Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Securing the Orphans
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Whenever I visited the temple, I found myself unconsciously minding my posture more carefully.
Snowy white, massive marble pillars.
Brilliant, multicolored light pouring through the stained glass.
And a pristine landscape without a speck of dust.
In that reverent atmosphere, I straightened my clothes once more without thinking.
I tossed a few gold coins into the offering box, then grabbed a passing priest.
"I am Leban of the BlackStone family. I have an appointment with His Excellency the Archbishop. Could you guide me?"
Whether it was thanks to the generous annual offerings from our family or the buzz surrounding my recent fame, the priest guided me with utmost courtesy.
We arrived at the reception room after passing through a long corridor.
In a modest room furnished only with an old bookshelf and a cross instead of lavish decorations, an elderly man in white robes awaited me with a gentle smile.
His pure white beard hung down to his chest, and simply by standing there, he exuded a mystical aura that calmed the very air around him.
This was the head of the grand cathedral, Archbishop Benedict.
"Welcome, brother. I have long heard of the BlackStone name."
"It is an honor to meet you, Your Excellency."
We sat facing each other across the table.
A cup of warm tea was placed before each of us, and after exchanging a few ritual pleasantries.
As the warmth of the teacups began to fade, I broached the reason for my visit.
"So... I would like to have the children under the temple's protection appear in my broadcast."
"Hmm..."
The archbishop stroked his white beard, falling deep into thought.
The theme of the next mission was 'Cooking for Children.'
Capturing the tastes of children—the most honest and brutally critical judges.
It was no easy mission, but one that had to be tackled sooner or later.
After all, seeing kids happily devouring delicious food was practically a cheat code in variety shows.
I planned to combine that with 'mass cooking.'
A dish chosen by hundreds of children would have far more impact than just one or two.
Moreover, subtly highlighting the intent to feed orphans heartily would frame my program as wholesome entertainment.
Managing my image in advance meant I'd have defenders when controversies inevitably arose.
This was all calculated broadcast savvy.
But... the archbishop's reaction seemed lukewarm.
"I understand your words well. I see your good intentions in wanting to treat the children to delicious food. However..."
The archbishop set down his teacup and gazed at me silently for a moment.
Deep wrinkles of age lined his eyes, but that gaze was as clear and profound as a pure spring.
For some reason, it felt like he was peering straight into my soul.
"Young lord, children are not spectacles. I do not wish for those children to be labeled as pitiful orphans and turned into entertainment for the masses."
"Hmm..."
"Moreover, bringing out over a hundred children... What if an accident occurs? The temple has a duty to protect them safely."
His expression was steadfast, filled with unyielding conviction.
The face of a true servant of faith who wouldn't budge for bundles of cash or threats of power.
As expected, not easy.
People like this couldn't be swayed by material rewards or temptations of desire.
So, I had to change tactics.
"Your Excellency, couldn't you reconsider just once more?"
"I understand that your proposal comes from good intentions. But my stance remains unchanged."
The archbishop began to rise, signaling firm refusal.
At that moment, I met his eyes directly and spoke gravely.
"The children here never go hungry for a single meal and sleep in warm beds. That is thanks to your dedication—an achievement no one can deny."
"It is my calling."
"But let me ask you this."
I leaned forward, infusing my voice with strength.
"What difference is there from raising livestock well?"
In that instant.
The archbishop's gentle face flushed with anger, and the air in the room turned icy cold.
"...Young lord. Mind your words. This is the sanctuary of God, and He is watching."
The severity in his voice would have made an ordinary person's legs give way.
But I didn't back down—instead, I pressed forward another step.
"Yes, God is watching! Yet, did He not say that all children are seeds? Seeds that can become weeds or mighty trees upholding the heavens, depending on the soil they are planted in!"
The archbishop faltered at my impassioned speech.
I seized the opening and pressed my argument fiercely.
"What dreams can a child have, raised lifelong within monastery walls, reciting prayers and eating only hard bread and watery porridge? How can they yearn for a wider world if they know nothing of its joys!"
The archbishop's eyes wavered slightly.
I drove the point home with a firm, resolute voice.
"I do not mean to belittle your dedication. But just as plants cannot live on soil and water alone... children cannot thrive on doctrine and faith alone. They need warm sunlight too—joy, delicious food, and happy memories of the world smiling upon them."
I placed a hand on my chest and bowed politely.
"I will be that sunlight for them. The spark to dream of a better future."
Silence fell.
The archbishop stared at me wordlessly for a long while.
The anger had faded, replaced by surprise and complex emotions.
"Still, the risks remain unchanged."
Got him. He's come around.
His face no longer held rigid refusal but a mix of tangled feelings.
I softened the mood, adding in a quiet tone.
"Of course, I have fully prepared for the safety concerns you mentioned."
Naturally, safety was the top priority.
Honestly, I'd worried about the kids' safety far more than he had.
Imagine the rumors if a child appearing in my broadcast got hurt or went missing.
My image would shatter instantly.
So, we had to escort them with maximum security.
"I've already secured support from the capital guard, and our BlackStone family's private soldiers will be mobilized to protect the children ironclad. Not a single scratch on any of them."
I pleaded earnestly, pouring in sincerity.
"So please, grant them memories they'll cherish forever. Surely God would be pleased."
After a long silence, the archbishop sighed deeply and parted his firmly set lips.
"...I never knew you were so versed in doctrine, young lord. That was from the Book of Saint Joel's Trials, chapter 4, verse 12—the parable likening children to seeds."
Oh, really?
Truth be told, I only remembered it as one of my mother's go-to nagging lines.
But no need to reveal my ignorance of scripture.
I nodded with feigned humility.
"I am ashamed. It is but shallow knowledge."
"Not at all. To interpret that passage with such insight... remarkable. Soon, I shall send a formal invitation to the BlackStone estate. I wish to discuss theology with you at depth."
Uh... that could be trouble.
Well, cross that bridge when it comes.
Worst case, fake an illness.
"Then... you permit it?"
"Yes. When you care so deeply for the children's souls, this old man cannot stubbornly refuse. I grant permission."
The archbishop smiled warmly once more, rising and extending his hand.
I clasped it firmly, shook lightly, and bowed my head.
"Thank you, Your Excellency. I will prepare perfectly to avoid any mishaps."
My steps were as light as walking on clouds as I exited the temple's grand doors.
Merchant guild establishment, printing press secured, broadcast editing, and now securing the children.
Everything was proceeding according to plan.
"Let's see, for the next mission, I'll need lots of sugar, flour, and fruit."
I hummed a little tune.
"Can't wait to see what chaos unfolds this time."
Thinking of hurling over a hundred uncontrollable kids at the survivors of that hellish mission already lifted my spirits.
Oh, and Father's role couldn't be missed.
Sir James and Marquis Frederick spoke too politely and elegantly.
Not wrong, but right now, we needed more direct, provocative lines.
"Father, I'll make you a national star!"
The next broadcast would be a dopamine explosion!