Chapitre 14: Chapter 14: A New Mission
Astella hired a carriage and quietly returned home. The moon hung in the sky, with only a few stars twinkling. Warm yellow light glowed from Martha's room. She phased through the wall. Her own room was dark, but not far away, other homes were brightly lit, shadows of people moving across the windows, accompanied by the sounds of laughter and the scent of dinner in the air.
If that accident hadn't happened, they would probably be partying at Cohen's house all night right now. Who knows how Lena convinced her strict parents to let her stay out all night—it must have taken quite the effort.
But it was all over now.
Astella forced herself not to think about Andrew's death. Of course, she was afraid, and of course, she felt hatred. But her enemy was an angel, someone so far beyond her that she could never hope to reach. The helplessness only drove her to constantly try and convince herself: they were just NPCs in a story. Even if they had truly lived once, they were merely passersby in her life from another world... She had only been classmates with them for little more than a week, not long enough to form any deep bonds.
This didn't seem too difficult for her. Since the moment she arrived in this world, everything had felt too unreal. She instinctively refused to believe it was happening. She had her own secrets, and her true emotions were separated from the people here by an invisible wall. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to fully detach and treat life as a game.
"I can't bear the weight of this death, yet I can't decide to completely run away... I'm such a contradiction."
She wiped away her tears with a bitter smile, taking some materials for the "Astrologer" potion, a few pieces of clothing, some cash, valuable gemstones, and a small star crystal ball. Her suitcase was newly "purchased"—she'd "opened a door" and taken one randomly from a shop, leaving a pound in compensation.
She took three "teleportation" rings with her, leaving the rest for Martha. She tore a page from her notebook with the instructions for using the rings and tucked it into a hidden compartment. Perhaps one day, Martha would find it. Or maybe, because of Astella's disappearance, she would never open her room again.
As for the heavy documents and notes, Astella left them in her mother's secret room. She had already read through them many times. Now, as an "Astrologer," she could recall them through dream divination.
On her way back, the carriage passed by the nearby Church of the Night. She had considered "opening a door" and jumping out, reporting everything to the Night Church in exchange for their protection. But she wasn't sure if that Amon was watching her. Even if she succeeded, she couldn't stay in the church forever, and she would live the rest of her life in constant fear until some strange death claimed her. And Lena and Cohen might suffer because of her "betrayal," dying tragically as well.
After much hesitation, she finally decided to "obey" and listen to the task that Amon had assigned her.
As she phased through the wall to leave her house, intending to spend the night in an anonymous inn, she suddenly realized she had lost control of her body.
"You..." Stuck in place, unable to speak or even move her eyes, Astella could only let out a terrified thought in her mind.
She heard the laughter of a young man. The voice came from her mind—familiar, yet terrifying.
"Well done," he said.
!!!
"When did you..." she struggled to ask in her thoughts.
"I've always been here," Amon replied, manipulating her body to smile and even brush her right eye socket. "I'm glad you didn't seek help from the church."
"So this is what being possessed feels like..." Astella's scattered thoughts wandered. "The original consciousness doesn't disappear but watches as someone else controls their body, pretending to be them... watching helplessly as friends and family interact with this imposter... how creepy."
"Heh, thanks for the compliment."
The control loosened, and Astella blinked, surprised to find she had regained her autonomy.
"Aren't you going to use my body and identity for something?" she asked.
"Whether I possess you or go myself, what difference does it make?" he replied nonchalantly in her mind. "Letting you have a bit of an experience is better, isn't it?"
"Fair point. But the primitive root is a mathematical symbol... Let m be a positive integer, and a be an integer such that the order of a modulo m is equal to φ(m)—"
"?" Amon probably adjusted his monocle in confusion inside her mind.
"Nothing," Astella pushed up invisible glasses, "just playing around with an evil god."
"What did the evil god ever do to you?" Though he didn't get her joke, Amon still played along.
"Please stop reading my thoughts!" Astella nearly broke down. "You're at least a different gender, right? Are you seriously going to watch during... personal hygiene moments? Or when I'm thinking about... um, romantic fantasies?"
