The ferocity vanished from Aint’s face, replaced by his usual cool expression.

He watched Locke approach.

The second son of House Chantalis, a boy who charged like a madman at anyone capable of crossing swords with him, regardless of their social standing.

That was how Aint regarded Locke.

‘He may be unusually friendly for the son of a duke, but it would be troublesome to let him get any closer.’

Ever since they met during a fight between academy students and commoner children, Aint had found himself crossing paths with Locke more and more often.

Like his father, a Sword Master, Locke could already coat his blade in aura. It was only a matter of time before he became a Sword Master himself.

Had everything already been settled, Aint would have found some way to bring Locke into his inner circle. But the timing was not right.

For a fleeting instant, Aint’s eyes flashed gold behind his glasses.

Locke, who happened to notice, stopped short.

“What’s wrong, Locke?”

“Ain, your eyes…”

“Hmm? What about them?”

Aint gave him a puzzled look.

By the next moment, his eyes had returned to their usual brown.

Wondering whether he had imagined it, Locke scratched the back of his neck.

“No, it’s nothing. I must have seen it wrong.”

‘…Right. Golden eyes? That’s impossible. They’re the mark of the imperial bloodline.’

Aint gave a faint chuckle and walked ahead. Locke naturally followed him.

The other children’s gazes gathered on the pair.

Locke Joelle Chantalis might have been the second son of that House Chantalis, the family into which a servant of the Evil God had been born, but he was still difficult to look away from.

He had soft, pale-gray hair, light-green eyes, and a frame larger than most boys his age.

If Locke possessed the warmth and strength of a steadfast young knight, then Aint, despite his common birth, exuded an air of intelligence.

Whenever the girls caught sight of his dark-brown hair and chestnut eyes behind his glasses, they silently squealed to themselves.

Locke was kind to everyone, while Aint was naturally aloof.

One was a nobleman, while the other was a commoner of uncertain origins.

The girls watched the two boys, each charming in an entirely different way, with delighted smiles.

Noticing all the attention directed at them, Locke scratched his cheek.

“Were we being too loud? Everyone keeps staring at us.”

“Being that oblivious ought to qualify as an illness.”

“What?”

“Never mind. More importantly, it was noisy inside the hall. Did something happen?”

“Oh, it’s because the deputy priest’s New Year’s address is so popular.”

“…The deputy priest? Where is the High Priest?”

“He’s probably praying or something.”

Aint gave an uninterested hum.

His gaze, however, had shifted toward the prayer chamber.

‘It’s unusual for Derrion not to appear on a day like this.’

“That’s strange.”

“It’s probably because of me. I’m Evelyn’s brother, after all.”

Locke’s expression darkened.

Seeing his face turn pale, Aint recalled something he had nearly forgotten.

‘Come to think of it, didn’t they say his sister was born with Simon’s mark on her body?’

Evil gods, supreme gods, Locke was suffering because a pack of fools kept making a fuss over beings that did not even exist.

If the power of Simon could be used to tear down the temple, Aint would have gladly offered to have the same mark carved into his own flesh.

As he looked at Locke’s dejected face, Aint thought of his own younger sister, enduring their uncle alone in the imperial palace.

‘If I remember correctly, they’re the same age. Perhaps she and Locke’s sister could become friends.’

Aint found himself curious about Locke’s younger sister, the so-called servant of the Evil God whom he had never met.

She had been forced to spend every day dressed in a black gown and veil.

Would anyone remain sane after living through that kind of hell for seventeen years?

And as she grew older, reality would only become harsher.

‘Though none of that will matter if I change this country first.’

“…Ain, the imperial princess’s birthday party is in two weeks.”

“So?”

“Evelyn will be there too, and to be honest, I’m worried. Nothing bad will happen, will it? What if Her Highness sees Evelyn, becomes frightened, and faints…?”

“I don’t know. Do you really think she’s that delicate?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Don’t worry so much. Everything will work out.”

Locke’s tense expression relaxed at Aint’s reassurance.

“You think so? Thanks for saying that, Ain!”

Locke raised a scar-covered hand and patted Aint on the shoulder.

Aint chuckled at his simpleminded friend.

Whenever he was not holding a sword, Locke resembled a young puppy.

“You should go. You’ll be late returning to the dormitory.”

“It doesn’t matter today. We’re having a family gathering this evening. But Ain, aren’t you curious about what’s inside the prayer chamber? Want to sneak in?”

“Not interested. And I told you not to speak so casually to a commoner like me. This is the last time I’m keeping you company.”

Leaving Locke behind, Aint walked out of the temple alone. Locke hurriedly chased after him.

“Hey, you can’t just decide that! Wait for me!”

***

‘It’s noisy outside.’

High Priest Derrion opened his eyes where he sat before the statue of Chara, the supreme goddess.

Whenever sunlight streamed through the prayer chamber’s window, his short white hair seemed almost translucent.

Unlike the lively atmosphere outside, his violet eyes were filled with concern.

“…Chara, why do you not answer me?”

Once every month, Chara graciously delivered an oracle that would aid the nation of Lagria.

Yet several days had already passed since the beginning of the new year, and she had still given them no divine revelation.

Nothing like this had ever happened in the ten years since Derrion was appointed High Priest at the age of eight.

Breaking the silence, a novice priest named Aymon cautiously approached him.

“Um, Lord Derrion. A message has arrived from the imperial palace.”

Aymon escorted the imperial envoy carrying the letter into the prayer chamber.

The young envoy could not tear his eyes away from Derrion’s white hair and violet eyes, the proof that he was a servant of the supreme goddess Chara.

