Swish.

The Duke drew the curtain shut and tapped his cane against the carriage wall. The halted carriage began to move again, pulled effortlessly up the hill by two horses. A cloud of dust rose in its wake.

“Cough, cough!”

Hailey coughed as she watched the carriage grow smaller in the distance. Then, unable to hold back her thoughts any longer, she muttered to herself.

“Would it kill him to give me a ride? Stingy jerk.”

Like the barber shouting, The king has donkey ears! the words released the frustration she’d been holding in, bringing her some relief.

“Maybe I should’ve just clung to the back of the carriage.”

Muttering in defeat, Hailey resumed her climb with renewed determination.

“Pant, pant…”

When she finally reached the gates, she bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She didn’t even consider ringing the bell; she was too preoccupied with steadying her rapid breaths.

As if someone had been waiting, the gate creaked open.

“Are you all right, Miss Hailey?”

“Ah, Peter.”

Hailey looked up to see Peter standing there, his expression a mix of concern and a faint smile.

“I saw you climbing the hill earlier when His Grace’s carriage arrived,” Peter explained, noticing her puzzled gaze.

“So, His Grace saw me and decided to leave me behind?”

“Uh… I didn’t see that part,” Peter said, avoiding her gaze with an awkward expression, as though he’d been caught in the act of wrongdoing himself.

Hailey straightened her back after finally catching her breath, lifting her chin resolutely. She realized she needed to work on building her stamina—at this rate, just a couple more outings could leave her collapsing in an unfamiliar place.

This was her second chance at life, after all. She couldn’t waste it by dying so carelessly.

“Thank you, Peter,” she said, stepping through the gate. As she made her way through the garden, Peter’s voice called out behind her.

“But I must say, it’s clear the Duke is quite fond of you. No other young lady who’s come here has lasted more than a week.”

“…That’s really comforting to hear. Thank you, Peter.”

Although it was anything but comforting, Hailey responded with a bright smile. When she arrived at the mansion, Madam Mastis was already there, waiting for her.

“I’m back,” Hailey greeted politely.

“The Duke has already returned,” Madam Mastis informed her.

“Yes, I know. He passed me on the way up without so much as a glance. There must have been plenty of room in the carriage,” Hailey added, a trace of a complaint in her tone.

Madam Mastis’s expression grew even sterner, as though Hailey had overstepped by even imagining riding in the same carriage as the Duke. Realizing she should have chosen her audience better for such grumblings, Hailey wisely pressed her lips together.

“The Duke has instructed that you report to his study immediately upon arrival. He remarked that you have yet to read even half of the History of Santis.”

“I just need to change first…” Hailey started.

Before she could finish, Madam Mastis frowned sharply and rebuked her with a stern voice. “Are you saying you intend to keep the Duke waiting, Miss Hailey?”

“No, not at all! I’ll go right now—immediately,” Hailey responded, shaking her head fervently. Without waiting for another reprimand, she dashed up the central staircase before Madam Mastis could unleash a harsher scolding.

“Don’t run, Miss Hailey,” Madam Mastis’s nagging voice followed her.

“Yes, yes!” Hailey called back absentmindedly, hurrying straight to the study door.

Knock, knock.

“Come in.”

She pushed open the heavy study door to see the Duke sitting at his desk, backlit by the window. The sight was so natural it almost felt like the black mask was his true face.

“You’re late,” Tayton muttered without looking up, his attention still on the documents before him. When no sound of approach followed, he put down the pen in his hand and slowly lifted his gaze.

Hailey stared at him in silence. His silver-gray eyes, as clear and cool as winter sunlight, met hers. In contrast, her green eyes resembled tender spring leaves—pure, fragile, and warm.

Tayton noticed the flicker of resentment in her gaze, and his sharp silver eyes curved with rare amusement.

How insufferable.

Hailey’s lips twitched slightly as she approached the desk. She picked up the hefty History of Santis, but her gaze fell on the Duke’s pen as it moved over the papers.

“Tayton M. Gunner?” she murmured before she could stop herself.

Tayton’s eyes flicked toward her.

“You have a middle name?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity at this new discovery. He frowned faintly but didn’t reply.

“What does the M stand for? Martin? Maxwell? Or… Morgan?”

“Stop this nonsense and focus on your reading, Miss Hailey Salmon,” Tayton said, his voice cold and clearly irritated, turning his attention back to his documents.

But Hailey didn’t miss the momentary flash of unease in his eyes.

Why?

