“…What…?”
Stunned, she could only gape in silence—until her body jolted.
Her instincts, previously dulled into inaction, suddenly began screaming alarms.
“What are you… planning to do with that?”
“Do you need to know?”
His pupils, dilated unnaturally, and the tilt of his head—she didn’t need a reply. That alone was enough.
I can’t get involved in this.
Even in her dazed state, she was certain of it.
Diana shook her head and stepped backward.
“…No.”
“No?”
“I said no! What’s wrong with you all of a sudden? You keep glaring at me like that, saying awful things… Even if you don’t like me anymore, there’s no reason to treat me like this!”
Her eyes, brimming with tears, glared at him as fiercely as she could manage.
But what Chesif saw was something different—an attachment she hadn’t yet shaken off.
She might’ve backed away, but she hadn’t turned her back. That made her laughable to him.
Should’ve done this sooner, he thought, lips curling into a diagonal smirk.
“I’m afraid, Diana—you don’t have a choice.”
“…What…?”
“That position you’re sitting in. Do you really think you got there on your own? Surely not. Even a flower-headed fool like you can’t believe that.”
Gulp. The sound of her dry swallow was audible from where he stood.
Her face had gone deathly pale—any whiter, and she might disappear.
“Remember the promising cleric who suddenly vanished? The colleague who disliked you, sent off to some backwater? Or the high priest who always treated you strangely well, for no reason?”
“…Ah…”
“Poor Diana. You really believed all of that was your doing, didn’t you? There’s no such thing as that many happy coincidences in the world.”
As Diana stepped away, Chesif stepped forward.
He closed the distance she’d tried to create and reached out, grabbing a handful of her hair.
“What do you think’ll happen if this comes to light? You think the High Priest will protect your position once he’s disappointed in you? You’ll lose everything. You’ll fall so far you’ll end up right back in the slums you were so desperate to escape.”
“…!”
Diana flinched hard, her body clearly reacting.
“But that’s only if you refuse me.”
The voice that had just moments ago pierced through her with sharp edges now mellowed in an instant.
Soft-spoken. Tender fingers tucked her hair behind her ear.
As if nothing had happened—like he was comforting her.
“If you just do what I ask, nothing has to change. And if you bring me something useful, all the better. I reward valuable pawns generously.”
“…”
“Why not be honest about your desires? Don’t you want to be the Saintess? Don’t you want a beautiful, fairytale ending? I can make that happen for you.”
His voice, brushing against her ear, grew more brazen. Though her body trembled with fear, Diana found herself staring up at Chesif, as if bewitched.
“If you trample on a few people to make your wish come true, so what? That’s just how it is. All you have to do is keep doing what you’ve been doing. Just add a little extra—tell me everything you see and hear.”
“…My wish…”
A strange glint flickered in her pink eyes. Like someone who had stepped into a swamp, her gaze lost its focus, groping toward the future she longed for.
That’s right. The High Priest is in my way.
That old man—always blocking her path. If it weren’t for him, she would’ve already become the Saintess.
The moment the thought clicked, Greus’s voice—rambling about permissions and such—faded like a lie. Her world narrowed, like a horse fitted with blinders.
“Get rid of the obstacle.”
“You’re not even doing it yourself—what’s the big deal?”
“Imagine it. The ignorant people of the Empire praising you as their Saintess. The stupid nobles too scared to dismiss you. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Whispers buzzed in her ears. Whether they came from Chesif or were just hallucinations, she couldn’t tell. But they were all so, so sweet. And in the end, Diana nodded.
“…Okay. I’ll do it.”
“Good. Let’s hope you follow through this time.”
You can go now.
With that dry dismissal, the hand that had been clinging to her let go cleanly.
She turned away, staggering as she exited the room. Even in fear, she’d never quite managed to step away until now.
But Chesif had neither the time nor the inclination to care anymore. The cracks split wide across his once-smooth face. The same expression that had terrified Diana now took full hold of him once more.
“I should’ve gotten rid of that old man a long time ago.”
Of course, if everything went according to plan, that man would be gone soon enough. That little cleric—so naïve—would never see it coming when the dagger swung.
