Baron Embio worked with a speed that rivaled even Ketir’s. In less than two days, he had already arranged the schedule.
The deal with the mage Hana, however, was once again postponed. An unexpected message had arrived.
“The High Priest is coming.”
The supreme authority of the Church of the Sea God—the wisest and most revered among those who served the deity. Word spread quickly that he had set foot on the Duke’s lands.
***
The carriage glided smoothly down the wide road. Through the narrow window, High Priest Greus took in the scenery—the passing streets, the faces of the townsfolk.
It was peaceful, warm, untouched by shadow. Watching them, a long-buried memory surfaced: the face of a boy.
“……”
A grotesque mesh of veins devoured half his face, his complexion dull and sickly. But what seized the gaze more than anything were his dead, pitch-blackened red eyes.
A boy with no will to live, yet no reason to end his life. A child drifting like a weed on water. How could one not feel pity?
And yet, Greus had never extended his hand.
People whispered he was the only human never blessed by the gods. For the highest servant of divinity, hollow pity would only be poison.
So what if I sit as High Priest?
His power could not break the curse. He could neither sever the chain that bound the boy to endless suffering nor shoulder even a fraction of his burden.
No— even if I could, it would have been meaningless. The boy himself never wanted it…
Greus had only ever intervened once, and that was years later.
When Justyn came of age and traveled to the capital, he suddenly sought treatment at the temple, hoping to slow the curse’s advance. Greus had supported him fully.
He assigned to him a priest whose Divine Power, in purity if not sheer strength, rivaled and perhaps even surpassed his own.
That priest was none other than the woman now at his side—Diana.
“There are more clean and lively places here than I expected. The people also seem to live well. I worried His Grace might neglect them, but I’m relieved.”
“The Laufe domain holds the Empire’s second-largest port and trading hub. Even commoners without rank often live in wealth. Have you forgotten? When we return, you’ll review your Imperial geography.”
“Ah…”
Her face collapsed instantly, a groan escaping as the thought of more studies sank in. Greus withdrew his gaze, turning back to the window.
The truth was, this journey existed because of her plea.
“I think I’ve healed Duke Laufe’s curse.”
“But he suddenly ended the treatment and returned to his estate. I told him so many times he wasn’t fully cured…”
“I worry the curse might return worse than before, but I don’t know if he’ll listen to me. I’m so sorry. You trusted me with something so important, and I failed to see it through.”
“I want to meet him face to face and speak with him again. Shameless as it is… would you come with me?”
Greus still remembered her clasped hands, her pleading voice.
For all her Divine Power, she was still so lacking. And yet he had agreed, without hesitation.
After all, it had been his decision to place her at Justyn’s side, knowing she would struggle and recoil before his curse.
Because he sincerely wished for Justyn’s recovery—and for Diana’s growth.
But Diana?
She knew nothing of his true intentions. And even if she did, she wouldn’t have cared in the slightest.
“…Haa.”
While Greus kept his eyes turned away, she subtly furrowed her brows, careful not to let her true feelings show.
She had never liked the High Priest. For many reasons.
A hypocrite who acted as though all human desire had been stripped away. A wall standing in the way of her lifelong goal.
And yet, she had her own reasons for enduring this journey.
“Diana, I have an idea.”
It had started with Chesif’s words.
“Use the High Priest to get close to Duke Laufe. He has a pointless pity for that cursed monster. Persuading him will be easy.”
His voice had been like honey: Justyn Laufe would kneel at her feet, begging for mercy. All she had to do was use him to seize what she wanted.
And that wasn’t all.
If this succeeds…
She might finally achieve the dream she had chased her entire life.
Radiant beauty, limitless Divine Power, the gentle mask of compassion—everyone who saw her declared: No one is more suited to be Saintess than Lady Diana!
And Diana believed it, too.
In the Church of the Sea God, where no Pope existed, the Saintess rivaled the High Priest in authority, yet far surpassed him in symbolism.
