With Vanessa taking care of her, Nicole should be fine.
He could only convince himself to let it go for now.
Although the inn’s main hall was nearly destroyed, the other rooms and facilities had remained intact.
Ever the optimist, Kyle Merrick hauled out spare tables and chairs from the basement, setting them up in the front yard for an outdoor feast, meant as a banquet of gratitude for the warriors who had fought tonight.
At the same time, he announced that from this moment on, the inn would not accept new guests.
Those who wished to stay were welcome, and those who didn’t were free to leave.
After everything that had happened tonight, the only ones who chose to remain were the mercenaries.
Partly because they were bold and skilled, but mostly because Kyle had promised them a week of free food and lodging.
Where else would they go?
The members of Bladewind Mercenary Group raised their cups, celebrating their survival. No one was leaving sober tonight.
Meanwhile, people kept offering Rivern drinks, but he turned them down one by one.
"Thank you for the offer. Apologies, but I never drink alcohol."
"Come on! The innkeeper is treating us—at least show some appreciation!" One of the inn’s employees, already tipsy, pressed him further.
Rivern simply offered a polite, apologetic smile and said nothing.
Seeing this, Kyle casually took the cup meant for Rivern, raised it high, and downed it in one go.
"Albert, that’s not how you talk to a guest," Kyle chided, clapping the man on the shoulder.
"Our dear Exorcist here still has work to do—he can’t drink too much. Come on, old pal! I’ll drink with you instead! Fill ’em up, everyone!"
With practiced ease, the innkeeper steered the crowd away from Rivern, leaving only Eddie sitting beside him.
Rivern watched Kyle walk off, feeling a twinge of gratitude.
Then, he remembered—there was someone else he still needed to thank.
"Thank you for stepping in earlier, Eddie."
Eddie responded politely, "Think nothing of it. It was my honor, Mr. Rybirths."
"Just call me Rivern."
Hearing this, Eddie scratched his head awkwardly. "It just feels… a little improper. You seem much older than me, and as an Exorcist of the Sevenfold Verdict, I feel like calling you by name might be disrespectful…"
"It’s not. You don’t have to be so formal with me," Rivern said with a warm smile.
Eddie was momentarily taken aback.
That gentle smile suddenly reminded him of something—
A few times, when he had traveled to Northsail’s headquarters, the Murmuring Sanctum, for examinations, he had overheard rumors about Rivern.
Rivern hadn’t always worked in Echowater Town.
He had originally served at the Murmuring Sanctum, the headquarters of Dawn Prayers.
According to rumors, several female priests had once fought over him, their rivalry escalating into a full-blown brawl.
Friendships were shattered, and worse yet, the disruption affected the guild’s daily operations.
In the end, to restore order, Rivern had been transferred to Echowater Town.
At the Murmuring Sanctum, there was a well-known piece of gossip about Rivern Rybirths—
If this man ever smiles at you, don’t get the wrong idea and think he’s interested.
Because he’s that gentle to everyone—regardless of gender, age, or even species.
But still, Eddie couldn't deny it.
[That smile was truly captivating.]
It made people instinctively want to be closer to him.
[No wonder those girls all fell for him.]
[Even I have to admit… Rivern is incredibly charming…]
Flustered by his own thoughts, Eddie quickly took a sip of apple cider, trying to calm himself down.
[And now that I know he’s one of the legendary Exorcists, he’s even more charming. Damn, Why is he so charismatic...?.]
"Eddie."
Caught off guard by Rivern calling his name, the young priest nearly spilled his drink.
"…Yes? What is it?"
"Why do you trust me so unconditionally?"
Rivern's gaze was steady. "You have no evidence that I was one of the Exorcists present that day, do you? And yet, you still defended me. Why?"
Eddie hesitated.
Why did he believe in Rivern?
Even he couldn’t fully explain it.
"Maybe… I’d rather believe than doubt," he finally said.
"Because you’re my colleague, Rivern. So I choose to trust you."
Setting his cup down, Eddie met Rivern’s gaze with sincerity.
"Whether or not you were there that day, I believe one thing for certain—you have never betrayed the guild. Not in the past, not now, and not in the future."
