***

Tilda brushed her long hair neatly and put on her well-pressed clothes.

She sat by the window as if greeting the unusually bright sunlight and gently closed her eyes.

Today was the day she would leave Calles’s residence.

The day she would reveal to the world that she was still alive.

She no longer feared the looks people would give her on her return, nor what the future might hold.

The confession she had made to the Goddess yesterday had steeled her resolve.

There was only a faint sense of regret.

Tilda opened her eyes and calmly looked around the room.

During her time there, she had slept in and wandered about with her hair undone and untidy.

This was the first time Tilda had ever spent time with others so casually.

Tilda felt a pang of regret, knowing that she wouldn’t see the Edzel siblings again for a while.

As she looked around the room, her gaze fell on the bed.

With it came the memory of the long, intense night she had spent with Calles.

It had been her first time.

The first time her body had reacted so strongly, and the first time her emotions had surged so uncontrollably that she couldn’t contain them.

Although her heart felt lighter since confessing to the Goddess, the one lingering weight she still carried was Calles:

Calles Moin.

Tilda knew she needed his help to achieve her goal.

Yet he was never easy to deal with — just thinking about him gave her a headache.

“I want to see you fall from grace.”

She couldn’t quite tell what was going on in his head most of the time.

Still, there was one thing she was certain of: He was favourably inclined towards her.

For that reason, she had to make good use of him.

After all, her eyesight still hadn’t fully recovered.

Just as she let out a sigh, the door suddenly burst open.

There was only one person in this house who would enter so abruptly.

“So you were awake.”

Calles Moin.

Tilda felt her eyebrows knit together at the sight of him, but forced herself to relax her expression.

Come to think of it, Stella had said quite clearly that Calles wouldn’t be back until late tonight.

Why had he come back so early, then?

His sudden appearance was strange, but Tilda decided it was just as well.

“I was planning to speak with you anyway.”

“How flattering to hear you wanted to see me.”

Calles replied, drawing closer and taking her hand to briefly kiss the back of it.

It was the polite greeting of a gentleman to a lady — Tilda knew that.

However, knowing his true nature, she found the gesture more invasive than charming.

“I have something to say.”

Tilda stood and looked him in the eye.

The slight curl of his lips and the strange glint in his eyes still did not suit a priest.

And yet—

“I need your help.”

Just as he had said before, Aklaire was merciless.

Over the years, she had cultivated a carefully crafted image that won her the support of the press, nobles and commoners alike.

Despite her ambiguous origins, she had risen to the rank of duchess.

Being admired rather than resented or envied for it was no mean feat.

This suggested that she was meticulous, calculating and strategic.

For someone like Tilda, who still lacked information, connections and protection, facing Aklaire alone was unrealistic.

That’s why she needed Calles’s help.

Tilda didn’t bother elaborating further, but Calles responded with a thoroughly satisfied smile.

“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

A strange feeling crept over Tilda, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

It was as if she had just stepped into forbidden territory.

“So, what is it you need?”

Tilda looked him straight in the eye and answered.

“Information.”

“Information?”

“As you said, if I want to secure my position as the Pope’s successor, I need to consolidate my power.”

In the Magorie Empire, the major factions are divided between the Papal and the Aristocratic factions.

The Papal faction was primarily made up of clergy and members of the imperial household. Given that the Pope had the power to appoint the Emperor, it was only natural for the Imperial family to align themselves with the Papacy.

The aristocratic faction, led by the Duke of Belmont, consisted of nobles who had contributed significantly to industrial development.

Meanwhile, the high priests of the Grand Temple and the Imperial Knights protected the seas from sea monsters, enabling the nobles to trade and amass great wealth — wealth that enriched the empire.

Although the relationship between the two factions was symbiotic, their interests often clashed, making it difficult to bridge the distance between them.

There was a time when tensions seemed to ease — when Duke Belmont, Tilda’s biological father, married Celestia, her mother.

However, after Celestia’s death, the rivalry between the two factions became stark and hostile once again.

