Chapter 61
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 61
Gabriel had a dream.
It was the same familiar nightmare he always had. A carriage hurtled forward at a breakneck pace, and a young child was crushed beneath its wheels. The coachman, furious that a carriage carrying a noble had nearly crashed, shouted a curse and drove on. Someone whispered that the carriage belonged to a bishop.
“I heard that high-and-mighty lord made a great contribution to catching those wretched shamans. To jump in front of a carriage like that, isn’t that kid a shaman too?”
“Don’t go near him. You’ll get cursed.”
Whispers drifted through the air. At those words, the few who had moved to help averted their eyes and walked away.
Gabriel begged the adults for help.
“Please save him! His leg… the bleeding won’t stop!”
But the onlookers merely watched. None of them dared to help a child who had nearly overturned the carriage of one favored by God.
Gabriel hoisted the child onto his back. He promised the boy they would find a cleric, begging him to hang on just a little longer. His small body swayed unsteadily, burdened by a child a head taller than himself.
Gabriel went to find a priest, one known for roaming the slums and performing miracles with holy water. The priest uttered the same words Gabriel had heard a hundred times before: “I’m sorry, but I cannot help you.”
“Liar!”
Gabriel lunged at the priest but was immediately pinned down. A higher-ranking priest arrived late and clicked his tongue at the scene.
“What is going on here?”
“Priest Zabaniya…”
The first priest explained the situation and was immediately scolded.
“You fool! It was holy water meant for the poor anyway; you could have easily given it to this child!”
“Well… Harut was slightly injured yesterday, so I gave him the remaining holy water.”
“Oh, dear…”
Meanwhile, the warmth on Gabriel’s back was fading. A heartbeat, once frantic, grew slower and slower. Gabriel felt a strange sense of déjà vu. The rhythm was familiar—a heart beating so incredibly slowly. It was surely her heartbeat…
“I will help you.”
Priest Zabaniya’s voice soon morphed into the cold, flat voice of Lady Evangeline.
Those were the words he had yearned to hear his entire life. And they were also words he had often heard since meeting Evangeline Rohanson. Gabriel anticipated a pale, cold hand reaching out to him, but when he turned around, there was nothing there.
Just then, voices drifted into his faintly awakening consciousness.
“Commander? Are you asleep? And you’re usually fine even after pulling an all-nighter.”
“He doesn’t usually doze off while reviewing documents. He must have been quite tired today.”
“Well, he did just return from the Rohanson mansion.”
“True. What should we do? Should we wake him?”
They were familiar voices. Raphaella and Uriel? The dream gradually faded, and his closed eyelids twitched.
“Bishop Marik summoned Sir Michel… Shouldn’t we inform the Commander?”
Gabriel’s eyes snapped open at the familiar name. That’s right. The owner of the carriage in his dream… that was his name.
“I’m awake. It’s fine.”
“Commander!”
Raphaella greeted Gabriel with a warm smile. A summons from Bishop Marik. Normally, Raphaella would have woken him without a second thought, but he must have looked particularly exhausted today, likely due to what had transpired at the Rohanson mansion. Gabriel smoothed the crease between his brows, shaking off the last remnants of sleep.
So, why did Bishop Marik summon Michel?
“Where is Michel? Did he leave already?”
“No. He’s ignoring the Bishop’s summons, insisting he has to speak with you before he leaves. He’s currently holding his ground.”
“You certainly have a fine subordinate,” Raphaella joked. The remark was pure sarcasm, aimed at a subordinate who was proving to be a massive headache.
Gabriel stood up and adjusted his uniform. Raphaella helped him straighten it, smoothing out the wrinkles.
“Bishop Zabaniya must have spilled everything about Michel, right? That old man has aligned himself with Bishop Marik. What a hypocrite, without a shred of loyalty.”
At the time, Zabaniya was the only bishop who had witnessed Michel’s condition. His influence was undoubtedly behind the summons. First, he sent a spy disguised as a tutor to the Rohanson mansion, and now this—he was up to all sorts of nonsense. As Raphaella ground his teeth in anger, Gabriel stopped him.
“Bishop Zabaniya is not as heartless as you think.”
“You mean the old man who only pretends to be kind in public while looking out for his own interests?”
“Raphaella, I am indebted to Bishop Zabaniya’s grace.”
“I think the help you’ve given him is far greater, Commander. Who do you think that old man has to thank for becoming a bishop in the first place?”
Thanks to Zabaniya’s help, a young Gabriel had escaped the slums and grown up in the temple’s orphanage. He had even been able to hold a proper funeral for the older brother he’d lived with.
Though many years had passed, and Zabaniya’s kindness might have faded, the young Gabriel of that time had received an unforgettable, immense grace from him.
That, of course, was Gabriel’s perspective.
