"It hurts so much! Help me, take me out of here!"
"Brother, save me! Look at me!"
"Why didn't you save me? Why!"
"You're all the same kind of people!"
The officer's eyes were wide open, tears welling up in them from the wind, and he didn't even blink. His fingers were white with cold, and he let go of his unconscious companion and threw him to the ground.
He was trembling all over, unable to stand steadily between his legs, and his mind was constantly being filled with screams and cries for help, as if his brain was about to explode.
"No...no! Don't come any closer!" His lips trembled as he pulled a pistol from his side.
"..."
His pale eyes stared ahead, his face devoid of any fear, a strange smile playing on his lips as he held the gun to his temple.
"Don't be afraid, brother is coming to save you."
With a loud "bang!", his head exploded like a firework, sending blood and flesh flying everywhere...
The people around were shocked by the sight before them. After a minute of stunned silence, they took out a white cloth and covered him up, sealing off the open space.
The officers all had tense expressions, their minds were in a jumble of thoughts, and their steps were stiff and unsteady.
After leaving the open space, the stench of blood still lingered in the dark room, the girl's body still lay on the chopping board, and the steam in the bowl slowly dissipated.
There was no one left... only the wronged souls remained, their hoarse, tearing voices echoing in the silent, empty room.
"Baby, baby is looking for mommy."
"The doll, the doll has been found..."
"Mom is right behind you..."
——
The next day, when Sehir went to the palace to report, the Queen excitedly ran straight to Sehir's side.
Cecil's alarm bells rang, but he breathed a slight sigh of relief when he didn't smell the perfume.
Cecil took a step back and gracefully curtsied: "Your Majesty, the matter has been resolved. Please keep your promise."
The Queen smiled broadly as she returned to her throne, her voice lightening slightly: "Of course."
The queen glanced at the person standing next to her, and that person immediately knelt down.
"Issue a public notice: From this day forward, the Cretis family is hereby appointed as the foremost noble family in the West Asian continent!"
"Yes!" Upon receiving the Queen's order, the soldiers around her immediately began to get busy.
Sesil's lips curled up slightly, but there wasn't much excitement, or rather, happiness, in his eyes.
He did this simply to secure his own future.
The news spread quickly, and within just one morning, all the residents of the street knew about it.
In an instant, Cecil's name spread throughout the streets and alleys, and even children knew about him.
After leaving the palace, the residents of the street all gathered around the roadside, looking at Sehir's carriage with eyes full of respect and admiration.
Suddenly, the carriage came to a stop. Cecil was jolted, his brow furrowed, and he glanced at Isri, who was driving the carriage.
“What are you doing!” Sehir asked.
Isri turned around and met Cesil's eyes: "There's someone blocking the way."
No sooner had the words been spoken than the person blocking the way shouted at the top of their lungs.
"Your Excellency Cretis, we have important matters to discuss with you."
Chapter Sixteen
Sehir glanced at the man standing in the middle of the road, put on his top hat, picked up his cane, and got out of the car.
His short, bright blonde hair was covered by a top hat, which elevated his aristocratic air in the eyes of the surrounding commoners. As they watched Cecil's actions, their admiration for him increased even further.
Sehir walked up to the speaker, took off his hat from his head and held it to his chest with a smile on his face.
"What's up?"
The man swallowed hard and bowed to Cecil, mimicking the way nobles bowed in his memory. Although his movements were clumsy and laughable, at least the manners were proper.
The person's voice wasn't loud, but those around could hear it.
"Your Excellency Cretis, please become our Holy Son!"
Upon hearing this, the people around immediately began to discuss it privately. Sehir was also caught off guard, realizing that this was not part of his plan.
Sehir frowned slightly without showing any change in expression. Just as he was about to refuse, the surrounding civilians began to shout.
"Your Excellency Cretis, please become our Holy Son!"
"You saved us and cast the demons into hell! You are our holy son!"
"He is our Holy Son, Your Majesty, please bless us!"
In an instant, one after another shouted, which quickly mobilized a large group of people, who all bowed and stood around Sehir, saying the same thing.
Sehir stood there somewhat at a loss. The identity of the First Noble and the Holy Son was undoubtedly the best choice. With these two identities, he could move freely throughout the West Asian continent.
However, the Holy Son has too many rules! He simply doesn't have the time or inclination to deal with those things.
Cecil stood there somewhat bewildered, turning back to look for Isri, only to find Isri standing beside the carriage with a gloomy expression.
