~Chapter 35~
Caspar walked forward in silence, still not letting go of Floria’s hand.
His face looked almost emotionless, but inside his head was a tangled mess.
“So impulsive,” he thought.
It had started with just…
“Can I die now?”
“Yes, well. Dying isn’t necessarily bad. If you only do what others tell you, life has no meaning. But if you don’t want that, then make a purpose for your life.”
“A purpose?”
“Yes. For example, find someone you love so much that it makes you want to live.”
Back then, when Caspar’s soul was crumbling with no goals or purpose, his unconscious had led him to the confessional at Elio Temple.
That was when the name “Floria” branded itself into his mind—someone who usually forgot names easily.
Not long after, believers started to lift Floria up. They even called her a Saintess.
Well, that could happen. If that had been all, Caspar’s connection with Floria might have ended there.
But his master—his father, the Emperor—gave an order.
“I hear a priestess named Floria at Elio Temple is being called the Saintess.”
“….”
“That sounds good for me. I’ve told the High Priest to brainwash her. You go confirm it.”
He spoke like he was dealing with an object, not a person. The tea leaves for brainwashing were already prepared.
The Emperor hated Caspar’s public image but always called for him in times like this.
Because rumors said Caspar was a flighty, unbalanced duke, people would accept it if he suddenly rushed to see Floria. That was the idea.
But before the scheduled day to brainwash Floria, Caspar secretly went to the temple one more time.
He gave a yellow ring—one he had never taken off for over a dozen years—to the only girl at the temple, telling her to deliver it to Priestess Floria.
He still didn’t understand why he did that. It was impulsive.
Soon after, he met Floria for the first time with his identity and face revealed.
To be honest, he didn’t remember her face well from that day.
But the look on her face—unable to hide her confusion—and her emerald eyes, those he remembered clearly.
Seeing her drink the brainwashing tea, he placed his own brainwashing first before leaving the parlor.
The yellow ring—his mother’s keepsake—would block other people’s brainwashing. That too was impulsive.
He didn’t have to do that. He could have carried out his master’s order just fine.
If the brainwashing succeeded as planned, everything would go as the Emperor wanted, without a hitch.
Then… why?
He kept doing things he couldn’t explain. He tried to rationalize it.
If he simply removed the ring later, he could brainwash her immediately—so, he told himself, he had just created a safety switch.
“But if you don’t want that, make a purpose for your life.”
For some reason, Floria’s blunt words in the confessional kept echoing in his head.
Ah. Maybe tearing down those slave auctions behind his master’s back had been him struggling to find a purpose.
This time, he decided to hit a slave auction directly managed by the Emperor—one he had sworn never to touch. And he dragged Floria into it.
But when they were kidnapped together, she never stayed still. She shouted to live.
She was the exact opposite of him, who had once fallen into mute, helpless silence.
“….”
That was when something inside Caspar shook violently.
Even when he mentioned the past he rarely spoke of—his time as a slave—Floria said she would buy him for 20,000 gold.
That was the end of it.
“Just a little longer, just a little more,” he kept telling himself. And then the Emperor’s order—to brainwash Floria—failed.
To be exact, the brainwashing to make her “become the Saintess” failed.
And what he had just done now couldn’t even be excused as “impulsive.”
He had gone to the temple in a black robe, concealing his identity, and secretly watched.
That was already wrong. Because he had come for “Floria.”
He didn’t know what emotion it was. He only felt that he wouldn’t calm down unless he watched the confessional.
First, two nobles went in. The confessional was soundproof, so he could hear nothing.
Caspar woke Shade, who was napping in the garden, and threatened him to listen in on the confessional.
He didn’t react even when the two nobles happily burst out of the booth.
But the moment Count Ridante entered, he couldn’t hold back anymore.
He revealed his identity and took Floria out. It was extremely impulsive.
“The Emperor will hear of this soon,” he thought.
He would normally have said “my master,” but now he said “the Emperor.” Caspar didn’t even notice the change.
His head was still a mess. His thoughts pounded and tangled.
“What am I going to say when I go back?”
Even when he acted impulsively, he always had a plan. But this time, he had prepared nothing.
He would probably get slapped the moment he returned. The Emperor would rage and ask why he acted on his own.
Caspar had never defied the Emperor’s will in his entire life.
Oh, right. For the brainwashing, I said I would marry Floria…
“Your Grace, thank you.”
Click.
All the noisy thoughts scattered like a lie.
Only her emerald eyes, trembling with anxiety, remained.
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”
He had placed just one brainwashing on Floria—ordering her to sign the contract to “buy” him for 20,000 gold.
He had decided to live. To live with a new purpose.
From the moment he went to see Floria in the confessional, a new goal had taken root in him.
He had kept denying it, but now he had to admit it.
I… Floria…
***
After the packed confessional hall, the annex garden was beyond quiet—almost impossibly so.
They were still holding hands.
Floria didn’t seem to have noticed that yet.
She had barely managed to thank Caspar and was still trembling lightly with leftover fear.
Caspar stared at her for a moment, then pulled a chair over.
“Sit.”
When Caspar’s hand naturally let go, Floria realized they’d been holding hands all this time.
When the warm touch slipped away, she oddly felt a pang of regret.
She sat and thought for a moment.
She was embarrassed; she had said weird things to the count; and the believers were probably piling up…
“Oh, right!”
She jumped up. One thought led to another, and she suddenly remembered the huge crowd of believers at the confessional.
They had been waiting a long time already because she’d taken a week off.
They had made way for her to escape the count, but… they would now wait again until she returned.
As she grabbed her hair in frustration, a disapproving gaze fell on her.
A black-gloved hand swooped in and caught her wrist, pulling it down so she couldn’t grab her hair anymore.
When he had hurried her to the garden earlier, he hadn’t used this much strength. This time his grip was strong—so strong she couldn’t resist and had to give up tugging her hair.
Instead, she looked up at Caspar with worried eyes.
“Your Grace, what about the believers? They must be waiting for me.”
“Then go back and get executed by the count.”
After saving her, his dry voice made him seem a little mean—but she quickly accepted the point.
“No. I’ll just work like I’m dead starting tomorrow.”
Dying is not an option…
“But is it okay? What if the count comes after me again?”
“It’s fine. I personally took you out. If he comes back, it means he wants to die by my hand.”
Thank goodness…
“There’s another problem that’s more important.”
“Another problem?”
Caspar nodded once and rubbed his chin, thinking.
He paused for so long that Floria held her breath, staring at his tightly closed lips.
Only after a long while did he finally speak.
“The High Priest will try to make you the Saintess. No matter what.”
“…”
Twice she had refused. Why again?
Floria’s body, which had only just calmed down, started to tremble—but this time from anger, not fear.
Right. Last time, the High Priest had asked if she wanted to be Saintess and had put something in her tea.
She had almost said “yes” like she was bewitched. It was probably a brainwashing potion.
For some reason, she escaped it then, but next time… who knew?
What if he brought something else—some ancient magic tool with irresistible power, not just a brainwashing potion?
She had decided that if they kept pushing her, she would leave the temple.
But…
Her head drooped.
Now she had given too much of her heart to Rose to abandon everything and run away alone.
She didn’t want to leave Rose alone in such a corrupt temple, and she didn’t want Rose to be forced into becoming Saintess against her will.
And it wasn’t just about Rose.
Floria slowly lifted her head.
Her eyes met Caspar’s, who had tilted his head slightly as he watched her.
