The mansion we lived in was located in the back of Saint Avern Cathedral in the complex of manses where the prominent priests and priestesses of the light goddess resided. So even if we were not inside of the walls of the cathedral, we were still in the periphery of it. That meant that there were many people affiliated with the church walking to and fro in this area.

Those people were never on our side, they only saw what my father wanted them to see and naturally, they would be on his side. Over the years, he had made himself into a distinguished and prominent member of society and discredit me and my mom as an unruly child and a poor mentally ill has been Saint. So when we made an overt move to do anything, they would definitely tattle on my father even if he didn’t deign to ask them information.

The only way out for me and my mother if we wanted to cut ourselves off this part of our lives and carry on would be by doing everything we need covertly. We would have to make sure that no one ever saw us walk out of the front door, and no one should know which direction we set off to.

I had made preparation for us to go away, but it hadn’t come to be even after planning it for a long time because of my mother's sudden illness. I had to stop and erase all the work in progress so I could accompany my mother who had been confined to her sickbed.

I was very confident that we could pull it off and disappear from the world briefly to surface as someone else in a far far away part of the world where human was just a minority, like in the vicinity of the elven forest, or the wilderness where the tribal beast-men roam free.

In my previous plan, I would do it by splashing away a lot of blood that I had taken out of my body and saved away in the pattern of someone being stabbed and slashed. I would splash it liberally on the place that I would fake as the place my mother and I got attacked. It would be hard, but I had a lot of spare blood bag if the splashed blood on the wall still looked off.

And then I would drag two leather sack – filled with explosives and flammable objects and liquids – that weighed as much as my body and my mother’s from our room to the garden in our backyard, before destroying it thoroughly until there was no trace left by setting it with fire. Of course, I would make sure that there was a trace of blood and fallen hair on the trail it made on the ground to make it more realistic.

While the garden and the mansion were on fire, I would plant some cultist book I had collected over the year and draw an ominous ritual circle – complete with rotten blood and pustule-ridden flesh – on one of the priest’s house. I had a lot of grudge against him because he was a lecher, father’s crony, and prominent member of the group that made our life difficult.

All the crime he ever did – being lecherous, threatening his charge using his authority, and misappropriation of the cathedral’s money and property – would only amount to incarceration for a couple of decades if he got caught doing it, but I really, really hate him. So he would have to take the fall for us when we escaped, and I would make it sure that the investigators could follow the clue I left.

It would be funny if someone like him was condemned by the public for being a cultist and murderer of his friend’s wife and daughter. The book I left would also make sure he had no way out since it was a heretical book that explained how to use a cursed ritual to pilfer someone’s bloodline power.

It was still suspicious so I was torn on how to connect the burning of our mansion, the fake death of two of us – my mother and I – and his alleged cultist status. I was still in the process of choosing the method to make him plausibly lunatic enough to do a messy and thoughtless attempt of bloodline power theft when mother fell ill, so I had to cut my conspiring short.

And then my mother just died last night, and all my plan was rendered useless. I could actually still do the framing-someone as-a-cultist part of the plan out of spite, but what my mother entrusted me with necessitated subtlety. And also doing it anyway would make the next visit into the cathedral – to do what my mother told me to after I finished my current objective – harder to achieve.

So after I tidied the mansion, erased any clue as to where I headed, and saying a final goodbye to my mother, I walked out donning the mask and the cloak from mother’s safe box. The cloak was an artifact that could change into all kinds of clothing while the mask could change my stature, so I could walk out the front door without being recognized.

I made sure that Amide – the person that I disguised as – was busy and wouldn’t be in the mood to be going anywhere before changing into him. But I stopped in front of the gate in the entrance of the manses’ complex. Not because the sensor array detected me, but because I still felt unresigned.

I wouldn’t be back here in the near future, and this is the last time to do anything I wanted to do while under a disguise that couldn’t be broken by any sensor array and device around this place.

I walked back in and smeared smelly chicken dropping on the doorknob of the residences belonging to the people I hate. I also splashed dirty waters on their doormat and break all the potted plant and decorative bushes in my way. I almost got caught, but a little bit of distraction and timely diversion ensure that I got away.

I was seen though, but it doesn’t matter since I frequently changed the face I was using and no one had the technique to pierce the veil on my real face and identity. By the time I was satisfied, I changed back into the identity of Amide and walked out the gate.

My mood is happy and my steps felt very light.