"I can't promise you that."

"Merka's mind is his own."

Turning glanced sideways, his gaze falling upon Turing's doll-like face, sensing a hint of anger in Turing's tone due to his words.

"I would like to ask in return."

"Why do you still treat Merka as an outsider even after he has become a knight disciple?"

"If you have bestowed this honor, you should consider him as a comrade, a brother."

"How can you preach about what companions should say, yet shirk the obligations that come with this honor?"

Turning fell silent.

She no longer looked at Turing's lovely face but took out a cigarette box from her pocket, selecting a cigarette in silence and lighting it up.

A serene and lingering loneliness filled the air as the smoke diffused - through the haze of the dreamy smoke, Dunkirk seemed to be recalling something.

"Turing."

"There are things you will never want to know."

Dunkirk pointed to a distance where Merka was conversing with Bishop Maria in front of the church.

Even from that far away, his smile exuded a youthful and charismatic charm to those who admired him.

Bishop Maria drew his sword at his waist and lightly tapped Merka's shoulders, after which he stood up amidst the crowd, under the fluttering banners, removed his ornate cap from his head, and raised it high in jubilation, captivating countless innocent young girls.

"Look at Merka."

"Do you think any of those people below would want to know he is Curseborn at this moment?"

Dunkirk paused slightly, rolled up her sleeve, and exposed a part of her grotesque tentacles to Turing.

"Look here."

"What do you think?"

Displayed before Turing were the extremely disgusting tentacles on Dunkirk's body.

Crimson, swollen, cracked, devoid of any biological essence.

"I am not like you, my half-angel is a lame duck that can't go up or down."

"I can't completely conceal the features of my angel."

"So I have never married, and my blind dates always fail."

"I didn't tell you about this."

Dunkirk gently pinched the cigarette, took a deep puff, and exhaled a light cloud of smoke.

The smoke blended into the air, like a dancer on stage gradually entering the curtains, delicately dancing to hide her vibrant beauty behind the neglected backstage.

"And even you, who are known as the perfect Smoke Fairy, are the same, aren't you?"

"If not for deception, how could you, originally a boy, captivate thousands of boys at the Smoke Fairy Festival?"

"Lies are indeed despicable, Tucoco."

"But, we have no choice."

"It's not that we want to hide things from you..."

"It's just that we are too embarrassed, we don't want to show you our so sinful, so impure side."

"You will be disappointed by this."

"For believers, especially for devout believers like Merka, this must have been a huge blow."

"The church he has always revered, actually thrives on such dirty means, such incompetence, and such cruel methods."

He took another drag from his cigarette and looked down at Turing, who seemed to be lost in thought. Dunkirk understood that his work of guidance was halfway done.

She hugged the petite and lovely Turing tightly, pressing her cheek against Turing's small forehead, embracing her like a little pet.

A sweet soft fragrance wafted from the tip of Turing's shoulders, a faint scent of wormwood that seemed to possess a bewitching power, drilling fiercely from Dunkirk's touch on the soft skin, the sheer clothing, and the eyes as deep as the sea, piercing into Dunkirk's body, delving into her brain, seeking to leave an indelible mark.

Dunkirk felt a moment of dizziness, and then steadied herself, speaking.

"Don't be shy, Tucoco."

"Lies are not without value."

"As long as they are used wisely."

"We can all find happiness."