just... I don't understand why the Princess must be confined like this. Why..."
She choked back a breath. "That's why I secretly asked the Book of Gospel what the Armor Ritual truly is. I'm sorry, Your Majesty! I thought you intended... that is to say, I only acted because of the rumors. They say the reason you stay young is to...
"Your Majesty, I truly care for the Princess. I didn't want... but now I understand your intentions. I really do. The Princess will surely be grateful for your guidance. At the Woven Festival, she will inherit Isa's glory and ascend once more—"
The sound cut off abruptly.
The world plunged into a vacuum of silence, leaving only the frantic thumping of a heartbeat in Dia's ears. She didn't know why, but her tension continued to spike until every hair on her body seemed to tremble.
Tap.
A single set of footsteps approached the door.
***
"Hey," Phantom Dia's voice yanked Dia out of the tower and back into the cabin. "What's your answer?"
The voices in her mind erupted all at once. Only then did Dia realize how unnaturally quiet they had been inside the tower. It wasn't that her "sisters" had behaved, but that some overwhelming force had suppressed them. Now, that pressure finally burst.
The intense emotional surge shattered Dia's rational defenses. She no longer had the strength to resist, let alone bite Ashe. Gathering the last of her energy, she forced out the words, "The third option..."
The moment she spoke, she collapsed into Sonya's arms and lost consciousness.
"Don't worry," Phantom Dia said, stopping Ashe and the others from trying to wake her. "For her, this is just a normal mental fluctuation. Let her rest, and she'll recover. If you're still concerned, you can always throw her out of the cabin. Once she regains her memories, she'll return to normal.
"As for the treasure tied to this question... well, you've already fainted."
Phantom Dia seemed almost bored. She flicked two streaks of light toward the unconscious Dia, then went to sit beside Phantom Sonya. Phantom Sonya looked displeased and tried to shift away, but Phantom Dia immediately crowded her again.
While the two phantoms bickered, Phantom Denzel picked up the picture book from the table. "Next is your second question... and his first."
At some point, Phantom Ashe had already dragged his favorite chair next to the dining table.
Phantom Denzel looked at him in surprise. "You want to set the question with me?"
Phantom Ashe asked, "Is there a problem? Your question happens to be the same as mine."
Impossible. Ashe and Denzel had never even met before entering the cabin. How could they possibly share the same question?
A thousand questions clogged Phantom Denzel's throat, but she could only nod with a blank expression. As a phantom, she was bound by the rules and forbidden from revealing anything about the answers.
"The question is simple."
Phantom Ashe opened the picture book. The image showed the Blindfolded Girl, the one Denzel had chosen for her "shared life and death" pact. "You just need to guess what kind of person this girl is."
"First, a Missionary Saint who redeems the world."
"Second, the Secret Strategist of the First Emperor."
"Third," Phantom Ashe's gaze swept across Ashe and Denzel, "the Gospel incarnation of the Omniscient Weaver."
