Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 952: Sin (3)

Bucky’s unconscious position on the ground was rather peculiar.

His arms were outstretched, his face pressed against the floor, and his rear end sticking up. Whether or not he bit his tongue was of no concern to the Shadow Queen.

Scathach merely frowned as she looked at Miss Cossini.

When she entered the room earlier, her first sight was Miss Cossini seemingly under some sort of control, her clothes undone. Meanwhile, the so-called "Messenger of God" was walking toward her with a wicked grin.

Although Scathach wouldn’t call herself a paragon of justice, she detested acts like this—using control to forcibly claim a woman’s body.

Scathach extended a finger and lightly tapped Cossini on the forehead. The moment she did so, Cossini collapsed. Scathach caught her and gently placed her on the nearby sofa.

Once again, she scrutinized Miss Cossini, frowning even more deeply—because in the instant she lifted the spell on Cossini, she sensed an exceptionally pure and sacred power.

Sacred... yet combined with a charm spell used for malicious purposes.

“What’s going on here?” The Shadow Queen’s expression grew increasingly puzzled. She turned to Bucky, who was lying on the floor, and kicked him over.

Scathach stared at Bucky for a while before crouching down and placing her hand over his face—removing the mask he wore.She pried open Bucky’s eyelids and examined his pupils, then grabbed his wrist.

“What’s with this guy? Why is he emanating such an evil aura?” Scathach mused. “Is he about to mutate into a demon... or perhaps he’s a descendant of demons with traits resurfacing?”

Shaking her head, Scathach decided not to dwell further. Lucifer had tasked her with investigating this, so throwing this "Messenger of God" before Lucifer should clarify things.

---

Miss Cossini slowly opened her eyes, finding herself lying on a sofa with a blanket draped over her.

Looking around in confusion, she saw no sign of the “Messenger of God.” She furrowed her brows, recalling that the last thing she remembered was him extending his hand toward her, and then she had blacked out.

“Could he be a master of hypnosis...?”

Cossini’s hands began to tremble slightly as she bit her finger.

“Father’s task... has failed…”

---

“Fainted suddenly?”

Mr. Saint Francis had summoned Cossini before him through his secretary. At the time, he had been engaging in lively conversation with the mayor.

“Apologies, Father.” Cossini lowered her head. “This messenger seems to be an expert in hypnosis. After being hypnotized, I don’t know if he managed to extract anything from me.”

Saint Francis’s expression remained calm as he gazed out at the night beyond the window. “You’ve undergone resistance training against hypnosis. If even you fell for it unknowingly... then I think I understand why this church has grown so quickly.”

“Father means... his reliance lies in powerful hypnosis techniques?” Cossini’s expression turned grim.

Saint Francis replied indifferently, “Hypnosis is just one method. These cult-like churches use techniques like hypnosis, hallucinogenic drugs, psychological manipulation, and deception... nothing more than these basic tricks.”

“Basic tricks…” Cossini echoed, pondering the words.

Saint Francis finally turned to her, speaking slowly. “During my time in prison, I encountered a judo master. He wasn’t there for a crime but for spiritual training… This world is vast, far beyond the limits of ordinary human imagination.”

Cossini tried to decipher the meaning behind his words. But before she could, Saint Francis abruptly said, “Enough. Let’s head to the banquet.”

“But Father, this messenger is still…” Cossini began, concerned—since the “Messenger of God” had disappeared after she woke up.

Interrupting her, Saint Francis said calmly, “To end the banquet prematurely would only raise suspicions about us. Go; the evening’s festivities have just begun. Our presence as the main figures is crucial.”

“Understood…” Cossini sighed and hurried to follow him.

---

Life at the grand church was still unfamiliar to Chalty, despite her arrival here being less than two days ago.

On one hand, the sheer number of people here—both residents and the constant stream of daytime worshippers—was overwhelming compared to the small convent she grew up in.

The priest here, Father Babalon, was the one who had generously provided funds for the mother superior’s surgery and granted Chalty the opportunity to study.

Father Babalon truly seemed to be a kind and benevolent man—or so Chalty believed so far.

After completing her daily lessons, Chalty was helping clean the church alongside another novice nun. This other nun, close to Chalty’s age, was named Messiah. She was a quiet and reserved girl.

“Messiah, could you handle the prayer room? I’ll take care of cleaning the floor,” Chalty offered.

Having grown up in a convent where she had handled all the cleaning herself, Chalty figured she could do more and leave the lighter task for Messiah.

“No... I’ll clean the floor,” Messiah replied shyly. “I’m clumsy and might accidentally damage something in the prayer room.”

After speaking, Messiah quickly took the broom from Chalty’s hands and began sweeping energetically.

