The Saint's Desperate Plea
Dreaming is a free act. The Saint, Liberio, was currently lost in deep contemplation. Was it something related to the Holy Kingdom? Was he seeking an answer from God? No. None of that. Right now, Liberio was staring somewhere else entirely. How can I earn forgiveness from Lady Estelle?
It had started with the Empire’s Margrave, Evan, but he himself had gone along with it. As the Saint, it was a shameful sight. Even if he had ten mouths, he would have nothing to say. Looking back now, he couldn’t even understand why he had done it.
One thing was certain, though—he had truly believed it was the right choice at the time. It wasn’t religious conviction, but a kind of faith in himself. If he didn’t take Estelle with him. If he let her die there. He was certain he would regret it for the rest of his life.
“Haa…”
Since then, Estelle had treated him like a stranger, ignoring him completely. He had thought the Academy would at least bring them a little closer. But with one mistake, their relationship had become worse than that of complete strangers.
He had to change Estelle’s heart somehow. Only then would he feel like he could live. It felt like this suffocating pressure would finally disappear. It was as if God had given him a divine trial.
Without Estelle, even looking toward tomorrow felt too difficult.
Knock knock—
“Saint.”
Along with the knock came the voice of an attendant priest from beyond the door.
“Come in.”
The attendant priest who entered approached the Saint and whispered something to him. A hint of color finally returned to Liberio’s gloomy face. He rose from his seat, left the room, and moved to meet someone. And soon enough, he came face to face with that ‘someone.’
“Sister Elsir.”
Bring Luciel, the commander of the Holy Knights, with you. In exchange, I will propose the establishment of a diocese.
That was the offer Elsir, representative of the non-humans, had given Liberio. From the Holy Kingdom’s perspective, and from his own as the Saint, it was quite a favorable condition.
There had been several attempts to proselytize among the non-humans before. However, the matter of establishing a diocese was something even the Pope himself could not casually mention.
Long ago, humans had been the rulers and non-humans the ruled. A relationship once twisted was not easily mended. Even less so through artificial means. In such a situation, the Holy Kingdom could not be the first to bring up the topic of a diocese.
But if the non-humans mention it first, the story changes.
During the demon war, the Holy Kingdom had done everything in its power. Priests and holy knights had been deployed everywhere to block the demons. They had also distributed vast amounts of wealth to help the naked and starving.
Yet, for some strange reason, praise for the Holy Kingdom had not been particularly great. Instead, doubts about the Holy Kingdom—and even about God Himself—began to surface.
We pray like this, yet where exactly is your god?
My family, my acquaintances are dying. My hometown, my country is burning. Why on earth is that so-called god remaining silent and doing nothing?
The Holy Kingdom had tried to evolve its doctrine, claiming that God helps those who help themselves. They said it wasn’t enough to simply cling to faith—one needed the will to accomplish something. And as time passed, the number of demons being driven back truly began to increase.
The Holy Kingdom quickly declared that this was God lending His aid. For now, the power of religion still remained, and most people seemed to agree. But even the Holy Kingdom couldn’t be sure whether that agreement was sincere.
Everyone knew. What had brought the situation this far wasn’t God’s mercy or a miracle. It was the result of countless people’s blood—the hard-won fruit of sacrifice piled up through endless deaths.
That’s why a new diocese is desperately needed.
If even the non-humans, who had such awkward relations with humans, converted to the faith? There could be no greater way to raise the Holy Kingdom’s honor and justification!
“Ah. Saint.”
“You’ve returned.”
“Yes. Just now.”
“Did everything go well?”
Elsir’s eyes narrowed. It was a very double-edged question. It meant both are you done with your business here? and what happened with the diocese matter?
“Saint. I’m really sorry, but…”
“Did the non-humans refuse, by any chance…”
“It’s not that. I couldn’t even bring it up.”
A flicker of displeasure crossed Liberio’s face. Elsir had clearly promised compensation in exchange for taking Luciel. She hadn’t even brought it up, let alone been refused? She simply hadn’t carried out her part?
“Sister Elsir. We clearly made a promise…”
“I’m sorry. I really am, but if I had gone to meet my kin there, I might have died.”
Died? What did that even mean?
“Ughhh. Get out of the way already. I might really die, you know?”
“Wait, Sister Elsir! Give me a proper explanation!”
Liberio’s confusion didn’t last long.
“…?”
From behind Elsir, a massive, blazing mana approached. His skin didn’t just prickle—it was beginning to burn. The materialized killing intent dyed the surroundings a deep, bloody red.
At first, he thought another demon had appeared at the Academy. Reflexively, he raised his holy power and tried to call the nearby holy knights—
“Ah.”
Flick—
The holy power he had desperately summoned went out like a candle in the wind. The person before him was not someone holy power could oppose. He wasn’t a demon. And yet, he somehow seemed even more demonic than a demon.
“Saint.”
Cain approached, waving his hand dismissively. As if shooing away a fly.
“Get lost.”
Or I’ll plant you upright in that pillar over there like a damn flagpole.
It sounded exactly like that, so Liberio hurriedly stepped aside.
“Ah.”
Behind him, he saw Luciel with a flushed face following along. Normally, she should have returned to Liberio’s side immediately, but…
“…I’m sorry.”