Raphaella dismissed it as nothing special. To Raphaella, born the young master of a ducal house, such goodwill was to be expected. He believed that sending a child to an orphanage—instead of using holy water to save a life—was the bare minimum, a perfectly natural course of action.
Since then, Gabriel had joined the knights at a young age and now served as the Knight Commander, ordered around like Zabaniya’s personal enforcer. In Raphaella’s eyes, the debt had been repaid tenfold.
Since their opinions always clashed whenever Bishop Zabaniya was mentioned, Gabriel decided to focus on the urgent matter at hand instead of arguing.
He called out to Michel, who was waiting anxiously outside the Commander’s office.
“Commander.”
“Michel, did they tell you why Bishop Marik summoned you?”
“No, I wasn’t told the reason. But I suspect it can only be about the painting.”
Gabriel agreed. It was the only plausible reason. What was strange, however, was that a considerable amount of time had passed since the day the painting burned.
Ever since they had captured Priest Berga from the monastery where Daisy was staying, public opinion regarding the painting had completely flipped. Now, everyone was silent on the matter, as if they had never praised it in the first place. Concerns were also raised that the painting’s influence might spread, creating more victims like Priest Berga.
That was precisely why Gabriel had asked Evangeline to be his partner for the ball. To erase the influence of the painting that had bewitched so many, an existence with even greater influence was required.
And that existence was none other than Lady Evangeline. Indeed, those who had once stood mesmerized before the painting day and night seemed to return to their senses after seeing the young lady standing before the flames that consumed it.
The strange thing was, no one could properly remember Evangeline. They only recalled an exceptionally beautiful young lady. Michel was the only one who remembered her clearly.
Those who frequented the Grand Temple to see the painting were mostly nobles and wealthy merchants, many of whom had come after rumors about it began to spread.
Since they couldn’t track down every single bewitched person, they had to go where those people gathered in the largest numbers: high society. The temple kept a visitor log, so Gabriel planned to attend the banquets those visitors frequented, accompanied by Evangeline.
They needed to utilize her influence, but the bizarre rumors surrounding her held them back. For someone who had never once shown her face in high society, the rumors about her were so rampant that it made him wonder if someone was intentionally leaking them.
To attend as many banquets as possible and silence the negative rumors, having Gabriel accompany her was the best solution. His public reputation was flawless. With a paladin as her escort, the rumors about Evangeline would naturally be diluted and fade away.
He had worried she might refuse, but after he explained the situation, Evangeline had accepted the proposal. Since she wished to act like an ordinary noble of her age, it wasn’t a bad option for her either.
Gabriel shook his head, realizing his thoughts had once again drifted to Evangeline. Now was the time to focus on Michel and Bishop Marik.
Come to think of it…
Gabriel looked at Michel.
Canna had spoken as if she were the only survivor of that horrific scene, but Gabriel knew there was one other: his own subordinate, now a fervent fanatic.
It was only natural Canna didn’t know. Gabriel hadn’t told Evangeline about Michel’s abnormal symptoms, and Michel himself always maintained a polite, restrained facade in the young lady’s presence.
“There is something I want to ask you.”
“In that case, should I prepare a shovel?”
“I’m not joking. I’m talking about the moment Lady Rohanson splashed water on you.”
“Ah. Yes. That time?”
“What did you see then?”
Had Michel seen it too? That extraordinary red world? As if recalling that moment, an ecstatic look washed over Michel’s face.
“Something white.”
If it was something white, there was only one person it could be. Michel continued speaking as if in a dream.
“The world was engulfed in flames, but she alone was pure white. As if she had already burned and only ashes remained. Yes, just like Donau. Ah, of course, I am well aware now that Lady Rohanson is not on the same level as that.”
Unfortunately, what he saw was different. From his description, it sounded as if he had simply seen Lady Rohanson through the flickering flames that engulfed his own body. Evangeline preferred to wear white, and she had indeed been wearing a white dress on the day she visited the Grand Temple.
“Ah. And I also saw an eye. Not a pattern like the eye drawn in the painting, but a real eye. Perhaps it was something like a halo?”
That was news to him. An eye? Could it be the same eye Gabriel had seen?
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Well, because everyone thinks I’m crazy. Except for you, Commander, of course!”
It wasn’t just that they thought he was strange; he had become strange. Originally, Michel had been shy, calm, and soft-spoken. In terms of personality, he had become a completely different person.
So, Michel had seen that eye too. Completely forgetting his earlier resolution to put thoughts of Evangeline Rohanson aside, Gabriel pressed Michel with another question.
“Michel, you… after seeing that, how could you even think of worshiping Lady Rohanson?”
“If you endure it, you can be loved. You envy me, don’t you?”
Canna’s words echoed in his mind. The promise that if he endured, he could be loved. As Gabriel struggled to shake off the thoughts of the young lady that kept forcing their way into his mind, Michel spoke in a spellbound voice.
“Actually, that wasn’t what was important.”