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“What kind of trashy novel is this…” I grumbled. I felt like I was going crazy.
The Inquisitor smiled. Despite the fact we had been locked up in an old storage room—a prison, for all intents and purposes—his face was almost blindingly bright in the moonlight.
“Ah, I was forced to crossdress many times when I was young. I never thought I’d actually end up playing the role of a young noble lady. Such is life, I guess!”
“I wish I could get just a little bit of your bottomless optimism…” I mumbled.
“The world is a beautiful place, Mr. Death King! Think positively!”
Did this guy ever stop smiling? Even if a meteorite were to land in front of him, he would probably laugh and say, “This is quite a problem! The world is going to end! Oh, well. There’s nothing we can do about it. We did our best!”
“What is there to be positive about?” I asked.
“Like this, for example!” The Inquisitor moved his fingers and made a hand seal. Then he whispered, “Divine Formula: Transformation.”
Light flowed out from between his slender fingers. It was the Inquisitor’s trademark divine magic, Divine Formulas. Judging by the name, this Divine Formula was a technique to change something.
At first glance, there was no difference. However, as soon as the Inquisitor opened his mouth, I was covered in goo...
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