This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

Chapter 34

First, one thing needed to be made clear:

My goal was to absorb the curse extracted from the princess and die myself—not to harm the already abused and suffering princess.

If I was to protect the princess while extracting the fragment of the Evil God, I needed more detailed information about it.

So, I went to the White Order.

“Saint! A servant of Dulanear greets the Saint of Healing!”

The priests bowed so deeply it was almost uncomfortable, but in this situation, it worked to my advantage.

“I wish to access information about the fragments of the Evil God.”

“The fragments of the Evil God?”

“Bring me all the information you have. Do not hide a single detail.”

“Of course!”

Even if I was a fake saint, the title itself came with privileges.

It granted me unrestricted access to the highest-level secret archives of the White Order, places only high priests could enter.

There, I began sifting through everything, from ancient, dusty parchment to clean, freshly printed documents.

I sought information on the fragments of the Evil God.

Specifically, how to extract them safely without further harming the host, whose mind and spirit were already unstable.

And how to ensure the curse’s destructive power would only affect me and disappear completely.

Surely, there had to be a way.

I sat on the floor and didn’t move for over half a day, devouring every piece of information I could find.

The priests of the White Order looked on in awe.

“To think, he struggles so deeply to defeat evil…”

“Look! Even a saint from another order works so hard to combat evil! Can we, chosen by Dulanear, afford to act any less diligently? We must strive harder!”

It got to the point where they brought novice priests to observe me as if I were part of some educational tour.

I didn’t mind.

If playing zoo monkey was the price of accessing confidential materials, so be it.

After nearly half a day of relentless searching, I finally found what I was looking for—a way to protect the princess while safely extracting the source of the curse.

"If the connection between the fragment and the host’s soul is sufficiently weakened through continuous divine magic, the fragment will seek another nearby soul to inhabit. If someone the host depends on emotionally is present, the fragment will prioritize transferring to their soul."

"For this reason, when the connection between the soul and the fragment weakens, no family, lovers, or close acquaintances should be near the host. The fragment will immediately transfer to a new host, and while the original host will be saved, the tedious process of weakening the connection must start anew with the new host."

In other words, if I became someone Princess Iomene relied on, the fragment would leave her and latch onto my soul!

And as I read further, I found this:

"If concern for the host’s soul is not a factor, at least three priests may simultaneously invoke the miracle of Purging Evil to destroy the fragment within the soul. Upon destruction, the fragment will unleash a powerful curse, obliterating the soul it inhabits before disappearing forever."

All I needed was to convince the priests to use the Purging Evil miracle on me.

To save the world, they would have no choice but to comply.

Soul obliteration!

Rebirth in Korea!

It was perfect.

The only issue was making the princess emotionally depend on me.

My first thought was to use Absolute Hypnosis and make her believe, “I can’t live without Amayel!”

But considering the unimaginable abuse she had endured for 16 years, could her mental state even withstand such manipulation?

Given her repeated suicide attempts, meddling with her psyche might shatter her fragile mind before she could even form an attachment to me.

If that happened, it would likely also kill Princess Almene, whose soul was still faintly connected to Iomene.

The Emperor wouldn’t spare me if that happened.

If I were executed in a normal way, with my soul intact, I would inevitably end up in hell.

Damn.

I couldn’t risk that.

There was no choice but to meet Princess Iomene, comfort her, and win her trust naturally, making her depend on me emotionally.

Once the fragment transferred to me, I would have the priests invoke the Purging Evil miracle.

The resulting curse would destroy my soul, sending me to Korea.

The princess would be saved.

I stood up.

“Thank you for your great hospitality.”

“You’re welcome! Please, visit us anytime!”

“Thank you.”

After bowing, I left the White Order.

*****

That evening.

At the imperial palace.

I arrived at the secluded palace where Princess Iomene was confined.

Once a likely beautiful structure, the palace now had an ominous and unsettling appearance.

Massive magic circles and holy relics surrounded it, with talismans scrawled all over its walls and doors.

The scene felt less like a fantasy and more like something out of an occult horror story.

“Saint, the curse is dangerous. You must wear this protective suit before entering,” said one of the mages waiting outside the palace.

He handed me a thick, cumbersome suit that looked like something designed for radiation protection.

Wearing that would make it blatantly obvious I didn’t trust her.

“I won’t wear it,” I replied.

“W-what? Saint! This is no ordinary curse! This is a pure, high-level curse directly linked to the fragment of the Evil God!”

I wasn’t afraid in the slightest.

If anything, I was trying to get hit by the curse and die—why would I fear it?

In fact, taking the curse outright would save me the trouble of extracting the fragment.

Moreover, I needed Princess Iomene to trust me. Wearing something like that would only make her wary of me.

“Wouldn’t wearing such a thing wound the princess’s heart?”

The mage looked at me with a face full of admiration.

Admiration? If only he knew.

This wasn’t heroism. It was desperation to die and escape to Korea.

“Her well-being is more important than my own,” I added.

With that, I declined the protective suit and cautiously entered the palace.

As I opened the door—painted with talismans and encircled by magic circles—the first thing I felt was the cold.

