In truth, she had been shocked one after another from the moment she stepped into the temple.

As she and Melissa made their way to Lawrence’s room, she was struck by the atmosphere.

In all her years of visiting the temple, she had never experienced such an overwhelming sense of tension. Priests, who were rarely seen near the entrance, were now gathered inside the building, their faces serious. Holy knights patrolled the corridors with rigid vigilance, their armor echoing faintly against the stone floors.

Security outside Lawrence’s room was even stricter.

Yet the door opened at once when they recognized Martiana.

“Brother?”

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Having just heard from a Holy Knight that Lawrence had been injured, she spoke cautiously.

She hadn’t expected to find him lying in bed, covered in bandages.

“Marie?”

“What is this? What happened?”

Martiana frowned as Lawrence pushed himself up straight at the sound of his sister’s voice.

He looked a mess. Just a few days ago, when he left the temple, he had looked perfectly composed.

“How did this happen?”

“It’s nothing. I just got a little hurt.”

Lawrence avoided her gaze and dismissed the matter vaguely.

He had never been one to dwell on details, and he didn’t want to cause any unnecessary worry. However, his sister had spent nearly his entire life at his side, and her keen eyes could not be fooled.

Martiana narrowed her eyes sharply and stepped closer.

“Don’t give me that. Don’t lie. You caused some kind of trouble, didn’t you? Otherwise, with healing powers, there’s no way you couldn’t treat your own injuries.”

In most cases, a priest’s healing powers were almost omnipotent. For someone like Lawrence, destined to become the next High Priest, this ability was on a completely different level.

It was only natural that he could heal not only others, but also his own wounds instantly. Provided he did not attempt to restore life to someone whose time had already passed or raise the dead, there was little beyond his reach.

The problem was that even such extraordinary power came with limitations.

Not limitations of strength, but of tradition.

If a priest was injured through their own fault, depending on the gravity of the offence, they were forbidden from using their healing powers. This was essentially a form of penance, a discipline imposed to prevent arrogance and guard against the dangerous ease that came from believing that any wound could simply be undone.

The message was clear: do not act recklessly. Endure the pain. And reflect.

“I shouldn’t have let you go to the seminary.”

If she had not done so, she would never have learnt the temple’s rules so thoroughly.

Lawrence shook his head, looking dejected.

Martiana, on the other hand, pursed her lips in disbelief.

“With our family tradition? How could I not go?”

Anyone born into the Marquis Kisca family was required to attend the seminary. This path had been set from birth — after all, it was one of their ancestors who had established it.

Martiana, Lawrence and Roald all studied at the same institution. Their father, uncle and aunt had all walked those same halls before them.

Before enrolling, Martiana dared to ask whether everyone truly needed to attend. Would it not be enough for only the person destined to become High Priest to attend?

But the family elders rejected the idea.

In every generation, one child was destined to devote their entire life to serving the gods. For the rest of the family to truly understand the weight of that sacrifice, they had to share in its foundations. There was no other way. At the very least, they needed to learn the fundamentals so that they could stand beside one another, not apart.

Perhaps that was why the Marquis Kisca family was known for its unusual closeness. Growing up bound not only by blood, but also by the temple’s sacred discipline, strengthened their bond.

However, among the nobility, there were many who looked upon such closeness with thinly veiled disdain — Drisena, for example.

“So how did this happen? The atmosphere in the temple is like this because of you, isn’t it?”

“It’s nothing. Someone attacked me on the street, so I chased after them. That’s when I broke my leg.”

Lawrence muttered something under his breath as he looked at the bandages and splint covering his arm. He sounded unconcerned, as if the pain no longer troubled him.

For a moment, Martiana almost let it go.

“Attacked? By whom? Did you report it to the Guard?”

“I did. An investigator will probably be assigned soon. But more importantly, what about you? Did you go back to the Duke’s residence? Did you see her?”

Lawrence, who had been answering calmly, suddenly changed the subject. He had already heard the same lecture enough times before his sister arrived, and he wanted to talk about something else.

The problem was that Martiana did not seem pleased with the change of subject. It showed plainly on her face.

“No. I didn’t. Ramelata didn’t bring the child.”

“Why? Where did she take her child?”

“I don’t know. She moved somewhere else entirely, so I asked Sir Tapnad to look for her…There’s still no news.”

Martiana let out a bitter sigh.

Seeing this, Lawrence sighed as well. He had thought she would have made up her mind by now, but he regretted asking her.

If he had known it would be like this, he would have endured the ringing in his ears for a little while longer.

“You’ll hear something soon. Until then, Melissa will have to trouble herself a bit more.”

Lawrence shifted his gaze to Melissa, who stood behind Martiana.

“I will. Please focus on recovering quickly, Lord Lawrence.”

“I intend to. More importantly, Martiana, you need to be careful as well. Never go out alone. Three priests have already been attacked.”

“Three? But why me? I’m not a priest.”

She was startled to hear that three priests had been injured, but even more so because Lawrence had never targeted her so directly before.

And never with such a hardened expression.

“There’s something the injured priests all have in common.”

“……?”

“They’ve all lost a family member.”

“That’s correct. The first injured priest had lost a younger sibling. The second had lost a cousin. The most recent one had lost an uncle.”

Melissa, standing behind them, added this information to what Lawrence had said. She must have obtained it while speaking to the Holy Knight on guard outside the room.

Martiana furrowed her brows, unable to understand.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘lost a family member’?”

The phrase was open to interpretation. Did it mean that someone in their family had died, or had disappeared without trace, like her?

If it referred to death, that would be unusual. After all, it was rare to find anyone who had not experienced the death of a family member. Even children often had grandparents who had died.

The same would hold true for priests. Yet only three had been attacked.

The one thing they had in common with Lawrence was—

“It means they have a missing family member.”

“Ah.”

“That’s why I’m telling you to be careful. If it were anyone else, perhaps it would be different. But if the attacker has a reason for targeting priests, you won’t be an exception either.”

Lawrence trailed off mid-sentence.

He repeatedly opened and closed his mouth, as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Brother?”

Martiana called out to him, puzzled.

Lawrence drew in a deep breath and met his sister’s eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was firmer than usual.

“You may be included as well.”

“What?”

“It might not have been me they were targeting. It may have been you.”

He dragged a rough hand down his face as he recalled the previous night.

***

Lawrence left the temple at around sunset.

A nobleman he had known for years had invited him to dinner. As it was a private engagement, he chose to go alone, without an escort.

Under normal circumstances, a line of holy knights would have accompanied him.

But not yesterday.

Lawrence had never cared for escorts. He disliked the inconvenience and the suffocating feeling that his every move was being watched and reported on. Even when he stood still, someone always knew where he was.

He had no privacy.

This is why moments like this, when he could walk alone, felt so precious.

His uncle would certainly reprimand him if he found out. But what of it? He wasn’t going far — just within the capital. The Royal Guard patrolled the city day and night. What possible danger could there be?

He had gone out alone countless times before, and nothing had ever happened.

Except yesterday.

“Are you Priest Lawrence?”

Shortly before he reached his destination, the carriage was stopped.

A man with half his face covered and striking blue eyes called out to Lawrence.

Lawrence did not think much of it, even then.

Such things were commonplace when a temple carriage passed by. Wherever he went, people approached him, asking for blessings or charity. It was nothing new.

He had intended to brush it aside.

“Ugh!”

That was—until the man killed the coachman and pointed a blade at him.