~Chapter 34~
Floria just looked up at Caspar without saying anything.
Unlike yesterday—when he’d dressed up as if competing with Aster—he was back to his usual neat black uniform.
His shirt under the jacket was crisp, his black cravat perfectly straight.
Only his slightly furrowed brow hinted at a bad mood.
He stood in the doorway, blocking it, and told her to come out. Anyone else might have found him scary.
“Is he… a god?”
The thought slipped out of her without meaning to.
A moment ago she had been standing with her hands folded in prayer, ready to accept her fate—execution by the count.
And then a savior appeared right in front of her eyes.
“I’m giving you two choices,” Caspar’s voice seemed to echo in her ears as his intense gaze pinned her in place.
Two choices:
Be executed by the count, or go with Caspar.
Of course Floria chose the latter.
Like someone under a spell, she rose and walked toward him. As if he’d been waiting, he held out his large hand to her.
The motion was quiet and smooth, like an escort.
“….”
Floria carefully placed her hand on his.
The moment she stepped out of the cramped confessional, the breath stuck in her chest finally eased.
Maybe it was because everyone inside had made a path for them.
Floria glanced around at the route they were taking, aware of the hundreds of eyes following her.
So many—and yet no one spoke. The confessional hall was eerily silent.
She looked ahead at the count.
Ah. Now she understood why so many believers had cleared a path so quickly.
If not for Caspar, she really would have died here.
The count, who hadn’t said a single word because of Caspar’s presence, was shaking with swallowed rage, his fists clenched.
His eyes were murderous, so Floria pulled her veil lower to hide her face even more.
The believers watching from outside couldn’t miss what was happening.
They had made way as a wordless plea: Leave this place—now.
Caspar walked forward proudly, saying nothing, guiding Floria by the hand.
His profile looked fierce enough to be terrifying, but his hand was warm, and even the way he tugged her along was gentle.
Maybe that’s why Floria relaxed without realizing it.
They had just passed the count when—
“Th-that priestess just said to me…”
The count, who hadn’t spoken until now, tried to stop them.
Caspar halted and tilted his head slightly to look at him.
That was all.
“…My apologies, Duke.”
How intimidating had he looked?
Count Ridante flinched and bowed first, blurting out an apology.
Even the three knights he’d brought to show off—tall men picked to flaunt his status—just bowed their heads and watched for cues.
Caspar didn’t answer. He simply led Floria away again.
Soon, the two of them had completely left the confessional area.
As they had lately, they headed to the annex garden where no one ever came.
***
Once the pair disappeared from sight, the believers—silent with tension till now—burst into whispers.
The count still stood there with his hands neatly folded, head lowered.
Only after he noticed the rising noise did he lift his head as if nothing had happened.
His burning gaze swung toward the confessional doors. But Caspar and Floria were long gone.
“Why are you making such a racket in a confessional! How dare you cause such noise in front of me!”
Just moments ago he’d been sweating, but now he took it out on the believers.
He even ordered that anyone who met his eyes should be dragged outside immediately.
“To make me show such an ugly sight before these low-born commoners…”
A mere commoner-born duke, how dare he…
No—wasn’t there a rumor he’d once been a slave?
The count fumed and puffed, whispering very quietly so no one would hear.
If anyone close to Priestess Floria tattled, it would reach Duke Ponhas’s ears in no time.
Grinding his teeth, his face turning red and blue, the count muttered,
“A commoner priestess insulting me? I’ll repay this humiliation!”
Insulting the priestess should be fine, right? Saying at least this much would save his face—so he huffed and puffed.
His voice and manner were sniveling, the very picture of a petty villain.
“…A-hem. There was some commotion, I see. We apologize on behalf of the temple.”
The priests—who had been silently watching from afar—finally stepped forward, carefully.
Seeing the count glaring at the door with clenched fists actually looked so silly that the tension faded.
His fist was so thick with fat that you couldn’t even see veins. It didn’t look threatening at all.
