CHAPTER 88………………………
“I just want to help you.”
Angelus replied with a graceful hand gesture, as though she were addressing a noble in counsel.
Yankeller almost burst out laughing.
“You… want to help me?”
“Don’t you think the most beautiful ending would be for Lord Kyle and Lady Gronji to be together, while you and I…?”
Yankeller, who had been staring silently at her, suddenly broke out into loud laughter.
The laughter did not stop, and Angelus, unable to endure it any longer, showed clear signs of displeasure.
“What do you find so funny?”
Wiping the tears at the corners of his eyes, Yankeller replied,
“Ah… forgive me, Saintess. Of all the things I’ve heard recently, this is by far the funniest. I know it’s rude, but I couldn’t hold back my laughter.”
“What on earth is…”
Yankeller suddenly stopped laughing and gave her a sharp, sneering glare.
“Isn’t it amusing? A woman who isn’t even a real Saintess, saying she wants to help.”
Angelus was so shocked that every hair on her body stood on end, though she tried her hardest not to show it.
“That’s offensive, Lord Yankeller. Do you realize your words are no different from blasphemy? How dare you call me a fraud when the High Priest himself recognized me?”
Yankeller let out a short, mocking snort.
“Saintess, you seem to have forgotten who I am.”
“…What?”
Angelus did not like Yankeller, though his boyish, innocent looks had occasionally caught her eye.
But now his face was utterly different from the one that had once held her gaze.
Had he always had such an expression?
She even doubted for a moment whether the man before her was truly Yankeller.
His cold eyes brimmed with contempt, and the crooked lift of his lip held not even a trace of his usual gentle smile.
Angelus swallowed hard.
To her, Yankeller had always been the sheltered priest, raised in the comfort of the temple, ignorant of the ways of the world.
A man blinded by jealousy in pursuit of his goal was the easiest kind to manipulate.
But at this moment, Angelus began to doubt herself.
Had she gone too far in provoking him?
“I am Yankeller Peneio. The only son who will inherit the temple after the High Priest.”
“……”
“You may not know this, but one of the High Priest’s duties is the trial of heretics.”
“T—the trial of heretics?”
“The High Priest has a way of confirming whether someone is truly the incarnation of Anish. Do you know what happens if that confirmation fails?”
His chilling gaze made Angelus instinctively wrap her arms around herself.
Then he raised one corner of his mouth and said,
“Fake. Kill them all.”
Angelus’s lips trembled. She was about to insist that the High Priest himself had brought her, but Yankeller lifted a finger and hushed her.
“Saintess, in the temple, you don’t need words. Just actions. It’s best if you simply do your duties quietly.”
Shut your mouth, fake Saintess.
Though his words were couched in courtesy, his meaning was venomous.
“Lord Yankeller, after seeing Lord Kyle and Lady Gronji together, where does your confidence come from?”
Though she flinched at his cold expression, Angelus knew very well.
Yankeller was a man who had never possessed the things he desired.
That was why he neither approached Everett, nor could he give up—only tormenting himself in guilt and longing.
“Lord Yankeller, the more you try to hide your greed, the uglier it becomes.”
He shot to his feet.
“Saintess, what are you saying…!”
“You’re right, Lord Yankeller. I am a fake Saintess. But so what? People praise me, they’re desperate to meet me. And haven’t I brought enormous wealth to the temple?”
Angelus smiled dazzlingly, with a bold, confident expression.
“Think carefully, Lord Yankeller. If I marry Lord Kyle… which do you think will be easier? For him to become Emperor—or for him to become the next High Priest?”
Yankeller’s eyes widened.
It was a future he had never once considered.
Though he loathed it, he had always assumed he would be the next High Priest.
He had comforted himself, telling himself to endure—but he had never believed Kyle could become Emperor.
Nor had he ever imagined Kyle wearing priestly robes.
Before leaving the office, Angelus leaned close and whispered,
“Hurry, Lord Yankeller. You must win Lady Gronji’s heart. If you just hesitate, you’ll lose both the temple and Lady Gronji.”
“Milady, a letter has arrived from the Imperial Palace.”
“A letter?”
“Yes, it seems to be from Lord Kyle.”
As Ventus handed her the letter, Everett sat down at the table and opened it.
It was written in runic code, describing what had happened at the palace the previous night.
“What does it say?”
“Mm… it says the culprits of the plaza fire are dead.”
