Fremd Torturchen - Volume 7.5 - Chapter 6

Elisabeth’s Daily Routine (Front Side)

“Mmm… Ahhh.”

Elisabeth let out an alluring sigh as she woke. Her consciousness burst up from the fire and curses that made up her nightmare, and her long lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes.

Then she gracefully rose.

Her blanket slid from her bare shoulders, and her smooth skin gleamed like a pearl in the morning light. Elisabeth preferred to sleep au naturel, and as a result, her silken black hair flowed down her shapely cleavage like water.

The whole scene had a taboo beauty to it, as well a peaceful sort of calm.

However, Elisabeth soon broke that tranquility with a small scoff.

“…Hmph.”

Her bedroom was modest, and in it, she was alone. The person who was normally by her side when she woke was nowhere to be seen.

There was only one other person who was allowed to enter her bedroom in the morning, and it was her automaton maid, Hina. Even since she was first activated, Hina had not only been serving as a valuable combat asset, but she had also been carrying out her maid duties to perfection.

Every morning without fail, Hina would bring her a greeting and a cup of tea with a smile on her face. “Good morning, my dearest Lady Elisabeth! The weather is lovely today, as well befits your beauty and my beloved Master Kaito’s handsomeness!” Kaito had turned down Hina’s offer to do the same for him, so she had been devoting all her effort into making Elisabeth’s morning refreshment the best it could be. Because Hina carefully changed the tea’s composition based on the ambient temperature and humidity, it always hit the spot just right. Today, though, Hina was absent from her post. However, it wasn’t because she was late or had overslept.

It was simply because Elisabeth had woken up too early.

Outside, it was still dark. Dawn had yet to break.

At the moment, Hina was probably still in the middle of partaking in her little hobby before she got to work preparing breakfast (her “brief little indulgence,” she called it). Each morning, she would press herself against the door to Kaito’s room and listen closely to the sound of his breathing. What she found enjoyable about that was wholly unclear to Elisabeth.

However, at least it was harmless. Elisabeth decided to leave her to her own devices.

The larger problem lay elsewhere.

Outside her window, there was something on the other side of the shutters.

Its unpleasant presence was what woke Elisabeth up. She didn’t sense any animosity from it.

However, the fact remained that it had a strangely foul smell to it.

“What, more of this nonsense? Who is it this time who approaches the Torture Princess’s castle so fearlessly?”

Elisabeth was annoyed, and for good reason.

Ever since she subjugated Vlad Le Fanu, she had gotten wrapped up in one bizarre incident after another.

For example, there was the battle against the Grand Governor the other day. Before the fight even began, she and the others got wrapped up in a mess involving animal ears. At the end of the day, what even were animal ears? The more she thought about it, the less sense it made.

Now, though, things had finally started settling down around the castle. Or at least, she thought they had.

“My dream wasn’t a pleasant one by any stretch of the imagination, but even so, interfering with my sleep is a heinous crime indeed.”

Elisabeth strode over to her window. Whoever it was on the other side, they had been ready. She grabbed the shutters and slammed them open.

Outside, a dark bat-like figure was flapping its wings. The moment she saw it, Elisabeth snapped her fingers.

“Silk Pin.”

Crimson flower petals whirled up, accompanied by a darkness blacker than night. An almost laughably soft thump sounded out.

Her pin pierced the strange creature clean through and pressed it against the floor like a specimen on display. It was a familiar that appeared to be a cross between a bat and a piglet. Something fell from its talons onto the floor.

Elisabeth looked at it. Then she frowned.

It looked like a crimson flower. And yet it wasn’t.

It was a human wrist.

After being lopped off from halfway down the elbow, the arm had undergone a grotesque treatment. All the bones had been removed around the cross section, and the flesh had been carefully carved into thin little sheets. From there, they’d been peeled outward into a beautiful crimson rose.

In the bone’s place, something black and boorish-looking had been jammed inside.

“All that effort spent, just for that? They could have easily delivered its contents on their own.”

Elisabeth sighed and went to retrieve the wrist. The object inside the hole was a wooden cylinder. The way it had been plunged into the soft meaty pouch called to mind the image of a man and a woman having intercourse.

A wet, squishy noise sounded as Elisabeth wrenched the cylinder free. Strands of viscous mucilage dripped off it.

Suddenly, she raised an eyebrow. The cylinder’s specifics had defied all her expectations.

It was a statue of the Saint, tears of blood and all.

“What is this, blasphemy? Sacrilege? A cheap act of rebellion? Any and all of the above, I dare imagine, but still, isn’t it a tad blatant? A little subtlety would go a long way… Although, that said, I suppose this whole little scheme was annoying from the get-go.”

Exasperated, Elisabeth took another look at the Saint statue.

Its slender form was soiled from top to bottom with blood and fat, and its neck had a cut on it from being beheaded. They must have removed the head, then sealed it back on with wax. Elisabeth wasted no time in slicing the head back off. Inside, she found a rolled-up piece of parchment. She unfurled it and scanned it over.

“…I see. I’ve seen this type before, but I do wish they’d have at least waited for daybreak.”

Elisabeth gave her bare shoulders a shrug. Then she snapped her fingers, and darkness and flower petals enveloped her naked body.

