Chapter 25

The prophet’s divine power specialized in seeing the future, not healing others. Even so, their perception was far sharper than his own. At last, Gopher spoke.

“…Please, I leave her to you.”

Suppressing the strange urge not to let go of Bleria, he gently laid her on the floor. The prophet gazed at her briefly before nodding.

“She has merely lost consciousness due to extreme fatigue and stress. There doesn’t seem to be any other issue.”

Stress…

“I’ll guide you to a place where she can rest. The baptistery has been secured so no one can enter. I’ll assist the believer myself.”

“Your consideration is appreciated, but I’ll manage.”

Gopher lifted Bleria into his arms, startled by how light she felt. It made sense—she wasn’t particularly tall, had never been trained, and hadn’t been well-nourished before adulthood. Yet, she was lighter than expected—too light.

And cold.

Her limp body, her arms dangling lifelessly, didn’t feel like they belonged to a living person. Instinctively, Gopher held her closer and only realized she was breathing faintly when her shallow breath brushed against his neck.

Her breath is so weak.

Meanwhile, the prophet carefully tied the cloth they had previously untied over their eyes again and started walking ahead.

As he followed, Gopher’s thoughts remained fixed on the woman in his arms.

The areas where they touched slowly warmed, bringing him relief. His frozen rationality thawed, yet this left him perplexed about his own behavior.

Why am I so concerned?

Getting caught up in emotions was something to be wary of—especially when he couldn’t pinpoint the reason.

He glanced down at Bleria with steady eyes before looking ahead again. Recalling the situation before she fainted, Gopher asked:

“Did you see Bleria’s future?“

“It’s not something I should discuss while the subject is unconscious.”

So, they did see something.

Gopher narrowed his eyes.

“If Believer Mel wishes to know what I saw, tell her to arrange another meeting. Under the circumstances, I can make time for her once.”

“I appreciate your offer, but it’s Bleria, not Mel.“

“That’s correct—for now.”

The prophet’s enigmatic tone made Gopher’s lips tighten.

Moments like this made him dislike clergy, but it didn’t matter. Gopher wasn’t interested in the prophecy itself.

If what the prophet could see was a fleeting moment, how much room was there for distortion? A single sensational snippet from a gossip column would prove as much.

What mattered to him wasn’t what future they had glimpsed but how that knowledge might be disseminated.

“Can I tell others that Bleria fainted and that you couldn’t see anything?“

“Do as you wish. As long as you do not insult the divine, how the prophecy is shared is none of my concern.”

Finally, they arrived at a door, and the prophet halted.

“This is lodging for believers staying to pray for several days. Only priests come and go, so she should rest peacefully here.”

The prophet unlocked the door. As Gopher offered a polite thanks and stepped inside, the prophet didn’t immediately move aside.

“Do you have something to say to me?“

“If a few words could change someone, I would have already done so. The human heart is extraordinary.“

“What do you mean?“

“Even if things go awry, do not come to me. It is forbidden by the divine to view one person’s future more than once, and I will not break that rule. Farewell, and may fortune favor you.”

With those cryptic parting words, the prophet turned and vanished.

The room, befitting a temple’s lodging, was clean and straightforward. Gopher placed Bleria on the pristine bed, covering her with the blanket provided. Yet, he doubted if this thin blanket was sufficient for the current weather—it seemed too flimsy to warm her.

But there was no alternative.

He sat in the chair beside the bed, crossing his legs, and gazed down at her.

“…”

She appeared to be having a nightmare. Cold sweat trickled from her forehead, sliding between her brows and pooling at the corners of her eyes like tears.

Bleria’s sleep had always been restless. From what he had heard, this had been the case before she became Bleria.

With time, as her body and mind found comfort, her complexion gradually improved—only to regress recently. The cause could only be one thing.

She could’ve just taken it if it was this painful for her.

If she had done so, she wouldn’t have needed to endure until the day of prophecy for peace of mind.

Bleria Heaven had always been like this.

Even when she seemed to trust him, she couldn’t let go and fully believe. She liked him, yet she flinched at the slightest touch, and when he tried to kiss her, she’d turn her head to avoid him. Though he’d given her a mask of composure, she had developed the bad habit of hiding things.

He had managed to pry out some of those secrets by demanding that she speak casually or provoking her into revealing them. But the most important one, she never said aloud. For instance, the fact that she liked him.

