The man’s eyes were unhinged.

That was Lawrence’s first thought when their gazes met.

No — it wasn’t just his eyes. His entire demeanor suggested that he was not in his right mind. All one had to do was listen to him while he gripped the knife.

“I’m in a bit of a hurry. Would you mind being stabbed for me?”

Before he could stop it, a hollow laugh escaped from Lawrence’s lips. The situation was anything but amusing; here was a man politely asking to be stabbed.

“And why would I do that?”

Lawrence stepped down from the carriage, his voice stern. If the man was indeed deranged, Lawrence was determined to subdue him and hand him over to the Royal Guard.

He had no weapon, but he could manage that much.

Why else had he trained in swordsmanship from childhood? Officially, it was considered a noble’s refinement. He had not expected it to serve him in this way.

“It will be over quickly. I won’t k*ll you. I only need a little.”

The man hesitated as he thr*st the gleaming blade forward. He had killed the coachman without hesitation, yet now he faltered. Perhaps he was reluctant to lay hands on a priest.

Then again, maybe it was because Lawrence was destined to become the High Priest.

“Step back.”

Lawrence warned coldly, fixing him with a glare.

“If you retreat now and go no further, I am willing to show leniency.”

“Ah… that won’t do. I’ve already been paid. I must earn my money.”

The warning had no effect on him whatsoever.

After all, it was pointless trying to reason with someone who was clearly insane.

Lawrence watched as the man edged closer.

Something in his posture shifted, as though he had made up his mind. The grip on the knife, the expression in his eyes.

In the blink of an eye, something brushed past Lawrence’s shoulder.

“—!”

He flinched and took a step back. He had avoided it by the narrowest of margins. If he had been any slower, his throat would have been slit.

As it was, he was not unharmed. His skin was cut, and warm blood trickled down his arm.

He felt the man’s regretful gaze.

“Ah… I need to take that!”

The blade slashed again. Lawrence dodged it and seized the man’s arm.

Up close, the man appeared to be half-mad.

Or perhaps possessed.

“Give it to me! That!”

“What in the world are you—!”

This time, the man grabbed Lawrence by the hair. The sudden pain in his scalp caused him to react instantly, sending the man crashing to the ground.

“Argh!”

A scream tore through the air.

“—Kh!”

The scent of blood grew stronger around them.

Unfortunately, Lawrence was gradually getting into a worse situation. Being unarmed while facing an armed opponent left him at a disadvantage.

He evaded and endured as best he could, but the cuts multiplied. The amount of blood he was losing increased.

By the end, he was staggering, bracing himself against a wall to stop himself from collapsing.

“I told you I won’t k*ll you. Don’t be so stubborn—just share a little of it.”

The man approached Lawrence, grumbling. He was now holding what appeared to be a small bottle. The sight of it made Lawrence growl deep in his throat.

“What are you talking about?”

Despite having repeated the same words from the beginning, Lawrence still could not understand what he wanted. Judging by the bottle, it seemed that he intended to collect something.

“Just give me a little instead of your sister.”

“……?”

Now close enough to touch him, the man thr*st the bottle forward irritably.

And in that instant, clarity struck.

From somewhere in the distance—

“Ahhh! Priest!”

A woman’s scream pierced the air.

“Instead of your sister.”

Those words.

“D*mn it!”

The man could not hide his agitation. He clearly had not expected to be found out. The moment the scream rang out, he fled, abandoning whatever it was he had hoped to obtain from Lawrence.

But—

“What the hell did he just say?”

The man likely had no idea how deeply those words would provoke him.

“Instead of your sister.”

Whatever the intent behind it, the phrase echoed sharply in Lawrence’s mind. He staggered upright.

The pain of his wounds meant nothing. There was only one thought in his head.

‘Which sister?’

Had the attack been meant for someone else?

Surely not Roald. If it were him, he would have cut the bastard down before any of this happened.

Then—

‘Martiana?’

What about Martiana—

“Ah.”

She had experienced something similar once before.

As soon as the memory surfaced, Lawrence chased after the man. He did not know where his sudden strength had come from.

