CHAPTER 94…………………………..
“Uh, that voice…!”
The owner of the voice.
“It is Your Holiness!!”
It really was Gregorian.
The contents of the letter had already confirmed it beyond doubt — it was as if the man himself had said it aloud.
Now, Ijef was seized by unbearable anxiety.
‘W-what should I do?’
His hands trembled violently; his gaze wandered, unable to find anywhere to rest.
From the moment he heard Gregorian’s voice, images overlapped in his mind — the Pope’s face as seen in the Secret Fog, the grotesquely fallen corpse. His head spun.
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t even breathe properly.
“Haah… haa… hah…”
His ragged breathing filled the room.
‘Why… why is His Holiness sending his voice to me?’
At the end of the letter, Gregorian had written that it was “the voice of God.”
Normally, Ijef wouldn’t have found that strange — in the Church of Graham, the Pope was the incarnation of God.
But now… somehow the words felt different.
Was it still the same as before — that whatever the Pope said was to be obeyed as the will of God?
“Ah…”
Everything was in chaos.
When he was just a priest, it had been simple: if it was God’s will, believe and follow. But now, he doubted everything — was any of it really true?
Where had this doubt begun?
“The Holy Father I once knew… the one who was the object of my blind faith… doesn’t feel like the same person anymore…”
They now felt like two entirely different beings.
Where did it all go wrong? What was the problem?
Was it his faith that had been corrupted — or was it the Pope?
“Ugh…”
Even without a headache, the confusion made him feel sick to his stomach.
Ijef no longer knew whom to believe in, or to whom he should pray.
His body was sustained by holy power — that much was undeniable.
That divine energy was his lifeforce. Through prayer, it filled him, healed his wounds, lifted him when he fell. All of it — the power, the miracles — came from God.
But then what about Gregorian, whom he had believed to be God’s vessel?
Was the Pope still what he believed him to be?
“Don’t tell me… all of this truly is God’s will?”
Was it really God’s will to deliver that person named Uriel to the Pope?
His mind felt like it was about to explode.
“I don’t know anymore…”
He didn’t know what was true — but one thing he did know:
He had to warn Rogiana to be careful, no matter how.
And after that, he needed to find a way to tell Asterios what was happening.
They had to make sure that person, Uriel, never fell into the Pope’s hands.
With trembling hands, Ijef barely managed to rise to his feet, open the door, and call out in a shaking voice:
“T-Tomas…”
At that same moment—
“Ah, poor Ijef.”
The Pope gently poured water over a flowerpot in which he had carefully planted a seed.
The ornate crystal pot, encrusted with dazzling diamonds, shimmered so that even the soil and seed within gleamed with a transparent, iridescent light.
“Your Holiness, did you just say… Ijef?”
Beside him, Daniel turned his head while setting another pot under the sunlight. His own flowerpot, carved from pink marble, radiated quiet elegance.
“Yes. Ijef asked me to change his turn so he could meet Her Highness the Princess sooner, but since the contest’s rules forbid it, I could not oblige.”
Gregorian set the watering can aside.
His seed had already sprouted — a green shoot pushing through the soil, stretching upward with a lively glow.
“Oh, I see. He must have been quite disappointed. That’s why Your Holiness called him pitiful.”
“Indeed.”
“It seems Ijef has deeper feelings for Her Highness than I thought. After all, he even gave up the priesthood to stay here in the villa…”
“Do you think Ijef will come to me?”
Gregorian interrupted Daniel’s musings, his tone calm and gentle, his expression soft — a picture of peace and happiness.
“…Pardon?”
“I was wondering if he’ll come to me.”
Daniel blinked a few times, then answered cautiously.
“Well, I doubt he would visit Your Holiness to ask for something that violates the rules. I imagine he’ll try to find another way through the attendants or someone else…”
“Ah…”
Gregorian tilted his head slightly, cutting Daniel off again.
“That’s a shame. I was so looking forward to meeting Ijef alone.”
“What…?”