Was it the disparity in their positions, the unequal weight of their emotions, or something else entirely?

“Am I scary to you?”

The only response was her faint breathing.

In truth, it didn’t matter if he never fully earned her trust. Ultimately, Bleria could not betray him; if he wanted something, she would have to give it to him.

And yet, why did he still feel compelled to uncover the remaining pieces of her heart? Until now, he had thought it was due to the perfectionism or control complex instilled by Stella. But now, seeing her collapse, a different thought arose.

Should I be kinder to her?

Gopher removed his gloves and wiped the cold sweat that had pooled around Bleria’s eyes.

The skin he touched had warmed considerably, and the body that used to tense up at the slightest contact now lay languid under his hand.

With a playful air, he brushed his hand across her face—her pale forehead, the straight bridge of her nose, the tiny tip of her nose, and finally, her soft, pink lips. When he lightly pressed the rounded flesh, her mouth parted slightly, revealing the inside.

Warm breath, carrying a trace of heat, touched his fingertips.

“…”

Slowly, Gopher withdrew his hand. The warmth on his fingers spread to his chest, making his heart thud heavily.

I see now.

It was clear: he liked Bleria more than he had realized.

And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Bleria wouldn’t leave him—he was sure of it. Soon, when he inherited the ducal title, he would have the power to protect everything he desired. Stability came from unchanging constants, and it seemed acceptable for Bleria to become such a constant in his life.

Gopher smiled. He was about to wake Bleria, who seemed trapped in a nightmare when he heard movement behind him. Turning, he saw Zachary, one of his subordinates.

“Young Duke, may I have a moment?”

A short delay wouldn’t matter. Gopher stood, leaving Bleria behind for now.

***

Cough!

A harsh sound echoed in the void.

The place was pitch black. No matter how many times her weary eyes blinked, nothing became visible. Her entire body felt ablaze, yet chills clung to her skin like a shroud. It was as if every part of her body was slowly cooking from the inside out.

So hot…

Bleria recognized this paralyzing heat. Over ten years ago, the fever that had drained the color from her hair had tormented her this way.

As the realization hit her, her body reverted to young Mel Slopey’s.

Click.

The room was filled with dim light. Though not bright, it was enough for her to make out the two figures who had entered—a man and a woman.

They were Mel’s biological parents.

“Still lying down, Mel? We need to go, so get up already!“

“How long is she going to laze around like this?“

“They said it was just a cold, but heavens, it doesn’t look like just a cold! She’s burning up!”

A cracked, dry hand touched her forehead.

“This—this isn’t good! She’ll die at this rate! We should call a doctor—“

“Doctor? With what money? Stop babbling and move aside.”

Now, a large, calloused hand replaced the first. Mel struggled to lift her swollen eyelids. Though her vision was blurred, she could make out her parents. How long had it been since they’d paid her any attention? The fever seemed to warm her heart as well as her body.

But then, a heavy, disdainful tongue click broke through her fleeting hope.

“She’s done for.“

“What?“

“Remember old James’s grandson? He had a fever like this, and he didn’t survive the night. They brought in all those doctors, a waste of money.“

“So then…”

At that moment, a commotion erupted outside. Shrill, angry voices—the familiar sounds of gamblers arguing. Her father withdrew his hand and jumped to his feet.

“Forget it! Leave her here. If we get caught now, it’s over!“

“Leave her? But you just said she’ll die if we do!“

“Don’t start pretending to be a parent now. Do whatever you want—I’m leaving!”

Without hesitation, he stormed out. And her mother… she wouldn’t hesitate long, either. Mel reached out weakly, clutching at her.

“…Mel.”

No.

I’ll get better soon. I can walk and run right now. I’ll work harder at the chores. I won’t complain or beg for anything.

Please don’t leave me. Don’t abandon me.

Her mind filled with desperate pleas, but her hoarse throat couldn’t voice a single one. In the end, her hand was pushed away.

****

NOTE: Some of you who have read this story earlier might be confused with the current head of the Allnight Duchy (The ML’s Family).

For clarification, the head of the Allnight Duchy is Duchess Stella. There is no current Duke in line right before the ML. So, if you happen to read in the previous chapters that the current head of the Allnight Duchy is His Grace/Duke Allnight/Lord Allnight, please disregard them and consider them the female version of those titles. Those are entirely mistranslated. 

But for those who might not have encountered these mistakes, please disregard this note because it means you have read this story after I edited all the errors.