“…Viscount Eclace Vitel.”

“Until now, the temple has enjoyed privileges.”

Eclace smiled as he put his teacup down. The temple had long been favored, invoking divinity and faith as justifications. Not only were they exempt from import taxes, but also from tolls and port fees. Yet such exemptions were nothing more than customs based on belief.

“As you know, Faradel has been ravaged once more—because of that former High Priestess turned demon, Dietrich.”

At the mention of Dietrich’s name, spoken so smoothly from his lips, Giselle and the other cleric’s faces hardened with frost.

“We need funds for reconstruction. Duke Shed Lester suggested that the port fees at Hellingern, along with tolls at each gate, be collected more strictly.”

“Duke Lester…?”

“I happened to meet him on my way to Faradel. He said he had urgent matters to convey.”

A calculating smile touched Eclace’s lips.

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

In truth, Eclace had planned to arrive in Faradel several days earlier. But his schedule had been disrupted—by an unwelcome intruder.

That day, as his carriage rushed along the road to Faradel—

“What do you think you’re doing, Duke Lester?”

It was none other than Shed Lester who stopped the racing carriage. He wore a plain, hurried outfit, as though he had come in haste.

“I need to speak with you.”

Without hesitation, Shed called him out, brazen as ever.

Eclace’s mouth twisted with irritation at such shamelessness.

“Duke Lester, I hold no small amount of grievance toward you.”

Grievance was far too polished a word. What Eclace truly harbored toward him was closer to fury—hatred.

“Even so, I want your help.”

Shed brushed past Eclace’s “grievance” as though it meant nothing, thrusting forward his request.

Eclace, who rarely lost his composure, felt anger flare at such audacity.

“Help you? After the disaster you brought upon us?”

His fist clenched tight.

The catastrophe in Faradel.
The judgment upon Luise.

Had she been left to live quietly on Janna Island, none of this tragedy would ever have unfolded.

But Shed Lester had dragged her—and Eve—out of hiding, back into the cruel light of the world.

And this was the result.

The wolf that tore apart the perfect cage he had built—dragging out the songbird he cherished, only to kill it in its jaws.

“Does it ease your heart at all, putting Luise into damnation with your own hands?”

Shed had always hated Ideana. To him, this was the fitting end: vengeance for the brothers Ideana had slaughtered. But in doing so, he had turned himself into a fool who offered up the woman he loved as a sacrifice for revenge.

“D*mn it, I’ll endure your insults for now.”

Yet instead of lashing out, Shed dragged a hand down the deep hollows of his eyes, as though to wash his face dry. He knew. He had asked himself the same question thousands of times.

If only I hadn’t gone looking for you.
If only I hadn’t brought you here.
If only we had lived separate lives, knowing nothing of each other.

Even before this unbearable tragedy struck, he had accumulated a great deal of regret. If he could turn back time, he would cut off the legs that had taken him on his journey to find her.

However, he had to put his regrets to one side. He had to act before they consumed him.

“…We share the same goal. I don’t want to waste what little time we have pulling in opposite directions. They say the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

His fingers brushed restlessly along the hilt of his sword. Every second mattered. Luise’s sentence was drawing ever closer.

“Friend?”

“I beg you. I need your help—right now.”

The plea sounded almost desperate. The proud duke bowed his head, humbling himself before the ground.

Eclace narrowed his sharp, slanted eyes.

“Do you know how many have come to me with the same appeal? ‘I have no money,’ they say, trying to sway me with emotion and tears.”

“……”

“If I had let myself be ruled by pity, I would never have climbed to where I am now.”

His voice was cold and unyielding.

Upon hearing his refusal, Shed’s gaze turned icy and fixed on him. The message was clear: he would not help.

With Eclace’s stubbornness exposed, Shed ran a rough hand through his hair. With Viscount Vitel also refusing to yield, there was little room left for maneuver.

“Then to hell with cooperation. Let’s just settle accounts.”

The humility and restraint he had displayed moments earlier shattered, replaced by an abrupt, prickly attitude. It was as if his bowing and the weakness in his tone had been nothing more than an act to get what he wanted.

His neck stiffened, his gaze bore down with intensity, and he stood ramrod straight.

Eclace let out a short, humorless laugh at this sudden change.

Yes — this was his true face.

“Settle accounts, you say?”

“The wager we made long ago.”

Shed replied, stripping the last shred of courtesy from his cold tone.

Eclace frowned, taken aback by the sudden mention of a ‘wager’. But the memory soon returned: the bet he had once made with Shed about whether Liana would climb onto the duke’s bed or leave his side first.