“What? Why are they dead? I was supposed to deal with them myself…”
Ventus almost said he had knocked them out and left them near the blast site, but upon noticing Daisy nearby, he shut his mouth.
“They were found dead this morning. A note was discovered, apologizing for setting fire to the plaza.”
“A note, my foot.”
“Do they seem like the type to beg forgiveness and take their own lives?”
Ventus jutted his lower lip and shook his head firmly.
“Not at all. They would kill, not kill themselves.”
“Then it’s a murder staged as a suicide. They must have been desperate, to kill them the very night they were caught.”
The explosion had been timed with the noble council meeting that morning, so word had not yet spread to the plaza.
Only those present at the scene knew the culprits had been captured.
“The letter says their corpses looked neither like suicides nor murders, but something odd in between. Do you have anyone you know in charge of the bodies?”
“I’ll look into it. I’m curious too, about what was so strange.”
Inside the envelope were two letters: one about the culprits and the palace atmosphere, and another addressed directly to Everett.
After reading, Everett looked toward Daisy, who was eating, and said,
“Daisy, Lord Kyle will be visiting this afternoon. We’ll need to prepare tea.”
“Yes, of course. Around what time will he arrive?”
“Mm, he didn’t specify, but since he said afternoon, I’d guess after three o’clock.”
Daisy rose, gathering the empty dishes, and replied,
“Then we’ll have to hurry and stop by the plaza beforehand.”
“Milady, you’re going to the plaza?”
“Yes. I haven’t been since the fire. I want to see the situation myself, and I might visit Madam Marsha as well.”
“I’ll call for the carriage. Please take your time preparing.”
Thanks to the merchants’ swift efforts, the only signs of the fire were the burnt-out buildings.
The tarot shop where the first bomb had exploded was completely gone—not even the wooden pillars remained.
Everett felt a strange emptiness.
Her first consultations had been in a corner of Marsha’s shop, but the tarot shop had been the first place she bought with her own earnings.
It felt as though a chunk of her past had vanished like smoke.
Her eyes lingered on the swept-clean ground.
“Milady, the shop is completely gone.”
Everett murmured softly, “So it is.”
The neighboring Kuna workshop had also vanished, and the tavern was half-collapsed, unusable.
They saw Marsha outside, hauling out dishes covered in ash.
“Auntie!”
At Daisy’s voice, Marsha waved happily.
“Milady, are you well now? I meant to visit, but with the shop in ruins…”
“No, thank you for worrying. It must be hard for you to clean up all alone.”
Marsha had always thrown herself into helping Everett.
Everett felt guilty that she hadn’t been able to help when Marsha herself was in need.
“Not at all. The staff came yesterday and did most of it. Today should finish it. All that’s left is tearing down the remains.”
Looking at the precarious tavern walls, Marsha sighed deeply.
At that moment, Hilde emerged from the building, struggling with some wooden chairs.
Spotting Everett, her eyes went wide, and she ran quickly toward her.
But once she stood before Everett, she only opened and closed her mouth in hesitation.
So Marsha must have told her I’m really Naze… and warned her not to acknowledge it.
Marsha had mentioned she was thinking of letting Hilde, who had nowhere else to go, stay with her.
Everett had also foreseen that Hilde’s explosive powder would be useful, so she thought it better to reveal her true identity.
Everett greeted the fidgeting Hilde first.
“Hilde, have you been well?”
“Hilde? Please, don’t speak so formally to me, N—no, Lady Everett.”
Everett chuckled softly.
“You seem much changed.”
Blushing, Hilde scratched her cheek with an awkward smile.
The stinking, ragged girl who once barged in was nowhere to be found.
Not only her appearance, but her expression and demeanor had softened.
“These days, I’m so happy. It’s all thanks to you, Lady Everett.”
“Thank Madam Marsha, not me.”
“I’ll live with gratitude to both of you for the rest of my life.”
Everett smiled gently at the teary-eyed Hilde.
“Hilde, did you hear that the culprits of the plaza fire have been caught?”
“What? The culprits? Where?”
“There was a small explosion at the palace yesterday. They were caught there.”
“They tried to blow up the palace? Gods, they must have been insane!”
Beside them, Marsha’s voice rose in agitation.
“And they were found dead in the palace prison this morning.”
Hilde blinked rapidly at Everett.
Though Everett had helped her escape, she had lived in constant fear.
She had worried endlessly that the culprits might come to Marsha’s house and hurt her.
Her shocked expression soon melted into relief, and Hilde let out a long, heavy sigh.
