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Chapter – 17
The fox was curled up inside the basket Dee had brought, peeking out at the priests. Dee spoke.
“Anyway, you’ll stay at the western temple for now. Roxand, is there anything you want to eat?”
‘The oracle is speaking the god’s name so casually…’
The priests were at a complete loss.
‘Is this… blasphemy? But the god doesn’t seem angry, so maybe it’s fine? Wait, what are we supposed to do if that fox isn’t actually a god?’
The priests fell silent again, and Roxand twirled his tail.
—It’s been a while. I want to get drunk on something strong!
Dee relayed the words.
“He wants strong liquor.”
“St– strong liquor?! That’s animal abuse…”
Vinden, who loved animals, spoke tearfully, but Ibsen next to him sighed.
“Hey, idiot. You seriously don’t know Roxand loves alcohol? Do you even study theology?”
“B–but!”
“That’s not a real fox! It’s the form the god took! If you stall, he’ll curse us!”
At Ibsen’s dramatics, Vinden reluctantly nodded.
Soon, a strong distilled liquor with a faint apple scent arrived at the temple. Dee clicked her tongue as she watched the fox gulp it down.
“No wonder you always talk about booze. You’re actually famous for liking it, huh?”
—Kyaah, that’s good.
“Then why’d you run away from home?”
—I thought maybe if I left, I’d be able to drink more easily. But there was even less alcohol outside, and I realized bumming drinks off you was the best option.
Roxand spoke quickly and chugged like mad. Just then, after everyone else had been dismissed, Amila walked into the temple slowly. She said:
“I heard from the priests that the god Roxand is here.”
“Amila?”
Dee stood up, startled to see her holding a bow.
“A–Amila! Where did you get the courage to bring a weapon into a temple…? Well, I guess someone like you wouldn’t feel something as weak as fear.”
As Dee muttered to herself, Amila pulled back her bowstring toward Roxand.
“That fake—I’ll kill it right now.”
“…What?”
“No way a real god would die from a mere arrow.”
“That’s true. Go on then, try shooting, Amila.”
As Dee encouraged her, the slightly drunk Roxand scowled.
—Dee! You’re the oracle, you should protect me! I saved you once, remember?! Ungrateful girl!
“You’re the one who dragged me here in the first place.”
Grumbling but seeing the god’s helpless state, Dee stopped Amila.
“Amila. Put the bow down. Oracles don’t go around brandishing weapons in temples.”
“…That’s true.”
Amila nodded, slinging the bow back onto her shoulder. She then asked flatly:
“Where did you go last night?”
“Oh, uh, so about that…”
‘Do I just tell her her grandfather probably kidnapped me? She won’t kill me on the spot because of his name… probably…’
Dee hesitated. Amila quietly asked:
“Was it the High Priest’s subordinate?”
“Uh—yeah?”
“The one who hurt Prince Kyle.”
“…I thought you were worried about me.”
“Are they all dead?”
“Dead? What do you mean?”
“Is there no one left for me to kill?”
Dee flinched and swallowed hard.
“Kyle sent soldiers to look for them.”
Amila looked down at Roxand.
“You scream when you see mice.”
“That’s mice. He’s a fox.”
“…What’s the difference?”
Muttering that she didn’t understand at all, Amila left the temple. Dee sighed in relief, and Roxand muttered:
—If you were going to pick an oracle, you should’ve chosen someone like her. She’s strong.
“If Amila were your oracle, you’d be dead in two hours.”
—…I’ll try harder, Dee! Don’t abandon me!
Realizing the truth, Roxand clung to her. Then he perked his ears and started looking around.
“Roxand? Where are you going?”
—Quiet. Follow me.
“Huh?”
The fox trotted off, following a sound only he could hear. Dee followed him curiously and ended up near the eastern temple.
There, in the garden behind the building, stood Amila and Bernadoc. Dee’s eyes widened and she quickly hid behind the wall.
Bernadoc asked kindly:
“Amila. What’s wrong?”
“Grandfather. You’re the one who hurt Prince Kyle.”
“…What?”
Bernadoc recoiled at her cold words and stammered.
“I—I wasn’t trying to hurt the prince! I only ordered them to kidnap and kill the western oracle—”
“Grandfather. Dee taught me a game using string.”
‘Why is she talking about games now?’
Bernadoc panicked as Amila stretched her hands, mimicking Cat’s Cradle.
“You make shapes like this. With string pulled tight.”
“And? So what?”
“But when strings overlap, they get stronger.”
Then she pushed the imaginary string against his face.
