CHAPTER 36
Luisa felt a genuine pang of conscience for the first time. Rafael, typically so stoic, had shown genuine concern for her. Keeping her distance felt increasingly cruel, and the bitterness curdled in her mouth.
“Yes… thank you. Actually, you arrived early today—how are things at the front these days?”
She changed the subject, stirring her dessert. It was time to be honest.
“We’ve entered stabilization. The monsters will vanish soon, so don’t worry.”
“Yes. With the Templar Commander personally overseeing things, progress is swift—thanks to you, Luisa.”
Despite the hectic monster hunts, Duke Blake spoke firmly. Damien added with a smile—
“Why are you crediting me?” she thought.
“He came because of you.”
“He came because the North is in crisis.”
“No—if it were that serious, the Prince wouldn’t come himself. We’re fully capable.”
“Really? So… it was changed internally?”
“Originally he was going East, but changed to the North. I heard it was your influence—timing lined up with your departure.”
Luisa frowned. Was it really because of her? Damien believed it wholeheartedly, and even Duke Blake seemed to silently agree.
“Well, thanks to you things have been smoother. It is your doing.”
“Ah… right.”
She decided not to argue.
Her life was busy.
Daily started with breakfast, then headed to the temple with Rafael. Initially she’d planned lazy mornings lounging in bed and watching sunsets—but Yoran’s insistence and Rafael’s presence kept her schedule full.
And now, Countess Dario’s wine distribution success added to her routine. She and Alberto Roje had coordinated nearly daily, and now pre-orders were open—the result was a massive success. The wine’s alluring color in its crystal bottle and sweet flavor quickly captured noble interest.
“Someday, when I visit the Archipelago, I’ll personally see how beloved Roje wine becomes.”
Half a month passed. Entering her small temple chapel, she focused on the relic in her left hand and Yoran’s guiding touch.
A gentle glow emanated from her palm as the blackened relic regained its color. Yoran quietly withdrew his hand.
“You’re improving. You grasp quickly.”
Luisa opened her eyes at the fully restored white bloom.
“I think… I understand,” she murmured.
Guide Yoran paced her through focusing holy energy from her chest, channeling it outward, and honing fingertip control. Though not perfect, she could now suppress her power from involuntary activation.
Her next goal: consciously summon it at will. But she wondered if it was worth the effort.
“You are more responsive than most. In such a short time to have this result… but if you continue, your health will be fine.”
“I didn’t do it alone… Yoran’s guidance was essential. Without him, I wouldn’t have considered regulating my power.”
Daily exposure to his intense holy aura had boosted her own. Without Rafael, she might’ve struggled through triggers alone—but recently she suspected her survival hinged on his presence.
Even if harmless, it still felt wrong to unthinkingly benefit. And yet he was behaving differently: having breakfast with her every morning, accompanying her to the temple, even inviting her to dinner—behavior previously unimaginable. Gossip was sure to brew.
“Do you need more holy water? Just say the word.”
“It’s cold today—wear something heavier.”
These trivial cares felt oddly disquieting. Normally he wouldn’t spare her a glance.
“If we grow closer, this could worsen the marriage situation…”
She didn’t want to rebel but didn’t want a scandal.
“I should go. Thank you.”
“You did all the work, truly.”
Yoran and Luisa shared a respectful smile as they exited and walked down the temple hall together.
Yoran chuckled softly.
“You two are close, aren’t you?”
Luisa froze, following his gaze—to find Rafael waiting near the entrance.
Great. This was becoming uncomfortable.
“Are we done for today?” Rafael asked Yoran politely, then to her:
“Are you finished here?”
“Yes.”
He offered his hand: “I passed by—shall we return together?”
Rafael was acting strange again.
Meanwhile, at the Eastern watch border, stretches of rain-soaked territory had turned to mud. Monster-polluted relics were being found, causing emergency alerts.
Sir Dagobert, deputy commander of the knights, gathered another tainted relic and prepared to report. The continuous desecration alarmed the higher-ups.
Dashing through heavy rain, his horse suddenly stumbled, and Dagobert was thrown into the air with a heavy crash. Amid the pounding rain, he scrambled to find the box.
And then—a woman’s voice called out—