She would be the face of the Church, the woman beloved by the gods, the bridge between sea and land, living proof that the divine still watched over the world.
That was the position she was destined to claim.
“Diana, your training is still lacking.”
And yet, all her dreams crumbled at a single word from the High Priest.
Rage had boiled in her chest, but she endured. One day he’ll acknowledge me. She consoled herself, carrying on with the “training” he demanded.
Stepping into slums so foul they made her skin crawl. Facing beggars who lived worse than animals. Touching their disgusting skin with her own hands…
And the more she did, the stronger her conviction grew.
I must rise higher. To a place where filth like this will never touch me.
But no matter how much time passed, his answer never changed.
“Your heart is still unsettled. Continue your training, Diana.”
Training, training, always training! How long?
Every time she saw his merciful smile, the urge to smash it burned hotter.
Was there even an end to this training? Perhaps he never intended to recognize her at all.
Of course. He knows his worth is unmatched, so he keeps me down. Pretending goodness while hiding his hypocrisy…!
If only the others in the temple knew his true face. Diana pitied them for keeping their eyes closed and their ears shut.
But now, the time had come.
If she could be officially acknowledged as the one who cured Duke Laufe’s curse—
Then I’ll have done what even the High Priest could not. This time, truly…
This time, she could finally claim the place she had dreamed of.
There were plenty of witnesses. Hadn’t the High Priest deliberately limited the number of attendants to avoid scrutiny?
With priests watching closely, he could never risk the foolishness of lying in the face of undeniable proof.
I’ve won.
Diana smiled, radiant with joy, dreaming of a future as happy as a fairy tale ending.
***
By the time the temple delegation arrived at the ducal estate, the sun was already past its zenith.
“The weather here is usually fickle, yet today the skies are so clear and bright. Surely the gods are blessing your steps.”
With the Chief Steward’s formal welcome and rooms prepared solely for them—even though their visit had been announced late—the reception was flawless. Some priests could only click their tongues in awe.
The only issue was the master of the estate, whom they would have to await. But his answer came swiftly.
They were invited to the evening banquet—Greus, Diana, and even the three accompanying priests.
“Even us? Truly?”
“We’ll finally see the Duke’s face? Ugh, what if I get sick?”
For common priests to be invited to dine with a Duke of the Empire—infamous though he was—was almost unheard of.
One priest paled, fearing he might vomit, but the other two reacted differently. The young man’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.
“Then… we’ll get to see his face under the mask, right?”
Few had ever met the cursed Duke in person, and fewer still had seen beneath his mask. Perhaps no one at all.
But at a banquet, he would have to eat, wouldn’t he? Surely he couldn’t avoid uncovering his face. The curse might be unsettling, but curiosity was harder to suppress.
The female priest beside him shook her head firmly.
“I’m just as curious, but don’t let it show.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“The mood here isn’t what we expected. If we chatter carelessly, we’ll only draw suspicion.”
She lowered her voice, almost whispering. Earlier, Lady Diana had spoken to the servants, but they only returned her with cold stares.
And indeed… the servants seemed to respect Duke Justyn.
Strange. Not afraid of him?
The truth lay in many things: The Duke personally escorting his cat on walks, the reduced discomfort thanks to his quiet kindness, the contrast with Averitt, the decisive purge of corruption within the estate.
But the priests, newly arrived, could not know this.
Later, guided by the Chief Steward, they entered the banquet hall.
And there, they began to understand, if only slightly, why the servants did not fear their master.
Black hair, black mask, black clothes—a man steeped in shadow. And nestled in his arms, a tiny golden cat, so bright against the darkness it drew every eye.
Looking at the yellow and white fur clinging to his black garments, the priests’ tension melted away at once.
That cat looks spoiled rotten.
Just look at its plump, well-fed body. Clearly, it was enjoying fine meals three times a day.
