Mrs. Hughes was dead. No, she was gone.
But despite having escaped a dangerous situation, Orpheus didn't feel the slightest sense of relief.
Before him knelt a man and a woman—well, if she could even be called a woman.
Together, these two exerted immense pressure on Orpheus.
He knew there must be some misunderstanding.
But he also knew better than to try to explain it.
After witnessing how effortlessly they had dealt with Mrs. Hughes, Orpheus had no doubt that getting rid of him would be even easier.
At that moment, he had to thank his previous life's profession and the strange events he'd encountered since waking up in this one. His mental fortitude, as long as it didn't involve an immediate life-or-death moment, was relatively stable.
What did he mean by life-or-death? Like when Mrs. Hughes had actually raised her knife earlier—then, he'd been truly terrified, beyond words. But here, though the coffin's lid wasn't nailed shut yet, he could at least still force a smile.
However...
It was awkward.
These two just knelt there without saying a word, and Orpheus didn't know what to say either.
His window of opportunity for speaking was slim, and saying the wrong thing could mean he'd never speak again.
*Follow your will, O Great One,* Orpheus recalled the words the man in the red suit had spoken to him earlier.
Had they mistaken him for someone else?
No, that couldn't be right.
Neither the old Orpheus nor his current self deserved such reverence from these two.
They hadn't mistaken his identity.
They'd misjudged his power.
Complex problems should be simplified.
They saw him as some great being, and though he had no idea why, the only option left for him now was to continue pretending to be "great."
But how exactly should he do that?
Right now, Orpheus really wanted to go home. He missed Dies's study.
Oh, damn it, Dies wasn't home tonight!
Alfred and Mrs. Molly remained kneeling in silence.
After a long while, they finally heard a sound from the Great One before them:
"I'm tired…"
Alfred bowed his head even lower, and Mrs. Molly followed suit.
Orpheus slowly got out of bed, his movements sluggish due to the weakness in his body.
Alfred shuffled to the side on his knees, clearing a path for the Great One to pass.
Orpheus took slow, deliberate steps forward. In truth, he had the urge to bolt out of the room, down the stairs, through the front door, and into that red Porsche outside, flooring the gas to escape.
But…
Looking at the perfectly shattered glass beneath the window and remembering how the man in the red suit had entered earlier, Orpheus knew even if he sprouted two more legs, he wouldn't outrun them.
Still, since he was already up, he couldn't just turn around and sit back down on the bed, could he?
Eventually, Orpheus reached the pile of clothes that had once belonged to Mrs. Hughes.
He bent down and picked up the garments, now more like relics of the past.
Orpheus had no particular ill feelings toward Mrs. Hughes. He believed that for the most part, she had been herself, except when she got the urge to create art.
But he didn't dwell on any sorrow. Holding the clothes in his hands, he glanced out the window at the moon.
"The moon looks nice tonight," he said.
Alfred and Mrs. Molly remained in their kneeling positions, rigid and silent.
Orpheus steadied his breath and walked slowly to the window, the soles of his shoes scraping against the shattered glass, producing a slight grating sound. He lifted his head, pretending to be lost in the beauty of the moonlight.
Behind him, there was some movement. Alfred and Mrs. Molly had shifted their positions, now kneeling toward the window instead of the bed.
No, seriously, say something.
What are you expecting me to do here if you won't talk?
As he held Mrs. Hughes's clothes, his fingers brushed against a small box—a cigarette case.
At this moment, an idea popped into Orpheus's head, one that made him want to laugh at himself, one so absurd that he felt like slapping his own face.
*If I'm about to get exposed and devoured anyway, why not have one last smoke before that happens?*
No, seriously, what am I even thinking?!
Even as he scolded himself internally, muscle memory took over, and Orpheus found himself opening the cigarette case. It was a box of "Honey" cigarettes, slim and meant for women.
The cigarette case flipped open, resting in his palm.
He tapped it once.
Then again.
A single cigarette poked out halfway.
Orpheus took it out, held the filter between his lips, and tapped it lightly against the back of his hand before picking up the lighter with a purple rose design.
He tilted his head down at a forty-five-degree angle.
