I'm Trying to End This Possession

Carl was displaying an extreme level of anger in an almost bizarre manner. “Where?! Where is such a thing circulating?!”

 

I was impressed. It seemed Carl had outperformed me in acting skills. Right now, he truly looked like a genuinely angry guardian.

 

“The evidence is preserved at the military academy. The chief inspector has requested Lady Danae’s presence.”

 

“Very well. Let’s go, then!”

 

There was no need for him to put on such an energetic performance. Especially since his position as my guardian was already secure…

 

He really puts a lot of effort into his life. Not for a single moment did he stop acting.

 

* * *

The police led us to the military academy.

 

“I really appreciate you coming all this way, Lady Danae. I am Inspector Billord Lancaster.”

 

The officer in charge of the case was a man around my age, the second son of the Lancaster family.

 

“I am Carl Windsor, uncle to Danae Windsor.”

 

“It’s an honor. I’ve heard much about you, Lord Carl.”

 

Billord Lancaster exchanged a handshake with Carl, his words laced with a hint of sarcasm. Then, turning his gaze to me, he asked, “Lady Danae, have you ever commissioned a nude painting of yourself from an artist?”

 

“Of course not,” Carl answered for me again. “Dana would never do such a thing. Some scoundrel must have painted it from their imagination.”

 

Because of Carl, I was gradually feeling drained. Why is he intervening so much? He was completely blocking my chance to speak up.

 

I gently pressed on Carl’s arm and looked up at him. Please stop interfering. Fortunately, reading my gaze, Carl reluctantly stepped back.

 

“My uncle is right.” I finally regained my chance to speak. “I have never requested such a nude painting, nor have I ever modeled for one.”

 

“Well, it resembles you quite closely for something like that.”

 

Then, with a somewhat ambiguous temperature in his gaze, he scanned her from top to bottom. It was as if he compared me to the image of his mind.

 

“It would be in your best interest to adjust your gaze, Inspector.”

 

As expected, Carl, who was particularly sensitive about gazes, subtly warned him. Thankfully, Billord quickly withdrew his inappropriate look.

 

“Would you like to check the painting? We have preserved the nude paintings found in possession of the recently murdered cadets.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Up until that moment, I hadn’t thought much of it. After all, they were just paintings. Not photographs, but paintings, so I didn’t feel a great sense of crisis. But a moment later, I nearly vomited on the spot.

 

What is this?

 

The extremely detailed oil painting was almost indistinguishable from a photograph. In the painting was me—Danae Windsor. From head to toe, not a single thread on my body, in an overtly erotic and lewd pose.

 

“This is supposed to be a nude painting?”

 

Carl muttered, seemingly lost. “This isn’t just a nude painting. This is…” Unable to finish his sentence, he was faced with dozens of paintings displayed before him.

 

All of them were shockingly obscene. As Carl said, these weren’t merely nude paintings. They were pornographic, aiming to degrade the subject in the painting.

 

At that moment, Carl walked straight towards the paintings, clearly intending to destroy them, but the police quickly blocked him.

 

“These paintings are crucial evidence. You must not damage them.”

 

“Crucial evidence?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then they should be stored more properly. Several people have already seen Dana’s paintings.”

 

The dozen or so officers and police here had seen them all as they were displayed right in front of us.

 

“Don’t worry. We are managing it strictly so that no one outside of authorized personnel sees it.”

 

Carl’s eyes lost even the pretense of a smile at the inspector’s words, and he laughed hollowly. “Who else has seen these? Inspector Billord, those officers over there, and who else?”

 

When asked in a threatening tone, Inspector Billord responded incredulously. “Why? Are you planning to gouge out my eyes or something?”

 

Eyes. That word snapped me back to reality. Right, this man could really do something like that.

 

I pulled Carl’s arm again. “I’m fine, Uncle. Please, calm down.”

 

“…”

 

This time, Carl obediently remained silent. What the? He’s surprisingly obedient.

 

Anyway, thanks to that, I regained my composure. And it led me to realize something. All the paintings shared a common theme.