“P-Please, take this…”

“Aymon, tell the envoy to leave the letter there.”

Derrion’s voice was cold.

Aymon practically snatched the letter from the envoy, then hurriedly led him out of the prayer chamber.

“You should leave at once, while your life is still intact.”

“Pardon? Y-Yes, of course!”

Unlike their warm and benevolent goddess, her earthly representative was infamous for his fiery temper.

Once Aymon and the envoy were gone, Derrion sighed and examined the letter.

His perfectly straight brows drew together in a fierce scowl.

“That miserable imperial dog…”

I am well aware of the High Priest’s tireless efforts, yet I remain unable to find a solution to the growing resentment among the citizens of the empire.

I have repeatedly asked that you petition the supreme goddess for a means of alleviating their poverty and ignorance.

The fact that no answer has yet come threatens to weaken my faith in the temple…

[…]

I suspect this must be the work of that seed of misfortune from House Chantalis. I ask that the matter be resolved swiftly.

After reading the entire letter, a sneer curled Derrion’s lips.

‘Blaming House Chantalis? There’s no need to look that far.’

As far as Derrion was concerned, the people’s poverty and ignorance were the inevitable result of their circumstances.

Emperor Obson, the fool who had sent this ridiculous letter, did nothing but spend his nights with his concubines and gradually raise taxes to fill the imperial treasury.

Three years ago, no sooner had his elder brother died than the imbecile sent his nephew, the crown prince, away to study in a distant foreign land and seized power as regent.

At least he had possessed enough sense not to interfere with the Central Temple until now. It seemed even that bare minimum of judgment had finally deserted him.

Derrion flung the parchment aside with an audible snap.

Due to his absurdly young age for a High Priest, Obson’s attempts to keep him in check had been growing worse by the day.

Derrion stood beside the prayer chamber’s window and thought about House Chantalis, mentioned at the end of the letter.

More precisely, he thought about the “seed of misfortune” born into that family.

“Greetings, High Priest.”

On the day Derrion was first appointed High Priest, he met seven-year-old Evelyn for the first time.

Clinging to Duke Chantalis’s leg, Evelyn had burst into tears so pitifully that Derrion had wondered whether such a young child could truly be the spawn of a demon.

Even the aura of the Evil God Simon emanating from her body had been incredibly faint.

But who was Chara?

She was the supreme goddess who had created this nation. Surely she had her reasons.

Although Derrion considered the ceremony meaningless, he had followed Chara’s oracle and performed a prayer of repose over Evelyn every spring.

Each time, Evelyn would convulse in agony and eventually be carried back to the ducal estate.

It was spring now, which meant the time to see that seed of misfortune again was approaching.

Derrion groaned.

“What am I supposed to do with you?”

If that hopeless fool Obson shifted the blame for his own failures onto Evelyn, the bothersome annual prayer ceremonies would come to an end.

But that would also spell the end of Evelyn and her family.

At best, she would be banished. If her luck ran out, she might even be executed.

In recent years, Derrion had left immediately after the ceremony without exchanging a single word with Evelyn. But perhaps this time, he thought, he should at least offer her a few words of kindness.

Derrion sighed.

The poor child had been treated as a criminal simply for being born, and now she was about to bear the blame for an incompetent emperor’s sins as well.

Worse still, the terrible reputation that had followed her since birth had made it impossible for her to defend herself against any accusation.

After some consideration, Derrion summoned Aymon and ordered him to prepare for an outing.

For now, he intended to visit the city and observe the lives of the empire’s people for himself.

Derrion tried to banish the memory of the small face he had once glimpsed beneath a thin veil.

***

The morning after that turbulent day, Evelyn was busy preparing to go out and buy cookies for Sachi.

Despite all her wayward behavior, Duke Chantalis had never withheld his financial support. As a result, a considerable number of märchen coins had accumulated in her room.

‘One york was worth about a hundred thousand won, and one märchen was roughly a million won, wasn’t it? Now I understand how the original Evelyn could afford to bribe her maid.’

She had more than enough money to purchase every cookie in the shop.

Delighted, Evelyn recalled the old saying that even when a wealthy family fell into ruin, its fortune lasted for three generations.

Standing before the wardrobe, the maid anxiously addressed her.

“M-My lady, are you truly planning to go out?”

“It’s not as if I’m being held prisoner. Why shouldn’t I?”

Evelyn pulled out several of the thickest-looking dresses.

Although all her outdoor clothing was black, she intended to put together a fresh and striking outfit suitable for the bitter winter weather.

‘I should buy something for myself while I’m there. I wonder which cookies are good here.’

As Evelyn hummed cheerfully, the maid eyed her excited back.

Why was she suddenly making such a fuss about cookies when she had never even liked them?

It had already been three years since the maid was assigned as the personal attendant of that servant of the Evil God. Having to serve as the girl’s nursemaid as well left her entire body aching more with every passing year.

And whenever Evelyn acted nothing like a child, it was utterly chilling.

The generous compensation was the only thing that kept her going.

She simply had to endure.

The maid’s eyes darted around as she thought of the substantial reward she would soon receive.

She still could not summon the courage to look at Evelyn’s unveiled face.

“Still, um…I don’t think going out is a very good idea, my lady. Perhaps you could ask me to run the errand instead, ”

“What?”

“Hic! N-No, what I mean is…you always seem to return in a terrible mood whenever you go out…!”

‘She’s terrified of a seventeen-year-old. Is she stupid or just painfully naive?’

Evelyn grinned.

Until she found a suitable business partner, keeping this girl around as her personal lackey might not be such a bad idea.