Chapter 8: The Church’s Twelve Halls

Vivian’s rabbit head tipped backward in shock…

At least, it should have been a shocked expression.

But her entire head had been shredded by the unstoppable force of a revolver bullet, leaving nothing that could show any trace of emotion.

Evelyn casually stubbed out her cigarette on the corpse of the demon disguised as a maid, then brushed at the smeared blood on her dress with visible distaste.

If it were an ordinary Sins Nun, demon blood would never touch their clothes at all.
The power of prayer would protect them, rejecting such filth before it could even get close.

Unfortunately, Evelyn’s prayers were… peculiar.
Instead of purifying or shielding, her prayers permanently boosted her physical attributes — reflexes, dynamic vision, muscle strength, bone density — all sorts of scientific-sounding enhancements.

That’s also why she could handle this revolver at all — a weapon whose recoil even demons could barely withstand — yet in her hands, it behaved like a docile kitten.

She had her suspicions about these differences.
More than likely, they stemmed from her beliefs.

The Church’s power of prayer supposedly came from faith in the Holy Father.
Yet, coming from Earth — growing up under the red flag — Evelyn absolutely did not believe in any bizarre, unheard-of Holy Father.

She only joined the Church as a Sins Nun to escape a political marriage.
She certainly wasn’t about to convert to a religion she’d never even heard of.

If she had to name her true faith, there was only one answer: Marxism.

So perhaps that was why the power she gained made her more like a sledgehammer — one capable of crushing every ghost and monster in her way.

“This exorcism is done.”

As Evelyn crouched down to retrieve her revolver from Vivian’s limp hand, Puff-Puff fluttered onto her shoulder, chirping cheerfully in that tiny childish voice.

“But why did you leave two bullets in the gun on purpose?”

The silly bird tilted its head again, round beady eyes staring at Evelyn. “Weren’t you afraid she’d actually shoot you dead?”

“That was to put psychological pressure on her,” Evelyn replied coolly, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe down the gun. “Falling from the brink of victory straight into the abyss of despair — that drop is enough to break anyone’s will.”

Just as she said, when Vivian first got her hands on the gun — even after Evelyn’s intimidation had left her shaking — the demon’s mindset surged upward.
Even when the first shot failed to fire, she still believed she held the key to victory.

But that crisp click of an empty chamber was like a hammer smashing through her mental defenses, forcing her to reveal her demon form in panic.

“Like the gambling game you played with that demon in the bar?” Puff-Puff asked, head tilted.

“Similar — in that both tactics were meant to break a demon’s psychological defenses,” Evelyn answered, returning the polished revolver to its holster. “But not the same, either. That guy, Sieg — his power from his demon pact lets him win every gamble. If I’d really gambled with him, the one with a hole in the head would’ve been me.”

“Eh?”

“I cheated,” she said with a gentle smile. “The revolver we used for Russian Roulette? It didn’t have a single bullet inside.”

Vivian was a demon fully disguised as a human.
Sieg was merely possessed — someone who had exchanged pieces of his soul and desire for supernatural luck.

Evelyn’s strategy for both enemies had one intent: apply mental pressure, shatter their confidence, and force their demon nature into the open.

“So now you can enter the Choir, right?” Puff-Puff circled around her, wings flapping with contagious excitement.

“Hopefully…”

Suddenly, footsteps rushed in the hallway outside. Someone must’ve heard the gunshot and was heading over.

Evelyn signaled with a glance, and Puff-Puff immediately darted out the open window.

The person outside tried the door, but it had been locked ever since Vivian entered.

Evelyn had just reached for the lock when she heard the unmistakable clatter of many keys — then metal scraped, and the iron door burst open.

Three people stood outside — no, two stood, one sat.

Two maids, one pushing a wheelchair.
The one pushing looked to be in her twenties, with long silver hair neatly coiled at the back of her head.
The other held the key ring — clearly the one who opened the door.

And the one in the wheelchair — of course — was Cyril.

“Sister, are you all right?” Cyril asked urgently the instant the door opened. “What was that loud noise just now? Was there a de—”

His words froze.
Shock flashed across his face; his whole body jolted upward as if he might leap from the chair.

