Chapter 12.3

“Wait a minute!”

Syria raised her hand like a student with a question.

“Are you saying I touched the God’s b*tt?”

Syria, who had been listening to Isaac’s words until now, suddenly questioned him about a strange part she couldn’t recall.

“That’s right. The crime of daring to covet the sacred body of the great God of this world. As a result, you were summoned here… But instead of living modestly like the virtuous Syria, you didn’t hide your dirty desires and even flaunted them more. You turned the title ‘Virtue of Chastity’ into ‘Virtue of Debauchery.’”

The priest’s previously calm face could not hide his anger and he leapt up. How could anyone dare to harass a god? He was so furious that even his spit flew as he shouted.

In the cave-like secret chamber, the echoes of his shouts bounced off the walls, growing louder. Syria winced and covered her ears with both hands.

“Ah……”

After company dinners, going to a club for the third round was the female team leader’s way of boosting morale. And every time, she would get so drunk she’d be put in a taxi. The next day, she’d always clutch her aching head and throw up, unable to remember the previous night properly.

‘Did I really do that?’

Even when she tried to recall with a frown, she couldn’t remember sexually harassing a man with such exotic looks. Sometimes she thought she might have touched her colleagues’ b*tts when drunk, but she had no idea she’d touched a complete stranger.

Still, knowing her own tendencies, she felt a bit sorry. Even as a pervert, feeling bad for someone she’d harassed was just basic decency.

“S-sorry… But even so, how could you summon me here?”

“How dare you say that… After making such a mess of this novel, you say that? As the protagonist, I have a duty to restore everything to the original.”

Because of his role as a god, Isaac said he had watched everything that happened to her like a video and had swallowed his anger. If not for the rule against interfering in human affairs, he would have brought her to the temple long ago…

“Geez… Ah, I have another question.”

Syria raised her hand high.

“You’re a God, so why do you react to the black magic stone and use its power? Isn’t that… Ah! Aren’t you a demon?”

“……”

At that, Isaac, who had just been shouting at her, suddenly quieted down. He even lowered his gaze to the floor, looking guilty.

“And in the novel, the God doesn’t appear. Yet you say you’re the protagonist?”

The name Isaac was never mentioned in the novel. His claim to be the protagonist didn’t add up. The real protagonists were Syria and Alpen—the story focused on their lives.

Heavy silence filled the room. Isaac fidgeted with his feet as he stared at the invisible top of his foot.

“You… You’re not a God, are you?”

No matter how she thought about it, a benevolent God wouldn’t be involved with the black magic stone. And seeing Isaac’s face change and act evasive, she felt her hunch was right.

“I thought something was off…”

“…I’m an evil God.”

“Evil… god?”

“Still, I am a God.”

As Syria tilted her head, Isaac pouted and grumbled.

An evil god? She wondered what that even meant, but as she thought back to the priest scolding her, Syria felt wronged.

“What kind of evil god criticizes me for being promiscuous? If anything, I’m more suited to be your follower than the heroine, aren’t I?”

A depraved, corrupt pervert tainted by evil. Outwardly, she was the perfect follower for Isaac. But at her words, Isaac cringed as though he’d heard something horrible.

“Thinking an evil god must be promiscuous is just prejudice. I believe purity and nobility are what truly matter.”

Isaac raised both hands to the sky, preaching as if worshipping something.

“That world is too dirty and ugly. This book’s world was flawless, but you came and ruined everything.”

As Isaac pointed and accused her, Syria let out a dry laugh.

“What did I do?”

“The crime of coveting people’s b*tts at will, the crime of indulging in l*st and manipulating people…”

“Hey… The men did it too, you know?”

“It all started with you.”

Even though he claimed to have watched everything, Isaac blamed her as the root of all evil. Why didn’t he say anything to the men and only accuse her? Syria couldn’t help but complain.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“Go back. Return to your world immediately.”