“So if you press like this, a normal person would die, right? Just like when you covered my mouth.”
“A–Amila?”
“When Grandmother died, I cried too loud. You pressed on me until I passed out. I almost died.”
“That—Grandfather couldn’t control his strength… You know I wasn’t trying to kill you.”
“I know. But.”
Amila moved the imaginary string to the back of his head.
“If you ever hurt someone of mine again—even a fingertip—next time it won’t be pretend. I’ll have real string in my hands, Grandfather.”
Then she turned and walked into the temple. Bernadoc swallowed hard.
No matter what, he must never touch the king.
Outside, Dee pressed her hand to her face. No wonder Amila hated loud noises.
‘If you make noise, you die.’
Dee had thought Amila was threatening to kill people who annoyed her—but it wasn’t that. ‘Loud noises mean danger.’
Her hands trembled. She was furious. Amila had almost died just for crying when her grandmother passed away. And yet she had grown up under that same hand.
Dee marched straight to the office. Kyle looked up.
“Why that face?”
The usually cheerful Dee now looked like she was barely holding back tears. Once the door closed, she spoke.
“You hate the High Priest, right? Don’t you?”
“…Why are you suddenly asking that?”
“I have a plan. Want in?”
“…Let’s hear it.”
Kyle leaned back as Dee explained with a seriousness he’d never seen from her.
“His Highness the Crown Prince is said to be critically ill.”
At a meeting of officials and priests, Kyle’s words made the room erupt. Bernadoc went pale.
His mind raced. He needed to seize power—fast.
He signaled a young priest, who asked Kyle:
“Would you consider going on a monster hunt?”
Kyle rested his chin on his hand and eyed the young priest favorably.
The priest continued:
“It is the best way to verify which oracle is real.”
Bernadoc watched Kyle warily.
If the king found out he had ordered the oracle’s kidnapping… he was finished. He even considered killing the king.
Then the youngest priest, Ritader, shouted:
“Excellent! I agree!”
“…Huh?”
Bernadoc and his cronies froze as Ritader shouted with feverish devotion.
“Our oracle would never lose to a monster! Your Highness, please take our oracle to show her divine power!!”
The priests all admired Ritader’s frightening talent for fanaticism.
Kyle finally spoke.
“Then let it be so. We’ll take both oracles. In front of the citizens, whichever is suspected of being fake will battle a monster.”
Bernadoc’s eyes gleamed. Dee couldn’t shoot a bow. She had no chance. Amila would win easily.
A third-rate official, Telden, nearly cried at the thought of sending Dee into danger.
“Then… w-we’ll prepare the arena until the monster is brought in…”
“Good. We leave once preparations are done.”
When the meeting ended, Bernadoc hid an evil smile.
That nuisance would be shredded to pieces soon enough.
For the next few days, Dee and Kyle avoided each other so no one would suspect their cooperation.
On the day of departure, Kyle quietly headed to the western temple.
He’d always thought she was noisy… but when he didn’t see her, things felt too quiet.
His most trusted subordinate, Jader, walked beside him.
“If Prince Sian dies, Her Majesty the Empress may target you next.”
“…We’ll handle that when it happens, Jader.”
Kyle patted his shoulder and continued toward the temple.
Dee, who had been too busy surviving murder attempts, remembered her dream of buying a European castle.
She had never been off the peninsula—not even to Jeju Island. Never on a plane or a ship. Just riding a boat would make her feel like she owned the world.
After arriving in this world, flying had long become a lost dream.
But there was a tourist island called Whiril Island reachable by boat. If Ritader ever became the High Priest, she planned to nag him into taking her there as thanks.
As she packed for the monster hunt, she asked the drunken Roxand:
“Hey. Is there… like, a monster big enough to carry a person in the sky?”
Roxand’s lime eyes spun. Dee shook him until he snapped back to focus.
—Of course there is.
“There is?!”
—Yep. There’s a bird—like a phoenix or vermilion bird. A former oracle, Julang, once captured one and rode it. After she died, the bird flew away. No one’s found it for 300 years.
“Maybe no one looked?”
—Why wouldn’t they?! Whoever gets that bird becomes more powerful than the Emperor of Bitensia. Everyone looked.
“But no one found it?”
—Well… it’s not like no one ever found it. Occasionally, at the base of cliffs, they found priests or oracles burned pitch-black. Divine power can scare some monsters, but that bird is different league.
“Yikes.”
—And actually, those burned priests were extremely lucky. At least they saw the bird. Their families always rose in influence afterwards. So, some families started burning useless relatives and tossing them off cliffs, claiming the bird attacked them…