Only now did he see the corpse behind Evelyn — the shredded head, the blood-soaked floor, the torn maid uniform barely hinting at what the body once was.

The backward-curving rabbit legs protruding from beneath the skirt confirmed the truth.
This was the demon hiding in the Grian estate.

The young maid with the keys recoiled, the keys clattering to the ground in terror.
Only the silver-haired maid pushing Cyril’s chair remained perfectly calm, as if nothing in the world could disturb her.

“As you can see, Young Master Cyril.” Evelyn smiled gently. “This was the demon lurking within your household — disguised as your maid, Vivian.”

“I… see…” Cyril swallowed hard, spine pressing back against the wheelchair. “Thank you…”

“By the way, Young Master Cyril,” Evelyn continued. “Could I use your telephone? I need to inform the Church so they can retrieve the body.”

“Y-yes. Of course,” Cyril replied, still shaken. He turned to the maid behind him. “Sera, take Sister Evelyn to the Inquisitorial Room.”

“Yes, sir,” the silver-haired maid replied, expression stiff as ice. She released the wheelchair handles and motioned to Evelyn. “This way, please, Sister.”

“Lead on.” Evelyn nodded politely.

So this was Sera.
Vivian mentioned her — the maid who had watched Cyril grow up, the one who seemed to know far too many secrets within these walls.

“My name is Sera. Sera Hilda, head maid of the Grian family,” she said as they walked along the corridor. “Thank you for what you’ve done for the family. Your payment will be delivered to your residence in a few days.”

“There’s no need for payment,” Evelyn said smoothly. “Exorcism is the duty of a Sins Nun.”

The timing — the tone — this didn’t sound like gratitude at all.
It sounded like a warning. A statement of jurisdiction.
Sera clearly didn’t want Evelyn investigating further into this ancient mansion.

“I heard you raised Young Master Cyril?” Evelyn continued lightly.
“Could you tell me more about him?”

You don’t want me to dig around?
Well, I will dig around.

“The Inquisitorial Room is here.”
Sera ignored the question completely, pointing toward a wooden door before stepping aside — hands folded neatly before her, the picture of a professional maid who would never reveal what she shouldn’t.

Evelyn thought to herself that this ice-cold beauty wasn’t going to share a single word.

Fine.
The demon was dealt with.
What happened in this house was no longer her problem anyway.

She’d happily distance herself from the Grian family as fast as possible and use this completed exorcism to finally enter the Choir — even as its lowest-ranking member.

“Thank you.” Evelyn opened the door.

The so-called “Inquisitorial Room” turned out to be nothing more than a cramped little telephone booth.

The phone, however, had been placed reverently atop a luxurious side table, as though it were something sacred that required supplicants to approach reverently.

Very on-brand for these aristocrats — like calling an electrical room something lofty like “The Veil of Light.”
Pretentious to the end.

Evelyn mocked them silently as she lifted the handset and spun the dial, fingers practiced.

“Beep… beep…”

The busy tone shattered the silence until someone picked up.

“This is Evelyn. Transfer me to the Seventh Hall. There’s a demon corpse at the Grian estate that needs retrieval,” she said, idly twisting the phone cord between her fingers. “And bring me a new nun’s habit while you’re at it.”

“Understood. A team will deploy in three minutes.”

A cold, emotionless woman’s voice responded before cutting to a dead busy signal.

Efficient as always — if only because the Church didn’t exactly respect this very unusual Sins Nun.

The Seventh Hall, as Evelyn mentioned, was responsible for post-exorcism clean-up — storing demon corpses and handling aftermath.

The Church had twelve halls in total, each with different responsibilities.
Sins Nuns like Evelyn belonged to the Ninth Hall.

Her goal — the Choir — was the pinnacle of the Ninth Hall, its leadership and strongest fighting force.

As Evelyn hung up the phone, Puff-Puff fluttered back through the small window.

“Achoo! Ugh, why hasn’t the demon stink gone away yet…”
The little bird sneezed, head bobbing with every movement.

“It hasn’t?” Evelyn frowned. Vivian had been dead for over five minutes. The demonic aura should have dissipated by now.

Unless…

She stiffened.

There was another demon in this mansion.