A fleeting, complicated smile crossed Rivern’s face.
"Eddie, you’re going to be an outstanding priest one day."
He stood up and patted Eddie’s shoulder.
"No—you will be."
With that, he turned and walked away from the open-air banquet, leaving Eddie behind.
Eddie couldn’t quite grasp the meaning behind Rivern’s enigmatic smile.
All he could do was watch in confusion as Rivern stepped into the ruins of the darkened hall, his figure gradually swallowed by the shadows.
- ··
Rivern stepped out of the private shower and followed the signs toward the public bath.
At this hour, most people were still gathered outside, enjoying the lively open-air banquet, leaving the bathhouse eerily quiet.
Only the faint sound of dripping water echoed through the space.
In Northsail, public bathhouses like this were fairly common.
Herbal baths were known to work wonders in restoring physical strength.
Even so, Rivern had never once used one.
He was never comfortable with the idea of being so exposed around both acquaintances and strangers alike.
But tonight, his exhausted body could no longer refuse the pull of the warm, healing waters.
He picked up a clean towel from the basket, wrapping it around his lower body, then draped another over his shoulders, letting it hang naturally to cover his back.
As he stepped through the entrance of the large communal bath, the rich aroma of herbs blended with the rising steam, engulfing him.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Even before entering the water, he could already feel an unprecedented sense of relaxation washing over him.
His footsteps echoed through the empty bathhouse, the vast space amplifying the sound.
The dense mist blurred his vision, while the comforting warmth made his exhausted body feel on the verge of sleep.
Just as he thought he would have the entire bath to himself, a voice rang out from the other end of the steamy haze.
"Been a while."
Rivern, standing at the edge of the bath, stiffened at the voice.
He lifted his gaze, his eyes landing on the young man lounging at the far end of the large bath.
The man sat in the water, arms casually draped over the edge, his entire posture exuding ease.
Golden hair floated lazily in the bathwater, while the rippling light glistened against his pale skin.
His emerald-green eyes were filled with confidence and arrogance, sharp as a blade.
With an unhurried motion, he ran his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back behind his ear.
Then, with a mocking smirk, he locked eyes with Rivern.
For a long moment, Rivern stood frozen in place, unable to tear his gaze away.
The air around him felt as thick as sand, suffocating, pressing in on him.
Every breath he took seared through his chest, a sensation that reached deep into his soul.
Of course, Rivern recognized him.
That young man was none other than himself—fifteen years ago.
"Still enjoying your little Exorcist game?" the younger man sneered.
"Do you really think being worshipped as a hero by those ignorant fools can erase everything you've done?"
Rivern's silence seemed to irritate the apparition.
The young man rose to his feet, golden hair cascading down his shoulders.
"Why aren’t you saying anything? Playing dumb with me?"
Seeing the figure approaching him, Rivern instinctively took a step back.
He knew it was nothing more than an illusion—
And yet, an unshakable fear coiled in his chest, suffocating and real.
Suddenly, the shadow vanished into the mist.
Suddenly, a pair of ice-cold hands seized Rivern’s face.
"No rush—let me help you remember."
Panic surged through him as he tried to shove the figure away, but his hands grasped at nothing.
The illusion dissipated into the steam, and Rivern lost his balance, plunging into the bathwater.
Countless bubbles slipped past his face, rising toward the surface.
He felt himself sinking deeper, his hands desperately reaching out for something—anything to hold onto.
Then, a piercing scream rang out, chillingly close.
He saw an image growing clearer inside a bubble drifting past—
A memory.
He saw himself, sword in hand, cutting down an unarmed woman.
Her eyes burned with hatred, reflecting his own cold, merciless face.
She had been nothing more than one of many—just another target in a long list of missions.
Back then, as an Enslaved Fiend under the demons, countless souls had perished by his hands.
Every target assigned to him had one thing in common—they were all women.
They came from different backgrounds, bore different faces, and ranged vastly in age.
Yet as a mere tool for slaughter, he had carried out his master's every command flawlessly.
How many had he killed?
Even he had lost count.
