“Theo.”
It was Rou’s small but firm voice that broke that quiet stillness.
“Is this truly for your younger sibling?”
Theodore managed his expression well, but inside, his heart pounded violently. The expression he’d shown was certainly desperate and pitiful. Even Het, the Emperor’s aide, hadn’t dared to harbor any doubts, yet this innocent-looking High Priest held such suspicions.
“……Yes. That’s right.”
“I see. Then I’ll pray every day for your sibling to recover enough to come to the Omanea Empire’s temple.”
“……”
Theodore’s face looked as if struck by lightning. For his sibling to recover enough to come north. It was a miracle he himself, who prayed daily for his sibling to recover from illness, had never dared imagine. Theodore had never hoped for anything beyond extending his sibling’s life by one more day.
Even when he clutched Patricia’s belt every day offering prayers and using the divine power contained within, even when those prayers eased his sibling’s suffering and allowed peaceful sleep at night, Theodore hadn’t dared to hope for that.
The High Priest’s words meant his sibling’s complete recovery while simultaneously being a clear refusal. Theodore found it difficult to understand how, while caring so much for his sibling and loving the Goddess so much, he could refuse to go south.
He reached out to grab the retreating Rou’s clothing, but Rou shook his head and gently pushed his hand away.
“Theo, I promised him I would stay in this temple.”
“……With the Empire’s Emperor?”
Theodore had the face of a man who had just been rejected in love. Het inadvertently witnessed this clearly and quickly turned his head, feeling as if he were stealing a glimpse of a secret scene.
“Why…… why is that? What is it about him that makes you so……?”
“Theo.”
Rou gently grasped Theodore’s shoulder. His touch was warm yet firm at the same time.
“Be faithful to the summer you already have. Don’t covet the fragrance of spring that he possesses.”
Theodore’s face twisted. Goddess Kaine, who had never turned away from his prayers. And Theodore, accustomed to the abundance she bestowed, found it difficult to accept Rou’s words. At the height of summer when countless flowers promised autumn’s fruits, Theodore had thought the Goddess would bless only him forever.
When the former High Priest from the north took the kingdom as his refuge, Theodore’s faith became arrogance. Unaccustomed to rejection, he stared intently at Rou, wondering if he might be testing him with empty words, but there was no movement in those clear golden eyes.
He remained silent for a long time. Only when Het said it was time and lifted him up, taking a step toward the corridor, did he turn his face, filled with lingering regret, to look at Rou.
“……Allow me…… to send letters.”
“Do so.”
At that surprisingly cool answer, Theodore’s greed surged again. He had refused, but left room. He had rebuked the greedy one, but hadn’t completely abandoned him. Theodore opened his mouth. He wanted to shamelessly beg him again to come with him.
But he didn’t continue with another word. He was one who knew propriety, and one who couldn’t bear his pride crumbling any further.
Thus Theodore couldn’t utter a single word. He merely turned his head away from those honey-colored eyes and silently followed Het out of the temple.
Rou closed his eyes briefly and prayed a blessing for his journey.
Not long after that, in the early dawn. Rou was the first to wake at the Goddess’s energy he felt again and opened the temple door. Though the dawn air was cold despite spring ending, it was bearable once he put on padded clothes. Rou’s slowly moving body looked just like a round ball.
Het showed his flustered emotions plainly when the High Priest threw open the door before he’d even knocked on the temple door. He soon kept silent as usual, but the faint blush on his cheekbones showed Het’s pounding heart exactly as it was.
Even though the thick fur abundantly attached to his clothes and hood half-covered the High Priest’s face, his beauty wasn’t hidden in the slightest. The High Priest was gifting color to a world that appeared gray, as dawn hadn’t fully broken yet. The area around the High Priest actually seemed a bit brighter too.
‘Is that what they call a halo?’
Het entered inside, greatly honored that the High Priest had personally opened the door for him. The reception room, much more organized than when he first came, now had a proper appearance for receiving people. Cobwebs and dust clumps were still visible in inconspicuous places, but considering the number of people managing this vast temple, it was labor that deserved nothing but praise.
As soon as Rou entered the reception room, he threw off his outer garment. Even when Het received the clothes and got hit on the cheek by Rou’s long hair, he didn’t know what to do with himself in his honor.