A moment later, the Torture Princess was clad in her black bondage dress.

It was loud, bold, and audacious, just the way Elisabeth liked it. However, that wasn’t to say she had designed the outfit intentionally. It took its form all on its own based on the aggressiveness of Elisabeth’s mana and the brand of magic she used. It was a design that most people would be ashamed to be caught dead in.

However, Elisabeth was quite fond of it.

After all, this sort of shameless, provocative outfit suited the Torture Princess to a T. Her dress’s hem fluttered as she spoke.

“Well, nothing for it. Bothersome as it may be, ’tis best to clean up messes quick. If the matter remains unsettled come morning, that dunce Kaito will no doubt make quite a fuss, and… Wait, hmm? Why should I, the master, have to look out for my servant’s feelings?”

Elisabeth frowned. How odd. However, she quickly pulled herself together and tossed the wrist and cylinder over her shoulder. A pair of noises rang out, one a hard clunk, and the other a soft splurch.

The two items had hit the wall, and they both fell to the floor. Elisabeth didn’t spare them so much as a glance. As she set off, the scarlet inside of her dress flared out behind her.

Her heels clicked as she strode through the castle and made her way to the exit. The world outside was clad in the black of night.

Then without a single attendant in tow—

—the Torture Princess strode out into the moonlight.

She probably seemed oddly defenseless like that.

However, that was nothing compared with the fact that the Torture Princess’s castle wasn’t even closed off to visitors.

The bare rock it was surrounded by gave it a boorish sort of appearance, and one might even describe the place as fortresslike. However, its actual defenses were surprisingly lacking.

It had no barrier erected around it, nor did it house any summoned beasts or gatekeepers. It did have some traps and walking suits of armor to its name, but even those turned off during the day and became nothing more than ornamentation. And the castle’s existence wasn’t kept a secret in the slightest.

As a result, countless people spoke of it in hushed tones.

“The Torture Princess lives in that castle of rock and stone,” they said.

For a rumor, it had a decidedly fantastical ring to it.

All that was extremely intentional. In truth, Elisabeth left herself vulnerable to attack on purpose. By using herself as bait for the demons, she was hoping to hasten their showdowns. However, the rod she cast pulled up no shortage of small fry as well.

This was certainly not the first unwanted dimwit who’d come knocking on her door.

“It’s a wondrous honor to be graced with your radiant presence, O beautiful Torture Princess. O ravishing Elisabeth Le Fanu!”

A voice overcome with emotion echoed out through the dark forest.

A group of birds took off at the sudden noise, cawing loudly as they flew away.

The speaker quivered passionately and spread his arms wide. The high-quality black cloak he was wearing quivered along with him.

There was a bowler hat perched atop his head, and his face was hidden behind a gaudy mask. It was covered in silver, jewels, and goose feathers, no doubt to capture the attention of any who looked at it and get them to forget the rest of his appearance. However…

“Oh, how long I’ve dreamed of this day… Why, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined! How splendiferous!”

“Ah. Is that so? Goodness me.”

…his voice was obnoxiously shrill. He could dress himself up however much he liked, but it meant nothing when he had such a distinctive characteristic right there in the open.

Elisabeth looked at the man with lifeless eyes. She hadn’t expected the person waiting for her to be quite such an idiot.

The two of them were standing in the forest down beneath the desolate hill her castle stood on. It was the exact spot that had been written on the parchment.

Elisabeth squeezed the bridge of her nose. Her head hurt.

“You wake a person at this ungodly hour, then have the nerve to say I’m ‘gracing you with my presence’? If every word that comes out of your mouth is going to be this insipid, I’ve half a mind to slice you in two where you stand.”

The man stiffened up. Apparently, he’d hoped for them to get off on a better foot.

A few seconds later, he feigned having to cough, then let out a questionable laugh and tried once more.

“Hyoh-heh, I suppose that’s the Torture Princess for you. That pride, that arrogance…how fitting for the one who will guide us and share our path!”

“What? No, a rebuttal such as that hardly scratches the surface of the Torture Princess’s arrogance. Good heavens, how tepid did you think I was going to be? What are you, some wet-behind-the-ears noble? If the Church found out you were saying such things, they wouldn’t just stop at seizing your assets, you know. They’d subject you to a full-on inquisition. And looking at you, that’s not an experience you’d much relish…”

Elisabeth put a quick damper on the man’s excitement. He shook violently. However, he rallied once more.

He then let out another laugh. Elisabeth almost made a quip about the limited range of his responses, but she decided it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

Instead, she shifted her gaze behind him. Waiting in the trees was a black-lacquered carriage. Its horses’ glossy coats were the same hue, and his lamp-carrying driver was clad all in black as well. At a glance, it was impossible to tell what family the man belonged to. On further inspection, however, the relief of the carriage’s coat of arms was still identifiable even though it had been painted over.

Not buying a new carriage when one was trying to travel incognito was an amateurish mistake. Everything about the man seemed downright farcical.

His is a common type…too common, I daresay. And a headache each time they pop up.

As Elisabeth muttered internally, the man continued his outlandish hyoh-ing and heh-ing.