But over time, he began to notice another shared trait among his victims—something beyond just their gender.
In the instant of their death, a strange, faint surge of magical energy would erupt from their bodies.
For that brief moment, it was as if time had stopped—
As if the entire world had gone silent.
It was a sensation so bizarre, so impossible to describe with words, that Rivern never knew what to make of it.
And yet, he couldn’t help but wonder—
Had it been prolonged exposure to that energy that had allowed his consciousness to break free from his master's control?
Bit by bit, he had begun to think for himself.
He had started to question, rather than simply follow orders.
The last time he carried out that mission for his master, he had tracked his target to a forest near Acorn Town.
When the woman spotted him, she did not beg for her life, nor did she try to resist.
Instead, she demanded that he kill her.
Rivern remembered it vividly—
Her eyes overflowed with despair and hatred, as if death was the only release she had left.
But this time, he couldn’t fulfill her wish.
And for the first time, he disobeyed his master's orders.
Instead of delivering a fatal strike, he only wounded her.
Seeing him hesitate, she dragged her injured body away.
As she left, she cast him a look of both scorn and pity.
"Pathetic creature. You're just another pawn of fate."
Rivern stood frozen, watching her disappear.
Not long after, she was found outside Acorn Town—rescued by another woman.
Rivern did not follow her any further.
His master flew into a rage at his failure and defiance.
The demon had realized that the weapon in his hands was no longer as obedient as before.
To punish Rivern for his growing self-awareness and lingering humanity, while still ensuring the mission was completed, the demon made a cruel decision—
He would slaughter the entire town, burying them all alongside that woman.
And so, Acorn Town met its fate.
If time could turn back—if Rivern had the chance to choose again—
He would have killed her.
He would have continued to be his master's loyal hound.
Between the two sides of the scale—
The life of one person, plus the freedom of another—
How could they ever compare to the peace and safety of an entire town?
But Rivern had no chance to go back.
The hand he reached out grasped nothing but shattered bubbles—nothing but empty illusions.
Beneath the water, he saw himself stretching out his left hand.
The burned ring around his index finger began to bleed, the sharp pain piercing through his senses, pulling him back to reality.
A voice, gentle yet worn by time, echoed in his ears.
"You are human. You are a priest of Dawn Prayers, not their prisoner! Remember that. Live with pride... live on…"
Can I really?
Someone like me… do I really deserve that?
"Live, child. No matter what role you take, live on… and find your purpose."
Purpose… my purpose…?
The crushing weight of suffocation closed in around him as he struggled to swim upward.
But a pair of frail hands suddenly clamped around his neck, forcing him down beneath the water.
“Hypocrite! A murderer like you dares to speak of purpose? Don’t you dare sing praises of your so-called justice and kindness! You really think it was just because you were controlled that you butchered those innocent women?”
Beneath the surface, Rivern looked up, his vision distorted by the rippling water.
The warped, broken face above him stared back, and in that moment, he choked on his first mouthful of water.
He knew this voice.
He would never forget it.
She was the one who had led him to the demon.
She was the one who had offered him up as a tool, selling him away like an object.
She was the first woman he had ever killed.
The deeper the love had once been, the more consuming the hatred that followed.
"If not for all that hatred, what do you think Master used to control you? I deceived you, I betrayed you, so you killed me. But once wasn’t enough, was it? Just one time could never be enough for you. That’s why you—"
"Shut up!!"
Her words stabbed deep into Rivern’s heart, the pain sharp and unbearable.
He cut her off violently, seizing her frail wrist and forcing her away.
As they struggled, Rivern suddenly felt something solid beneath his fingers—
His hand had caught the edge of the bath, and with a desperate heave, he pulled himself upright.
Water splashed around him, droplets rising and falling back into the pool.
Her shadowed figure was gone.
Only Rivern remained, alone in the water, coughing violently, his breaths ragged and unsteady.
The vast bathhouse echoed with the sound of dripping water and the low, mechanical hum of the heating system.
Steam swirled around him, blurring his vision once more.
He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head again and again.
