At the banquet, they had exchanged only a brief, passing conversation, cut short by the nature of the gathering. But this time, he intended to speak with her properly.
Before that, though, there was something he had to make absolutely clear.
“Diana. Stop treating the Duke.”
“Wh-what…!”
The strength drained from Diana’s hands, and the lamp she held slipped, plunging toward the floor as though she’d just heard the most forbidden words.
Before it shattered, Greus caught it. The still-burning light washed his vision in white, and beyond that brightness, the veil of old memories unfurled.
“Do you remember what I told you the first time I asked you to treat him?”
Back then, when he had first entrusted Duke Laufe’s care to her, Diana’s face had been as pale as it was now. He had understood. The Duke’s reputation had always been infamous, unchanged then as now.
After repeated persuasion, she had finally agreed. At the time, seeing her so tense, Greus had offered a word of guidance.
“Don’t bear the burden too heavily. Think of it not as removing his curse, but suppressing it. Diana, I know you’ll manage.”
Not to erase, but to suppress.
Her eyes flickered now, as if remembering.
“There was only one reason I told you that. No matter how much Divine Power you wield, no matter how pure it may be, his curse can never be undone.”
“It can’t… be undone?”
“No.”
Greus’s tone grew bitter.
“…The gods never allowed it.”
“……”
Her face twisted faintly, her gaze sharp with disbelief.
But Greus neither retracted his words nor attempted further explanation. Because it was nothing but the truth.
A fact that would never change: unless the gods themselves willed it, it could not be overturned. No creation of theirs had the power to defy such a rule.
…A contradiction Greus had carried in his heart for a very long time.
His expression grew heavy with it. He had never intended to reveal this truth to Diana. But with the Duke’s condition improving—thanks to the presence of the Myo tribe—the situation had shifted.
Since she had been the one to shoulder the treatment all this time, she at least deserved to know.
I only hope she doesn’t waste years tormenting herself over it as I once did.
With a note of concern, he added:
“I know you suffered for a long time because of my selfishness. Back then, you were more timid and fragile than you are now. It must have been twice as hard, both body and spirit.”
“……”
“I’ll never forget your effort. One way or another, I’ll repay it.”
In its way, it was exactly what Diana had always longed to hear: acknowledgment, proof of her worth. A goal achieved, even if only partly.
But it wasn’t enough.
Why? Why is it ending like this again…?
From her hungry childhood wandering the slums, she had clung to this dream. She had believed—this time—it would finally come true.
Her bloodless hands clenched tight, her neat nails driving mercilessly into her battered palms.
What I wanted was…
To rise to a place admired by all, to trample those who had once mocked her, and to find a beautiful ending, like the fairy tale book she’d once salvaged from the trash.
But everything had twisted out of shape. All the dreams she had nurtured had crumbled to dust and slipped through her fingers.
She barely heard the High Priest’s reasons, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have wanted to accept them.
Only one phrase clung to her ears, burrowing deep, leaving scars behind.
“Stop.”
It was as if he had drawn a line, saying, this is as far as you go.
“…That can’t be true.”
The words left her lips like a trance. From the moment she had arrived at the Duke’s estate, everything had been outside reason—at least, as she saw it.
“You know it too, High Priest. No one else has as much Divine Power as I do. No one’s power is as pure.”
“……”
“I… I was chosen by Thalassa, wasn’t I? That makes me unique. I’m special. No one else could possibly treat the Duke—”
Her gaze wavered, her hands shook. Looking down at her reddened palms, Diana clenched her teeth.
If there truly is someone else…
Then they would take everything from her. The dreams she had longed for, the things she had built, everything she possessed—it would all be stolen.
She sank, and sank, and sank deeper into that thought.
“Priestess Diana.”
Greus’s cold voice jolted her back. She looked up to see his face creased like crumpled paper.
A mix of emotions swirled there—disappointment, a flash of anger, and… pity. A pity so sharp, as though gazing on something wretched, that it only deepened her humiliation.
And then he said:
“If you can’t let go of that obsession, you’ll never sit in the Saintess’s seat.”
