To be honest,
Even though Litt had her eyes closed right now, she could vaguely sense that the atmosphere in the room was rather tense.
Sigh…
Could it be that we’ve reached the part in a “quitting the party” novel where someone shows off and then gets slapped in the face?
Are we at that classic scene with the arrogant villain who can’t read the room?
I peep~
Lying in Red’s arms, Litt secretly cracked open her eyes when no one was looking, then quickly shut them again, pretending to be completely unconscious.
If nothing unexpected happens, this is probably the typical “the weak play the fool to hunt the strong” kind of scene, right?
Should I be doing something, then?
Litt’s mind whirred at lightning speed.
One second…
Two seconds,
Three seconds went by.
Forget it, lying here is more comfortable.
You can’t expect a salted fish to actually do something.
Litt closed her eyes tight, legs stretched out.
If she weren’t pretending to be unconscious, she’d really want to shift positions and just sleep like this.
“I think you’ve misunderstood.”
Red was not flustered.
In this situation, the more flustered you act, the more suspicious you’ll seem to the other side.
The best thing to do is stay calm, restrain yourself, and absolutely avoid unnecessary conflict.
“Father Carlos, I think you have misunderstood.”
Red’s voice was steady and clear, and very calm.
He didn’t try to break free or step back; instead, he straightened his back a little, calmly meeting the priest’s hostile gaze.
“While the Ceremony Choir was singing just now, I noticed that the Magic leaking from them seemed to be flowing under the stage. When I got closer, the Magic Array there exploded. I appeared here at the first moment to protect the unconscious Sisters—not to destroy evidence, as you’re imagining.”
Red spoke slowly, his voice not loud, yet it easily cut through the noise in the hall.
About this, Litt knew Red was telling the truth.
At the very instant of the explosion, Red manipulated his mechanical creation, blocking and shielding most of the blast.
Otherwise, even if Litt herself had intervened, a considerable number of Church personnel would’ve been injured—or even killed—by the shockwave.
But the problem is… in a situation like this, trying to prove your own innocence is, in a sense, a trap—no one will listen to you at all…
Litt sighed inwardly.
Red was definitely a good person, but compared to someone who’d lived two lives like her, he was still a bit too naïve.
There were plenty of ways to deal with this sort of thing—staying silent was one of the easiest.
To put it simply, I listen to the police.
The police, meaning the Knight Order folks—though they usually aren’t the most reliable, at least they can remain objective and fair… as long as you pay them enough.
Can’t be helped.
After all, this isn’t my previous life.
Here, money really can make the world go ’round.
Just as Litt thought, Father Carlos’s face remained icy after hearing Red’s explanation.
He looked around, then glanced at Litt in Red’s arms, before slowly opening his mouth to say:
“If what you said is true… then how did you know the explosion would happen in advance?”
“Because I am a Great Magician of Creation.”
“Even a Great Magician of Creation couldn’t sense the flow of Magic so clearly from fifty meters away.”
Obviously, once you fall into the opponent’s pre-set “self-proving trap,” no matter how reasonable your explanation, they’ll always find a new angle to question and deny you.
You might have ten thousand ways to prove your innocence, and a skeptic will always find the ten thousand and first reason to suspect you.
It’s a completely unsolvable loop.
The best method is to turn the act of proving your innocence into seizing control of the situation.
While Litt was thinking, Red seemed to realize this too.
He wasn’t an idiot, so he quickly adjusted his approach, took a deep breath, and stepped forward half a pace, an intangible aura pressing in on the other side.
Then, in a voice as calm as still water, he shot back:
“And what makes you so sure I can’t?”
A counter-question instead of self-explanation—put simply, muddying the waters completely.
Sure enough, at these words, everyone present fell silent.
Father Carlos clearly hadn’t expected Red to fight back so forcefully.
His mouth opened and closed, but he was momentarily struck dumb, his face growing redder by the second.
Before he could speak, Red continued:
“Father Carlos, as you can see, the Sisters fell from such a height, yet not a single one was injured apart from being unconscious. I have done everything I could. And you, Father Carlos… instead of chasing down the real culprit, you’re making things difficult for me here. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“You! You’re making false accusations!”
Father Carlos was completely stymied by Red’s words.
Furious and speechless, he raised his hand, almost ready to order his men to seize Red.
“Heh heh…”
A gentle, magnetic chuckle suddenly rang out, perfectly cutting through the tense atmosphere.
The laugh wasn’t loud, but it strangely soothed the agitation in the room, drawing everyone’s eyes.