No… it wasn’t me…
I was under Griffith’s control when I killed those women…
I didn’t… I never…
Rivern clutched his head in despair, guilt crushing him from within.
Suddenly, a child’s voice echoed through the bathhouse.
"Mister, why are you crying?"
Rivern's head snapped up, his breath hitching.
At the entrance to the bath, a little girl stood watching him, her expression filled with genuine concern.
He blinked in surprise.
It had been a long time since a child had addressed him so kindly.
And more importantly—this was the men's bathhouse.
"Little one, are you lost? The women's bath is on the other side."
But the girl didn’t seem to hear him.
Clutching a tattered cloth doll, she slowly walked toward him.
Rivern’s eyes fell on the doll’s neck, where the seams had come undone.
A moment later, blood began to seep from the opening, thick and glistening—
Spilling down like a wriggling serpent, slithering along the floor in twisting, crimson trails with every step the girl took.
Rivern nearly gasped.
He watched as the girl crouched down before him, her innocent eyes gazing up at him with childlike curiosity.
"Mister, why did you kill me? Was it because I was a bad girl?"
A deep gash of blood ran vertically down her face, splitting it into two uneven halves.
Yet despite the grotesque wound, her expression remained pure and untainted, as if she truly did not understand.
She clutched the blood-soaked doll in her arms even tighter.
Rivern could no longer move…
……
"Exorcist?!"
A voice shattered the silence of the bathhouse.
Rivern snapped back to reality.
He turned his head and saw Kyle standing at the entrance.
"Exorcist, are you alright?"
Kyle had heard some strange noises coming from the bath and had come to check.
But all he found was Rivern sitting alone by the pool, looking as if he had lost his soul.
"I'm fine," Rivern forced a smile.
"But I thought I heard—"
"I… slipped just now, that’s all," Rivern explained awkwardly.
"What?! You slipped? Are you hurt? Where did it happen?"
Kyle rushed forward, his concern genuine.
"I’ll have them fix it right away—can’t have anything this dangerous happening again!"
"I'm fine, not hurt at all," Rivern replied, instinctively retreating further into the water.
His hand brushed against the towel that had fallen into the bath, and he grabbed it.
He had originally used it to cover the scars on his back—if Kyle got any closer, he might need it again.
Fortunately, after hearing Rivern's reassurance, Kyle didn’t press the issue further.
"Really? That’s good. Then where exactly did you slip?"
"Here," Rivern said reluctantly, pointing to the stone tiles in front of him.
"I see. Got it. Well, I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll send someone to take care of it later."
With that, Kyle flashed a bright smile and walked away.
As Kyle disappeared through the bathhouse entrance, Rivern let out a quiet sigh of relief.
He rose to his feet and made his way toward the changing room.
Inside, the space was empty.
Reaching out, he wiped away the condensation from the mirror.
His reflection stared back at him.
The usual charming smile was nowhere to be seen.
All that remained was exhaustion, pain, and sorrow that refused to fade.
Behind him, another mirror reflected his broad, scarred back.
Two horrifying vertical scars ran down his back—as if something that once belonged there had been forcibly severed with a blade, only to be crudely stitched together with countless jagged threads.
The grotesque, uneven sutures marred his skin, making him look less like a man and more like a creature wrapped in a delicate human shell.
He had once been a puppet of darkness.
Now, he was a prisoner of the light.
To prove his loyalty to the Winged Celestials, he had offered up the wings that once belonged to a demon.
In return, he had been granted greater holy magic—a power far stronger than before.
These new shackles suppressed the dark energy within him while allowing him to wield even more powerful divine magic.
When this flesh-bound shell could no longer contain him, what would he become?
Would he turn into the very same kind of demon that had cursed him?
In the mirror, Rivern could almost see those eerie violet eyes staring back at him.
"Do you remember them? The lives you took, the girls who perished by your blade? From tonight, they will come back for you—one by one."
The demon’s whispered curse had become reality.
The long night stretched on—and with it, the nightmare began.
Rivern lowered his head.
Once again, he found himself drowning in helplessness and fear.
And no one told him that, just moments ago—
The first thread binding his back had snapped.