He seemed to have little intention of ever getting to the point. Elisabeth spoke in a tired tone in hopes of getting the ball rolling.

“So can I leave now?”

“Of course not!”

“Then I shall ask you thus—are you a demon worshipper? An organization that stands against the Church? Or perhaps the leader of a religion all your own?”

“O-oh my, to think you’d hit the nail on the head with such accuracy…”

“What? Given the way you delivered your message, it’d have been odder for me not to have figured it out. No matter, though.”

Elisabeth let out a long sigh. At this point, there was little meaning in getting fed up.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been called for in this way.

The Torture Princess was a pawn of the Church, tasked with killing the fourteen demons and slated for execution. Yet even so, there were no small number of heretics and blasphemers who still saw her as someone to be idolized. To them, the way she’d killed her people in gross defiance of God and her battles with the knights were feats to be lauded, and the atrocities she’d committed at the Plain of Skewers were considered particularly praiseworthy. Now, though, that ideal woman had been reduced to a lapdog in service to God and the Church. Some of them refused to accept that fact, and as such, they came calling on her from time to time.

The man before her was probably no different. He bowed as he began speaking once more.

“It would seem I don’t need to introduce myself, I see… Very well! Then let’s talk, you and I. As you surmised, we stand against the coercive brainwashing the Church conducts on the masses, and we hold demons in the highest regard in their stead.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment. You’re as black a lot as they come; that much is clear enough from your garb. You people do love that color, don’t you?”

“The way they shout for us to believe in God and the Saint, the way they insist their doctrine is the one true creed…it’s unnatural, isn’t it? And their legends are all full of holes. The more research we do, the more we find to question in their dogma. But, ah, you’re the Torture Princess. Surely, I don’t need to tell you about how twisted the Church is.”

“True enough. The specifics of the Church’s legends are too vague to warrant the blind faith they ask for, and the accounts of the Saint vary dramatically from book to book. Between that, some of their more suspect inquisitors, and the very existence of saints, the Church has no shortage of notable perversions. So?”

“So it’s our noble duty to rectify the failings that come from their unjust control of the world! And to do that, we have to offer our faith and devotion to demons, the beings who stand against not just the Church, but against God himself!”

“Well now, that doesn’t make a lick of sense. God proved Himself unworthy, so you turned immediately to Diablo and its brood? You’re simply exchanging one extreme for another. But no matter, that. Let me then ask the question that bears asking. That is the reason I answered your insipid summons and came all the way here, after all.”

Elisabeth let out yet another sigh. She closed her eyes, then opened them.

When she did, they gleamed crimson, and she spoke in the stern tone of a seasoned interrogator.

“That meat was fresh. Were they yet living when you sliced it off?”

“Ah, so you enjoyed our little present!”

Elisabeth’s tone was now as cold as ice, but the man didn’t seem to notice the change.

His mask gleamed ominously as he enthusiastically went on.

“Our group holds rituals, which involve human sacrifices, to deepen our bonds and to further blasphemy against God. We take the offering alive and make beautiful artwork out of them. Just like you—just like the Torture Princess!”

The corner of Elisabeth’s mouth twitched upward. The man still didn’t notice. She shook her head from side to side.

Then her demeanor did a complete about-face, and she curled her lips into a sweet smile.

“I see. So you claim to be imitating me, of all things… Very well, then. You lot possess skill enough to craft a familiar, but you lack the strength to summon an authentic demon. Yet though you have no such entity at hand, you offer up pain to them nonetheless. But even that failed to distinguish yourselves among other such groups, so despite my being shackled by the Church as I am, you wish to install me as your figurehead. Is that about the gist of it?”

“Goodness, it’s like you know us already.”

“’Tis the desire of most who come seeking an audience with me and asking for my cooperation—but very well. First, I must confirm something. Bring me to this meeting place of yours, and I shall see for myself if you’ve prepared a throne befitting the Torture Princess.”

“Y-you’re serious? You’ll become our sponsor—our figurehead?”

“Enough blathering. ’Tis rude to make a lady repeat herself.”

Elisabeth gently raised her fair hand, and the man extended his in kind. His fingers were trembling—perhaps in fear, and perhaps in delight. Ignoring how ridiculous he looked, Elisabeth elegantly took his hand in hers.

Then out of the blue, she yanked him toward her, bringing her lips to his ear and letting out a sultry whisper.

“If I deem you worthy, then I shall take your dull destinies and forever alter them.”

Her words were as sweet as honey and as piercing as venom.

The man jolted. Then, fearing she might change her mind, he hurried over to the carriage with her hand still in his. The driver dutifully opened the door. Elisabeth boarded with a gallant leap, then majestically plopped down on the leather seat within. The man excitedly sat down beside her. Without sparing him a glance, Elisabeth crossed her legs. All the while, the catlike smile on her face never faded.

With a crack of the whip, the horses set off, and the carriage began moving. The moment it did, though, its frame rocked in a peculiar manner. The driver tilted his head to the side a little. However, the irregularity didn’t persist, so it must have just hit a rock or something. The carriage continued on.

The dawn was yet unbroken.

Under the cover of night, Elisabeth and the others quickly made their way through the forest.