A pleased smile wouldn’t leave Rou’s soft-looking lips, and his honey-colored eyes sparkled with anticipation. Het glanced at them, then hurriedly took out the item, thinking his heart wouldn’t remain intact if he met that gaze for long.
“……It’s an item from the south.”
“Finally!”
Het held out a long box. Even Het, who had less faith, could see the golden radiance sparkling on the box’s surface. Rou smiled brightly, like yellow crocuses blooming in full on a spring day.
“……Hng.”
When the High Priest’s indifferent expression alone made his heart pound, Het’s face, having seen his bright smile right before his eyes, became a well-ripened habanero pepper. He resolved to take a cold water bath when he left and tried not to take Rou into his eyes.
Meanwhile, Rou, faced with the belt, was wrapped in a sense of accomplishment from having achieved something and didn’t even think to look at Het’s burning face. He carefully opened the box to check Patricia’s belt. Just as he remembered its purpose, the belt had studs and thick rough stones embedded in it.
Rou decided to preserve the distorted status of Patricia that later generations remembered. Even she, who was now living in the Goddess’s garden making flower crowns from daisies, would want to remain as a case showing noble sacrificial spirit rather than as a saint who punished ruffians and thugs with violence.
Rou lightly scraped off the dark red marks remaining on the pointed stone tips and closed the box again as if nothing happened. Fortunately, Het seemed not to have noticed anything, being busy staring vacantly into space with a dazed expression, as if still not fully awake.
“Thank you, Het.”
“Not at all. I merely delivered an item that the High Priest should rightfully receive. Ah! What I brought isn’t only that.”
Het took out a letter in a red envelope from his breast. Written there in golden ink was a concise phrase inviting him to the birthday celebration.
“So this is the invitation!”
“Yes. His Majesty already knew about the belt.”
Het clearly remembered the moment he received the invitation. The moment he received the belt from the King of Cana and felt relieved that he could finally sleep with his legs stretched out. His spine had suddenly grown cold at the words that the Emperor was looking for him.
The Emperor seemed particularly unpleasant. Though he always suffered from insomnia and was sensitive and sharp-nerved, today especially the air seemed edged, as if it were a day he’d had ‘that nightmare.’
‘Of all days, today……’
Het showed respect to the Emperor while trying to stand as close to the doorway as possible.
“……”
He had called him, and he’d made his presence known openly, so he wished he’d order something. The Emperor, having called him, only frowned and rarely broke the silence. He merely turned the documents page by page, quietly expressing his anger.
Since it wasn’t proper to speak first to royalty, Het had to hold his position until his legs ached. Occasionally, only the sound of Het swallowing dry saliva broke the silence.
The Emperor was publicly a tyrant mad for blood. Whether committing tyranny or being a madman who went crazy at the sight of blood. The rumors that reached him were brutal, and in reality they were generally true, but separately from that, he was competent in administrative matters. For him, who pursued extreme efficiency, to call him like this and say nothing at all was so deliberate that the tension only grew.
As dawn deepened and sensation gradually disappeared from Het’s legs, Brukisel opened that heavy mouth.
“It seems the holy relic has arrived. My head is ringing.”
“……Ah, that, well.”
“A foreign king entered the Imperial Palace—did you have no thought whatsoever of reporting it?”
Het felt as if the ground beneath his feet had caved in and he was falling. The moment he met those red eyes, unfathomable darkness swallowed him, and breathing became painful as if someone were strangling him. The darkness overflowed and began entering Het’s ears, eyes, nose, and mouth indiscriminately.
Het was strong against physical pain. Though of lowly birth, he had met a good patron and been trained as a knight from childhood. At the same time, being talent that bloomed from lowly blood, he was accustomed to violence tinged with jealousy. In other words, he could take pride that his endurance was second to none compared to anyone.
However, the darkness rising from the Emperor and the pain coming from it was fear itself. He didn’t know how to deal with the darkness that swallowed him and wouldn’t let go. It was the sensation of being simultaneously stabbed in the intestines with sharp, thin metal rods.
Dozens of times crawling on the floor, begging for his life, and pleading repeatedly. The darkness receded and a monotone voice reached Het’s ears.
“Het. As of this hour, I strip you of all the status you enjoy. Leave the Emperor’s palace before dawn breaks.”
With those final words, Het lost consciousness for a moment. And when he woke again, stuck next to his neatly attached neck was a blood-red invitation.
Recalling that terrifying moment, Het’s eyes had become moist before he knew it.
