As I approached the distant crowd, I slowly wiped the smile from my face. I replaced it with a teasing facade for disguise.

A sincere smile is never for enemies.

The Pope, the Archbishops, and behind them stood the four Knight Commanders with their orders: Holy Grail, Wand, Sword, and Coin.

One figure caught my eye—a fully armored knight standing slightly behind the Pope. Beneath his thick mask, only a pair of arrogant, cold eyes were visible.

But what intrigued me wasn’t his dull gaze. It was his pure golden armor—not just heavy, but intricate, bristling with hidden mechanisms.

In contrast, the four Knight Commanders wore heavy yet simple armor. Each held a weapon symbolizing their rank.

I’d heard their mounts were mythical beasts. Sadly, I couldn’t see them today.

The knights walked on foot—what could I say?

This might be the grandest spectacle of my life. My first time leaving the palace since capture. The four knightly orders stood solemnly on both sides, clearing a wide path. At its end stood those figures I’d noted.

The golden-armored one must be the Sacred Knight. Yet the Sacred Knight is the only one among the five without a knightly order.

Yeluo had long since left. Only the Hero and I remained. Our leather boots clacked sharply against the white marble floor. Back and forth. In that vast space, only our footsteps echoed—an eerie quiet.

“Dark Lord,” the Pope spoke.

“Nice clothes. I like them,” I deflected instantly, flashing a provocative smile.

“I’m glad you like them,” the Pope replied, unruffled. He smiled gently, giving me the creeps.

“This public trial has many commoners. To avoid casualties, please step into the cage,” Archbishop Fangzheng said, stepping aside. Behind him was the cage I’d spent days in.

Trying to humiliate me publicly? Too bad—you’ve miscalculated.

I narrowed my eyes, scanning the four Knight Commanders with a barely perceptible glance. Seahorse helmet: Holy Grail Knight. Winged helmet: Sword Knight. Elephant helmet: Coin Knight. Lion helmet: Wand Knight.

As expected. Divination and prophecy, as ancient arts, must tie into such things. If the Wheel of Fortune was read for the princess, these knights must be deeply linked to the Tarot.

I gave Archbishop Fangzheng a slight nod. Then I climbed into the cage atop the tall carriage and sat upright.

At a shout, eight spiral-horned unicorns pulled the heavy carriage forward.

Lott led the procession—good, I felt reassured. I patted the Continental History in my arms; luckily, they hadn’t taken it. Gazing at the sea of dark faces, I suddenly felt nervous.

I’d braced myself, yet jeers still reached my ears. Sure enough, the Dark Lord was deeply unpopular. But… do you think this can break me psychologically?

Dream on! Do you think I’m some soft girl to be pushed around? Behind the knights’ barrier, your rotten eggs can’t reach me anyway. I’ll read my book—mind your own business!

Amid the crowd’s jeers and insults, Hero Lott wondered if He Yu would break down. Girls are made of water—they’re easily hurt, truly.

But when Lott turned back, he almost tripped. That little girl was engrossed in a history book, laughing out loud and covering her mouth with giggles.

The key point—she was reading history. Is it that funny? Shouldn’t it be dry and boring? How thick-skinned must she be to stay so absorbed here?

Could she really be a boy…?

No, boys should care more about face, right?

Lott didn’t know He Yu had thrown away all decency to avoid losing her soul.

Glancing at the crowd, the pre-trial parade seemed less effective than the Church predicted. Many whispered, some even quietly questioning the Church’s methods.

Could this girl, laughing over history, truly be the heinous Dark Lord? Lott questioned himself again.

But why did she sometimes act so scheming? To Lott, He Yu was cute and mysterious. He always felt she hid countless things from him.

Well, why should she tell you all her secrets? Lott mocked himself.

Suddenly, He Yu looked up at the sky. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, hiding her eyes.

So she was just putting on a brave face after all?

“What’s wrong?” Lott slowed his pace by two steps, asking softly.

“Carsick~~” the little loli replied weakly.

The most important thing I learned in this other world—carriages cause carsickness too.

Never read in a carriage (table flip)!

Your Holiness, I need to vomit somewhere~~ so dizzy.

But His Holiness was listening to the judge’s speech. Behind me stood Church and royal members, including Princess Caiwen. She sat on the king’s throne, scepter in hand, but no crown.

Regent…

I didn’t dare meet her eyes. First, I didn’t know how to face her. Second, my carsickness aftereffects were severe.

I couldn’t focus on the trial at all.

The crowd pointed and whispered below. Probably suspecting Church abuse caused my state.

Sorry to make the Church take the blame!

After a long while, I recovered—but my vision still swam.

It’s just carsickness. Does it have to be this bad?

I swayed as I sat up. Lott stood not far ahead, basking in cheers. The Hero had evolved from a lone warrior who defeated Demon Generals and stormed twelve gates to rescue the princess… into a symbol of resistance.

The current Dark Lord… sigh, better not say. Too many tears. He’s just a tea table piled with tragedies and farces.

“Feeling better?” I only then noticed Lott crouched before me. He’d opened the cage, asking this caring but pointless question.

“Still dizzy… but standing should help,” I mumbled drowsily.

Lott reached out, helping me stand from the cage.

I gently smoothed my clothes and gathered my thoughts.

“Dark Lord, do you plead guilty?” A majestic voice boomed like divine judgment, shaking souls.

Everyone waited for my answer, eager to see my defiance.

I tilted my head slightly, flashing a provocative smile at the Pope. He returned a faint smile. Deeply reserved, he showed no anger.

So young yet so composed. Holding the highest position without arrogance.

Just… he has so much white hair! Must love staying up late gaming!

My gaze swept calmly over the crowd. I took a deep breath to steady myself.

“Sorry, I’m stage-frightened, can I—” The judge’s glare shot at me like a knife. I flinched back two steps. “Ugh… I admit I’m wrong, okay!”