Chapter 118 – Silas's "Little Prank"
"Gideon! It's really you!"
Judy ran excitedly up to the counter, practically glowing with surprise.
"Mom just took a commission recently, so we came here for that job."
"And where is she now?" Gideon asked, glancing around the shop. He saw only Judy.
"She and Dad went next door to buy Holy Water."
Judy wandered about, her eyes full of curiosity.
"So this shop belongs to you?"
Gideon nodded.
"Just opened yesterday."
"Then why isn't there a commission board outside?" she asked, pointing to the door.
"A… what?"
After Judy explained, Gideon quickly understood.
Shops near the Exorcist Academy didn't just sell holy items—
they also accepted commission work.
Most of these requests came directly from academy students.
Each month, students were assigned a variety of exorcism missions,
and their performance directly affected their academic credits.
While the students were technically allowed to seek help from local churches,
those smaller parishes could only provide limited assistance—
none could compare to someone like Gideon.
In most cases, students had to handle the missions themselves,
which required real combat experience—something most freshmen utterly lacked.
So the wealthier or better-connected students found a shortcut:
commission outsourcing.
They would pay independent exorcists to accompany them on missions,
essentially buying both experience and grades.
Naturally, the shop owners near the academy saw it as a golden business opportunity.
As for why the academy didn't assign instructors to lead students—
it wasn't for lack of trying.
Evil incidents had surged recently,
and there simply weren't enough qualified exorcist-teachers to go around.
Some professors had taken as many as ten students on a single mission.
The result?
Each student learned almost nothing.
Over time, the Church turned a blind eye to these "outsourced commissions."
Gideon rubbed his chin, a slow grin tugging at his lips.
"Perfect. Exactly what I need."
He was still short on proficiency for his skill, [Voice of Salvation],
and this would be the ideal way to gain it—
hunting down more evil spirits under the guise of helping students.
Just then, the shop door creaked open again.
Gideon turned his head—
and saw a familiar face.
"Good morning. I'd like to buy a few more bottles of your two-week-grade Holy Oil…"
Meanwhile, across the street from House of Rest,
a shadowy figure lurked behind a lamppost.
Silas.
His eyes were narrowed, burning with resentment.
"So this is the place? Let's see what secret you're hiding, Bente."
The humiliation from yesterday still festered like poison in his chest.
He couldn't stand the idea of being upstaged—
especially by someone so mediocre.
Silas knew Bente well.
The guy wasn't rich,
and there was no way he could afford high-grade Holy Oil.
That meant whatever he used yesterday had to be fake.
A trick.
A lie.
"I'll tear that mask off your face myself."
He reached into his robe and pulled out a small glass vial filled with dark green liquid—
the uncut corruption extract used in class demonstrations.
Normally, this dangerous material was stored securely in the academy's restricted materials room,
far from the hands of students.
But Silas, using his "talent" and charm, had managed to sneak in and steal one bottle of the original concentrate.
Unlike the diluted version from class,
this raw fluid was far more potent—
strong enough to trigger a full-blown demonic outbreak if mishandled.
Holding the vial, Silas crept closer to the shop window.
Inside, he could see Bente chatting with a man behind the counter.
"An old shop, strange interior…
Could be a cult hideout."
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
If Bente was caught using non-Church methods,
he could be charged with heresy or sacrilege.
"Let's see what kind of filth you're hiding."
His expression hardened as he uncorked the bottle.
He was ready to stage an 'incident'.
But when he tilted the bottle—
nothing came out.
"Huh? What…?"
Silas frowned. He shook it.
Still nothing.
He flicked his wrist, harder this time—
but the liquid clung stubbornly to the bottom of the glass,
like it was refusing to move.
"That's impossible. It didn't do this before."
He held the vial up to his eye.
When he stopped aiming it at the shop, the liquid flowed normally again.
Silas blinked.
"Weird. Maybe I shook it too hard?"
He tried again, carefully this time—
a gentle tilt toward the shopfront.
And just like before—
the green liquid froze in place, unmoving,
as though an invisible force had locked it down.