This is why Tilda needed the support of the Papal faction, which opposed the Aristocratic faction led by Aklaire.

Only with their backing could she prepare to confront Aklaire.

Once that happened, she would reclaim the Belmont Duchy and systematically strip Aklaire of everything she possessed, pushing her to the brink.

This was the beginning.

“I’ll be staying at the Papal Palace for a while, attending High Temple meetings. To do that, I first need to identify the key figures.”

“By key figures, you mean those likely to oppose you.”

Tilda nodded. She was still the official successor to the Pope.

However, given the many rumours surrounding her, it was no surprise that there were plenty in the temple who looked upon her with disdain.

‘One of them is probably Aklaire’s person.’

It was only a suspicion, but Tilda was more than halfway certain—because she remembered what Aklaire had once said.

“Your grandfather won’t recognize Windsor as his successor.”
“Hmm… Are you sure about that?”

Although Aklaire was the leading figure of the Aristocratic faction, she had a surprisingly good reputation among the Papal faction.

Despite her noble status, she had always maintained a neutral and objective stance. This enabled her to build influence within the High Temple.

‘She must’ve had quite a few private conversations with my grandfather, too, without my knowing…’

Tilda had always thought that her grandfather and Aklaire didn’t get on. So how had they managed to maintain seemingly cordial ties?

She had never questioned this before, as she had always found her grandfather daunting and preferred to avoid him.

But not anymore.

Perhaps there had been a secret agreement to persuade her grandfather to accept Windsor as the heir, or maybe Aklaire had blackmailed him.

Once her grandfather returned to the capital, she would uncover everything. She would find out what had been said between him and Aklaire, and exactly what had transpired.

As Tilda brooded in silence, Calles finally spoke.

“Glenn Godleaux. He’s one of the High Priests.”

A shadow passed over Tilda’s eyes.

As well as leading the defence against sea monsters and protecting the oceans, High Priests carried out other important duties.

Calles Moin, for example, played a pivotal role in training future priests at the seminary thanks to his exceptional swordsmanship.

Ross Fort, who had the second strongest divine power after the Pope, made a significant contribution to relief and welfare efforts.

Lastly, Glenn Godleaux, who graduated top of his seminary class, used his brilliant mind to handle diplomatic affairs.

“Glenn Godleaux… you need to be wary of him. Despite being a priest, his eyes glisten with greed.”

“Glenn Godleaux…”

“He’s also closely involved with Aklaire.”

That alone was enough of a clue.

Godleaux was probably a member of the Papal faction who had been swayed — or perhaps bought — by Aklaire.

A sense of unease settled in Tilda’s chest.

Out of the three High Priests, two had already been corrupted.

If the Goddess were to punish the fallen clergy, it would be entirely justified.

Yet the divine had remained silent for some time now.

“Are they secretly conspiring?”

Tilda asked, trying to hide her displeasure.

She couldn’t be sure whether Aklaire truly loved Windsor or was marrying him for another reason.

But she was the type of woman who wouldn’t hesitate to use her body to get what she wanted.

If it meant reaching her goal, she would share a bed with a high priest without hesitation.

“A priest loses their divine power when they lose their purity.”

“And yet you still walk around pretending to be a high priest.”

“Well, that’s because I possess a power greater than divine strength.”

Hearing this, Tilda became curious.

Just how far did Calles abilities extend?

After all, he had brought someone back from the brink of death.

However, he did say that the price of that power was a shortened lifespan.

If that was true, then perhaps calling such a remarkable ability a curse wasn’t so far off, as Calles himself had once said.

“How long do people of the Turin race usually live?”

“About half as long as a regular person. If they’re lucky, they might make it to forty.”

‘Forty…’

That really was short.

Tilda looked directly at Calles and said.

“Then that goes for you too, doesn’t it?”

“Probably. No — mine’s probably even shorter.”

“Why?”

Calles stroked his chin, delaying his answer.

Then he gave her a crooked grin.

“Are you feeling sorry for me all of a sudden?”

In response to his playful question, Tilda quickly dispelled the fleeting sense of pity that had crossed her mind.