BJ Villainess Chapter 357

The Holy See was turned upside down. No, the whole world was shocked. It was because Theresa, once secretly referred to as the pope’s dog or a wicked woman tamed by Ilya, had become Deina’s teacher.

 

Becoming Deina’s teacher wasn’t something settled by mutual agreement. A sacred contract had to be performed to verify if the candidate was qualified. In this contract ritual, if the person was deemed worthy, a mark would appear on the back of their hand—a sign, like a revelation, that the Holy God had acknowledged their qualification. Because of that, everyone insisted that Theresa, a cultist of the Evil God, could never become the teacher of the daughter of the Holy God.

 

“How can a cultist of Evil God become a teacher?!”

 

“This makes no sense. It’s physically impossible from the start.”

 

“My mind is made up. From now on, Lady Theresa is my teacher!”

 

“You’re unbelievably naïve.”

 

“This won’t do. You’ll understand why it’s impossible once you experience it.”

 

“Excuse me, what about my opinion…?”

 

“Let’s proceed with the ritual!”

 

When the contract ritual was performed, a glowing mark appeared on the back of Theresa’s hand. It meant she had been acknowledged as a teacher. Everyone watching, including Theresa herself, was dumbfounded.

 

“This is actually possible?”

 

At this point, everyone had the same question.

 

“Just who are you, really? Are you even truly a cultist of Evil God?”

 

Until now, people had let Theresa’s oddities slide, thinking, ‘Well, there can be exceptions.’ A cultist of the Evil God who sheds tears. The same cultist of Evil God is not consumed by Evil. Surely one case like that could exist, right? Moreover, she was vouched for by Ilya, whose own identity was mysterious and powerful. That added to the general acceptance. But right now, it was a different matter entirely.

 

A cultist of the Evil God, acknowledged by the Holy God? That was as absurd as calling Ilya a saint.

 

Theresa, under intense questioning, neither confirmed nor denied anything. Her silence only made it obvious she was hiding something.

 

The already chaotic atmosphere reached a boiling point. The high priests, as shrewd as seasoned politicians, instinctively realized Theresa was hiding an important secret. Questions, suspicions, expectations, and greed poured in from all sides.

 

When Theresa, flustered, tried to explain, Ilya stepped forward.

 

“I’ll find out what’s going on.”

 

He didn’t need anyone’s permission or agreement. If Ilya said he would, then he would.

 

Ilya brought Theresa to his mansion and instructed his butler to refuse all visitors. Then, as he was about to leave again, Theresa stopped him.

 

Was she feeling uneasy about today’s events? Ilya stroked her head, as if to reassure her. “I have somewhere to go. As long as you stay here, no one can touch you. Don’t worry.”

 

“That’s not it… Excuse me for a moment.” Theresa reached out and touched his forehead. “Ah, as I thought, your fever’s gone down. Maybe it’s because his duty transferred to me.” She wasn’t worried about herself—but about him.

 

Ilya felt a strange sensation as he looked at the genuinely relieved Theresa. It was similar, yet slightly different, from what he had felt over the past week. Right now…

 

“Take care, Lord Ilya.”

 

Ilya lowered his body and kissed her forehead. His body moved before his mind could think—it was pure instinct. Why did I do that? Ilya questioned himself but didn’t dwell on it. He always behaved a little differently around Theresa.

 

“I’ll be back.”

 

Smiling at the blushing Theresa, he left the mansion. His destination was the Holy See.

 

It was a busy time of day, so the Holy See was crowded. Ilya walked straight through them. The sound of his shoes tapping on the white marble floor echoed clearly. Meanwhile, all other sounds around him were distorted.

 

“―――?”

 

“―――――.”

 

“―!”

 

“―――.”

 

People conversed or passed by, but no one noticed Ilya. The deeper he walked in, the more intense the distortion became. By the time he reached the chapel, everyone had vanished as if they had evaporated. He was in the same place, but had shifted into a different dimension—an alternate layer of reality.

 

Standing alone in this faded world, Ilya shed his false shell and revealed his true form. White wings unfurled from his back, and golden light gently radiated from his entire body. This was Ilya, the archangel.

 

He spoke immediately. “Why did you form a contract with Theresa?”

 

A voice answered from the void.

 

[It’s been a while, Ilya. To answer your question: because she was the most qualified.]

