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Interesting, Wayne thought. He had been getting too close to the Goddess of Darkness lately and came to resemble Her a little. Seeing Hestia’s potential for being molded, he pushed harder, “You called me vulgar. Let me ask you something: is there a reincarnated angel named Kael in the Papal State?”
“...”
“Demon got your tongue, Hestia?”
“I don’t want to curse,” Hestia said derisively.
“...”
“Whether you reject it or not, Kael and I are reincarnated angels. There are also me, Archibald, and Derrida, making it four perverts in total.” Wayne pounded his chest, speaking proudly. “That’s how angels are!”
“What does that have to do with me? I don’t have desires like that…” Derrida mumbled. Hestia had rejected any nun or priest that the Pope was going to assign her as her secretary, depriving Derrida of his benefits, too. He had been irritated in the beginning, but then he realized that clergywomen weren’t as appealing as Holy Light magic.
“You shameless man. You’ve spoiled Heaven’s image!” Hestia glared at Wayne. These despicable reincarnated angels were the reasons that the angels’ reputation had...
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