Chapter Ninety-Seven: Angel

“I told you, Ron, watch as I read this to you.” With that, Louis began flipping through the book, reciting the first spell.

Suddenly, every flame in the room—the fireplace, the torches, the candles—burst to life, illuminating the previously dim hall. Shadows and lingering corrupt energies that had haunted the chamber were swept away by the surge of magic. Now, true light filled the hall. Everyone stared in awe at the blazing lights.

When Louis spoke the second spell, the bedsheets woven into ropes in the hall behind him loosened and untangled as if animated by invisible hands, returning to their proper places.

Upon the third incantation, the shadows entwined around the puppets vanished. The puppets gained freedom and consciousness, able to move once more. Seeing their own half-living forms, they collapsed to the ground, weeping uncontrollably—neither purely from joy nor sadness.

Count Crowley and the others watched as if in a dream. When they looked again at the three magicians, their gazes were fraught with complexity, their eyes filled anew with reverence—and even fear.

The butler stepped forward, wanting to explain something cautiously, but dared not speak—for when a magician casts spells, no extraneous noise may disturb.

Of course, the three magicians paid no attention to those present. They remained focused on the book, listening intently to each incantation. Their eyes, fixed on Louis, brimmed with astonishment and intrigue.

Spell after spell rolled from Louis’s tongue, transforming the hall. Even the statues began to stir, coming alive and dancing gracefully.

The count, Kate, the bishop, and others gaped in disbelief, questioning whether they were dreaming. The three magicians themselves grew so excited they nearly fainted.

Undeniably, on this day, everyone witnessed true magic.

Magic was real!

At the utterance of the last spell, the damaged Dawn Seal array on the floor began to mend—or rather, it transformed into something else entirely. The shadow, previously ignored by all, slowly became absorbed into the magical array.

At the same time, a woman’s form appeared from within the shadow. Or rather, the corpse of a woman. Her body was so decayed it barely resembled anything human, exuding a powerful stench. Most horrifying of all, countless shadowy spiders and worms crawled in and out of her riddled flesh.

Yet her eyes were open, as if unable to find peace in death.

The stench overwhelmed everyone; servants covered their noses and mouths, some even vomiting in revulsion.

Kate, clutching her face, knelt to the ground. Seeing her mother’s tragic state, she embraced the corpse and wept bitterly.

Count Crowley was overcome with grief. He reached out, yearning to touch his wife, but remorse, self-reproach, and guilt surged within him like a tide, robbing him of the courage.

[The count enjoyed a drink before bed to treat his insomnia.]
[But one night, after a glass of brandy, he went mad—he quarreled fiercely with his wife, and struck his beloved into a vegetative state.]
[He cannot recall what happened that night. He does not know why he suddenly fought with her, nor why he raised his hand against her. He believes it was all his fault, but perhaps it was due to a minor spell...]
[He loathes himself, has sworn off all drink, and desperately tries to atone for his mistake. Yet, under cunning manipulation, he fell ever deeper into a carefully laid trap...]
[To this day, the count remains ignorant of the magicians’ deeds. He only knows his wife will never forgive him.]
[Perhaps that is true, for Lady Crowley can no longer voice her heart...]

“Crowley,” Louis set the book aside, “the evil spirit has been sealed, but your wife’s soul has not been freed.”

His words struck like thunder. Kate nearly fainted. “Why? Why must my mother endure such torment… sob… sob…”

Upon hearing this, Crowley shut his eyes tight, hands trembling as he covered his face, weeping softly.

“Master Louis, Master John,” Kate seized Louis’s robe, sobbing, “please, please help her find peace…”

Archmage John and the others exchanged glances, solemnly lifting their staffs, sacred water, and other holy items, eyes fixed on the shadowy spiders crawling over the corpse.

Yet, despite exhausting all knowledge and strength, they could not banish the last trace of the shadow.

“Don’t waste your efforts, Master John,” Louis said. “Even if you remove that final remnant of evil, the countess’s soul will descend with the demon into hell, suffering torment.”