The sound of water dripping echoed out.

Cramped earthen walls were faintly visible in the small area illuminated around them.

The driver at the front of their group was holding a lantern, and each time it shook, the ground faintly shone. It was wet with pooled water, and the flame’s light reflecting off the water’s surface made it look like the land was burning. Elisabeth and the others trampled that golden flame underfoot as they advanced down the corridor.

After passing through the village that had been destroyed by the Knight, the group had reached a dilapidated house, then passed through it and gone underground.

The building, as Elisabeth discovered, had originally been built as a noble’s suburban villa. Its owner was a devout member of the Church, and the villa’s main building was connected to an attached chapel. And hidden beneath that chapel’s altar was a staircase leading underground.

It appeared to be set up that way so people could move between the main building and the annex in case some sort of emergency happened. However, it was unclear how devout someone could really claim to be if they went out of their way to build an altar with a secret passageway beneath.

Elisabeth had frowned, and the man, sensing her doubts, had answered them.

“The manor’s owner, fool that he was, was a devout believer like his father and grandfather before him. However, his son rebelled against their pious lifestyle and gave himself to a life of debauchery. When the debts he’d incurred began coming due, he scraped together the last of his money to build this as an escape route to flee from his debtors. Not that it did him much good, mind you; they caught up with him in no time. Later, when the debtors started selling off his assets, I discovered the manor’s secret and ended up purchasing it. I left the building mostly as is, but I completely renovated the hidden chamber. I think you’ll like what I’ve done with it.”

After he explained the situation, they set off down the dark underground tunnel.

The passageway seemed straight enough, but even so, there was no end in sight. Elisabeth sighed for the umpteenth time.

“We’ve still yet to reach it? This hidden chamber or whatnot of yours.”

“I really do apologize for the poor walking conditions. We’re almost there, so I hope you’ll put up with it for just a bit longer.”

Sure enough, the man soon stopped. The driver raised his lantern up high, illuminating the oddly fleshy nude etching of the Saint in the door beside them. The original composition was a well-known religious painting, but it had been exaggerated in a way that was somehow both sexual and comedic. The man cleared his throat, concerned that Elisabeth might find it offensive. It would seem that he realized that it was in poor taste. However, Elisabeth didn’t much care one way or the other. She offered no reaction.

Clearly relieved, the man knocked on the door. A muffled voice came from the other side.

“Who do we extol?”

“Those who sup on the pain of man.”

“And what do we seek?”

“An abyss of greed and avarice.”

It was a needlessly theatrical exchange, and a pointless one to boot. If the paladins found out about them, they wouldn’t have time to ask for a passcode before the paladins just smashed the door in. Elisabeth gently squeezed the bridge of her nose.

The door opened from within, and the driver bowed and stepped back. Apparently, he wasn’t coming with them.

Elisabeth and the man strode forward. It had been dead silent in the tunnel, but inside, they were greeted by a loud clamor. There were many voices that Elisabeth could make out, but one of them in particular was especially disquieting.

Someone was letting out a low moan.

When she heard it—

—the Torture Princess slowly looked up.

The room within was surprisingly spacious. When the man said he’d remodeled it, he clearly hadn’t been lying.

There was a fancy chandelier hanging from its ceiling and an ominously patterned carpet had been placed atop its tiled floor. A square section in the middle of the carpet had been cut out, and a stone pedestal sat atop the bare floor that was displayed. There was no other furniture to speak of. For the room’s purposes, that pedestal alone was sufficient.

A gathering of people wearing the same black clothes and gaudy masks as the man sat around the pedestal. It resembled a sort of bizarre masquerade ball. However, the mood in the room was oddly manic.

The group looked up in unison. It reminded Elisabeth of a flock of crows—a group that gathered around carrion and feasted on their rotting carcasses. With no way to tell how she envisioned them, though, the group clad in black let out cries of joy and delight.

“Can it be? The Torture Princess herself, in our midst?! At long last, our prayers are answered!”

“Ah, such beauty! Why, her looks put even the rumors to shame!”

“…I can’t believe that coward actually followed through. I need to go introduce myself at once.”

The whispers that filled the air were filled with childishly frank admiration. Elisabeth paid them no heed, nor did she return any of their passionate, almost loving gazes.

No, her crimson eyes were fixed solely on the pedestal.

A young girl was crucified atop it.

She had yet to reach maturity, like a sapling that had just begun to sprout. Perhaps they had bought her, or perhaps they’d taken her from some small rural village after sweet-talking her parents. Either way, her abdomen looked like it had been pecked apart by crows. Her flesh was dark crimson, raw, and filthy.

To wit, her stomach had been sliced open.

Inside the cut, her innards had been ever so carefully mixed up, and every one of her organs was missing little bits and pieces from it.

Elisabeth shifted her gaze over to the figures clad in black. Each of them was holding a set of cutlery in their hands.

The forks and knives in question were all wet with blood, and the silver plates in front of them were adorned with fresh chunks of meat. Livers and eyeballs reflected back the room’s light. And the dinner sets were each replete with a cup full of freshly drawn blood.

Even as she was being eaten, the girl yet drew breath.