Immediately, Sehir felt a sense of panic and moved a little further away from the person in front of him, a nameless fear rising in his heart.
"Lord Kritis?" The man raised his head slightly, looking puzzled. "What is this?"
Sehir clearly saw the change in the expressions of the people around him; their faces were frozen, and they were looking at him with scrutinizing eyes.
Cecil tightened his grip on his cane, involuntarily clicking his tongue in disapproval; his palms were already sweating.
He was thrust into a commanding position!
"Make way! Make way! The priest is coming!"
At someone's shout, everyone's gaze instantly shifted from Sehir, looking at the priest with respectful eyes and hands in prayer.
The priest's beard and hair had turned silver-white with age, neatly combed back and tied with ribbons. He wore a dark black robe, which made him appear even paler.
Sehir looked at the priest with increasing respect, and only when the priest came to his side did Sehir raise his hands to prepare to pray.
Before he could even prepare his hands, the priest stopped him, saying, "Child."
Sehir looked up at the priest, who seemed like a creation of God, and now he was being spoken to.
The priest, with a kind expression, smiled and said, "My dear child Cecil, today I pass on the throne of the Son of God to you."
This was the highest invitation, a personal request from the priest. The eyes of everyone around him fell on Sehir once again, waiting for his answer, as if he would be sent to the execution platform if he answered a single wrong word.
Sehir glanced at Isri out of the corner of his eye; Isri remained standing beside the carriage, unmoved.
“Okay,” Sehir turned around, his eyes meeting the priest’s.
Immediately, the people around seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and the expressions on their faces finally relaxed.
The priest crossed his arms over his shoulders in a gesture of respect: “Your Holiness, I will be waiting for you at Greenland Church tomorrow at noon.”
Sehir, mimicking the priest, bent even lower than the priest: "I will go."
After dealing with these people, Sehir breathed a sigh of relief, realizing he had inexplicably acquired a new identity.
Sehir put the top hat back on his head, and because he was concerned about Isri's injury, Sehir did not let Isri help him up.
Isri's expression remained unchanged, but his pale amber eyes were terrifyingly cold. Cesil glanced at him, then looked away, no longer looking at Isri.
After all, etiquette must be observed. Isri bowed slightly to Ceshir and boarded the carriage. As the carriage started moving, an extremely jarring sound entered Isri's ears.
"Do you think that young master doesn't get along with his butler?"
"I think so too. Black hair is not common in West Asia. He probably dislikes it!"
"Keep your voice down!"
As the carriage passed by the two men, Isri glanced at them with his cold eyes, and the two men immediately shut their mouths as if they had fallen into an ice cave, daring not to speak again.
With his back to Ceshir, Isri's anger and madness surged uncontrollably from his eyes.
Sehir is his, Sehir is his god, he is not your holy son!
Unbeknownst to him, Isri was driving the carriage faster. Cesil realized Isri's problem and now all he could do was go along with Isri.
In the quiet woods, a carriage suddenly galloped by, startling the surrounding animals, who all scrambled into the trees.
Ignoring everything else, Ishri stopped the carriage and then got off to bow and apologize to Ceshir.
"I apologize, young master. I was reckless today."
Ceshir glanced at Isri, unsure how to respond, then simply hummed in agreement and alighted from the carriage.
Islam's hand, which was suspended in mid-air, was no longer supported. Suddenly, confusion and suspicion filled his mind.
"Young Master," Isri called out, stepping forward to lift Sehir from the ground.
Cesil instinctively wanted to punch Isri, but then remembered his injury and didn't.
"Put me down!" Sehir commanded!
Isri's eyes were devoid of any emotion, and his tone was icy: "Does the young master dislike me?"
Sehir paused for a moment. Dislike? No, he didn't dislike Isri; he just wanted to escape, to get away from this madman!
“I didn’t!” Cecil explained, frowning. “You’re injured!”
Isri met Cesil's eyes, and there was no trace of lying in his sapphire blue pupils. Isri's mood improved considerably, and his tone was no longer as horribly cold as before.
"I only have one injured shoulder, the other one is fine. Young master, you can leave things to me."
Sehir glanced to the side, no longer looking at Isri, and said in a commanding tone, "I understand, put me down!"
Instead of obeying Sehir's orders, Isri carried Sehir straight into the house, and threw him inside when they reached the bathroom door.
"Young Master, please wash yourself clean before coming out. I don't like the smell on you right now."
Isri's tone turned cold again, and Sehir had no choice but to obey Isri and go into the bathroom.