“There are two options,” Louis continued. “The first is to attempt cremation with holy fire. I am sure it will dispel the last shadow, but I cannot guarantee it will free her soul.”

“The second is to have someone embrace her soul as the seal draws away the final evil. This way, her soul may not be dragged down as well. But I am uncertain if the one who embraces her will be pulled into hell along with the demon.”

Louis, priest of the Moon God and famed detective, spoke with conviction, and clearly, everyone was already taken in by his spells. No matter how outlandish his words, someone believed him—after all, none present had any expertise.

“What must we do?” Count Crowley pushed aside his daughter, raising his head. “How can one embrace a soul?”

“The specifics… perhaps…” Louis glanced at the three archmages, struck by inspiration. “Ahem, do you gentlemen have any suggestions?”

“Kiss her!”

“Yes, Bach, that’s a fine idea! Nothing resonates more with the soul, nothing is more moving than love! A passionate kiss is the truest expression.”

“Right, right, many books say as much. Like ‘The Sleeping Princess and the Rotten Apple,’ and ‘The Witch and the Beast.’” The blue-stockinged magician confidently flipped through his books. “Several of my spells are inspired by these! So it must work!”

“Yes, yes, love conquers all! I remember a book…”

Listening to their earnest discussion, Louis’s eye twitched—was this truly a fairy tale world?

“No need to kiss, just an embrace will suffice,” Louis said, using magic to levitate the countess’s body. “One person must hold her tightly—only one. If you fail, you’ll both descend into hell; if you succeed, her soul will return to the elements… ahem, I mean, to the Moon God’s embrace.”

Count Crowley discarded his cane, embracing the fetid corpse, burying his wife’s head in his chest.

Tears streamed from the wrinkles at the corners of the count’s eyes, falling onto his wife’s body.

In that moment, every word was contained within his embrace.

Louis nodded, picked up the book, and prepared to recite the final spell. But just then, a faint light flickered before his eyes.

Startled, Louis looked up at the count and the countess’s corpse, his jaw dropping—he was certain no one in the room was casting magic.

Yet before all the onlookers, the corpse began to emit a gentle radiance. The lady’s open eyes slowly closed.

A tear slipped from her corpse’s eye.

An angelic soul rose from the countess’s body.

She smiled, nodding to Louis, the three magicians, Bishop John, and the others, then stroked her daughter’s forehead, kissed her husband atop his head, and finally transformed into light, fading away.

The hall grew even brighter.

Compared to the earlier light magic cast by Louis, this glow was far softer. It passed through every wall of the castle, sweeping across every corner like the dawn.

The puppets, bathed in the light of daybreak, gradually regained flesh and blood, slowly coming to life.

[On this day, Louis revealed true magic to everyone.]
[And someone showed him true divine power…]

Gazing at his departed wife, at the angel returned to the Moon God’s embrace, Count Crowley’s tears streamed as he stood, staring at the vault above in a daze.

He heard his wife’s heart.

The servants knelt, praying to the Moon God through Louis—realizing at last that Sir Louis was sent by the Moon God, guiding Lady Crowley so that her lost soul might return to heaven…

Even Bishop John and the priests solemnly traced a V-shaped lunar sigil toward Louis, beginning their prayers—now realizing that the saintly robe Louis wore might not be mere costume after all.

“Ahem, Master John, I think you may be mistaken…”

“I understand, I understand… you know, I know, God knows…” Bishop John winked at Louis, praying all the more fervently.

‘……’

[The boss wants to make a show of himself, but doesn’t want everyone to forget… This report… can it even be written? I can’t write this script; let Senator Paul Ster, who’s been re-elected to the Magic Council, handle the fallout for the boss…]

[At this moment, Louis no longer cared for Stuart’s thoughts. For he saw the countess’s body gradually dissolving into light.]

[Perhaps, angels do exist in this world…]

…….

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