“Luise was on my bed first. That means I won, doesn’t it?”

He had considered overlooking the ridiculous wager, grateful enough that Shed had at least protected Luise and Eve. But his mind had changed.

“With interest, I think it’s time you paid up.”

When dealing with a merchant, use a merchant’s logic. If a debt exists, you collect it, ruthlessly.

Shed’s lips curved at an angle, his eyes gleaming like a predator poised to sink its fangs into prey.

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

Eclace still had no desire to play along with Shed’s schemes. And yet—

‘…I can’t refuse.’

Ultimately, he had no choice but to accept Shed’s proposal — for Luise’s sake, at least. Annoying though it was, Eclace resolved to use his wealth and influence as Shed demanded.

‘The temple will resent me for this…’

So be it. A storm was coming regardless.

“Delay the arrival of the High Priests in Faradel. If anyone can, it’s you.”

“And in a moment like this, you’re not going to Faradel?”

“I have something to find.”

The anxious gleam of violet lupus eyes flashed in his memory—turned skyward, desperate, searching. Whatever Shed was after, whatever he intended to do, he was clearly fighting with everything he had.

“Buy me time. Just until I return.”

Eclace couldn’t fathom why Shed would leave Luise’s side when the end was so near. Part of him even wished Shed would never come back. But deeper still, another part longed for his return.

“Fortunately, His Holiness the Pope’s sigil of protection should arrive tomorrow without issue.”

Eclace’s refined brow furrowed as he turned to the woman seated nearby. Along with the arrival of the High Priests, the Pope’s sigil of protection—Eve’s absolution—was on its way to Faradel.

“The sigil will arrive with the High Priests, won’t it?”

“Ah, people and ships are taxed, but not the sigil of protection. You can’t exactly leave a sacred token granted by His Holiness the Pope adrift in the middle of the sea, can you?”

“……”

“Blasphemy is hardly something the Lord would welcome, High Priestess Giselle Marlhein.”

Eclace smiled faintly under Giselle’s glare. He knew well that the elegant High Priestess had a habit of offering wordless, irreverent prayers.

Giselle folded her arms, lifting her lashes with a scornful tilt.

“And you imagine that means I’ll bestow the sigil of protection upon Eve right away?”

They weren’t the only ones holding hostages. Only a High Priest could inscribe the sigil. If Giselle withheld it, Luise would suffer all the same.

Eclace unclasped his hands, letting them rest lightly on his knee.

“Then you mean to keep it stored here in Faradel? Well… let’s only hope no one sets their eyes on such a precious relic in the meantime. If it were to vanish, you’d be forced to petition the Holy See for another—and the execution of Lady Luise Ideana would be delayed even further.”

His brown hair shifted as he tilted his head, the movement calm, deliberate.

Upon hearing this, Giselle dug her nails into her palm. If his words were true, then the sigil would no longer be with the High Priests, who were stranded in Hellingern; it would already be on its way here. Eclace had made sure to account for whoever was moving it. But what if it disappeared along the way?…

“Are you threatening me?”

“Threatening? Hardly. A relic that might only be seen once in a hundred years could tempt the devout — or worse still, the irreverent, who would covet its astronomical value and steal it.”

Eclace’s eyes curved slyly as he spoke.

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

After spending the whole day with Eve, night finally fell. Luise tucked her child into bed before quietly starting to pack. Having arrived empty-handed, she had little to take, but she folded each of Eve’s few belongings with great care.

The next day, Eve would receive the sigil of protection, after which they would go their separate ways.

She folded the softly scented clothes her daughter had worn and placed them one by one into the bag. With every garment she packed, the weight of longing pressing against her chest grew heavier.

Then it struck again: searing heat and unbearable pain crashing through her body.

The agony surged from her wrist, tearing upwards as though her very flesh were being ripped apart.

“Ugh…”

The neatly folded clothes crumpled beneath her pale fingers.

Drip, drip—dark drops spattered onto the fabric.

“Ah…”

Blood streamed from her nose, running red down her chin before falling.

She reached for a handkerchief, but the world spun. Darkness swallowed her vision, and her body pitched sideways.

And then—

“Luise!”

Someone reached out and caught her as she swayed. Her vision blurred until she could see nothing at all.

The sound of words drifted through the haze, but they were too far away, too muffled to understand.

In the dimming edges of her consciousness, she thought of him.

‘Shed. Is it you?’

Unconsciously, her trembling hand clutched at his collar, shaking from the pain.

‘I’m scared. Truly… I’m so very scared.’

‘I want to run. To run away—straight into your arms…’