It was obvious now—that had been his true purpose all along. Ries narrowed his eyes, watching the High Priest with suspicion.
The tension had loosened somewhat, but they were still little more than strangers. Justyn hadn’t removed his gloves.
Yet Greus’s gaze remained soft and curved, as though that alone served as an answer.
“As I thought—the curse has healed a great deal.”
“……”
He spoke with certainty, even though he couldn’t see it. Why?
“The waves of the curse I once felt from you, Duke, have grown calm. …If I’m not mistaken, the one who cured you is that little friend beside you.”
Though Ries hadn’t asked aloud, Greus answered as if he had.
That was enough to set Ries on edge. His furry body trembled.
He lifted a paw and tried grooming himself to calm down—but it did nothing. A prickling stare burned between his shoulders, and cold sweat slid beneath his fur.
“…Meow… nyaang, nyan.”
Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could still pass as a normal cat.
He forced out an uncharacteristically dainty cry, even gave himself a neat little wash with practiced ease. But it was useless.
“Heh heh.”
“…Mrrrow.”
That suspicious chuckle said it all. His act hadn’t fooled anyone.
In the end, Ries turned away and buried his face in Justyn’s chest. Not seeing the one who unsettled him helped, at least a little.
And the one being ignored?
Far from feeling rejected, he was quietly admiring the sight of Ries’s round, curled-up backside as if it were the cutest thing in the world. It was exasperating.
Justyn stroked Ries’s head as he spoke in a low, warning tone.
“Cross the line, and you’ll make an enemy of House Laufe.”
“I would never.”
In other words: keep your mouth shut. Don’t spread things carelessly. The High Priest understood perfectly, nodding without a flicker of unease.
“On my honor, on the seat I hold, and on the faith I’ve devoted to God all my life, I swear: not a word of this will leave my lips.”
“…We’ll be watching.”
The tension finally eased, though Justyn’s eyes remained sharp. That man’s manner—acting as though he knew everything, from Justyn’s curse to Ries’s identity—was endlessly irritating.
“I know there are many questions you’d like to ask me.”
Greus spoke as if reading Justyn’s thoughts. His eyes drifted once again toward Ries.
“This will take some explaining. …Tell me, have you ever heard of the beastkin?”
“……”
“……”
Both man and cat froze stiff side by side.
Already?
Ries blinked blankly. The question had struck straight to the core before he’d had time to prepare.
“The Imperial Family erased most of the records, but a few remain in the temple’s forbidden archives,” Greus continued.
The beastkin had once been a race beloved by the gods. Yet paradoxically, they also became seeds of discord in the world.
Seeds don’t sprout on their own. They need the right soil, the right trigger, to crack open and bloom.
And the ones who served as that trigger were humans.
“Some humans, coveting their special abilities, began hunting them.”
“……”
“That tragedy, born of human greed, summoned the calamity recorded in history—one that nearly destroyed the Empire. It wasn’t a natural disaster. It was divine wrath, Thalassa’s punishment upon humankind.”
Ries mulled over his words. They echoed faintly of things Sefiut had once said.
“The Duke of House Laufe at the time brought that calamity to an end. But the Empire was left in ruins, and spent long years rebuilding. The continent avoided complete destruction, but countless things reached their premature end.”
He added bitterly,
“And the first thing the Empire moved to cover up wasn’t the bodies of the dead—it was the records of that day.”
Every trace of the calamity’s cause—the source of God’s wrath—was erased.
The beastkin hunts condoned by crown and temple alike. The extermination of an entire race. Even the proof that they had ever lived. All wiped clean.
Thus, the beastkin were erased from Imperial history.
“I understand their decision. The Astot Empire worships Thalassa, the Sea God. The Imperial line has always been revered as His proof, His descendants.
“If their sins were exposed, the people would lose faith, and the Empire itself would be shaken to its core.”
So now only two records remain: that the Empire once teetered on ruin, and that it was saved by the Duke of Laufe.
That was all Ries himself had ever known.
Beastkin hunts, huh.
The very words sent a chill down his spine. His fur bristled sharply.
“Still, the temple and crown preserved some of the old records in secret. To me, they serve as a warning from our forebears: never repeat such sins.”
For a moment, his face looked heavy, but Greus quickly smoothed his expression.
“I’ve gone on too long. The older I get, the worse I am at brevity… I hope I haven’t bored you.”
His gaze returned once more to Ries.
Ries had been peeking sideways, and their eyes locked.
Wait—he’s talking to me?
He tilted his head. The High Priest nodded kindly in response. A moment later, Justyn’s hand moved to block his view.
“You’re the living witness of that history, the victim of the Empire’s tragedy. Who else but you has the right to hear it?”
“…Meeew.”
A sigh-like cry slipped from Ries. He’d hoped to be seen as a rare Spirit Beast, a creature capable of breaking curses.
But he’d known all along that was a lost cause. Hearing it so plainly was dizzying.
And something else gnawed at him. Justyn… wasn’t himself.
“……”
Silent, as always.
Well, he’s always quiet.
When it came to Ries, he could be different. But normally, Justyn disliked speaking at all.
Back when they’d first met, it could take ten minutes just to get a single word out of him. The memory rose unbidden.
But no—this wasn’t the time. Ries shoved the nostalgia aside.
He glanced down. Justyn’s grip on him was tighter than usual.
Greus, understanding, spoke gently.
“If greedy eyes were to notice him, he’d be dragged into endless trouble. Please… protect him well.”
Ah.
The realization hit Ries hard. He cursed his own stupidity with a groan.
The words he’d heard—beastkin, special abilities, hunting, extermination—fit together into a chilling chain. Enough to make anyone fear for their safety.
There was no way Justyn, ever the worrier, could let this go. Ries glanced up quickly—and yes. Justyn’s red eyes had already dimmed, their light wavering.
Oh, really.
As if he wouldn’t protect him anyway. Why worry so much?
Ries pressed his paws against Justyn’s leg. That alone felt lacking, so he kneaded, purred, and rubbed his face against him.
Embarrassment nipped at him, as always, but he’d grown. By now, he could handle it well enough.
He swung his paws in rhythm and cried out loudly:
“Meow! Myaaow! Rowww!”
Look at me, won’t you?
His desperate bid worked. Justyn’s grip slowly loosened, his breathing steadied.
Feeling his gaze on the back of his head, Ries whipped around. Their eyes met perfectly.
Justyn stared into Ries’s round gray eyes. He looked, and looked, and looked—until he read the unwavering trust inside them.
It was almost too much to bear, but it also renewed his resolve.
“…I will.”
He would protect him. Even if it meant losing something precious.
Greus quietly took in the sight: Justyn’s change, and the little cat’s relief.
The cursed boy he had watched for years, and the last survivor of a race erased by the Empire. The two were alike—both bearing the original sins of crown and temple. Perhaps their meeting was not chance, but fate.
I really must be getting old.
He had come at a young priestess’s request, only to act impulsively. He’d ignored her recklessness, probed at secrets with cruel intent.
And yet, he’d confirmed one thing: even if the ground collapsed beneath their feet, those two would never let go of each other.
Seeing it with his own eyes, he finally felt relief. Shamefully, Greus let go of part of the burden he’d carried all his life.
Ah, I’ve no excuse.
But that didn’t mean he could simply turn away.
He had a mountain of sins to atone for. A single word of advice couldn’t even scratch the surface. And yet…
“If you’ll allow it, I’d like to invite you both to the temple.”
Greus didn’t hesitate.
His so-called wise eyes turned to the last surviving member of the Myo tribe. From that small body, he could feel the overwhelming scent of blessing.