It wasn’t physical cold; the temperature in the palace was normal.

But the atmosphere was one of utter desolation, as if no warmth or humanity had existed here for a very long time.

Once the door closed behind me, I took a deep breath.

The key was to make the princess trust and rely on me.

She had endured 16 years of torment.

I needed to be patient and build rapport carefully.

“Princess Iomene?”

I called out as I wandered through the palace.

But she was nowhere to be seen.

The palace was unnaturally clean and eerily empty, as though no one lived here.

It felt like the setting of a horror RPG—an abandoned space just waiting for a sudden jump scare.

• The palace seems empty.

• Where could Princess Iomene be?

• Wait!

This was exactly the kind of moment when the princess would appear suddenly behind me, wasn’t it?

Damn!

She was!

Startled by a sudden presence, I spun around, my heart racing.

Standing there was a girl who looked exactly like Princess Almene.

The difference was immediately apparent—her wings.

A massive pair of black wings stretched from her back, almost large enough to fill the palace corridor.

Unlike her sister, Iomene had her right eye closed, likely due to the magic that severed their soul connection.

Her shabby clothes, dead eyes devoid of emotion, and blank expression completed the trifecta of unsettling features.

She looked broken.

She stared at me with eyes that seemed more animal than human.

I swallowed dryly, careful not to make a sound, and forced a smile.

My smile seemed to surprise her; she flinched and took a step back.

I spoke gently.

“Hello, Princess. My name is Jericho Amayel. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Iomene gave no response.

Could she even speak?

It seemed plausible she couldn’t.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Perhaps refusing the protective suit was the right call after all.

While her expression remained unreadable, she showed no hostility or aggression toward me, which was a relief.

“I’m here to help you…”

But as soon as the word “help” left my lips, her demeanor changed.

“AAAAHHH!!!”

She let out an animalistic scream and began thrashing wildly.

Her claws raked my arm, leaving a deep, bloody gash.

The wound was so severe it seemed impossible that it was caused by mere nails. Blood poured from the injury.

“Damn it!”

It hurt like hell.

Still…

I could bear it.

A wound? I wasn’t scared of that.

After all, I had Physical Modification.

[Using Physical Modification on oneself!]

The torn flesh sealed, and the bleeding stopped in an instant.

Iomene froze, her screams dying in her throat as she watched.

For the first time, her eyes showed an emotion—shock, or perhaps curiosity.

“Amazing, isn’t it? I don’t fully understand how it works, but I can heal people,” I said in a cheerful tone.

Still, she didn’t respond.

Did she even understand me?

Her blank stare reminded me more of a wild animal than a person.

Suddenly, I felt pity for her.

At just 19, only recently coming of age, she should have been out enjoying her youth, shopping for makeup, or eating street food with friends.

Instead, she was stuck in this occult nightmare, her black wings weighing her down.

She couldn’t even speak, not that it was surprising.

A girl tortured for 16 years couldn’t possibly be “normal.”

If she was more like an animal than a person, maybe the key was to treat her like one—a scared, wary creature. Building trust slowly might work better.

Alright.

Let’s do this.

I approached her slowly.

Carefully.

Reaching out to her the way one would to a skittish cat.

I placed my hand gently on her head.

She didn’t move.

She simply stared at me with a blank expression.

She let me pat her head without resistance.

As I patted her, I discreetly used my skill to check her physical state. As expected, hidden beneath her shabby clothes were numerous scars—clear signs of self-harm.

Her body was also shockingly thin, to the point where it was hard to believe she was a 19-year-old girl.

It was devastating.

Couldn’t my skill somehow extract and destroy the fragment of the Evil God?

[This skill can only be used on living creatures!]

As if reading my thoughts, the system displayed a message before my eyes.

Of course, the fragment of the Evil God wasn’t a living creature.

Damn it.

If only I could use my skill on it, this would be over in one shot.

There was no helping it.

For now, I decided to erase the scars covering her body.

I also restored her malnourished and emaciated frame to match the healthy physique of Princess Almene, whom I had seen the day before.

[Physical modification of wings not possible!]

The only thing I couldn’t change was her wings. When I attempted to remove them, it felt as though an external force was deliberately interfering, and the skill was rejected.

Predictable.

Since the wings were caused by the fragment of the Evil God, it was obvious that the fragment itself was preventing their removal.

This was as far as I could go for now.

As the treatment finished, the princess began shifting uncomfortably, almost purring as though the healing process made her body feel itchy.

She stepped back and looked at herself.

Noticing her scars were gone and her previously gaunt frame was now filled out with healthy muscle and fat, she broke her blank expression with an openly surprised look.

Watching her frantically examine herself brought a smile to my face.

It suited her.

Her unexpectedly cute reaction was endearing.

That was enough for today.

Rushing things might overwhelm her.

“I’ll come back tomorrow. I’ll definitely see you again tomorrow, so stay safe, don’t get hurt, and wait for me,” I said with a warm smile.

Though I spoke to her kindly, Princess Iomene remained frozen, unable to respond.

I left the secluded palace.

It seemed like a decent first meeting.