While the group in black continued in their innocent excitement, the girl moved ever so slightly. She returned Elisabeth’s gaze. A single tear rolled out of her sole remaining eye. Her tongue was gone, as were her teeth. She still had lips, though, and they mouthed a silent plea.

Kill me.

Not save me.

Elisabeth snapped her fingers.

A heavy thump echoed out as an iron stake pierced the girl’s heart clean through. Then a moment later, blood sprayed up from her chest and dyed the chandelier bright red. The girl who’d been eaten alive was dead.

The room went silent. Nobody had expected that from the Torture Princess in the slightest.

Eventually, though, one of the people—probably a noble—spoke up.

“W-was there something wrong with the sacrifice?”

“Oh, shut up. I have one question for you lot, and one question alone.”

The group straightened their backs in alarm at the Torture Princess’s words. Elisabeth smiled bewitchingly to set them at ease. They let out deep sighs, captivated by her beguiling expression.

Elisabeth raised her fair arm and pointed at the dead girl.

“Any among you who did not partake in the banquet, raise your hand now.”

A troubled murmur ran through the air. However, most of the group proudly shook their heads no. That said, there was one sole exception. Unable to withstand the others’ animosity, one younger man raised his hand.

One of the others must have forced him to come along with them. Even before he raised his hand, his face was pale as a sheet. He also had no cutlery or plate, so it would appear that his declaration was true.

“I see, I see. Right, then.”

Elisabeth lowered her hand. Everyone looked at her expectantly. In contrast with the rest of the crowd’s excitement, though, the young man let out a pathetic little scream. None of them had any doubt that his failure to participate in the sacrificial rite had angered the Torture Princess. She was going to brutally kill him. Everyone there trembled in unconcealed anticipation.

Elisabeth gave the young man her finest smile.

Then she snapped her fingers.

“…Huh?”

A dumbfounded voice sounded out from behind her.

It was the man who guided her there. He blinked several times.

His head had toppled off his neck, and he was holding it in his hands.

Even separated from his torso, the man’s head continued to blink.

His eyes turned upward and looked at his neck as blood began spurting forth from it. He gawked at it in shock. Then his lips went slack, and his body collapsed onto the floor while still holding his head. His feet flopped back and forth like fish out of water.

All the while, his blood spread farther and farther across the carpet, seeping into it and dying it crimson.

After a slight delay, the screams started. The room descended into a panic.

Elisabeth, the only calm person present, simply shrugged.

“‘Just like the Torture Princess,’ eh? You have nerve, I’ll give you that… But know this—you were under a grave misapprehension. I have no patience for those who would use me for their own ends or make me their lapdog. ’Tis an insult of the highest order, and I’ve slain all who tried heretofore. I must admit, though, this banquet you’ve thrown truly is not unlike my own. I may be unto a demon, but you lot are no different. Very well! I recognize you, then, as having deviated from humanity’s path!”

Elisabeth spread her arms wide in a haughty, magnanimous gesture. This time, the smile on her blood-drenched face was of a wholly different nature than it had been before. When she made her sonorous declaration, her expression was downright villainous.

“And as such, this is a task well befitting the Torture Princess! For killing those who are unto demons is a task that belongs to those just as wretched!”

Sometimes, the only thing that could kill evil was a different brand of evil.

That was one of the world’s many truths.

After all, those who sang the praises of righteousness would never have been able to find this underground banquet. To be invited here, one would have to be the kind of evil that other evildoers looked up to. And only someone evil would be able to tell just how wicked the banquet truly was.

For Elisabeth could tell—mercy would be wasted on their kind, and they were unfit to receive even the faintest of amnesties. She could tell that the girl before her wasn’t the first one they’d eaten alive. No, the victims whose blood stained those walls numbered in the hundreds.

This was a place that was well worth being called a demon’s banquet hall.

And as such, there was but one act for the Torture Princess to take.

“Duke of Exeter’s Daughter!”

Elisabeth’s voice echoed out loud and clear, and a torrent of darkness and flower petals whirled up in response. A storm of black and crimson swept violently through the room.

Then it vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. In its place stood an adorable young girl.

The guests all shrank back and cowered in fear. Several of them let out confused yelps.

The girl gave them an elegant bow. Her flaxen hair rustled, setting off her amber eyes. She was wearing an understated dark-green dress, and it was adorned with a white lace collar and a porcelain brooch. At a glance, she looked like an ordinary young girl. What was strange, though, was that there were four of her. Their faces were the same down to the smallest detail.

One might think they were quadruplets, but that wasn’t right, either. Even that wouldn’t account for how unnaturally identical they were. It was like something straight out of a nightmare.

To drive home that point, the arms extending from their sleeves clearly weren’t those of a human. Their fingers were made of metal and were the perfect size for binding a person’s limbs. It was like someone had taken a sheltered young maiden and replaced part of her flesh with restraints.

The girls gracefully made their way over to the pedestal. Then they used their restraints to grab the stake stuck in the human sacrifice.

““““Heave-ho!””””

As they called out in unison, they wrenched the stake free. They then rolled the corpse onto the floor, blood spurting all over them in the process. Entrails got spread everywhere, ruining the expensive-looking carpet. Once they were done, the four of them stood in an elegant little line.

