After heading toward the eyeless giant eagle, Sherry reached the city-state of Ayideen in just half a day. Mountains surrounded it on every side.

Though she still wore a black cloak and hood, her appearance had changed completely. Her hair had turned silver, the color of holiness. Her slightly alluring features and warm golden eyes gave her a unique air—divine, yet delicate.

A number of massive, brown-black three-headed hounds roamed outside the city-state. They stood about five meters tall, and their three enormous heads looked terrifying. Their fangs had been damaged in battle, and dried blood—no one knew whose—stained the corners of their mouths. A patch of coarse, rigid hair bristled behind each neck, something like a porcupine’s quills.

Standing before them, anyone timid enough would feel so intimidated they’d wet themselves. Plenty of visitors had been scared off and stopped outside Ayideen City. In truth, though, the beasts were monsters raised by the Church. They wouldn’t attack humans unprovoked.

Even after living in this city-state for over a decade and seeing them countless times, Sherry still felt that this world was full of things that seemed wrong and unreal.

It seemed like only yesterday she’d been a young man, raised in good health on materialist principles. Then, in the blink of an eye, she’d spent more than a decade living as a woman in this absurd, bizarre world.

Everything felt as unreal as a dream. Curses, plagues, ancient gods… One thing after another appeared that defied common sense, and countless deadly dangers lurked beneath the world’s peaceful surface. Even as the pontiff’s adopted daughter, she’d come close to death several times over the past decade.

With her life on the line, gender mattered less. Or rather, she’d never considered herself a woman. If she could use her gender to achieve some goal, she’d do so without hesitation.

Of course, she still had her limits. She wouldn’t sell her body.

Ayideen City was the Holy City of the Candlelight Church, a city-state beyond the Empire’s reach. She’d lived here for over a decade. It was as good as home.

Stepping into Ayideen was like traveling back to the streets of the Victorian era. Red bricks paved the roads, and a pair of full-feathered iron wings adorned every black copper streetlamp. People came and went, the air mingled with the scents of all kinds of perfume, and the clear ring of bells rose and fell as shop doors opened and shut.

As Sherry passed a box carriage parked by the roadside, someone suddenly darted out from behind it and brushed past her.

A faint fragrance lingered around his nose. Surprised, he turned and caught sight of a strand of silver hair showing beneath the girl’s hood.

“Liya!” he cried, delighted.

At the sound of that name, Sherry didn’t just keep walking—she stopped. She lowered her hood, turned around, and waved to him, a youthful, serene smile spreading across her beautiful face.

“Hi!”

Her sweet voice drew the attention of the people nearby. When they saw that it was Sherry, many of them looked at her with concern.

“It’s Liya! I was so worried when I heard you’d gone missing!”

“You’re not hurt, are you? What happened while you were away?”

“I told you that place was dangerous. You should’ve brought more guards.”

The locals were so enthusiastic that they blocked Sherry’s way, peppering her with questions. She didn’t rush them, patiently answering each one.

Meanwhile, something she found far more interesting was happening nearby.

“Liya really is the Saintess. She’s so gentle and considerate, and she treats everyone like an equal. Man, if I had a wife like that, I’d wake up smiling from my dreams.”

“Shh! Aren’t you worried your wife will hear you? Keep talking that loud, and you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Ha! Me, scared of her? Besides, you know Liya’s everyone’s dream girl. All I can do is fantasize. She’s so wonderful that her admirers could circle Ayideen City several times over.”

“Um…”

“What? I can’t even fantasize? Real life’s miserable enough—now I’m not allowed to dream? Liya’s perfect. Don’t tell me you’re not tempted. Sigh, you have no idea how my crazy wife flies off the handle over every little thing…”

“Um, I just remembered I’ve got something to take care of, so I’ll be going. Let’s sit down for a drink and have a proper chat another time.”

“Hey, don’t go! You’re not even going to let me finish? Jeez, what’s gotten into you?”

“…Honey, let me explain.”

“Get over here!”

“Ow! That hurts! Easy, honey, easy! You’re going to tear my ear off!”

Hearing the man’s yelps, Sherry’s lips curled in a barely noticeable smile.

She loved seeing men go crazy over her.

Liya, the Saintess of the Candlelight Church, was another one of Sherry’s identities—and the one she showed to the public. Her feigned kindness and stunning looks had made her immensely popular in Ayideen City.

People in the city-state might not know the pontiff’s name, but they certainly knew Liya, the Church’s Saintess. Kind, gentle, selfless… Every good quality in the world seemed perfectly embodied in her.

And the only reason she put on this act was for the convenience it brought her.

Whenever something felt like too much trouble, all she had to do was put on a little act, and a whole crowd of lust-addled men would rush to do it for her. Their only reward would be a casual word of praise from her.

But even that was enough to keep them excited for days.

After finding a polite excuse to escape the crowd, she headed for the church built on the giant eagle’s feet. But as she passed a dark, narrow alley, she stopped once more.

This world was full of the bizarre.

Scrape… scrape…

A faint scraping sound stirred deep in her heart. A chill shot up her spine. Warm sunlight fell on her, yet somehow only made her feel colder.

A hint of fear crept in as the scraping grew louder and louder, as if something filthy were steadily approaching. It felt as though a hand had closed around her heart. The blood in her body slowly seemed to freeze, and the stench of rotting flesh left in a dark, damp place filled her nose until she could barely breathe.

The strange scraping completely filled her ears. And within it, she heard a terrifying, bone-chilling murmur.

It was the kind of sound only a demon from hell could make—a mystery beyond humanity’s reach.

Her heart gave a sudden jolt. She turned to look into the depths of the alley.

There, a twisted Headless Shadow stood silently facing her, gripping a giant, withered sickle made from tree vines. Two blurry, blood-soaked faces clung to its belly, as though it had torn the skin from someone’s face after they died.

It was filth that only she could see.