The realization stoked her mischievous curiosity. Could his middle name be so strange that it even made this insufferable man uncomfortable? How unusual must it be for him to react like that?

Tock.

The Duke placed his pen down with a deliberate sound and slowly raised his eyes to meet hers, his gaze icy.

“Miss Hailey, have you decided to be a complete parasite?”

The chilling tone snapped Hailey back to her senses. She hurriedly picked up the book and scurried to the sofa. Acting as though she hadn’t noticed his piercing stare, she began reading aloud in an exaggeratedly calm voice.

“Uh… Let’s see, where was I? Oh, here it is. ‘Thus, the rebels accepted Isabella, claiming her to be the daughter of the saintess, as their leader. Some, however, questioned whether Isabella truly was the saintess’s daughter. It is customary for a saintess, upon her identity being revealed, to be confined to the sacred temple, taking vows of chastity and never leaving the Holy See until her death.’”

Hailey’s thoughts wandered to the temple she had seen in the plaza recently. The grand and beautiful structure seemed like it had absorbed the souls of architects and sculptors, its magnificence drawing an endless stream of worshippers.

The continent was home to eighteen kingdoms, including Aislin. Though similar in size and military power, none had ever risen to dominance, each kingdom’s rise and fall offset by the others.

Attempts to unify the continent had been made throughout history, but none had succeeded. Yesterday’s enemy was today’s ally, and today’s ally could be tomorrow’s enemy.

Yet amidst their differences in language, history, and culture, all the kingdoms shared one commonality: religion. They all worshipped a single god, whose divine domain was in the nation known as the Theocracy of Deus.

The City of God, the Theocracy of Deus.

The nation was no different from a massive organization. At the top of the hierarchy stood the High Priest, surrounded by numerous priests, theologians studying to become priests, and countless devotees who visited the land to feel the breath of the divine, all forming a pyramid-like structure.

The Kingdom of Deus was a sanctified, inviolable land that no one dared to threaten with a blade or trespass upon. To do so would be tantamount to declaring war on all other kingdoms.

As such, the reverence afforded to the High Priest, who presided at the pinnacle of Deus, exceeded even that of kings.

The High Priest was chosen through divine revelation and held the authority to dispatch priests to temples in various kingdoms.

An emperor.

Perhaps that term suited the High Priest better. Possessing the power to alter the course of monarchy with a single divine proclamation, the authority of the High Priest was beyond immense.

Of course, there was a rule against engaging in politics, but who could say for sure? After all, it was the temple that sided with the rebels during Santis’ prolonged civil war.

Hailey, much like her disbelief in curses, also did not believe in gods. Or rather, it might be more accurate to say she did not believe in what she could not see.

Thus, the History of Santis felt less like a historical account and more like a fantasy novel to her. Of course, her current life as Hailey Salmon wasn’t far from a fantasy either.

“Isabella’s hair was described as pale platinum blonde, not the silver characteristic of the Saintess, as widely known. Even so, her followers grew in number, and finally…”

As Hailey’s monotonous and flat voice continued, a knock followed by the door opening interrupted her reading. Glancing toward the entrance, she saw Madam Mastis enter the study and approach the duke directly, leaning in to whisper something into his ear.

The Duke’s silver eyes narrowed slightly.

What’s going on?

Hailey tilted her head in curiosity, but before she could ponder further, the Duke’s cold gaze flicked in her direction. Realizing she had stopped reading, she quickly returned her attention to the book.

“And so, Isabella ascended to the throne as the first queen of Santis…”

Hailey pretended nothing had happened and resumed reading. Flustered, she had skipped an entire paragraph, but fortunately, the Duke didn’t seem to notice.

Madam Mastis left the room, and the Duke casually flipped through the paperwork on his desk. As the owner of every bank in the Kingdom of Aislin, the Duke’s desk was perpetually buried under a mountain of documents.

That wasn’t all—he also served as the head of the House of Nobles by default. His workload never lightened, growing heavier with each passing day.

On sleepless nights, Hailey often wandered the garden and noticed that the lights in the Duke’s study were always on.

At those times, she would cluck her tongue in pity but also find a small comfort in knowing she wasn’t the only one awake in the dead of night.

Knock, knock.

Just then, a louder, more impatient knock sounded at the door. Hailey once again glanced toward the entrance as the door creaked open after a brief pause.

“And as for the achievements of Queen Isabella… huh?”

The next moment, Hailey unintentionally let out a foolish noise. The person entering the study was not Madam Mastis.