In an instant, he closed the distance, seized the man by the collar of his cloak, and slammed him to the ground.

Thud!

“Argh!”

The man screamed as the knife fell from his hand.

Lawrence picked it up and held him down with his foot.

Then he demanded.

“My sister—was it you who attacked her?”

“Ghk!”

“Why? What did you want?”

His face contorted with a ferocity one would never associate with a priest. The knife that the man had dropped was now in his hand, poised to threaten.

Priests were not supposed to harm others lightly.

But what of that?

Should such rules not first apply to those who value life? Not to someone who had attempted murder?

If he had dared to harm his family, mercy would be even less warranted.

“Ahh!”

“Were you trying to k*ll my sister?”

“Ah! Ah!”

“You stab others without hesitation, but it hurts when you’re the one being stabbed?”

“Ah!”

“Don’t worry. I won’t k*ll you either. You just need to be stabbed a little.”

Of course, he was careful — they were only shallow wounds. A hand, an arm or a leg.

Nothing life-threatening.

Besides, he couldn’t carry on for much longer anyway. The man’s screams had already attracted attention.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s someone over there!”

“Hey! If you’re going to fight, do it somewhere else!”

Residents leaned out of their windows and shouted at them.

The commotion distracted him.

That was when he saw it: The cloak beneath his foot and the faint pattern revealed across its surface.

“This…”

Lawrence bent down to examine it.

That was his mistake.

Realizing his attention had shifted, the man shoved him with all his might.

Lawrence’s leg broke when he fell and struck something hard on the way down.

He could not pursue the man after that.

All that remained were a torn scrap of the man’s cloak, ripped beneath Lawrence’s heel, and Lawrence’s wounds.

That was all.

***

“What do you mean? Then the one who attacked me and the one who attacked you are the same person?”

After hearing the abridged version, Martiana blinked repeatedly.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand his words.

Rather, she could not comprehend them.

What unsettled her was the realization that the same person had targeted both siblings.

Until now, she had believed it was her mother-in-law, Drisena, who had tried to k*ll her.

But would Drisena go so far as to endanger Lawrence as well?

‘Why?’

There was no reason she could think of. They were not close. Nor was there any particular grudge between them.

‘Then someone else entirely?’

That made even less sense. What possible motive could justify such an act?

Throughout their lives, the siblings had always helped others and never harmed them.

“Who could it possibly be? What grudge do they have against us?”

Martiana’s voice trembled as she demanded an answer.

It was anger. And fear.

The memory of the day she had been chased by a stranger resurfaced. The terror. The pain that had felt like death itself.

She remembered it clearly.

It had been horrific.

It was something she never wished to endure again.

And now Lawrence had experienced it, too.

“Why…!”

Her emotions surged uncontrollably. Had Lawrence not steadied her, she might have broken down in tears.

“Calm down. I told you—there’s a common factor.”

“Because their family members went missing? What does that have to do with anything?”

“It might have everything to do with it.”

Lawrence’s gaze was steady now—calm, but heavy—as he looked at his sister.

Then he gestured to Melissa, who stood behind her.

“Melissa. Take out the box from that drawer.”

“……?”

“I was going to show it to the Guard when they arrived… Marie, how much do you remember from your seminary lessons?”

“What?”

Martiana frowned as she watched Melissa pick up the box.

The sudden change of subject made her uneasy. They had been talking about the attack, so why had Melissa brought up seminary lessons from years ago?

“There was a peculiar symbol we studied.”

Seeing her confusion, Lawrence continued on his own. He had not expected her to remember much.

“It’s been years since you graduated. You probably don’t recall. I see it regularly at the temple, so I recognized it. Ah—thank you.”

He nodded to Melissa as she handed him the box.

It was flat, about the width of two palms.

Inside—

“This is a fragment of the cloak that man was wearing. See here?”

“……!”

“It’s torn, but look closely. The inverted moon. The tree beneath it. What do you think that is?”

He spread the fabric out in front of her.

He did not wait for her to answer.

When he spoke again, his voice was low and gravelly.

“It’s heresy.”

His eyes were cold.

“They use people as sacrifices.”