The furious count rolled his eyes and stomped toward the priest who’d spoken.
“Yes, there was a commotion. Is it right that I, who personally came all the way here, was treated like this?”
“My lord Count, we’re very sorry, but that isn’t our department. Please consult the High Priest about this.”
“Y-you…!”
What do these priests take me for?
Stunned, the count grabbed his stiff neck and wagged a finger—
“Then… is today’s confessional done?”
“Priestess Floria won’t be coming back today, right?”
But the wave of approaching believers pushed him back, and he suddenly found himself far from the priests.
He stared blankly.
Honestly, he wanted to throw everyone here into prison, but he clung to a shred of reason and thought it through.
His Majesty the Emperor had personally told him to go meet Priestess Floria.
Yet he hadn’t managed to speak properly with her—only shouted in the confessional.
Even if he blamed Duke Ponhas, the fact was he hadn’t carried out the Emperor’s order.
On top of that, he had already had far too many believers dragged out just for annoying him.
“We’re very sorry. We’re not sure if Priestess Floria will come to the confessional tomorrow. We’ll post a notice.”
Hearing the priests’ awkward voices, the count’s hand went limp, empty.
But unlike the troubled priests, Priest Raili’s eyes gleamed as he thought of the two who had left the hall.
He remembered: after he’d all but been forced to share information about the “annex ghost” over a meal with Floria—
he’d been kidnapped.
They even blindfolded him.
“W-who are you? Why are you doing this to me…?”
“What did you tell Floria?”
“…Huh?”
But the kidnapper asked something so random—demanding that he explain in detail what the priests knew about the annex ghost.
“Good. From now on, stay close to Floria.”
Then the kidnapper had pressed a thick something into his hand.
When Raili fainted and later woke up, he was lying in his dormitory bed as if he’d dreamed it all.
But it hadn’t been a dream.
Because in his hand was an envelope stuffed with an enormous amount of money!
“A kind kidnapper,” he thought, amused by the contradiction, grinning at the envelope in his hand.
Since then, he’d figured that if he stuck close to Floria, more “crumbs” might fall his way.
Today he’d kindly explained the names of each noble who came.
But then…
“It seems Duke Ponhas likes Priestess Floria!”
He had noticed a very tall man in a black robe quietly standing in the confessional hall, so he kept an eye on him.
The moment the count stormed out of the booth, that man threw off his robe and ran—
and it was Caspar, Duke Ponhas.
For Raili, that was both shocking and thrilling.
The duke’s lazy, even-toned voice—it was exactly the same voice as the man who’d kidnapped him.
How could this be!
He’d been scraping by on a tiny salary, doing the bare minimum, and now he’d gotten money and a juicy story.
“If Priestess Floria isn’t a Saintess, then what is she?”
She even captured the duke!
At first he’d tried to cozy up to her for selfish reasons, but now he found himself admiring her without thinking.
Raili strode up to the count, who stood with his hands hanging uselessly.
“Um, my lord Count.”
“What is it?”
The count snapped, glaring toward the sound, his earlier daze gone.
But Raili wasn’t scared at all.
“Duke Ponhas visiting Priestess Floria is nothing new.”
“…What?”
The count blinked. Raili forced a smile, thinking how disgusting the man was.
“I think the duke is in love with Priestess Floria.”
So… please don’t interfere!
“B-but His Majesty… told me… to come here…”
The count stammered to himself.
He, who looked down on commoners, feared the commoner-born duke for another reason:
there were grim rumors that every business Duke Ponhas touched turned to gold—and that he would crush anyone who stood in his way.
Some even whispered that His Majesty secretly summoned the duke and kept him on a tight leash.
So the count couldn’t act carelessly.
“Let’s… go.”
He weakly gestured to his knights.
The knights—chosen only to show off the count’s power, all tall and handsome—looked visibly relieved as they followed him.
Watching their backs, Raili pumped both fists in satisfaction.
Without Floria knowing, she had gained a true believer—him.