Elisabeth let out a whisper in a voice like honeyed venom.

“Judgment is handed down, and I am she who hands it. Behold, as I take your dull destinies and forever alter them.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

A violent scream sounded out.

A horrible, graphic noise filled the air, and it was soon followed by a desperate moan.

The victim’s body was torn in half at the waist, and organs and guts spilled from the fleshy tear. Several other such corpses were already piled atop the floor. Even though the air was thick with the stench of blood, the girls’ smiles hadn’t faded in the slightest. And why would they? Duke of Exeter’s Daughter was a torture rack given flesh.

Never once had they felt qualms or revulsion at the prospect of stretching people out.

The girls tossed the new corpse aside, then set off and walked in formation by the group of people cowering stock-still by the wall. Finally, they stopped before one portly man in particular.

“You.”

The man had been holding his breath, afraid that he’d get picked if he so much as moved. His eyes went wide when he discovered that his efforts had been in vain. He swallowed, then let out a throat-shattering scream.

The girls quickly reached out before he could make a break for it, binding his limbs with their metal restraints. Then they hoisted him up like a pig on a spit and began carrying him in cordial unison.

““““Heave-ho. Heave-ho. Heave-ho. Heave-ho. Heave-ho.””””

“Please, no, no, stop, I’ll do anything, no, aaaaaaaagh!”

The girls plopped the fat man down on the stone pedestal like it was a cutting board. Then they began pulling on his limbs. His joints began breaking and dislocating. His skin tore, and his flesh started to stretch and snap apart.

His voice was hoarse by then, but he continued screaming all the same. However, the girls just kept on smiling. They launched into a happy song.

““““Father asks a question, aren’t you glad? Have you been good, or have you been bad? If you’ve been bad, then it’s stretching time, until you decide to confess your crimes! You can scream and say no, no, no, but even if you do, we won’t let you go!””””

“Stop, stop, please, Elisabeth, ELISABEEEEEEEEETH!”

“Oh, don’t go squealing like a pig. Surely you people should know from your own experience, but it normally takes far longer for a torture victim to die. Though I can’t exactly keep your compatriots waiting, so today, you get the abridged version. ’Tis little reason to weep and moan, no? If anything, you should be grateful for how merciful I’m being.”

Elisabeth scoffed. The man started foaming at the mouth, unable to even scream anymore. His eyeballs swelled up, and urine began dripping from his nether region. Then came a squelching noise, and the man’s innards began gushing out.

Once little more than sinew and intestines were left connecting the two halves of the body together, the girls stopped pulling. They tossed it aside, as though they’d grown bored of it. Then they turned around. Their hair rustled as they blinked their eight innocent eyes.

There were barely any survivors left, but the few remaining ones stayed paralyzed in fear by the wall.

The girls strode forth once more. One of them began pointing her dainty finger from person to person.

“Are you next? Are you next? Are you next? You’re next!”

“Forgive us! Please, Torture Princess, have mercy!”

The woman’s thick, black-painted lips quivered as she rushed toward Elisabeth. She knelt, knees trembling, and held her hands together as if in prayer. Tears streamed from her eyes as she made her desperate supplication.

“Is our sin truly worthy of such punishment? Surely, you realize how twisted the Church is, don’t you? But if so…then why?! Why subject us to such cruel judgment?!”

“Oh, I’m well aware of how perverse the Church is. Any group that employs inquisitors, lets extremists run rampant in their ranks, and retains saints the way Church does is liable to bring about disaster hitherto unseen. But I ask this of you.”

Elisabeth reached out a slender finger and propped the woman’s chin up.

Then she curled her crimson lips as she offered her a sweet whisper.

“What in the world does that have to do with your banquet?”

“Th-that’s… We needed to demonstrate our rebellion against the Church, to venerate demons…”

“No, no. There’s no need to be shy. Come now, say it with pride. ’Twas fun, wasn’t it? I should know. The pain of others is a delight beyond compare, and their screams are like the finest of symphonies. You supped your fill of those luxuries, did you not? But now the bill for your feast has come due. Dissatisfaction with some other group hardly begins to justify your grim indulgences.”

Elisabeth swung her foot and kicked the silver plate the woman had used. It went flying, as did the sticky chunks of meat atop it. Her plate had been piled notably higher than the others. The woman let out a pained squeak.

As the woman’s teeth began chattering, Elisabeth lovingly stroked her chin.

“As long as the Church opposes the demons and works to maintain order in the world, I shall willingly serve as their lapdog. And once my task is finished, I shall pay my bill in kind and give myself to the flames. Such is the fate I’ve chosen. And, ah, what a fitting end it shall be.”

“B-but…why? Why subject yourself to that humiliation? Your power is beyond that of even the demons… You could just summon a new demon, make a contract, and break the Church’s shackles, couldn’t you? Why just resign yourself to dying a cow’s death?!”

“Then I shall ask you the reverse. Why should I have to do any of that?”

“Huh?”

The Torture Princess’s question rang with honest curiosity. It was enough to make the woman forget the peril she was in for a moment.

A dumbfounded silence descended on them. The smell of blood wafted through the air as Elisabeth quietly gazed down at the woman.