He had seized the one thing most precious to her—and held it hostage.
Diana froze, rigid as a puppet with cut strings.
“Do you think we’re special? No, child. We were just fortunate. Not chosen by the gods so much as subject to their whims.”
“……”
“I told you this the day you first took my hand and entered the temple. Perhaps you don’t remember.”
“……”
“Diana. Many years have passed since then. I’ve grown old, and you’ve become an adult. Now let go of your past.”
Her vision blurred. Countless emotions boiled inside her, but in the end, she could not say a single word.
As night deepened, she heard the High Priest’s gentle dismissal, and later, even after returning to her assigned room, only one thing remained with her: the ugly nail marks carved into her palms.
***
Some time after the High Priest had left his office.
Sefiut—who had until then faithfully played the part of “a doll left abandoned in the middle of the bed after a cat had grown bored with it”—suddenly fluttered into the air.
―So that’s how it was.
His voice was heavy. The doll’s round eyes drooped.
Thanks to him, the storm in Justyn’s mind cleared a little. Come to think of it, Sefiut hadn’t known the true cause of the Calamity.
When Justyn pointed this out, Sefiut nodded.
―Yes. I didn’t know. I knew there were wretched nobles, but I never thought they’d go so far.
Contempt dripped from his voice.
―There are always people like that, then and now. They must have banded together to keep the truth contained.
―If secret deals continued again and again, the black market must have been involved. At the time, there were even rumors the Imperial Family was backing it. Seeing how no word ever reached me, those rumors must have been true.
One thought led to another. Puzzle pieces that had been scattered began to fall into place, and Sefiut’s features grew more furrowed by the moment.
“The black market, then.”
―Yes. A playground for greedy nobles. I hear it’s stirring again lately. Tch. Like cockroaches.
After that scathing remark, he sighed.
―It makes sense. Even if they realized their fault after the Calamity ended, the Imperial Family and the temple would have covered it up together. Why admit they were punished by the gods for their greed?
Ries glanced quietly at Sefiut.
If it was all true, then hadn’t he been the one cleaning up after those greedy cockroaches? If it had been him, the fury would have been unbearable.
The thought had barely formed when the doll’s round eyes rolled and locked squarely onto his.
So much for sneaking a look—he was caught dead-on.
―Tsk, tsk. What are you, a thief? Sneaking glances like that?
“Meow…”
―Kid, do you know how old I am? I might look young, but I’m past forty. That means I know when and where to be angry. And I don’t need some brat worrying over me.
“…Mrow?”
Ries tilted his head instinctively.
Strange. If you counted after death, Sefiut had to be at least a few hundred years old…
―That’s enough.
As if reading his mind, Sefiut narrowed his eyes. For a moment, the doll’s normally cute gaze gleamed with something almost deranged.
Ries instinctively understood: push further, and there would be no going back. For the sake of peace, he wisely yielded.
His thoughts drifted instead to Justyn, who had been silently watching the entire exchange from the front row.
“……”
He said nothing. He wasn’t panicked as before, but he was clearly lost in thought, still turning over Greus’s words.
“Meow. Nyah.”
Ries tapped his master’s leg. Having sat there the whole time, it was easy enough to draw Justyn’s attention.
The crimson eyes shifted slowly, finally resting on him. Enchanted, Justyn murmured:
“If you ever feel something’s wrong… promise you’ll tell me.”
His voice brimmed with warmth and worry. But in his gaze, alongside the worry, lingered something else.
“They say the gods can’t harm those they bless. That should be reassuring. But… I don’t want to lose my place beside you, not without even knowing why.”
What followed was a disarmingly candid confession. His tone was plain, guileless—and it made Ries’s heart pound all the harder.
A soft rustle—the gloved hand brushed his ear.
“…Forgive me. I’m selfish.”
But it was those words that struck deepest.
Selfish? Ries blinked, stunned—only for a derisive snort to sound from behind.
―Fool. That’s not what “selfish” means. Go back and study your words.
“……”
He was completely right.
With Justyn struck speechless, Ries bobbed his head eagerly in agreement.
sefiut is the best