“Wha……”

She was so dumbfounded she almost burst out laughing. He brought her here, and now he was telling her to leave?

With nothing to say, Syria just opened and closed her mouth. Isaac, who had been yelling at her, suddenly hardened his expression. At that moment, his face radiated an undeniable, almost absolute authority, as if he really was a god.

“Settle everything and come here tomorrow! I’ll send you back!”

It was nothing short of a final warning.

Go back? Syria tried to find something to say, but before she could, Isaac vanished like he’d been erased with a rubber, leaving her alone in the chilly basement, stunned.

“W-wait… Excuse me, God! Really, you want me to go back?”

Only her muttering echoed in the empty space, with no answer in sight. The suddenness of it all left Syria feeling drained and dazed.

When she climbed back up with heavy steps, the Duke and Firenze, who had been pacing the room with worried faces, rushed over.

“Is it over?”

“Yes… Let’s go home, Father, Sir Firenze.”

Afraid they’d notice the shocking truth, Syria answered without showing any emotion. They wondered why the priest wasn’t with her, but she brushed it off, saying he was still sealing things, and returned to the Dukedom.

All the way home, Syria couldn’t stop thinking about the priest’s last words.

‘I’ll send you back!’

Her mind was blank, as if wiped clean. She couldn’t decide whether to be glad or sad about being sent home. She missed the world she was born and raised in, but she’d also grown attached to this one. She’d formed relationships with people who cared and worried about her.

Though her time here was short, the people she’d met were different from coworkers or superficial friends. She’d truly come to care for them.

‘Do I want to leave?’

Even though she didn’t know her true feelings. Lost in thought, Syria was heading to her room when the Duke’s hand on her shoulder made her stop.

“Let’s talk for a moment.”

His face was as blunt as ever, but his voice held warmth. She considered refusing, but simply nodded and followed him, thinking of all he’d done for her today.

His broad shoulders seemed especially weary as he walked ahead. She realized anew just how much he’d been weighed down for her safety.

Sitting face-to-face with the Duke made her feelings even more chaotic. Afraid she’d lose control of her expression, Syria bit the inside of her lip.

The Duke let out a quiet sigh, looking relieved to have set down a heavy burden. After a brief pause, he spoke first.

“There’s something I need to apologize for.”

Directly seeking forgiveness, Syria looked up at the Grand Duke. His steadfast red eyes were focused solely on her, as if he’d always been watching over her.

“I must have seen you as too weak. I thought I was doing my best to protect you, having sinned against your mother… But my shortcomings put you in danger again.”

The Duke of Dronia explained everything that had happened to his daughter. For the first time, he revealed all his thoughts and confessed honestly.

During this father-daughter moment, Syria simply listened.

He explained that his coldness toward her had been his way of protecting his bloodline. Although she wasn’t the original Syria, she felt her heart swell with a newfound sense of family. It felt like she finally had a real father to rely on and trust—a true family who cherished her.

Moved by her father’s love, her heart ached and her eyes grew hot. Unable to look up, Syria bowed her head, afraid tears would fall if she met his gaze.

Worried she’d show her tear-stained face, she kept her head down and bit her lip. She wanted to thank him for everything, but her words stuck in her throat.

“From now on, I won’t hide anything from you.”

Finishing his words, the Duke got up and sat beside Syria. He gently stroked her hair with his clumsy hand, finally getting the hang of it.

At his touch, Syria smiled and relaxed her lips. She realized all his awkward gestures had been expressions of affection. The feeling of his hand ruffling her hair was pleasant. She felt safe, protected by her father.

“Daughter, so if you ever have worries, please tell me.”

The Duke continued, his words full of trust.

‘Daughter.’ The word echoed heavily in Syria’s heart. He must have sensed her mood, having watched her dark expression all the way home.

When Syria composed herself and looked up, the Duke’s kind smile was fixed on her.

“…Yes, thank you, Father.”

She’d called him father before, but only now could Syria say it without hesitation.