I'm now a cool transmigrator who can actually *read*!
Since I've finally unlocked literacy, it was time to study Evangeline's diary properly. While I was at it, I'd locate that summoning spell and call forth a spirit or dragon for myself. Then I'd become all-powerful, as any self-respecting isekai protagonist should.
Just as I settled in to begin my research, Pudding leaped onto my lap, kneading my thighs with his paws before curling into a warm, purring ball. With a pure and reverent heart—and a three-eyed cat as my witness—I opened the diary.
> *March 9, 370.*
> *Met Count Rohanson.*
Hmm. The diary began on January 1st, but this was the first substantial entry. By the way, what year was it now?
"Hena, what year is it?"
"392 AD, according to the imperial calendar, my lady."
I'd grown rather close to Hena lately. You'd think she'd be embarrassed serving such a clueless mistress, but she always answered kindly, without a trace of judgment in her voice.
392? I glanced at the date in the diary again. This entry was from over twenty years ago. So this *wasn't* Evangeline's diary at all.
I'd been wrong.
> *August 9, 370.*
> *He proposed to me.*
This appeared to be Evangeline's *mother's* diary. According to these pages, she had just married Count Rohanson. She apparently didn't enjoy writing much—the entries were sparse, the dates scattered far apart, and the words themselves were brief to the point of terseness.
> *August 19, 370.*
> *My father forbade me to see him. He said the Count married me only for my family's money. But Father doesn't even know him! He said he truly loved me. He said he didn't need the dowry.*
Evangeline's mother appeared to have been the third daughter of a duke. Unfortunately, the family name wasn't mentioned anywhere. Essentially, a wealthy duke's daughter had fallen in love with an earl, married him against her family's wishes, and been promptly disinherited.
_A classic tale of romantic foolishness._
> *April 2, 371.*
> *I should have listened to my father. I want to go home.*
But of course, Count Rohanson's true goal had been money all along. After securing the dowry, he'd lost all interest in his wife.
_Classic, in a word._
Now, if this followed the standard plot, he'd eventually send her back to her estranged family, begging forgiveness. But the grandfather, who had truly loved his daughter despite the rift, would see his daughter's features reflected in his granddaughter and welcome them home...
But wait—wasn't that a story about *raising* a child? Evangeline was far too old for that trope. It seemed I'd arrived too late for that particular plotline.
_Damn. If only I'd been reborn a few years earlier!_
With each passing entry, the diary's contents grew longer and more desperate. Apparently, Evangeline's mother had no one to confide in, so she'd poured her soul onto these pages instead. Her handwriting deteriorated steadily—some words were nearly impossible to decipher. And the meaning of the text itself seemed to shift, growing darker...
But the important thing was the summoning spell. I flipped through the pages until I found it.
> *[□□ summoning method □□]*
>
> *[□, standing on □*
> *□□□ □□ innocent, desecrate the earth*
> *□ With your □□□ hand, draw a circle*
> *With prayer, call to □*
> *And the thorn bush will yield grapes,*
> *And the thistle will bear figs;*
> *□□ and □□*
> *Turn to the earth and meet □□ □□, who came down from heaven]*
_Excuse me, what?_
Was there a translation error? I *told* them there would be problems with this patch!
It looked like my newfound literacy hadn't fully loaded yet. At least some letters were visible, which was better than nothing.
Let me try to parse what I could actually see. So... desecrate the earth and draw a circle with my hand? What was this nonsense about thorns and grapes? Was it some kind of proverb—*what goes around comes around*? I didn't understand!
And who was I even supposed to call? The letters were hard to make out, and the text was so abstruse that I couldn't comprehend anything.
_This is why tutors make so much money._
They should have written everything out clearly, point by point:
1. Draw a circle.
2. Say the words.
3. Summon.
It would have been *so* much easier.
My head was splitting. Time for a break. I'd put this aside until all the updates finished installing. The paper wasn't going anywhere.
---
"Where did it go?"
The paper had disappeared.
The piece of paper I'd left on the table had vanished without a trace. The diary remained exactly where I'd placed it, but the loose page with the summoning spell was *gone*. I searched the entire room—under the bed, behind the desk, in every drawer—but found nothing.
"Hena, have you seen the paper that was lying on the table?"
"No, my lady..."
I'd been in my room all day. How could it have disappeared? I'd only stepped out for my daily walk... Perhaps one of the servants had taken it away, thinking it was trash?
_But I haven't even had time to decipher it yet! I haven't even attempted the summoning!_
This was why procrastination was dangerous!
I needed to find out who had cleaned my room first. Then I could ask about the paper. I stopped a servant passing in the hallway.
"Who cleaned my room yesterday?"
"Yesterday?" The servant's face scrunched with thought. "Yesterday... I believe it was Donau, my lady."
"Where is he now?"
"He... he didn't show up for work today..."
_Could this really be a crime-scene escape?_
It was entirely possible that what had appeared as garbled nonsense to me—thanks to my incomplete translation patch—had looked perfectly legible to someone else. Donau had been cleaning my room, spotted a valuable summoning method, and *stolen* it. If he'd simply thrown the paper away thinking it was trash, he wouldn't have skipped work the very next day!
"...Did Donau do anything else? Anything unusual?"
"My lady?"
"He did." I kept my voice cold. "It seems he stole something from me."