Daniel stood up, not understanding at all, brushing the dirt gently from his hands.
“With respect, Your Holiness, isn’t it the lady you’re seeking — not Ijef?”
Indeed, the person Gregorian had ordered them to find was a white-haired woman living in Dreat.
Daniel couldn’t fathom why the Pope himself had come there in search of such a woman — and the description of her made it even stranger.
‘Something’s off… Could it be that His Holiness treats Ijef specially because of that woman?’
But he couldn’t question it aloud. Gregorian was half-divine — the very embodiment of faith.
“Of course, it is the lady that Sir Bastel of Dreat is to bring.”
Gregorian smiled brightly, naming the noble who had received his command.
The expression was so radiant, so pure, that one might believe an angel or spirit from heaven had descended.
Daniel stared in awe before bowing deeply.
“…Your Holiness, if you wish to summon Ijef separately, I can fetch him at once—”
Gregorian chuckled softly, still seated, and patted Daniel’s bowed shoulder.
“No, Sage. You needn’t concern yourself. When the time comes, he will come on his own.”
His silver hair shimmered as he smiled even more brightly.
“For everything will unfold just as God has planned.”
Ah…
At that smile, Daniel once again felt that this was the Pope he knew — serene, divine — and he smiled back, thinking his own doubts were foolish.
“Yes, Your Holiness. All things follow the will of God.”
The will of God.
Those who seek shall find,
and those who desire shall receive.
Of that, there could be no doubt.
The next day.
Brilliant sunlight poured down, scattering like jewels across the palace gardens and the central fountain.
In that picture-perfect scene, Rogiana sat with Ariana — and opposite them, with his long silver hair gleaming, was Gregorian himself.
The three formed a flawless triangle of grace and composure.
At the entrance to the main palace, Asterios stood, watching from afar.
As he gazed at Rogiana, his brows furrowed slightly — she was dazzling, almost painfully so.
Even if she were not a princess, even among a crowd of thousands, he was certain he could spot her instantly.
She seemed to carry her own light.
Tea was served before them. The first to speak was Ariana, who once again thanked the Pope for coming all the way to Dreat and for using his holy power to heal the sick. She asked whether he was familiar with the theme of the upcoming contest.
Gregorian, graceful and flawless, conversed easily with her.
Then—
“To be honest, I was surprised, Your Holiness.”
It was Rogiana who spoke next, calmly setting down her teacup.
“I did not expect the Pope — a clergyman — to take part in this contest.”
But Gregorian, as if expecting the remark, smiled gently — his expression meltingly serene.
“Were you? I myself never imagined I would come to feel this way toward Your Highness. Matters of the heart are beyond anyone’s understanding. Even destiny decreed by heaven cannot be resisted.”
It sounded as if he were saying that this very meeting with her was destiny.
“If it is heaven’s will that we are to be united, then so it shall be. That, too, would be God’s will.”
“But, Your Holiness — I do not believe in God.”
Rogiana’s voice was level, her gaze sharp. Gregorian simply smiled faintly.
“I see. Yet despite that, Your Highness was born with divine power. God’s plan and design are often beyond our comprehension. They unfold regardless of our will or belief. Even if you do not believe in Him, His existence is what allows your divine power to exist.”
Is that truly so?
Could she really be certain that her holy power came from God?
Such a thought flickered across her mind, but Rogiana held her tongue.
It was not a conversation that could easily be proven or disproven. Arguing about an unseen being would lead nowhere.
She only wished to see how his presence affected her mana.
‘Whether it’s fortunate or not… it’s completely calm.’
When she lowered her teacup, Ariana took over the conversation, asking the next question.
Thus, the tea time with Gregorian — which had begun with so much tension and worry — ended almost anticlimactically, without incident.
So much so that the urgent warning Ijef had sent through Tomas the previous night now felt meaningless.
‘It’s hard to grasp… Are Ijef and I simply chasing shadows?’
Rogiana’s violet eyes darkened as she gazed into her teacup.
