“Hail! No, we need money. Along with that come lasting honour, power and everything else you could want. That’s why we’ve found various ways to obtain it.”

“……”

“You’re aware of that, aren’t you? That there are so many impoverished people in this world who long desperately for the sacred relic?”

Hailla nodded reluctantly. The truth is that the poor are constantly exposed to hardship and danger, and often experience great suffering. They lose parents, siblings and loved ones, and endure injustices such as unnecessary amputations. There were plenty of reasons why they would want to free themselves from pain.

“And when someone succeeds in using the sword, a gem is produced. A very expensive one.”

Miar added, smiling slowly. The look in her eyes made Hailla stiffen — it was devilish.

“A gem that transfers emotions. Isn’t that alluring? It can drag people into despair, overwhelming them to the point where they abandon everything they once held dear. For nobles, it’s the most irresistible of golden apples.”

“Wait—someone else? You mean the gem can be used on a third party?”

Hailla’s eyes widened in disbelief. The gems born from the sacred relic were meant to be kept personally as proof of transformation or evidence of divinity, and stored in the temple. For someone else to shatter one was unthinkable. In fact, it bordered on blasphemy.

‘The effect is the same. Despair, grief, rage, love… Once an emotion has been extracted and transformed into a gem, it becomes the pure essence of that feeling. When the gem is shattered, the emotion floods out, wild and uncontrollable. Just as you’ve probably heard.”

Miar’s tongue flicked across her dry lower lip. She looked far more like a demon’s emissary than a servant of God.

“But what if there’s no target? If someone doesn’t hate anyone, then emotions like rage wouldn’t have an outlet, would they?”

Hailla, being a commoner, only knew the basics: that breaking the gem transferred emotions. She’d heard vague rumours that whoever broke it usually died soon after, but nothing more.

“No, that’s not how it works. Breaking a gem is far more…”

Miar bit back the last part and drew in a breath. She needed to be gentle, like a shepherd guiding a skittish lamb. So she decided to play the part of a kind messenger of God.

—

“Everyone reacts to emotions differently. These gems push that sensitivity to its limit. They make you angry more easily, love more deeply, and experience hopelessness more intensely. To the point where an ordinary person can’t function in everyday life.”

“Does that make sense now?”

Miar looked like a patient teacher, proud of her clear explanation to a slow learner. There was a hint of satisfaction on her face, as if she were pleased with herself for being so kind.

Hailla, trying to swallow her disgust, shot back:

“So you’re saying the temple is getting rich off poor people’s desperation?”

The warmth in Hailla’s eyes disappeared, replaced by cold contempt. She couldn’t believe that she had ever felt any sympathy for Miar. Anyone who manipulates the desperate and leads the sick to their deaths can never be good — she had been utterly mistaken.

They were far more monstrous than she had ever imagined.

“Well, it’s not entirely wrong, but let’s call it an equal exchange.”

“…”

“They get a chance to use the sacred relic, and we get the gem. That’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, don’t you think? Calling it exploitation seems a bit dramatic.”

Miar tilted her head as if the logic were obvious. Admittedly, the selection process for gem producers was cruel, but since the girl was unaware of this, there was no reason to assume that the poor were being exploited. It didn’t make sense to her.

She reorganised her thoughts and smiled again. It was a smile that said, ‘Does it really matter?’ Only then did Hailla fully realise that Miar was a noble. Miar felt more like a stranger to her than ever before.

“Are you saying that all of those people volunteered? If so, there wouldn’t be so many corpses…”

“Why wouldn’t there be?”

“Because no one in their right mind would risk their life for a sacred relic when they can’t control their own emotions!”

“There are plenty who would. You saw what happened under the pillar.”

“Maybe the sword is flawed. Maybe the temple tricked people… I just can’t—”

“Humans.”

Miar cut her off in a flat, firm voice.

“Humans can only lie to other humans. Lying before God? That’s nothing more than a pathetic little act.”

“…”

“And humans lie to themselves, too.”

