The first is to ask for everything

Chapter 102, First Sight

"Are you just waiting here?"

Sitting on a bench in the Vatican Museums, the boy looked at everything around him curiously like an ordinary child. His question was nonchalant, and he didn't seem to mind waiting a little longer.

It is no wonder that this was originally the papal court. The collection of rare artefacts and art treasures rivals that of the British Museum in London and the Louvre Museum in Paris. Even if he is not interested in art or religion, the heavy historical precipitation in front of him is enough for Kars to sigh.

"You can walk around the neighborhood, young master."

The old butler bowed and spoke in a gentle voice—Samuel was definitely the most competent servant, and he would never lose his grace wherever he went, and at the same time he would not embarrass his master.

"Ha, that's great."

The boy stood up, but he didn't get carried away with his joy... Rather, apart from the bright smile, there was no joy in his tone.

Yes, Kars has not forgotten who he is... The situation in Europe is already tense, and he is not here for tourism or anything like that. To put it mildly, he is now both a hostage in the hands of the Catholics and a free-fighting card between Hellsing and Rome...

And the reason why this proton is provided by the British Protestantism and the Vatican is in charge of it, naturally because according to the current situation, Protestantism is in a relatively disadvantageous position.

… None of this makes sense to Karls and Samuel, who are here now, though.

Whether it's the boy's identity, treatment, situation, or future... These are the bargaining chips on the negotiating table of the big shots, and from birth to the present, Kars has never been so important, and he has never been so unknown. All he could do was obey any consensus between the two sides, and then play this ridiculous role until the treaty was torn up.

"Which one is Karls van Bronk Weings Heising?"

After about two hours of waiting, the reception staff on the Vatican side finally showed up. The priest, dressed in black sacrificial robes, approached the two men with solemn and solemn steps, and asked in a cold voice.

Although such a question was simply superfluous for the combination of old and young in front of him, the boy still took a step forward.

"It's me, Your Excellency Father."

He did not believe that the Vatican had not investigated his vital pawn, and even Karls had reason to believe that his photo and personal resume had long been pressed on the desk of the "betrayer", waiting to be issued a wanted warrant at any time.

The young priest had a muscular figure, and as he took a step closer, the oppression brought by the black color became more pronounced, but the boy did not seem to be affected, and still raised his head slightly, looking politely at the young man in front of him.

The young priest, however, frowned... His eyes were red as they had been rumored, and he did feel an unusual sparkle from them.

――Is this really the child of the devil, as I knew before?

… These Protestants.

He grumbled under his breath, then tightened his face again.

"Please be here later, someone will pick you up soon."

Then he turned his head, not knowing if it was because he had something to talk to the old butler, or because he didn't want to see the strange child in front of him again.

"Sir Samuel, I think we need to talk in another place."

So, after one last glance at Kars, the old man followed the young priest and left, leaving only the boy in the great exhibition hall.

He didn't sit back on the bench, but still looked at everything in the exhibition hall with great interest... These things, which he had been watching for two hours, seemed to have some special magic that attracted him to take the trouble to rub them carefully.

Outside the window, the afternoon sun is a little hotter than in the early morning, and when you look out, the white light pierces people's eyes. Naturally, he couldn't find the old butler in the paths hidden by those flower beds... Perhaps, this is the last time they will see each other, right?

Thinking of this, Kars couldn't help but feel a little regretful, but he still didn't mean to worry about his situation. For a seven-year-old boy, the time for trouble has not yet come; And for him, these trivial things were far from enough to annoy him.

"Click, click, click..."

The sound of hard-soled leather shoes hitting the ground rang out. This time, Kars's wait was much shorter.

The other man, who had come from the room at the other end of the corridor, had his back in his direction, and the man's steps were much more steady and somber than those of the young priest before, and even had a slightly depressed taste.

Adjusting his coat and neckline, Kars turned to face the man who was getting closer... Unlike ordinary priests, although he also wore a silver cross necklace hanging from his chest, he did not seem to be wearing sacrificial garments in Catholic holy places.

This is the person who came to pick him up, right?

Kars took another step forward, and the other man's footsteps did not stop—the silver-rimmed glasses adorned the transparent lenses, and because of the light and angle, the reflective glass made it impossible for the boy to see the other's eyes.

It was only at this moment that I could finally see what the guy with the gray and white coat really looked like.

The yellow Mohican hairstyle is like a weirdo in a rage, and the roots are hard and straight into the sky. Typical European facial features, whether it is a high nose bridge or flat cheeks - the three-dimensional face makes this man who still looks very young full of heroism and chic.

But there's no doubt about it... The piety that can be peeked into even in the shadows indicates the identity of the other god.

"You're Kars?"

He looked down, and the boy saw the green pupils, and the expressionless face—obviously a priest, but it gave people a demonic awe.

"It's me, Your Excellency Father."

With a smile on his face, he replied the same way.

The boy smiled innocently, but the young red-eyed demon seemed to be the purest angel.

"Are you here to pick me up?"

He asked, not literally.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"You're going to love it."

"That's... Can I ask your name? ”

This time, the priest hesitated for a moment before speaking

…

"Alexander Anderson."