 

“Obviously, you mean she was qualified to stand against the Evil God. What I’m asking is why she is the qualified one.” Ilya’s tone, always dry and indifferent, now held a hint of emotion and even mild irritation.

 

[Sounds like you already know the answer.]

 

Ilya recalled an old saying from heaven. God loves riddles. It was a phrase often used to describe the gods’ tendency to avoid direct answers.

 

Soon, a blurry form appeared before him, as if woven from morning mist—it was the Holy God. With long white hair trailing along the ground and eyes covered by white cloth, their presence was mystical and enigmatic.

 

“I already knew Theresa wasn’t a typical cultist of the Evil God. But is there more?”

 

A small smile formed on the Holy God’s lips. No words were spoken—but that smile was answer enough.

 

“You don’t intend to tell me.”

 

[Because it’s not important.]

 

Ilya agreed with that. The fact that Theresa was different didn’t matter much to him. As long as she stayed by his side, he didn’t care what she was. That’s why he had asked the question—to see if the Holy God intended to sacrifice her.

 

“What was your reason for choosing me as her teacher in the first place?”

 

[Because that was the key to this ‘Fear’. But it’s no longer important.]

 

The Fear was a heavenly ordeal that all high-ranking angels had to undergo. In it, the angel’s powers would be sealed, and they would live as a human until death—a kind of experiential learning to understand mortal life.

 

[You’re not asking why you must go through such a pointless trial this time, Ilya. I guess life among humans hasn’t been that bad.]

 

“I still don’t understand why we have to go through it.”

 

If you asked a human to live like a worm, who would accept that? To Ilya, living as a human felt like that. But what choice did he have? It was divine law.

 

“Still, life among humans has gotten better.”

 

The reason was clear. Ever since Theresa appeared, he no longer minded living as a human. No—he was even beginning to enjoy it.

 

[Good. I was worried because you’re particularly ‘angelic’.]

 

Ilya frowned at that.

 

Humans were an inferior species. Occasionally, angels with human-like tendencies appeared—but they were all discarded. Angels deemed unfit had always caused chaos, disrupted order, and spread strange ideologies. In other words, they brought disorder—like demons. And that was dangerous for immortal, powerful angels. Strict rules were the only way to preserve order. That had been proven since the beginning of the dimensions.

 

“Did you hope I’d learn ‘humanity’ through this Fear?”

 

Ilya was even slated to become the next ruler of heaven. If he started acting human, who knew what kind of ripple effects that would cause?

 

[Who knows? Enlightenment is personal. If you gain anything, then the Fear has meaning.] With those final words, the Holy God disappeared.

 

“There’s no need for a teacher anymore…”

 

That meant Deina was no longer the key figure in Ilya’s Fear—it had become Theresa. If the purpose of the Fear was to awaken emotions impossible to feel as a pure angel—through caring for a fragile human—then this made sense. Because he had accepted Theresa as his student. But that wasn’t all his role entailed.

 

The real reason Ilya was going through this Fear now was because of the Evil God. His existence was too powerful to be fully suppressed even in human form, and this moment was the best time to use that limited power.

 

While other angels saw the Fear as a form of amusement, Ilya treated it like a duty. There was a reason the Holy God called him ‘more angelic than anyone.’ But has he really acted like an angel lately?

 

Ilya found himself standing before Theresa’s door at the mansion—without any clear purpose, just like how he had kissed her forehead earlier, before leaving. He had never once acted on personal desires. Now he felt like a child tossed into the world—confused.

 

Was this due to being reborn as a human? But he was in a state least affected by physical form. The fact that he could meet the Holy God even while in Fear said it all. That meant this was Ilya’s free will—not a byproduct of humanity, but his own personal desire.

 

Was that even possible for me?

 

The inner changes he had undergone during his high fever were only now becoming clear. Ilya instinctively touched his chest. His once-slow heartbeat now pulsed faster than usual.

 

Creak. The door opened. Theresa, having heard he had returned, stepped out, fully prepared.

 

“Lord Ilya?”

 

Normally, she would come greet him whenever he returned. But this was the first time he had come to her.

 

“What brings you here…? Did something happen?”

 

As soon as she appeared, his heart raced—and he understood.

 

“Maybe something did.”

 

“Is it serious?”

 

Maybe it was.

 

“I like you, Theresa.”

 

“…What?”

 

He cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead again. This time, with deeper longing than before. “You appear like a woman to me now.”