*Click.*
The flame sparked.
With a flick of his wrist, he snapped the lighter closed and took a drag, blowing out a lazy smoke ring.
This was a ritualistic action performed by seasoned smokers. Every long-time smoker had their own set of habits, slight differences in technique but the same essence.
As he completed the motions, it was as though a soundtrack started playing in the background. No matter who you were or where you were—whether on a construction site, at a train station's smoking area, or like now, under the watchful eyes of two literal demons—performing these steps made you feel transcendent, detached from the world, gazing at it with profound indifference.
The light scent of honeyed smoke filled the air.
Alfred remained kneeling, as did Mrs. Molly.
"…Hah…"
Alfred's body trembled slightly, instinctively wanting to raise his head but suppressing the impulse.
Orpheus licked his lips, now bitter with the taste of smoke.
Then, fighting the tremble in his hand, he pulled out another cigarette and offered it to Alfred.
"Want one?"
*Is he… talking to me?*
Alfred hesitated for a moment, then finally, with great courage, raised his head.
He saw the Great One standing by the window, holding a cigarette out toward him, bathed in moonlight as if outlined in a divine halo—holy and untouchable.
"Hm?"
"I…"
Alfred slowly rose to his feet and cautiously approached Orpheus, reaching out to take the offered cigarette and placing it between his lips.
In the next instant—
*Click!*
Orpheus lit it for him.
Alfred's body trembled. The Great One—this godly figure—was lighting his cigarette?
Smoking and drinking both carried cultural weight, particularly when it came to offering them as gestures of respect.
When someone in a position of power offered such things, it was often deeply moving for those beneath them.
Alfred leaned in, lighting the cigarette with a sense of awe and reverence. After taking a drag, he exhaled carefully, ensuring the smoke didn't drift toward the Great One.
*Good, he smoked it.*
Orpheus then pulled out another cigarette and looked toward Mrs. Molly, who was still kneeling.
"You want one too?"
*Damn it, what am I doing?!*
Mrs. Molly stood up, looking a bit dazed as she walked over, her red high heels tapping out a rhythm on the floor. She stopped in front of Orpheus.
She didn't have hands.
But fortunately, she had a face.
Orpheus brought the filter to her lips, and Mrs. Molly leaned forward slightly, taking it into her mouth.
He lit the cigarette for her as well.
Then, Mrs. Molly began to smoke.
*Can you imagine Mrs. Molly smoking?* It was a scene so absurd that no sane artist could ever illustrate it.
But Orpheus was seeing it right before his eyes.
Despite the creeping fear and horror inside him, the sheer absurdity of the scene hit Orpheus like a punchline, making him want to laugh out loud.
He held it in, stifling the laughter, holding back and holding back until he couldn't stand it anymore.
He turned away, facing the window.
At the same time, Alfred and Mrs. Molly also turned to face the window, following his lead.
The three of them stood there, staring at the moon, each with a cigarette dangling from their lips.
*Dear god, what kind of twisted scene is this?!*
Orpheus felt his cheeks begin to ache from holding in his laughter.
Instinctively, he tried to focus on smoking to distract himself.
He took a drag—and that was it. He couldn't hold it back any longer. The laughter broke through, like a dam bursting.
"Hahahahaha... *cough cough*... Hahahahaha..."
He choked on the smoke, coughing violently, but the laughter wouldn't stop.
Orpheus kept laughing, coughing, and laughing again, tears streaming down his face.
He laughed so hard, he thought he must've lost his mind.
He laughed so hard, he was sure he'd ruined everything.
It's over! It's all
over!
Orpheus, still laughing uncontrollably, slapped his hand against the windowsill, continuing to laugh and slap in a desperate attempt to regain control.
*I have to stop! I can't keep laughing!*
Alfred was shocked by the surreal scene unfolding before him. Mrs. Molly was equally bewildered.
The Great One before them was laughing madly—wildly, freely, purely.
And then—
Alfred started laughing too. It began quietly, then grew louder, trying to match the Great One's laughter.
Beside him, Mrs. Molly, seeing the Great One laugh and Alfred join in, also began to laugh.
