Chapter 11: Hannah Carter

‘A name, a salvation?’

Hearing such suggestive words, Rosie instinctively shifted her gaze to the neatly arranged parchment scrolls and quill pens on the dining table.

Hannah didn’t pause, continuing to read downwards.

“My Lord has mercy, salvation for the world.”

“In his name, with her blood, wash away sin.”

“Every night, write a name upon the parchment, offer it to the immortal one who wanders between life and death.”

Hannah frowned, moving her gaze from the parchment in her hand and explaining to the group.

“The words here have been smeared.”

“That’s not important, Miss Carter. Is there anything else below?”

Dewitt Nair, the middle-aged merchant, keenly sensed a possible escape.

Forgetting his gentlemanly manners for a moment, he urged her on.

“The chosen one will remain in this room, awaiting My Lord.”

“The others must not leave their rooms at night. Before the bell tolls, no matter what sound is heard or what is encountered, you must not open your eyes.”

“Five days of repentance will wash away sin, and the lost ones will find salvation.”

“A salvation, a name.”

After the ancient script on the parchment was translated, no one spoke.

The room fell into silence.

And within the silence, a more bizarre emotion was brewing, growing.

‘In his name, with her blood.’

In this world where religion existed, Rosie couldn’t help but associate this description with one word.

Sacrifice.

Having already experienced all sorts of strange and bizarre things, and even having transmigrated herself, who could say for sure about such supernatural matters.

‘Five days?’

‘One name sacrificed per night.’

‘This means that in the end, there will only be three people who receive “salvation”.’

This was bad.

Rosie’s heart slowly sank.

She broke into a cold sweat for her—no, for her, the bodyguard, and Hannah’s situation.
This ritual seemed simple, just a vote of the majority over the minority, but people were complex, and so were relationships.

She, Hannah, and Mr. Sandek, this small group of three acquaintances, had now become a blade hastening their demise.

The remaining five people would not sit by and watch the three of them “survive” past the third night, because if that happened, the ones who would receive “salvation” would be predetermined.

No matter whose name was left on the second day, tonight, one person among Rosie Moulton, Hannah Carter, and Dennis Sandek would remain here forever.

And within this small group of three, who was the outsider?

Human nature couldn’t withstand scrutiny.
This was a dead end.

Of course, Rosie was not the only one who had figured this out.

Dewitt no longer concealed his intentions.
He grabbed his lover Bev Hardy’s hand and at the same time looked at the person closest to him, Jesse Holmes, saying directly, “I think the few of us should cooperate for the time being.”

Hermann Rhys, the young man, watched this act of forming cliques with a rather playful look, raising an eyebrow without stating his position.

As for Donahue Bobby, he glanced at Rosie Moulton beside him, hesitated for a moment, and moved away from her.

Trust collapsed, suspicion ran rampant, and the selfishness of human nature was magnified to its extreme at this moment.

‘What should I do? Sit and wait for death?’

‘Impossible.’

‘Then what about joining forces with the bodyguard and controlling everyone else?’
Rosie was no saint.

In this extremely unfavorable situation, it was inevitable that her way of thinking would develop in a dark and extreme direction.

But the conscience cultivated over many years of living in a society ruled by law was gently scratching at her heart, resisting such thoughts, making her feel immense torment.

“This is a conspiracy. The purpose is to sow discord among us.”

Just then, Hannah spoke up.

Her eyes were clear, her expression resolute, her back ramrod straight.

Her entire aura was like a drawn, sharp blade that would not compromise with anyone or anything.

After speaking, Hannah walked directly to the dining table, picked up a quill pen, and with a few swift strokes, wrote on the parchment.

Then, she held up the parchment, her head raised.

“As a believer in the God of Fate, I will not compromise with any demon, sacrificing my friends and companions.”

“Tonight, only this name will be left on all the parchments.”

On the dark yellow parchment, a dark red name was left.

Hannah Carter!

Rosie looked at Hannah’s face, with its faint freckles and childish air, and couldn’t help but exclaim in her heart.

This girl was glowing!

Dennis Sandek frowned and said in a low voice, “Miss…”

Hannah turned her head and smiled at him.
“Mr. Sandek, you don’t need to persuade me anymore.”

“Truth above all, I will not disgrace the Carter name. I will personally prove that this so-called ‘salvation’ is just a despicable, clumsy trick.”

The crisis was resolved.

Someone was willing to sacrifice themselves.
Dewitt resumed his gentlemanly demeanor.
He first took off his hat, held it to his chest, and bowed slightly.

“Miss Carter, your character, like Baron Carter’s, is admirable.”

Then, he made the prayer gesture of the Church of Truth again.

“Truth above all, may the God of Fate protect you.”

‘Why didn’t I see you blessing Hannah just now?’

Although it was human nature to protect oneself, and understanding was one thing, Rosie, having just witnessed Dewitt’s various actions, still had quite a few words for this middle-aged man.

Hannah, on the other hand, was as usual, showing no emotion of disgust.

She graciously accepted the other’s goodwill, touched her forehead and chest, and laid her palm flat on her left shoulder.

“Truth above all, may the God of Fate protect you too, Mr. Nair.”

‘Miss Hannah? She should be Saint Hannah!’

Next, in a unified step, the group all left the name Hannah Carter on the parchments.
For Rosie, this was quite a strange experience.

She had been worried that she would become an “illiterate” who couldn’t write, but when she picked up the pen, words flowed through her mind, and her hand naturally materialized the text.

So, her—no, “Rosie’s” memory should be in an ambiguous state.

It wasn’t gone, but rather covered up, or temporarily forgotten.

It would only surface when needed, or rather, when stimulated?

As she was thinking, a somewhat softer man’s voice sounded in her ear.

“What should we do now? Just stay here?”

Rosie turned her head.

The one who spoke was Jesse Holmes, who had been rather quiet all this time.

When the man saw everyone’s gaze focused on him, he subconsciously lowered his head, his eyes looking at the ground.

Hermann shrugged and took over the conversation.

“Then, of course, we each go back to our own homes.”

“Didn’t the parchment say so? Except for the person whose name is left, the rest of us have to go back to our own rooms. Hmm, it should mean the place where we woke up.”

“Then close our eyes and sleep, and wait for the bell that signals the next day to toll before we can leave.”

‘Good thing this guy didn’t add “each find our own mothers” to that.’

‘Otherwise, Rosie would have had to whip out a line of “moonlight before my bed”¹ to check for a secret code with him.’

‘Mm, the response might have been “two pairs of shoes on the ground”.’

TL Note:
¹This is a reference to a very famous, classic Chinese poem that every schoolchild learns. The character is joking that if the other person had completed the common saying “each go back to our own homes, each find our own mothers,” she would have had to test if he was a fellow transmigrator by quoting the first line of this poem. The last line is a nonsensical, humorous response she imagines he might give, further playing on the idea of them being out of place.