“Since there’s no one else left in the Lord Mayor’s residence, this is the perfect chance for me to have a few private words with him.”
Without further explanation, Sylvia offered a refreshingly blunt reason.
So blunt, in fact, that everyone who heard it fell momentarily speechless.
“What would the Archangel wish to discuss with this old man?”
Angus regarded Sylvia with faint surprise—the first flicker of emotion breaking his usual calm composure.
“Let’s talk as we walk. Healing General Gene won’t take long. Everyone, please wait here.”
From Angus’s subtle reluctance to let her enter immediately, Sylvia was nearly certain: the residence hid a major secret.
She pressed on with her plan, her tone firm toward the Imperial Legion soldiers behind her—including Kroso.
She had no intention of involving anyone else… unless the plan failed.
“Archangel…”
Even Kroso found no grounds to object—her request was perfectly reasonable.
Yet recalling how she’d just asked about her premonition of danger, genuine worry tightened his chest.
“In that case, Archangel, please follow this old man inside.”
Angus cast a deep, unreadable glance at Sylvia’s serene, holy face. Whatever he was thinking, he couldn’t refuse publicly. He simply nodded and turned toward the gate.
“Don’t worry, Hero. I’ll call if anything happens.”
Sensing Kroso’s anxiety, Sylvia quietly activated a soundproofing spell to reassure him before leaving.
“Please be careful, Archangel!”
Her words only drew a more earnest plea from Kroso.
Hearing that heartfelt concern, an unfamiliar warmth stirred in Sylvia’s chest—a hint of sweetness, a comforting sense of security.
This was the first time since her transmigration that she’d felt anything close to… infatuation.
Naturally, her mind conjured a few *very* peculiar images. Her cheeks flushed. Her pulse quickened.
Wait…
No!
How could she feel *that* toward the Hero?!
And why did kindness from him instantly flood her mind with lewd, wicked thoughts?
Were the “withdrawal symptoms” from before… still lingering?
Heat rushed to her face. She schooled her expression and hurried after Angus.
The moment she stepped inside, a sharp shiver ran down her spine.
The sensation of being remotely watched by something powerful was unmistakable.
“Is something wrong, Archangel?”
Noticing Sylvia’s hesitation, a flicker of odd light passed through Angus’s eyes—though his face remained placid.
“Nothing. I simply sensed faint disease-causing toxins drifting in the air. Very low concentration, but prolonged exposure could cause health issues.”
She *had* sensed the toxins—so she used them as a convenient excuse.
“I see. Truly, the Archangel lives up to her title as humanity’s greatest healer. This old man felt nothing staying here. Perhaps these are just traces leaking from my elder brother’s body.”
The strange glint in Angus’s eyes vanished. He continued deeper.
Sylvia’s focus sharpened on the unseen watcher. The core of what she’d discuss with Angus *could not* be overheard by any Abyss creature. Anxiety coiled tight—when would this surveillance end?
“What exactly does the Archangel wish to say? Surely you can speak freely now.”
Just as Sylvia hesitated, Angus grew impatient and pressed the question.
“Well… I noticed the Lord Mayor seemed to carry some unspoken emotion toward my arrival. Might I have, unknowingly, done something to hurt you?”
Unable to evade further, she chose deliberately vague phrasing.
This was her first attempt to turn a mole against the Abyss. Failure wouldn’t be shocking—but success would be ideal. Every detail mattered.
“Heh… The Archangel truly has a way with words. To phrase such a pointed question so gently—it almost makes this old man feel guilty.”
Angus kept walking down the wide corridor, a rare, faint amusement coloring his tone.
“No need to answer if you prefer not to. I only wonder… if I *did* wrong you, is there still room for redemption?”
That disarmed chuckle confirmed it: this mole wasn’t fully corrupted. His actions still followed his own will.
Even without reply, Sylvia knew—he held an irreconcilable conflict with The Church.
*Crucial.* How to use it?
“Heh… The Archangel worries too much. This old man simply finds the role of Lord Mayor tedious due to personal matters. My earlier attitude wasn’t aimed at you—it’s the same for everyone.”
Angus denied it again, steps unwavering.
Sylvia fell silent.
Every second before their destination was precious. She mentally prepared for every possible turn.
In quiet procession, they traversed the main corridor, then moved deeper into the residential wing.
“Archangel, after you.”
At the threshold of the inner gate, Angus unexpectedly turned and offered a remarkably gentlemanly gesture.
Sylvia blinked in slight surprise—not just at the courtesy, but at the sudden, sharp spike in toxin concentration right here.
Is it beginning?
