Chapter Twenty: The Making of a Turncoat

Being subjected to a life consultation by a man late at night, especially on such ambiguous topics, was hardly a pleasant experience. Even though Roland was certain that Kirei Kotomine harbored no particular eccentricities, he couldn’t help but feel his scalp tingle, instinctively shuffling his feet.

“Kotomine, what do you mean by this?”

“I want to know the answer.”

Faced with Roland’s evasiveness, Kirei Kotomine remained as direct as ever.

“After observing you these past days, I am convinced, Roland, that you are the one I have been searching for.”

He hadn’t been certain at first, but after these days of observation, Roland’s behavior matched Kirei’s expectations perfectly.

Extreme self-discipline, possessing abilities far beyond ordinary men yet living with serene contentment, as if with no ambition—despite being his own kind, an anomaly unsatisfied by mundane happiness—why, then, could he wear such joyful, relaxed expressions?

“I want to know the nature you pursue, the answer you have found.”

The priest, clad in black vestments, spoke solemnly, bowing deeply to Roland.

“I am willing to give anything for this answer. Please, guide me.”

Oh dear, I’ve become like the King of Gold.

Roland silently assessed the situation before him. Though he couldn’t tell if it was so-called luck at play, strictly speaking, Yoshikage Kira and Kirei Kotomine did share many similarities at their core. One had come to terms with his desires, the other, after years of suppression, was teetering on the edge of perversion and another extreme.

“Very well, it’s not something I can’t share. But, as you said, Kotomine, I can only offer guidance. What your nature is, only you can know.”

Kirei Kotomine looked up in confusion, seeking a more definite answer, not vague platitudes.

“But no matter how I discipline myself, fill every idle moment with study, work, and daily prayers, the emptiness within me remains unrelieved.”

“That’s because your direction is wrong. Self-discipline is certainly meaningful—it shapes character and restrains desire—but ultimately, self-discipline is only a means, not an end. It is a painful process that suppresses one’s nature.”

Roland declared with certainty. Things had already spiraled out of control, so letting Kirei Kotomine obtain the answer ahead of time made little difference.

“And since these processes are painful, the feelings brought by the nature we pursue must naturally be the opposite. What do you think that feeling is?”

“Is it… delight?”

Kirei Kotomine spoke his answer in a hesitant tone, yet his eyes shimmered with a forbidden anticipation, like a schoolchild yearning for a teacher’s praise.

“Exactly. It’s delight. Everything that brings us happiness is what our nature seeks—no matter the means, no matter how sinful the pursuit may be, humans will always fall deeper into the abyss for such things.”

Roland subconsciously flexed his fingers. While assimilating the contracted spirit, it was also changing him. Though he still couldn’t accept his newfound obsession, Roland knew that some of his inner beliefs had quietly shifted—or perhaps, been released.

“This is forbidden. Such actions cannot lead to salvation.”

The most hidden parts of his heart were laid bare by Roland, prompting Kirei Kotomine to immediately voice rejection. Yet his gaze remained magnetically fixed on Roland.

“Of course it cannot lead to salvation. But the precondition for salvation is that you are human.”

Roland’s voice was as sweet as opium, swirling around Kirei’s ears, the whisper of a devil.

“To endlessly suppress your nature, to deny delight through pain, is as if you lack the ability to love a complete person, let alone love others. Tell me, does such a broken existence have any right to salvation?”

“Even if that delight is malicious?”

Seeking affirmation, Kirei Kotomine’s voice grew louder, but Roland’s tone stayed tranquil.

“Even if that delight is malicious. I’ve said before, before you learn to love others, first learn to love yourself.”

“Once you become whole, even if you are born wicked, you still have the right to salvation and happiness. I am proof of that.”

“Ah…”

Kirei Kotomine accepted Roland’s words, gently nodding. Sorrow and joy seeped into his heart simultaneously—a feeling he had never known in his thirty-odd years.

He had judged correctly; this man would surely offer him proper guidance.

Though he ought to conceal it, ought to refuse, Kirei Kotomine disregarded all restraint and extended the hand bearing the Command Seal, forsaking the teachings of his mentor and father, seeking Roland’s affirmation and support.

“If I remain confused, may I come to you again?”

“Of course,” Roland replied with a smile, extending his hand to grasp Kotomine’s, sealing their friendship.

“After all, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Friends…” Kirei Kotomine tasted the unfamiliar word, nodding solemnly.

“Yes. Then, farewell, my friend—Roland.”

Only after Kirei Kotomine’s figure vanished did Roland furrow his brow, pondering something important.

“It seems everyone who gets tangled up with me is a scoundrel. Could it be that I’m not such a good person myself?”

Roland was stunned. Even with the aid of luck, adapting so easily to Yoshikage Kira’s contracted spirit and becoming a life mentor to Kirei Kotomine seemed to negate his own integrity.

After more than ten days in Fuyuki City, Roland finally gained a measure of self-awareness.

“But,” Roland stepped out from behind the counter, gazing at the night beyond the window, “though the outcome is inevitable, events have accelerated. It appears Tokiomi Tohsaka’s bloody disaster is imminent.”

——

Even in the dead of night, the underground workshop of the Tohsaka residence was ablaze with light.

“Kirei, have you completed the summoning?”

“Yes, Master. I have confirmed it. There are currently no familiars or surveillance devices near the Tohsaka estate.”

Kirei Kotomine, clad in black priestly garb, reported respectfully to the elegantly dressed middle-aged man in a luxurious red suit, radiating aristocratic grace.

“After all, no one would expect the first summoned Servant to be Assassin. Now, take advantage of this opportunity and gather intelligence on the other Masters.”

“Yes, Master.”

Kirei Kotomine remained deferential, then, in a voice as calm as still water, issued a command to the empty space beside him.

“Then, I leave this matter to you, Assassin.”

“At your command, Master.”

A deep, sinister male voice emerged from the void, but Kirei Kotomine was not satisfied.

“There’s no need to hide your form before my Master; he is not someone you need to guard against.”

Without protest, accompanied by a surge of spirit particles, Assassin’s full appearance was revealed before Tokiomi Tohsaka.

He was exceedingly tall—even hunched, he stood above Kirei Kotomine, likely over two meters. He wore the iconic Hassan skull mask, his body draped in a black cloak. Most striking was his right hand, wrapped in black bandages, appearing thick and powerful.

Tokiomi Tohsaka looked approvingly at his disciple—not only had he summoned the weakest assassin, but he exposed the Servant’s true identity without hesitation, forsaking Assassin’s greatest advantage. Even knowing he shouldn’t grow arrogant, Tokiomi’s heart swelled with pride.

With such a perfect disciple as his ally, how could the Holy Grail not be his to claim?

Yet, in his excitement, Tokiomi failed to notice that, for the first time, a yearning emotion flickered in Kirei Kotomine’s gaze.

If the forbidden malice he ought not pursue was indeed his true nature, then a betrayal held back until the critical moment—could such a spectacle satiate his ravenous soul?