In the end, Luciel followed Cain and walked right past the Saint.
“…”
What the hell was this? Overwhelmed by absurdity and displeasure, the Saint could only tremble faintly.
Evan Valencia, Margrave of the Empire. A noble bloodline no one could approach, and if one excluded the imperial family, the head of one of the most prestigious houses in the entire Empire.
“I admit it. What happened back then was my fault.”
Such a man was now speaking rather urgently in front of someone. He was essentially begging for forgiveness, even acknowledging his own wrongdoing.
“But you have to understand. At the time, it was an unavoidable choice. Everyone dying for the sake of one person? That’s nonsense. We weren’t even in a lord-vassal relationship where I had sworn loyalty.”
“…”
“The person involved even said she understood. So why are you acting like this?”
“…”
When no answer came, irritation briefly surged within Evan. But the moment he looked at the person standing before him, even that melted away. All that remained was the desperate desire to be forgiven. To be understood.
He no longer knew why. And he didn’t particularly want to know anymore. There was only one thing that mattered right now.
Estelle’s answer.
“Estelle.”
“I know. That Lord Evan’s choice was the best decision you could make at the time. Even if I had been in the Duchess’s position and you had told me to abandon her, I would have accepted it.”
“Then why…”
You still don’t understand. That’s the problem.
Estelle’s eyes narrowed.
“You tried to forcibly take me away as if my opinion didn’t matter at all. As if you didn’t care about my feelings.”
“That was—”
“That was the moment your desire to do whatever you wanted with me was laid bare. You didn’t care about my heart, my will—none of it. It was a choice and decision made solely for Lord Evan.”
He reflexively wanted to deny it, but Evan couldn’t bring himself to do so. Because it was the truth. Just as Estelle said, that had been his only intention. He simply hadn’t wanted to lose her there. It had all been because of his own greed. He had tried to do as he pleased without regard for Estelle’s heart or will.
“I admit it. Yes. You have every right to be angry. At that time, you and I had no relationship whatsoever. And yet I tried to do whatever I wanted.”
But.
This burning feeling in his chest was something he simply couldn’t control. It was hard to explain in words. It was almost like an instinct. Just as one avoids heat and shrinks from cold, he wanted to hold her in his hands no matter what.
“Even so, if that moment repeated itself, I would act the same way again, Estelle.”
Because I can’t lose you. Because that is my highest priority.
Even if I can’t gain your understanding. Even if I earn your hatred.
“Talking any more right now would be meaningless.”
“…”
“Let’s meet again later when we have time.”
Leaving behind Estelle’s dumbfounded expression, Evan turned away. The Margrave. A man with countless supporters in the capital and immense economic and political power. His action was practically no different from running away.
It stung his pride. Considering his position, was this really the right thing to do? Having everything he had believed to be right completely denied made him feel even more miserable.
How did things come to this?
He had thought he could buy the heart of a low-ranking noble from another country whenever he wanted. But the reality? He was the one being dragged around, sold off. And not only that—he was begging for forgiveness, saying it was all his fault.
This wasn’t like him at all. Why was the Margrave of the Empire acting this way? If he wanted, he could have any young lady from the Empire’s greatest families. It wasn’t an exaggeration.
The Margrave’s territory was currently the most powerful force in the Empire. It was incomparable to those who hid in safe places playing political games.
So why was someone like him clinging desperately again and again?
Grind—
Should he offer to give up some of his privileges and make a request to the imperial family?
No. The Third Prince, Arhen, would definitely interfere.
Or should he ask the Kasen royal family for Estelle, using their acquaintance as a reason?
That won’t work either. Prince Prinz is in Kasen.
If none of that worked, the urge to simply take Estelle by force rose within him. And if even that was impossible… then… then… he would use the power of demons…
“Are you Evan Valencia, the Margrave?”
“…Who are you?”
“My name is Bold. I’ve seen you from afar a few times, but this is the first time I’m greeting you properly.”
Normally, he would have quickly searched his memory to recall who this was. But the current Evan was in an extremely sharp state of mind. All he did was remain silent, as if telling the man to state his business.
At Evan’s reaction, the man who had introduced himself as Bold smiled.
“You wouldn’t happen to be suffering from the fever called love, would you?”
“…Brother.”
The Hero, Sion, stared at Cain before him in shock.
“What.”
“Why… why are you suddenly dressed like that…”
“I got invited to a birthday party.”
Cain was Cain, but he was also Korean. When Koreans received an invitation, they dressed up. Especially for celebrations like birthdays or weddings.
“Does it not suit me?”
At Cain’s question, Sion scratched his head. He was wearing a rather stylish suit—Cain must have gotten it from somewhere. It matched his extremely well-trained physique quite nicely. The problem wasn’t the clothes, though. It was his face.
“You’re not going to kill someone, are you?”
No matter how he looked at it, that was not the face of someone going to celebrate a birthday. If he were going to host a funeral, maybe.
“Who knows.”
“See? I knew it—wait, what? You said it was a birthday party?!”
Exactly. That’s why he didn’t know. This was a romance fantasy, after all. A place where all sorts of events beyond imagination occurred.