Evangeline was a villain, but apparently she was also being bullied by the staff. I hadn't wanted to hit anyone or abuse my position, but perhaps that had been a mistake. I should have at least fired someone by now to establish dominance. Was there truly nothing left to steal from me except my path to becoming all-powerful?
"Tell everyone," I said, letting my voice drop to something dangerous, "that if *anyone* touches my belongings again, I will cut off their head."
_I'll rip everyone's heads off! I'll abuse my power left and right if that's what it takes!_
I went immediately to the butler and obtained Donau's address. I hadn't expected my first venture outside the estate to be for such an irritating reason.
Since I didn't know the city, Hena volunteered to accompany me—she lived nearby and knew the streets well. Pudding, assuming we were going for an exciting walk, tagged along with his tail held high.
I gave the coachman the address, and he dropped us off on the outskirts of town, quite a distance from the estate. Hena guided us the rest of the way through narrow, winding alleys.
"Right here, my lady."
*Finally!* Got you, thief! I would reclaim my path to omnipotence!
To hell with knocking—I kicked the door down.
---
## — Donau's Hovel —
"...Mmm... *mmmph!*"
The girl squirmed like an eel in a frying pan, thrashing against her bonds with desperate energy. Tireless, this one. Donau sat in his chair, sipping lukewarm tea and reviewing his notes. He clicked his tongue in irritation at her muffled screaming.
The girl's mouth was gagged, but he already knew what she was trying to say. The same pathetic pleas for mercy they *always* made. It was laughable, honestly. She didn't even understand what she'd done wrong, yet she was already begging for forgiveness.
Donau looked away, regarding the girl with the same disgust one might show a writhing insect.
He had no curtains—couldn't afford them—and to prevent anyone from peering inside, he'd boarded up the windows as best he could with scrap wood. The red light of the setting sun filtered through the narrow cracks between the boards, painting bloody stripes across the floor.
Time was running out. Soon the crimson would give way to darkness.
Donau gazed lovingly at the piece of paper in his hands.
It was a note he'd found at the Rohanson estate. Last night, while cleaning Evangeline Rohanson's room, he had stumbled upon this *treasure*.
> *[Method to Summon a Demon]*
An ordinary person would have dismissed it as childish nonsense—scribbles, perhaps, or some noble girl's fantasy. But Donau, who had worked at the Rohanson estate for years, possessed a keen eye for opportunity. He'd recognized immediately that this was *genuine*.
Evangeline Rohanson—the girl who had hanged herself from a tree in the garden—had somehow come back to life. Who but a *demon* could accomplish such a feat?
The foolish servants whispered only of ghosts and possession, trembling with terror before the resurrected girl. *Pathetic!* They were missing the essential point: understanding *how* she had been resurrected.
And *who* had summoned the demon to do it!
Only Donau had pieced together the truth.
Evangeline Rohanson's mother had come from the Dukes of Hossauvin. Count Rohanson, exploiting Evangeline's chronic childhood illnesses, had received enormous sums from the ducal family for her supposed medical treatments.
While cleaning the Count's office once, Donau had accidentally glimpsed documents filled with endless rows of numbers—payments, transactions, evidence of systematic exploitation. He'd been severely scolded for browsing through someone else's papers, but that only made him remember those figures more clearly.
With Evangeline's death, that money would stop flowing. So naturally, Count Rohanson had made a deal with a demon to resurrect his daughter and preserve his income!
_That damned Count!_ He pretended to be kind and lenient, but like all aristocrats, he was obsessed with wealth. Donau had long suspected the Count harbored ulterior motives beneath his gentle facade.
And now Donau would become a *far* more worthy aristocrat than that pathetic Rohanson.
*Standing on the edge, desecrate the earth with the martyrdom of an innocent. Draw a circle with your bloodied hand. Call out with a plea for salvation.*
*And the thorn bush shall yield vines, and the thistle shall bear figs; Fear and worship. Turn to the earth and meet the angel of light who has come down from heaven.*
Everything was ready.
He had kidnapped a girl wandering the streets—a nobody who wouldn't be missed—and drawn the demon summoning circle on the floor with his own blood. To create an enormous circle of the required size, he'd had to slice open his palms and fingers repeatedly. The wounds throbbed with each heartbeat.
Now he only needed to wait until sunset. Then he would sacrifice this girl and summon his demon.
Donau recited the spell several times, committing every syllable to memory. Then, methodically, he tore the paper into tiny pieces and swallowed them. The dry fragments tasted strangely sweet on his tongue, like ripe fruit.
Such valuable information couldn't be shared with just anyone. This chance to become *special* was meant for him alone.
"**Finally.**"
The sun had set. The blood-red light faded from the cracks in the boarded windows, replaced by the velvet darkness of true night.
Donau struck a match and lit a single candle. The flame guttered, then steadied, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
Taking a sharp knife from the table, Donau began to dance.
The bound girl's ragged breathing provided his accompaniment—a rhythm of terror, quick and desperate. He waltzed like a true nobleman might, imagining himself in silks and jewels rather than his threadbare servant's clothes.
The candle flame flickered with each of his movements, and the shadows on the walls danced with him like eager partners. Donau twirled with them, imagining the glorious future that awaited once he had summoned his demon.
He saw himself not in this squalid hovel with its rotting walls and boarded windows, but in a magnificent ballroom. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead. Noble guests watched him with admiration and envy. Music swelled around him as he danced, powerful and untouchable.
The knife gleamed in the candlelight as he raised it high.
*Soon.*
---