Just when Orpheus thought he was finally getting his laughter under control, the sound of those two laughing behind him made him lose it again.
*Why are you laughing too?!*
"Hahahahaha!!!!"
"Hahahahaha!"
"Hahahahaha!"
*Stop it! Don't make me laugh anymore! Cut it out!*
"Hahahahaha!"
Orpheus turned around just in time to see Mrs. Molly's cigarette fall from her mouth because she had no hands to hold it.
*Dammit!*
"Hahahahahaha!!!"
Orpheus laughed so hard tears were streaming down his face.
"Hahahahaha!!" Alfred couldn't stop either.
Mrs. Molly, despite her awkwardness and the dropped cigarette, increased her laughter in volume.
*You two are insane!*
Laughter is contagious. Even without a reason, hearing others laugh can make you start laughing too. It didn't matter that the situation was ridiculous—Orpheus couldn't stop laughing.
He didn't know how long it went on, but eventually, he laughed until he was utterly exhausted, nearly gasping for air. Only then did the laughter start to subside.
"I haven't laughed like that in a long time. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to laugh," Mrs. Molly said softly, her voice finally breaking the silence.
*Finally, someone's talking.*
Orpheus quickly composed himself, relying on his experience from his previous life to deliver a universal line he used to calm patients:
"Sometimes, to move forward, you need to let go of your obsessions and pick up what you truly desire."
Mrs. Molly's legs trembled slightly.
She knelt once more.
"Thank you for your guidance. I will remember your words."
At that moment, Alfred suddenly spoke:
"The Inquisitor of the Church of Order is here."
*The Church of Order? An Inquisitor?*
Orpheus looked out the window, puzzled, and saw a familiar figure outside the front gate—Dies.
Beside him was a small figure, hard to make out in the darkness, but its eyes gleamed like amber. It was Puer.
Orpheus instinctively wanted to shout, *Grandpa, save me!*
But after weighing the distance between himself, the two demons beside him, and his grandfather outside, he decided against it.
Still, the sight of his grandfather gave Orpheus a tremendous sense of relief.
He stood by the window, looking down at Dies, and said in a calm voice:
"I live in his house."
Alfred's eyes lit up.
"Is this Inquisitor of the Church of Order your retainer?"
Of course! Every great being, before their rise, has companions born to serve them, helping them through their early trials. Isn't that how all religious stories go?
Retainers can be powerful demons or… powerful humans.
No wonder this man, who was so clearly strong, stayed in Roja City as an Inquisitor—he must have a greater purpose!
Orpheus replied, "He is my body's blood-related… grandfather."
He swore this was the absolute truth, without a single lie.
In fact, standing before this red-eyed man, Orpheus didn't dare lie. He had a strong feeling that this man was incredibly perceptive, capable of detecting any falsehood.
*Blood-related… grandfather.*
So, this is a god incarnate. A deity borrowing a human body, born into this world, growing up, and fulfilling his divine mission!
It all made sense now.
He's a god, descended to the mortal realm! He is a true god!
That's why he has his own language—his existence spans beyond the comprehension of any single civilization!
That's why he has his own hymn—because he is a god, and his song is divine. He doesn't need to start from scratch; he *is* the beginning!
The god has descended, and he is ready!
Alfred knelt once more, trembling with awe.
"Please forgive me for my insolence in disturbing your path from greatness to the light."
"Your sins are forgiven."
"Thank you for your mercy."
But Alfred did not rise. Instead, he steeled himself and said:
"I wish to follow in your footsteps, to be your falcon, your steed, your most loyal and glorious servant!"
Beside him, Mrs. Molly echoed:
"I will be your legs, just to witness your great journey."
Orpheus blinked. This scene left him at a loss.
He could only look down at his grandfather standing below and offer a helpless smile.
...
Outside the gate of 128 Chiswick Street,
Dies and Puer both looked up at the second-floor window.
Puer spoke first:
"Dies, now do you regret it?
The forbidden ritual has summoned a truly terrifying demon.
Before, you were blinded by his appearance, and your heart was clouded by so-called familial bonds.
Look now—he's already subdued those two demons.
Look again—he's spreading his wings, and now, he's giving you a defiant smile."