So what gnawed at Chesif wasn’t the High Priest. It was someone else. A man’s face shimmered in his mind. And with it, a searing, irrational hatred.
“Laufe… Laufe… That damn Laufe…”
That eerie appearance. That insufferable face. Those accursed eyes. The way he bore that curse yet never bowed his head.
His haughty attitude was endlessly infuriating. His swordsmanship, better than Chesif’s. And worst of all—he’d stolen the Crown Prince’s attention, which should’ve rightfully belonged to him.
Chesif ground his teeth. His lips chewed themselves raw.
His bloodshot eyes stared unblinking, his fingers tearing at his cuticles until beads of blood pooled at his fingertips. The skin, bitten by his teeth, finally split. Blood spilled.
“Why does someone who should’ve stayed crushed on the ground… keep eyeing my place?”
Alone at last, Chesif cast off even the last of his performative mask.
Scratching at his arms as if he had a rash, bloodied lips, eyes about to burst, muttering compulsively. It was a sight that would’ve horrified anyone who witnessed it.
Once upon a time, Chesif had wondered to himself: Is it really just that? Was it because of Justyn’s looks? His attitude? Because he shamelessly reached for things that should’ve been his?
Back then, Chesif had shaken his head.
Sure, Justyn was unpleasant—but not enough to inspire such visceral, primal loathing.
It felt like something deeper… something more fundamental.
But now—today—Chesif had forgotten he’d ever pondered such a thing.
Hating Justyn Laufe. It had long since become an unquestionable, instinctive absolute for him. A truth burned so deeply into his bones that nothing could change it.
***
“Aide?”
“Ah.”
Light flickered back into Ries’s eyes, dragging him out of his thoughts. He looked apologetically at the woman peering at him with concern.
“Sorry. I’ve been a little out of it today.”
The gentle green of her eyes curved, as if to say it was fine.
It had been a while since they’d seen each other, which made Ries all the more fixated on reading her expression.
“It’s alright. I’ve been spacing out a lot lately too.”
She really did seem that way.
Melissa Yukalt.
As of yesterday, she’d returned to her position as his personal guard. Yet despite her time away, she looked utterly worn out—fatigue smeared all over her face. So then why, with her right in front of him, had Ries been so lost in other thoughts?
“Sigh…”
His mind, branching into more distractions, made him heave a long sigh.
Ries unconsciously dragged his hands down his face. Last night’s memory crept back in.
“……”
“Mewng? Mrrp?”
After Hillein’s passing, Justyn had begun to have nightmares.
No, not nightmares exactly… more like sorrowful dreams. Whenever Ries peeked in on him, he’d often find Justyn silently shedding tears.
Last night had been one of those times. He’d looked so pitiful. And perhaps it was precisely because Ries knew it was something Justyn had to overcome himself that it pained him all the more. On all the other nights when he’d found Justyn like that, Ries had always shaken him awake.
But last night… for some reason, he hadn’t wanted to.
“Upsy-daisy.”
He’d only loitered near Justyn for a moment before shifting into his human form and quietly drawing closer. Then, humming softly, he began to sing.
“Hm-hmm, hmm-hmm, mmm… Sleep well now, no more tears, and dream sweet dreams.”
It was the song Hillein used to sing. Most of the lyrics were long forgotten, and even the ones he remembered, he’d changed as he pleased. So calling it the same lullaby was a bit of a stretch.
Still, he thought it was a pretty decent effort.
“Sleep well, sleep well, my baby.”
As he finished his ad-libbed lullaby, Ries looked back down at Justyn. At some point, the tears had stopped.
“Oh… they stopped.”
A gentle wave of satisfaction swelled in his chest. Maybe that was why. Or maybe it was just the time of night, perfect for stirring emotions. Whatever the case, what happened next was purely impulsive.
Ries stared at Justyn’s sleeping face. And then, slowly, he leaned down. He meant to kiss his forehead—like a mother might to her child. He couldn’t exactly say there wasn’t any ulterior motive… but still…
“……”
“……”
The problem came right after.
Just before their lips touched—Justyn’s eyes flew open.