Then with an expression that seemed almost reminiscent of the Saint’s, Elisabeth dispassionately went on.

“Despots are killed, tyrants are hung, and slaughterers are slaughtered. Such is the way of the world. The demise of torturers should be garnished with their own screams as they sink to Hell with no chance for salvation. Only at such a time is a torturer’s life truly complete. So why balk at it? Were you people ignorant of even that basic truth?”

Elisabeth looked downward as though in newfound comprehension. Her black hair cascaded in front of her, concealing her expression. Yet even in spite of that, the woman could tell—the Torture Princess was furious. Scathing malice danced on Elisabeth’s tongue as she spoke once more.

“Ah, I see. I see… So you indulged in the flesh of the innocent, not even knowing that.”

The Torture Princess looked up. Elisabeth curled her lips into a fierce smile.

All of a sudden, the woman felt a heavy tap on her shoulder. She nervously turned to look. There, she was greeted by four identical smiles. She screamed, but the girls captured her without missing a beat.

And with that, Duke of Exeter’s Daughter dragged her off, kicking aside corpses as they sang their merry song.

““““Father asks a question, aren’t you glad? Have you been good, or have you been bad? If you’ve been bad, then it’s stretching time, until you decide to confess your crimes! You can scream and say no, no, no, but even if you do, we won’t let you go!””””

“No, no, nooooo! Please, Torture Princess, have mercy, I beg of you! I… No. No, I’ll never apologize! Curse you, dammit! I curse you to death, you shameless sow! You’re no different from me! Nobody will save you! Not God, not Diablo, not anyoooooooone!”

“Aye, indeed! None shall save me! God and Diablo have abandoned me, as has all creation! And so be it! So be it. Go on, you fool, curse me to your dying breath!”

“Go to hell, go to hell, GO TO HELL, ELISABEEEEEAAAAAARGH!”

Midway through, the shrill shout transformed into a muddled scream. The woman’s torso was beginning to tear. Her back audibly creaked through her tight corset. Her tongue flopped out of her mouth, and blood and drool spilled out along with it. It was only then that her chest finally burst.

Elisabeth didn’t flinch at the spray of blood or guts, just as she hadn’t at the woman’s hatred. The girls let go of the body, and it collapsed with a splat atop the veritable mountain of corpses. No more desperate pleas were forthcoming. The executions continued on dispassionately.

Eventually, Elisabeth calmly surveyed her surroundings.

The room was empty of movement. The banquet was over.

Or so she thought.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Suddenly, an absurd cry sounded out, and someone dashed off like an arrow from the corner of the room.

Elisabeth, thinking she’d missed someone, made to snap her fingers again. The moment before she did, though, she stopped in her tracks.

“…You?”

It was a young man, his fists clenched and his face as pale as a sheet. He ran deeper into the room, some sort of resolve evident on his face. He reached out, grabbed the ornamental ax hanging from the wall, and turned its massive blade toward Elisabeth.

Elisabeth quietly returned his gaze.

It was the one person she had planned to leave alive.

The sole man who hadn’t participated in the banquet.

Impulsive bravery burned bright in his eyes. It was plain as day what he had resolved himself to do.

Elisabeth shrugged in exasperation.

“What’s this now? You fancy yourself a hero or something? You never took part in the banquet to begin with, so it’s not as though I’ve any intention of killing you.”

“Shut up! You…you’re no different than they were! How could you do something like this?!”

Spit flew from the youth’s mouth as he shouted. The pair of atrocities he’d just borne witness to had stretched his spirit to the breaking point. Now, powerless as he was, he was choosing to fight. However, Elisabeth only shook her head.

“A question, then. Where was this foolhardy bravery of yours to be found when the girl was still alive?”

“I—I…”

The boy squeezed the ax so tightly that it made the bones in his fingers press up against his skin.

Elisabeth sighed, then looked around at the ghastly scene surrounding them. Having finished her task, Duke of Exeter’s Daughter was standing in a neat little line. Elisabeth turned her gaze back away from her, then spoke.

“Why, if it’s the brutality you object to, you could have even made this stand of yours back when they were alive. So why now? What will this baying of yours accomplish? Whose pain will it heal? At this late hour, how—?”

“Be quiet! Shut up already, you monster! Yeah, you’re right. I regret it. I regret it, okay! This is what I should have done the moment I stepped into this damn room! I don’t know how long it’ll take me to atone for not doing so, but I’ll do whatever I have to!”

“I see. Well, I know not the scale of your resolve, but if it’s resolve you have, then I shan’t say any more.”

“But here and now, what I need to do is kill you! How am I supposed to move forward if I let a monster like you live?!”

Tears welled up in the youth’s eyes as he shouted. Elisabeth nodded her understanding.

When a person met a monster—

—even if it posed no threat to them personally, it was still their duty to kill it.

Such was the fate of people and monsters.

The young man raised his ax high and charged at the Torture Princess. However, his movements were so slow, it was almost sad. One snap of her fingers was all it would have taken for Elisabeth to end things. However, she didn’t move a muscle.

She merely returned the youth’s gaze.

That, too, is one of this world’s many truths.