"What the…?"
He tried several more times, experimenting with different angles.
And finally, he realized the pattern.
Whenever the liquid was aimed away from House of Rest,
it flowed just fine.
But the moment he tried to pour it toward Gideon's shop—
it simply stopped.
Even when he pretended to splash another storefront,
then suddenly flicked his wrist to redirect the liquid mid-motion—
it froze again, as if the air itself rejected it.
Silas's eyes widened.
"What in the world… is this place?"
What happened next left Silas utterly stunned.
The liquid began to retreat—on its own.
"What… what the hell?"
He blinked, completely thrown off.
In rare cases, cursed materials could retain traces of demonic essence,
which sometimes granted them a kind of unnatural vitality.
But this… this was something different.
The fluid wasn't moving randomly.
It was shrinking away—
as though it were afraid.
Afraid of what?
Silas's eyes flicked toward the weathered shop sign that read House of Rest.
"No way… is it actually afraid of that place?
Or… of something inside it?"
He'd never seen anything like this before.
Still, it confirmed his suspicion—
Bente had to be hiding something.
Clenching his jaw, Silas stepped back a few paces to put some distance between himself and the shop.
Then, gripping the bottle tight, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching…
And hurled it at the wall.
The vial spun through the air, catching a glint of sunlight.
Inside, the dark liquid sloshed violently—
slamming against the glass as if trying to stop itself.
Silas saw it clearly,
his curiosity and anxiety spiking together.
But just as the bottle reached the wall—
"Clang!"
It shattered midair,
not against brick,
but against an invisible barrier.
A flash of light burst forth.
The moment the liquid spilled out,
it erupted into a cloud of shimmering white mist.
Within seconds, the corrosive green venom dissolved completely—
purified into nothingness.
"What… what kind of power is this?!"
Silas froze, his heart hammering.
A shabby little shop,
yet protected by an exorcism barrier strong enough to purify high-grade demonic essence in an instant.
Who the hell owned this place?
For the first time, fear crept into his chest.
If the person behind this was tied to the Church,
he might have just sabotaged his entire future in the clergy.
Then—
he felt it.
A faint shift in the air.
Someone inside had noticed.
Panic surged through him.
Without another thought, Silas turned and bolted down the street,
his robe fluttering like a shadow in retreat.
---
Inside House of Rest,
Gideon stepped to the window, his gaze sharp.
Through the glass, he caught sight of a figure hurrying away—
too far to make out the face,
but from the robes and posture,
clearly a fellow priest.
His eyes dropped to the street below.
Shards of glass glittered on the ground,
along with faint traces of lingering corruption.
Gideon's expression hardened.
"Someone tried to test the barrier?"
He quickly extended his hand, murmuring a purification prayer.
The evil residue fizzled away instantly,
but he repeated the cleansing several more times—
just to be safe.
Only after confirming every trace of darkness was gone
did he allow himself to relax.
"Who was that?"
Gideon frowned.
He had no enemies in Dei Academy.
And whenever he dealt with hostile forces in the past,
he'd used other people's names, not his own.
The shop's inventory was clean too—
nothing over three years in sanctification.
So why target him?
Then a thought struck him.
"Wait… could it be him?"
Gideon's eyes shifted toward Bente,
whose academy robes looked suspiciously similar to the fleeing figure's.
"Please, Father Gideon! You have to make more of that oil!"
"I'll pay whatever it takes!"
Bente's eyes pleaded desperately.
At first, Gideon had refused—
after all, two-week-grade Holy Oil was hardly worth the materials it consumed.
But now, after what he'd just witnessed,
he changed his mind.
"Fine," he said after a pause.
"Come back in a few days."
If someone really had come after this kid,
he needed to find out why.
Only then could he sleep soundly.
After sending Bente on his way,
Gideon turned back toward the counter.
But before he could step inside,
a warm voice called out from behind.
"Father Gideon?"
He turned.
A man and woman were approaching from the street—
both radiating calm, seasoned authority.
Gideon blinked in surprise.
He recognized the woman instantly.
Lorraine Warren.