 

Every painting depicts a moon and moonlight flowers. Whether it was day or night, indoors or outdoors, the moon and moonlight flowers were included in some form.

 

The moon and moonlight flowers are symbols representing the Moon God. Could this be a coincidence? No, this is not a coincidence.

 

And these were not ordinary paintings. Sure, those who commissioned the paintings were nothing but degenerate perverts. However, the artist behind these works was no ordinary individual.

 

I was convinced. This must be part of the proselytizing activities of the cult that worshiped the Moon God. Those crazy cultists are trying to use me as a means to spread their teachings…

 

It was obvious why they’d resort to such pornographic material. To spread their doctrine that human beings are beings of love and that physical love is the ultimate expression of love, advocating for a world where everyone loves. To put it bluntly, their doctrine encourages frequent sexual intercourse.

 

Thus, these nude paintings were an excellent means of spreading their doctrine. Such paintings successfully stimulated lust and unleashed sexual desires. Moreover, the Moon God was originally the incarnation of lust. Therefore, it was said that those blessed by the Moon God would periodically be engulfed in intense lust and transformed like beasts— but to me, it seemed more like a curse than a blessing. Such a repulsive cult.

 

I suppressed my nausea and asked Inspector Billord. “Where can these paintings be purchased?”

 

“It seems they are secretly sold at a specific clubhouse.”

 

“A clubhouse means a place where only gentlemen can enter, right?”

 

“Yes. I’ve heard that they issue membership cards only to those who purchase the paintings.” Inspector Billord looked at me thoughtfully and said, “What’s peculiar is that they only accept orders for paintings of Danae Windsor—Lady Danae.”

 

“…”

 

“Perhaps the demand is so strong for that reason.”

 

The insult was clear, but I had a rough idea of the reason. Danae Windsor. They were insulting the fiancée of the crown prince and the lady of the Windsor family. If the secret got out, everyone would be in danger.

 

That’s why secrecy is better maintained, and the bond between members is stronger. And the cult would use that sense of belonging to carry out their missionary activities. The meticulous malice gave me chills.

 

“Lady Danae seems to be completely unaware of these paintings.”

 

“Yes. I had no idea.”

 

“I see.” Inspector Billord’s gaze darkened. “Then, do you know anything about the death of my brother, Justin Lancaster?”

 

“…”

 

I stared at Inspector Billord for a moment before shaking my head.

 

“No. I don’t know anything.”

 

* * *

It was after examining the evidence. I asked the police for a moment and pulled Carl into the terrace in the hallway.

 

“Uncle, did you notice?”

 

“Hmm? Notice what?” Carl tilted his head in confusion.

 

“Those paintings, they’re work of the cults, aren’t they?”

 

“…”

 

As expected, he had noticed.

 

“I can never forgive those people.”

 

“Of course. Neither can I.”

 

“So, Uncle,” I whispered something in his ear.

 

Carl’s eyes widened, and he stammered. “W-What did you just say, Dana? You want me to meet that painter and commission a painting of you?”

 

“Yes. Please get the clubhouse membership card.”

 

Carl’s expression turned serious as he refused. “I can’t do that. It’s painful enough to see it. How can I order it directly?”

 

“But that clubhouse is only for high-ranking nobles, especially gentlemen, isn’t it?”

 

“Even so, I would have to personally request them to paint you in such a way. I can’t do that. Besides, do you think they would accept me as their client? They would definitely be suspicious and refuse.”

 

I hesitated for a moment before blurting out. “Then you can just act.”

 

“What?”

 

“Pretend you have a unique taste with all your acting might… Maybe they’ll believe you?”

 

“…”

 

“Um, I think Uncle can do it.”

 

Carl opened his mouth in shock, “I’m not good at acting, Dana.”

 

Liar. I’ve never seen a better actor than you.

 

“I can’t even imagine. Dana, how can I perform such filthy, dreadful, and vulgar acts… Oh gosh, why are you crying? Huh?”

 

As I bit my lip and teared up, Carl grabbed my face, panicked.

 

“Okay, I get it. I get it, so don’t cry, alright?”

 

But being a good actor isn’t exclusive to you, unfortunately.

 

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