Sometimes, the only thing that could kill evil was a different brand of evil—

—but in the end, only good could break that cycle of malice.

Elisabeth Le Fanu stood motionless. The executioner’s ax drew ever closer.

Then it happened.

“That’s right. If this was the only thing you saw of her, then that would be a perfectly reasonable conclusion to draw. After all, it is an undeniable truth.”

“…Huh?”

A dignified voice cut through the air. A slender figure made its descent and swooped down in front of Elisabeth.

Then a maid made a gentle landing.

Her outfit looked wholly out of place, but the emerald eyes beneath her silver hair were as serious as could be.

“…However, I refuse to let you call her a monster.”

“Hina?”

Elisabeth spoke the woman’s name aloud.

The maid, Hina, swung her halberd.

The young man’s ax head was cut clean from the handle. Its blade went spinning through the air, eventually planting itself in corpses’ torsos. As the youth tripped over his feet, Hina, still holding her halberd, dropped her voice an octave.

“Never again utter such rudeness to my dearest Lady Elisabeth.”

“Wha…? I don’t—”

“And heeere I goooo! Hachaaaaaah!”

The young man started to let out a bewildered yelp, but he was cut off by a loud, cheerful cry.

At some point, the doorway had gotten thrown wide-open, and something large and heavy came hurtling through it.

It was a massive piece of bone-in meat.

After spinning through the air, it struck the young man square in the forehead. It made for a bizarre sight, but it was apparently effective nonetheless. The youth keeled over backward, then went still.

It looked like it had given him a concussion. Elisabeth blinked in confusion.

It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And there were two people she was well acquainted with standing behind her.

Specifically, Hina and the Butcher.

“Now hold on a minute… What are you two doing here?”

“One thing led to another, you see!”

“And we ended up tailing you!”

With the grisly room to their backs, the two of them proudly puffed out their chests.

“One thing led to another,” eh? Elisabeth scratched her cheek. The fact of the matter was, considering how slow he was moving, she still could have returned the young man’s attack with time to spare. She had never been in any real danger.

Yet somehow or other…

…she felt as though she’d been saved nonetheless.

The carriage rattled along the dark night road.

The driver who’d been manning the reins on their way there had already fled, so the Butcher was filling in for him. “Why, I could do that with my eyes closed!” he’d claimed. And sure enough, he was handling the carriage more deftly than even the driver had.

There are mysteries about when it comes to that man. Is there anything he can’t do?

As Elisabeth pondered that question, she stole a glance at Hina, who was sitting beside her. Hina said nothing, a silence that Elisabeth mirrored. However, their expressions were like polar opposites of each other.

Hina was smiling happily, but Elisabeth was frowning in discontent.

Eventually, Elisabeth looked back away from her seatmate and quietly spoke.

“…You’ve no objections, Hina?”

“About what, might I ask?”

“You saw the atrocities I committed back in that room. You ordered the man not to call me a monster, but…your master is Kaito, not I. There’s no need for you to flatter me. I appreciate your diligent service, don’t get me wrong, but you needn’t pretend to hold me in such regard.”

“I’m sorry, Lady Elisabeth, but please don’t misunderstand me.”

Hina’s voice rang out dignified and resolute. Elisabeth turned back toward her so fast, it was like she’d been slapped in the face.

Hina was staring straight at her. Even in the dim, her emerald eyes shone like jewels. She softly opened her mouth, then spoke with a gentle calmness.

“I might not have a sense of morals the way humans do, but I am aware of how your past deeds and cruel nature have drawn hatred and criticism from many. I can’t refute what they say…but at the same time, it’s my right to choose who I want to protect, and who I want to hold dear.”

My heart is mine and mine alone.

Not even my beloved master can deny me that.

That was what Hina was saying. Elisabeth had no answer for that. Instead, she just stared off into space.

Eventually, she curiously posed a question.

“…How utterly puzzling. What about me do you find so worthy of your admiration?”

“Hmhm, there are oh-so-many things… But the specifics are a secret. That’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourself someday, Lady Elisabeth. It wouldn’t mean anything if I just told you.”

Hina playfully raised a finger in front of her lips.

Yet again, Elisabeth had no answer for that. It seemed wrong for the Torture Princess to affirm herself in that way after committing such a massacre. Beside her, her automaton companion kept on smiling. It was the expression of someone who knew their own heart inside and out.

As the Butcher let out a strange “Heigh-ho!” cheer from up in the driver’s seat, Elisabeth let out a low murmur.

“You’re a strict one, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes! I may dote on Master Kaito, but even I know when it’s time for some tough love!”

Hina puffed up her chest with pride. Elisabeth shook her head in defeat. The tension drained from her face, and a smile spread across it—the first genuine smile she’d worn that day. She nodded.

“You know, in the interest of avoiding a large hassle, what say we—?”

“Keep this all a secret from Master Kaito? Oh, of course.”

They exchanged a glance, and with that, their girls’ promise was official. A moment later, they both broke out into laughter.

Another strange “Heigh-ho!” echoed through the air as the carriage rattled beneath the dawn sky.

And back at the castle, a certain dim-witted, softhearted boy was still fast asleep.