Bishop Otto had, at some point, come down from above.
Like a gentleman strolling in a courtyard, he appeared silently at the edge of the collapsed stage.
His gaze swept over the chaotic crowd below; even like this, he radiated unflappable grace and a smile unfathomably deep.
“Your Excellency… he—”
“Carlos,” Otto’s voice was calm, almost soothing, “You act out of duty, but worry leads to error. I understand your urgency, but please calm yourself. Don’t let anger cloud your judgment.”
He nodded slightly, as if affirming Carlos’s intentions.
Then, his gaze turned to Red—or rather, to Litt in Red’s arms.
His eyes lingered on Litt for a moment, showing the kind of care a Bishop should give a believer—just right, neither too much nor too little.
“Mr. Red, may I ask about Sister Litt’s condition?”
“She’s unhurt, but seems to have fainted.”
“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Red,” Otto said, giving Red a graceful noble’s salute.
“Now, please take Sister Litt to the infirmary. The rest should be left to the professionals.”
With just a few simple sentences, Otto’s words soothed like a spring rain.
He affirmed everyone’s efforts, made clear their respective responsibilities, elegantly controlled every key point, and quietly dissolved all potential conflict.
Under Otto’s gentle yet compelling gaze, Father Carlos could only swallow his rage and bow respectfully.
“As you command, Your Excellency.”
Otto nodded slightly and said no more, as if he’d merely completed a trivial task.
***
The commotion soon ended.
After Litt was carried to the infirmary by a few nuns, Otto came in, looking at Litt, who was pretending she didn’t want to open her eyes, and chuckled.
“It seems that Mr. Red’s arms are quite comfortable to lie in?”
His voice was as warm as ever, but the teasing in his words was obvious.
“Tch…”
Litt impatiently opened her eyes; there wasn’t a trace of confusion in them, only the annoyance of being seen through and a deep weariness.
She sat up without any courtesy, carelessly tugging her somewhat rumpled collar.
“Can’t a person get a little peace and quiet? I just finished being bait—do you know how exhausting that is?”
“But… I played your part, acted as your bait. Now it’s my turn to ask questions, right?”
Otto acted as though he hadn’t noticed her impatience, walking unhurriedly over to the small table by the window.
A fine porcelain tea set was already prepared there.
He poured himself a cup of black tea with grace, then asked Litt:
“Go ahead, do you want a cup?”
“No. About the stage attack—you… did you know it was coming beforehand?”
Litt narrowed her eyes, trying to catch a clue from Otto’s fox-like face.
“And why do you say that?”
“Your timing was just a little too perfect, like you knew exactly what was about to happen. And… don’t think I didn’t notice, you were already watching when Carlos and Red started arguing, weren’t you?”
Faced with Litt’s almost aggressive questioning, Otto didn’t get angry; he didn’t even change his posture.
He just shook his head lightly, and under his mask, there seemed to be a barely audible chuckle.
“Observing the situation and seizing the right moment—that’s the basic skill of a chessmaster, isn’t it?”
“I think you just wanted to use the chance to do Red a favor, but you didn’t expect he’d handle it himself. Don’t think I didn’t see through you.”
At this, Litt couldn’t help but give Otto a big dead-fish stare.
“And damn it, aren’t you a Bishop of the Holy Church? When did you become a Bishop of the White Church?”
At this question, Otto just smiled without answering, sipping his tea.
Suddenly, Litt remembered something.
She straightened up, looking at Otto with eyes full of hopeful expectation for her reward.
“What about that little thing you promised me? Time to pay up, isn’t it?”
Otto put down his teacup, leisurely crossing his legs.
His tone was still warm, but there was a calm, unhurried confidence.
“That little gift will take some time to prepare. Please be patient, Sister Litt.”
“Tch, more waiting?”
Litt pouted, looking like a cat denied its fish snack.
“Can’t you at least give me a hint? What’s so great about it?”
“A piece of clothing.”
The light in Litt’s eyes popped like a punctured bubble, disappearing completely.
Her face instantly filled with “That’s it?” disappointment.
She slumped back, even her voice losing its bargaining spirit, now weak and lifeless.
“I thought it’d be something good…,” she muttered, full of disdain.
“You’re so stingy. Wouldn’t it be better just to give me money? Luen Coin is way more appealing, you know?”
The habits of her previous life lingered. Litt had always had a “so long as it’s wearable” attitude toward clothing.
Not to mention, her original priest robes had lasted nearly ten years without her ever changing them.
Please change your clithes.