Miar clicked her tongue inwardly as she looked at the beautiful woman, who was gazing at her with dazed eyes.

‘She’s so beautiful, yet so foolishly pitiful — perhaps because she was born a commoner. Had she been cleverer or more ambitious.’

Miar might have considered partnering with her in business. But it seemed there was no use trying to win her over now.

Instead, showing the kind of benevolence one might show to a child just learning to walk, Miar decided to answer all of Hailla’s questions.

“You asked about Count Feldon, didn’t you? All right, let’s think this through. He was a greedy, self-important nobleman who was born into immense wealth thanks to his grandfather’s fortune. He lived a life of indulgence and got everything he ever wanted. As their only son, his parents doted on him endlessly.”

“……”

“To top it all off, he was also quite handsome. With just a hint of his wealth, a glimpse of his good looks, and some exaggerated noble-style chivalry, he could make almost any woman fall for him. But Lady Riahe, whose family was no more distinguished than mine, didn’t even spare him a glance.”

She spoke of things that Hailla, a commoner, could never have known — details from beyond the page, so to speak. Just as Miar had assumed, Hailla, the ‘naïve commoner girl’, listened in a trance.

“He courted her relentlessly — some might even say obsessively. In ways that would make other nobles cringe. He genuinely believed that he loved her. But no matter how much time passed, Lady Riahe’s heart never wavered. Then, one day, worn out and consumed with frustration, Feldon heard Riahe whisper something to him.”

Miar leaned in close to Hailla’s ear and whispered like an actress in a play.

“Prove your love using the sacred relic.”

“……”

Having decided that, if he could not have Riahe, he would ruin her, the Count accepted the challenge without hesitation.

“But Hailla, do you really think Count Feldon loved Lady Riahe?”

The sacred sword only erases genuine, intense feelings that are clearly directed towards another person. While no one knows exactly how to use the sword, the prerequisite for extracting a gem has long been common knowledge.

But what if the person misidentifies the object of their affection?

It was only then that Hailla’s eyes widened in realisation.

“He was never capable of loving another human being. What he felt towards Riahe wasn’t love; it was a desire to possess her.”

Logically, Hailla understood Miar’s words, yet she still found it hard to believe that someone could be so wrong about their own feelings. Sensing her hesitation, Miar drove the point home.

“Humans never cut themselves with the blade of doubt. They only know how to stab others, and that’s why they are punished.”

“……”

“Of course, the clever ones know how to turn even divine punishment to their advantage.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about Lady Riahe.”

The red-haired woman flashed a bright smile and flicked her luxurious hair.

“Do you really think Feldon didn’t know he would die?”

“Are you saying that Lady Riahe let him use the sword knowing full well what would happen?”

“There it is again – that look. The face of someone who doesn’t trust me.”

Caught off guard, Hailla pressed her lips together and remained silent. Miar simply shrugged, seemingly no longer caring. Then she stepped closer and tucked Hailla’s long hair behind her ear. Their eyes met. “Either way, remember this well: The gods don’t side with the good.”

“…”

“They side with the clever.”

As Hailla was about to become a duchess, it was important that she knew this. After those final words, Miar said nothing more. Hailla remained silent, too. Miar personally escorted her back to her room before leaving.

When Lian returned, Hailla said nothing about what had happened.

She considered it an experience not worth remembering — something she never wanted to recall. Sitting in the carriage on the way home, she told herself to forget everything.

And so, Hailla and Lian returned home. To where Rethe awaited them.

—

To be honest, Hailla had never dreamed of improving her social standing by marrying Lian or growing old with him. She was convinced that he was destined to leave one day, and that he was far too good for her.

This belief only grew stronger when she found out that he was heir to a ducal family. It didn’t waver in the slightest.

Riding home in the carriage, she made a firm decision: she would no longer rely on him. She would take her time sorting through her feelings. Judging by his behaviour, Lian’s obsession wasn’t likely to fade quickly. However, she thought, his heart could change someday.