"I don't mind," he chuckled as if he had heard something amusing.
"I mind!!" Astella blushed and raised her voice.
Laughter filled her mind, and it was clear Amon was enjoying this.
After a while, he finally said, "Don't worry, I won't look most of the time. You'd have to call me if you need a response."
Suddenly, his voice began to change—sometimes feminine, sometimes androgynous. "Strictly speaking, I can be any gender. If you care that much, you can choose one you like."
"... I'll pass," Astella shuddered at the thought of a seductive version of Amon. "Let's just keep things as they are."
Her gaze shifted. "The person—or being—you want me to meet... won't they recognize you, even if you're hidden inside me like this?"
All that talk about "experience" was clearly nonsense.
Astella suspected there were two types of possession: one where the host remained unaware and the parasite was deeply hidden, and the other where the parasite took full control and replaced the host.
"Mmm-hmm," Amon chuckled. "But you wouldn't want to be completely taken over, would you?"
"Yeah, yeah, thanks for that."
.
As they continued their meaningless conversation, Astella donned the "stolen" veil to conceal her face, hailed a carriage, and headed for the East District. That area was rough, with poor security compared to Joewood, but it had many anonymous inns and unofficial job opportunities—perfect for a homeless teen like her to hide.
It was past 8 PM, and the streets of the East District were still filled with workers just getting off their shifts. Their faces were sallow, their frames emaciated, almost like walking corpses.
"Consumption, syphilis, cholera, child labor... The history of the Industrial Revolution is written in the blood and tears of the working class," she muttered, recalling what she had read in modern textbooks. Seeing history's dark side up close moved her deeply.
"How tragic," Amon's voice rose playfully.
"...You don't have to pretend to care."
"Fine, dead is dead." Amon's tone changed immediately.
"I thought you'd say this was a necessary part of progress," Astella remarked. "That's what upper-class men with cushy jobs love to say."
"What does human progress have to do with me?" Amon shrugged.
"...Impressive, truly."
Indeed, for an ancient mythological being, human distinctions like wealth, class, or titles meant nothing. The technology and progress humans prided themselves on didn't interest him either. To Amon, crushing one life was no different than crushing an ant—he parasitized everyone equally.
.
In the dark streets of the East District, Astella, veiled and quiet, searched for a place to stay. Though her face was hidden, her clothing and demeanor didn't match the chaos and decay around her.
Suddenly, a strong smell of alcohol hit her. Astella sidestepped, avoiding a reaching hand.
A middle-aged man with a red nose, unshaven and reeking of bad booze, leered at her.
"Hey, are you one of those?" he asked, his smile sleazy and suggestive.
Astella glanced at him but kept walking, unfazed.
"Tch, you rude wench! I'm talking to you!" The man, taller than Astella by half a head, raised his fist, casting a shadow over her under the dim streetlight.
Astella stopped, her heels clicking lightly on the pavement.
"What did you just say?" she looked up, her pale face delicate as porcelain beneath the black veil, lips soft and rosy.
The man swallowed hard, his gaze growing more disgusting. "Heh, I asked if you were one of those working girls, the kind that just lays there to earn money..."
He never got the chance to touch her veil. Astella effortlessly dodged his hand, and then a bolt of lightning struck his head. Another followed, and another.
The man convulsed violently, his hair standing on end as he collapsed, charred and unconscious.
"Well," Astella remarked coldly, "it seems you've been punished by divine justice for harassing women. Instant karma."
Disgusting creep. Take that—100,000 volts!
At times like this, she really felt how weak the "Trickmasters" tricks were. The "shock spell" with its paralysis effect could take down an ordinary person easily enough, but its power was nowhere near as strong as the "Lightning Strike"
Omg, this is really like playing with the evil god.
P.S. Some insignificant hints: Amon's given tasks may not necessarily align with his true goals.
Based on Astella's perception, when referring to Amon casually, she uses "he." However, when emphasizing Amon's identity as a mythical being or an angel, she switches to "Hime."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone