Repeat Vice - The Villainous Noble Doesn't Want to Die, So He Swore to Not Die As One of The Four Heavenly Kings - Chapter 64.4: The Black-Haired Maid

Chapter 63.4: The Black-Haired Maid

The Royal Capital.

The grand cathedral, the headquarters of the Church of the Six Gods.

Its garden, open to the public, served as a passage for devout believers heading to the cathedral. In a corner of this garden, a black-haired girl sat huddled in despair.

The girl continually sobbed, occasionally tearing at her hair in a frenzy. Scattered around her were strands of her black hair.

The garden was never sparsely populated during the day, and despite being in a corner, the girl’s figure caught the eyes of passersby. However, no one dared to approach the crying, huddled girl. It wasn’t just because her demeanor was unsettling; more significantly, her jet-black hair, reflecting no light, repelled people—especially the followers of the Church of the Six Gods.

In the past, the Church of the Six Gods had a period where black was despised. Black clothing and black hair were shunned because black was associated with the Dark God. According to mythology, the Six Gods had banded together to defeat and seal the “God of Darkness,” who sought to bring about the world’s end.

However, a recently discovered mural challenged this myth. The mural depicted a figure, presumed to be the Dark God, commanding numerous monsters and wreaking havoc on a city. The image of this figure, laughing with a crescent-moon smile and leading monsters, resembled a demon or demon king. The ability to control monsters was attributed to the “God of Darkness,” leading to whispers that the Dark God might have been one of the Gods on the side of darkness.

Eventually, this led to a trend where the God of Darkness and the Dark God were seen as the same entity due to the close association between darkness and black. However, this theory had many contradictions based on other murals and ancient texts, resulting in a significant number of detractors within the church.

Later, a mural discovered in a temple dedicated to the God of Light—depicting the God of Light and the Dark God fighting back-to-back against a horde of monsters—completely debunked this theory. This established the Dark God as one of the heroic gods involved in the kingdom’s founding.

Despite this, the deep-seated aversion to black was never entirely erased, and within the Church of the Six Gods, black was tacitly avoided. Thus, black was never used in the church’s clerical garments or decorations, and black-haired clergy were rare, though not entirely absent. While open disdain for black hair was no longer prevalent, there was still an unspoken discomfort among the believers.

The girl was a candidate for the next saint. At the young age of twelve, she was nominated due to her extraordinary proficiency in holy magic, particularly healing magic. The girl was an orphan, discovered before the age of five, lying with a head wound on the outskirts of the kingdom and taken in by the church. Due to her head injury, she lost her memory of her hometown, parents, and even her ability to speak.

The only thing the girl remembered and could say was her name: Yuzuki Rika. Whether due to a mispronunciation or her own unclear speech, the nuns called her Yurika. Despite her black hair, the nuns did not treat the young girl poorly. She was raised with love, just like the other orphans.

Soon, it was discovered that she possessed magical power, and moreover, she had a remarkable aptitude for holy magic. Consequently, she was taken to the capital under the guise of receiving protection from the church headquarters.

Her life changed from being filled with the warmth and love of the nuns to one of rigorous education and holy magic training as a future saint. Initially, she cried and lamented, wishing to return to her beloved nun and the church. Each time, her tutor, a bishop from the dark faction, would strike her, saying a saint should not speak such words. She was told about the honor and greatness of becoming the church’s symbol as a saint.

The faction that had taken her in and promoted her as the next saint was the dark faction within the Church of the Six Gods. An orphan with black hair and an exceptional talent for holy magic was a very convenient existence for them. Their aim was to appoint her as the next saint, thereby eliminating the lingering aversion to black within the church. If the church’s symbol, the saint, had black hair, it would also help those unfairly treated by the church simply because of their black hair. Most importantly, it would elevate the status of the dark faction within the church.

The highest god of the Church of the Six Gods was the God of Light, and therefore, the faction devoted to the God of Light—the light faction—held the most influence. The dark faction hoped that appointing her as saint would challenge and possibly surpass the light faction’s dominance.

“If she becomes the saint, our dark faction’s position will be secure. Perhaps even surpassing the light faction…”

This was a muttered soliloquy of the bishop, overheard by the girl. She didn’t fully understand its meaning but sensed it was not entirely good. Even so, there was little she could do. At best, she could pretend to be a slow learner or underperform in holy magic practice. If she was incompetent, she might not be chosen as the saint, and maybe, just maybe, she could return to her beloved nun.

This naïve hope was seen through by the bishop. Frustrated by her deliberate underperformance, the bishop canceled all afternoon lessons and prepared for a trip. The girl was put into a carriage and taken to the remote church where she had been found.

Recognizing the familiar scenery, the girl felt a spark of joy. She believed she was being taken back because her incompetence made her unwanted. She could return to the nun and the church she loved. Though she tried to hide it, she felt her heart dance with joy. However, upon arrival, she was stunned.

The church was deserted. The orphans and the nun who had shown her motherly love were gone. The once beautiful garden was overgrown, and the church interior was in ruins. Disbelieving her eyes, the girl asked the bishop, her mouth dry.

“Where is everyone?”

The bishop responded, “All of this is because of you.”

The girl’s vision went black.

The discovery of her magical aptitude and subsequent relocation to the church headquarters two years ago had made the upper echelons aware that this remote church had been harboring a black-haired child. Although it was no longer a punishable offense to harbor a black-haired orphan, some high-ranking officials still harbored doubts about the Dark God being a hero. They applied subtle pressures, such as reducing food supplies and cutting financial support.

For a remote church managing many orphans with limited resources, this was devastating, threatening their very existence. The orphans were scattered to other churches and orphanages, and the nun was relieved of her duties. This left the church abandoned and in disrepair—a common sight in the kingdom’s outskirts.

The bishop told the girl it was all her fault. Crushed by despair, the girl wept in front of the abandoned church, realizing she could never return to her happy days. The bishop then offered her a lifeline.

“Become the saint, Yurika. That is the only way to overturn this dire situation.”

“The only way to overturn…?”

“Yes. If you become the saint, I promise to restore this church to its former glory.”

Those words were like a glimmer of hope—a single spider’s thread dangled in the depths of hell.

“Is it true? If I become the saint, will the church…will everyone come back?”

“Of course. If the saint wishes, no desire is unattainable.”

Hope reignited in her eyes. She clung to that thread without hesitation.

“I’ll become the saint. I’ll become the saint and bring everyone back…”

The bishop responded with a warm smile, his face appearing almost saintly.

From then on, the girl endured rigorous training. She memorized all the holy magic the bishop told her to, mastered the necessary etiquette, and excelled in her studies. She performed all tasks with desperate effort, striving to become the saint and restore her beloved church. Her drive to become the saint gave her the strength to endure everything.

The day before the saint’s selection, the girl was suddenly disqualified. No reason was given; it was just said that the upper echelons had decided. Neither she nor the bishop could accept this. They went to the grand cathedral to protest but were turned away. The girl wasn’t even allowed to attend the selection ceremony.

“Is it because of her black hair?”

That was the bishop’s parting remark. Leaving the devastated girl behind, he walked out of the cathedral.

The girl couldn’t bring herself to follow the bishop. Exhausted from walking, she crouched in the corner of the garden.

And she cried.

Since the day she decided to become a saint at the tender age of twelve, she hadn’t shed a single tear.

But now, with her hope of restoring the church as a saint crushed, everything that had supported her crumbled away.

Sobbing like a child, she clawed at her black hair.

She tore and yanked at her hair, making her scalp bleed.

Everything had gone wrong because of her hair, her dark, night-like black hair.

She was separated from Sister Mama and all the orphans.

She was forced to train in holy magic, which she had no desire to practice, to become a saint.

The church she loved, the place she once called home, had decayed and disappeared.

Everything.

Everything was because of this black hair.

This place was like hell.

Why was she in such a world?

If living meant enduring such misery, she wished she could just disappear.

The girl was overwhelmed by despair.

The followers of the Six Gods religion pretended not to see her and walked past the garden without getting involved.

In the midst of this, a small hand grabbed the girl’s hand, which was clawing at her hair, and stopped her.

“Stop. Your beautiful hair is crying.”

A young yet strong voice.

The girl widened her eyes and looked up.

There stood a black-haired boy, much younger than her sobbing self.

Beside the boy was a knight with pink hair clad in black armor, possibly a bodyguard.

“…Let go.”

The girl shook off the boy’s hand with a harsh, jaded look.

The pink-haired knight reached for his sword, reacting to her action, but the boy stopped him with his hand.

“Stop. It was I who touched her.”

“…Understood.”

A brief exchange between the boy and the knight.

Seeing this, the girl thought, in a detached way, that this boy must be of high status.

Would she be executed if she was disrespectful?

If that were the case… The girl, sinking into destructive thoughts, looked at the boy.

“Why did you stop me…”

“Huh? I told you. Your beautiful hair is crying.”

“Beautiful…? This black hair? Stop joking. Are you making fun of me?”

“I’m not making fun of you… Do you hate your hair?”

“I hate it. I absolutely hate it.”

The boy laughed at the girl’s bitter words.

“I see, I see. It’s strange to hate such beautiful hair.”

“You call it beautiful again… Are you lying to make me look more miserable?”

“Why would I lie? Don’t impose your tastes on me. If I say it’s beautiful, then it’s beautiful.”

“…!?”

The boy reached out to touch the girl’s hair, and she, recalling being hit by the bishop, closed her eyes in fear.

The boy gently stroked her black hair, not caring much.

He untangled the messy hair.

“Good grief, you’ve treated it quite roughly. Hey, do you have a comb?”

“Do you think I, a man, would carry one? Also, Young Master, it’s not appropriate to casually touch a girl’s hair.”

The pink-haired knight spoke in exasperation, and the boy grumbled.

“Your name is too long.”

“You can use a nickname if you like?”

“Who would do that?”

The girl watched the two of them, bewildered, as they bantered like a comedy duo.

Even as they talked, the boy’s hand gently stroked her hair as if admiring a flower.

“…Did you really mean it when you said it was beautiful?”

The question slipped out of the girl’s mouth.

The boy snorted.

“Yes, I meant it. I even envy it.”

“Envy…? What are you talking about…”

Not understanding what he meant, the girl tilted her head.

Because of her black hair, she had faced repeated misfortunes.

There was nothing good about having black hair.

Moreover, the boy before her also had black hair, didn’t he?

What did he mean by envy?

To the girl’s question, the boy pinched a strand of his hair and held it up to the sunlight.

“My mother has pink hair like this knight. My hair color has inherited a bit of that. It’s not purely black. Not that I dislike it, though.”

The boy’s hair, which appeared nearly black, looked slightly reddish when directly illuminated.

“Pure black is wonderful. It’s a noble color that doesn’t get tainted by anything.”

“A noble color…”

“I’m talking about your hair color. Take some pride in it.”

“…I’ve never been told that before.”

The girl wiped her tears and stared at the boy with her swollen eyes.

The boy and the girl looked at each other for a while, and the pink-haired knight sighed and cleared his throat lightly.

“Um, Young Master? It’s about time Lord Rudens meeting ended.”

“Hmm, is it already that time?”

The boy stood up lazily and turned his back to the girl.

“—Ah”

The girl raised her face reluctantly.

Without turning around, the boy spoke.

“I don’t know your circumstances and I’m not interested—but if you’re dissatisfied with your current situation… come to the Lightless territory. No one will reject someone with such beautiful black hair. At the very least, I will welcome you.”

With that, the boy and the pink-haired knight left.

The girl, left alone in the garden, was no longer crying.

She looked at her black hair entwined around her fingers.

“A noble color… Lightless territory, huh.”

The girl looked up at the sky and murmured.

“If I become a black knight, can I stand next to him…”

The girl, who had lost all hope and had a hollow heart.

However, the boy who called her black hair beautiful stayed in her mind.

She felt that she might start to like her hated black hair a little bit.

＊

Lightless family’s secondary residence, office.

Sunlight streaming through the window slightly tinted Rofus’s hair red.

Seeing this, the maid Yurika smiled, recalling the past.

“What are you smiling at… Is there something on my head?”

“No. I was just reminiscing about when we first met.”

“…? Was there something that amusing?”

Rofus tilted his head.

Rofus was likely thinking of when he was treated for injuries received from the rogue whale in the Rougvelt.

The incident in the garden happened when Rofus was seven years old.

Given that Yurika had grown significantly since then, it’s understandable that he wouldn’t remember.

Yurika smiled mischievously.

“It’s a secret.”

“What is that?”

Rofus sighed at Yurika’s chuckling.

Resting his cheek on his hand, Rofus spoke in a troubled tone.

“Speaking of our first meeting, it was in the cathedral garden… All I remember is you crying your eyes out.”

Rofus spoke as if it were nothing.

Yurika stiffened.

Her face turned red with embarrassment as she visibly flustered.

“R-Rofus…! Wh-why…do you remember…?”

“Well, yes. I recalled it recently. When I saw your face the other day, it just came to me.”

“When you say ‘just’… You should’ve told me. I said it was a secret so confidently…”

Clinging to Rofus in her embarrassment, Yurika’s face turned bright red.

Rofus laughed heartily.

“What, did you think I had forgotten?”

Rofus chuckled deeply.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so flustered. It’s refreshing. You’ve been unnecessarily composed lately, always putting on a serious face.”

“P-please don’t tease me.”

Blushing and averting her eyes, Yurika muttered as Rofus laughed cheerfully.

Their exchange continued until Carlos, growing impatient, entered the office.