Chalty smiled at her newfound companion’s thoughtfulness. Clearly, Messiah had the same idea—to take on the harder task herself and leave the easier one for others.

“This grand church... it’s so nice,” Chalty thought, her mood brightening after days of unease.

As she cleaned the prayer room, the church doors suddenly swung open. A portly man entered, his head hanging low.

Sighing heavily, he gazed at the crucifix at the altar before sitting alone on a pew. Chalty hesitated before approaching him.

The church was a place where people could unburden their hearts—this was what the mother superior had always taught her.

“Sir, is there something troubling you?” Chalty asked softly.

Though Father Babalon would be better suited for this, he was preoccupied with other matters.

"Are you a new nun? I don’t recall seeing you before," the overweight man asked, frowning.

"Yes," Chalty replied as she sat beside the man with a gentle smile. "But I grew up in a monastery. If you have any problems, you can talk to me."

The man let out a bitter laugh. "You don’t look much older than my daughter. What advice could you possibly give me? Let me just sit here quietly and reflect."

Clearly raised to be warm-hearted, Chalty quickly replied, "Sir, perhaps my experience isn’t enough to offer you effective advice. But as a listener, I can help you unburden yourself and find some relief."

The man hesitated for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "Alright, I think I really do need someone to listen."

"What’s your name?" Chalty asked with a smile.

"Cage. Just call me Cage," he said, exhaling deeply. "Did you know? I was just released from detention—I’m a sinner."

Chalty’s smile remained gentle. "Mr. Cage, our sins can be forgiven if we carry hearts filled with kindness and gratitude. You’ve regained your freedom. Isn’t that something to celebrate?"

Cage laughed bitterly. "Celebrate? I come out to find my wife ran off with another man, took my daughter, and even emptied my savings. I also lost my job. What’s left for me to celebrate?"

"This... this..." Chalty faltered, her face stiffening. She wasn’t used to such heavy troubles, having mostly listened to minor village grievances in the past. She struggled to find words of comfort.

"You don’t need to console me," Cage said, staring at the crucifix ahead. "Like you said, just being a listener is enough." He then recounted his experiences—how he had lost his job and was coerced into helping a criminal escape, which led to his arrest. Though eventually released, life had only spiraled downward from there.

"I sometimes wonder if God is even watching over me," Cage muttered, shaking his head. "Before coming here, I even considered robbery because I’m utterly penniless and starving."

"You can’t do that!" Chalty quickly grabbed his hand. "Mr. Cage, you mustn’t give up on yourself. You’ve already left that place; don’t let another crime send you back."

"But I’ll starve... What are you doing?" Cage asked as Chalty pulled out her old wallet, extracting a few bills and coins.

"Mr. Cage, I’m sorry. I don’t have much income yet, but I hope this can help," she said earnestly.

"You’re so young," Cage murmured, his lips trembling as his eyes grew misty. "I’ve reached out to friends, colleagues, even my former boss, but none would help me. Yet here you are, a stranger, offering your kindness..."

Chalty stood and gently pressed a hand to Cage’s forehead. "Lord, please guide this lost lamb and steer him away from the wrong path. Lord, I implore you..."

Hearing her prayer, Cage suddenly broke down into sobs. Chalty stayed quietly by his side until he calmed down, sighing deeply. "Thank you, Sister Chalty. I feel much better now. May I know your name?"

"Chalty."

"Sister Chalty," Cage said with a faint smile. "Thank you for listening to me today. Though my situation hasn’t changed, my heart feels lighter."

"That’s already a change," Chalty said cheerfully. "There’s nothing more important than regaining your spirit."

Cage clenched the money Chalty gave him tightly. "I do need this, Sister Chalty, but I’ll repay you once I get through this hardship."

"No need," Chalty said, shaking her head. "I hardly spend anything here."

"Sister Chalty, you’ll make a remarkable nun one day," Cage said earnestly. "I’m glad to have met you. May I return to speak with you again?"

"Of course!"

Cage left, a glimmer of hope returning to his expression. Chalty stretched and glanced at the crucifix, covering her mouth with a small, sheepish laugh. "Becoming a remarkable nun, beloved by many..."

Oh, dear!

...

...

Scathach suddenly appeared before Lucifer, who was reclining lazily on a sofa, lost in thought. She tossed the unconscious Bucky onto the floor.

"What is this?" Lucifer’s eyes flicked toward the figure sprawled before her.

"Isn’t this what you sent me to investigate?" the Shadow Queen replied coolly. "If you want answers, ask him yourself. This guy is the mastermind behind the new church."

"Oh?" Lucifer’s eyes narrowed as she nudged Bucky with her foot. Then she crouched down for a closer look. "So it really is you, Bucky," Lucifer muttered darkly. She couldn’t feel the connection of their past contract, which only deepened her suspicion.

(End of Chapter)