Chapter 13
His cold, impassive gaze met mine as I openly glared at him with annoyance.
“Yes. It is said to spread through the respiratory system,” Rixion Luhanes replied.
In the chill of his eyes, there was a faint trace of amusement. Along with a smile that was clearly fabricated, he spoke as though declaring a fact.
“Therefore, I cannot allow Lady Christener to ride in the same carriage as those children. You must ride with me instead.”
His tone was polite, but the underlying meaning was clear—if I refused, he would drag me along by force.
I felt a sudden urge to resist, yet it was true that his words weren’t entirely wrong.
After all, I had only loosely covered my mouth and nose. To assume that in a cramped carriage I wouldn’t catch whatever illness the children carried was laughable.
It was wiser to go along with Rixion Luhanes’s suggestion, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it so easily.
“Why not think of it as repayment for the coat I lent you earlier?”
It was as if he could read my thoughts when he spoke again.
At this point, refusing his gesture of goodwill outright became difficult.
Still, I disliked bowing my head meekly, so I tipped my chin at him as if I were the one granting him a favor.
“Well, if you insist.”
“Thank you.”
At the end of his words, his lips curved—not in another fake smile, but in genuine amusement.
Beep—
An alarm rang sharply in my head. I didn’t need to think deeply to understand what it meant.
As I caught a glimpse of Rixion Luhanes’s smile, unease sprouted in my chest, though I tried to ignore it.
Well, I had no choice.
The moment I embraced those children instead of turning away, I sensed I could no longer remain outside the stage of the “original story.”
That didn’t mean I would obediently let myself be swept along.
Pulling down the flimsy cloth that had covered my face, I looked toward the approaching carriage, emblazoned with the Luhanes ducal crest.
As soon as it stopped in front of us, I ignored the hand Rixion extended to help me and climbed in on my own.
He paused briefly, then followed me inside without reaction.
Once his guard shut the door, I quickly slid open the window that connected to the coachman.
“Take us to the temple. As fast as possible.”
The coachman looked puzzled at my command, glancing toward Rixion for permission.
I followed his gaze and met Rixion’s eyes. After a brief pause, he gave a nod to the driver—an order to follow my words.
Only then did I slump into my seat. The carriage jolted forward smoothly, picking up speed.
From behind, I could hear the sound of my family’s carriage, Sir Rachel, and other escorts following on horseback.
I fixed my gaze on the window and bit my nails anxiously.
There was only one temple within the imperial capital.
From here, it shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes—at least, in terms of the time from the world I had come from.
Surely the children wouldn’t deteriorate so quickly within that short span. The problem wasn’t the time.
The real issue was whether I could obtain a “cure.”
As I chewed my nails, I ransacked my memory—flipping through the “pages” of the original novel.
The plague known as Red Rat had begun in the capital’s 12th district, the only area called the “Exclusion Zone”—the slums. Though now thought to have arisen by chance, the truth was that it had been deliberately spread by someone with intent.
At first, since it only rampaged within the slums, the Empire chose to seal off the entire area, abandoning its inhabitants to protect “true citizens.”
The Empire didn’t even regard those living in the Exclusion Zone as citizens.
That was the present situation. But what came next in the story was soon to unfold.
Despite the harsh measures, the plague eventually spread to the “citizens” the Empire had sought to protect.
And those citizens included even the nobility. The Empire soon plunged into chaos.
The moment the people began denouncing the imperial family’s incompetence, the Holy Kingdom stepped forward—as if waiting for the opportunity.
They claimed that with the power of God, they could cure the Red Rat.
To prove it, they brought a patient before the public and made him drink holy water, said to be imbued with divine power.
Before everyone’s eyes, the patient’s body cleared of red blotches, the raging fever vanishing as if washed away.
It was a miracle.
The people went wild, blindly placing their faith in God’s power.
At first, the Holy Kingdom distributed holy water only to imperial citizens, and for free—despite its usual high cost.
With the support of those saved from the plague, their influence swelled rapidly, dangerously so.
The balance of power, long contested between the Imperial family and the Holy Kingdom, tipped sharply in the latter’s favor.
At that moment appeared the Saintess, Ji Eunha.
Brought from the Azalenta Desert by my brother Michael Christener, she balanced the scales that had nearly toppled.
Originally, the children I had rescued today were to be the first ones healed by Ji Eunha—her debut as the Saintess.
With her presence, they would have been freed from fever and red blotches in an instant.
But Ji Eunha isn’t here…
What could I do for them in her absence?
My head throbbed. They had appeared too soon. If only they had come a bit later—even without Ji Eunha, I could have emptied my purse and bought holy water for them.
But now, that was impossible.
At this point in time, neither the Holy Kingdom nor the temple distributed holy water outside. No matter the wealth or power offered, they refused.
The original story never detailed why, but I assumed it had something to do with the process of creating it.
“…My Lady.”
Crunch. I bit my nails again.
If I wanted to obtain holy water…
“Lady Christener.”
My name cut through my thoughts. I lifted my head sharply.
Rixion Luhanes sat across from me, his gaze not on my face but on my hands.
When I followed his line of sight, I realized—his hand had reached out and brushed against my fingers resting on my knee.
“It’s fortunate we’re already on the way to the temple. We’ll ask them to treat you.”
Only then did I notice my nails. I had bitten them raw, blood seeping from the edges.
Pain followed belatedly. Embarrassed, I drew my hand aside.
“You want to go to the temple, so I’m humoring you… but.”
Retracting his hand, Rixion spoke calmly.
“The priests’ divine power cannot cure illnesses. They can reattach severed limbs, but not even a common cold.”
His gaze lifted slowly from my hand to lock with mine, heavy with unspoken questions.
“Though I imagine you already know that.”
His tone was patronizing, like an adult explaining something to a child.
That attitude made me bristle, and I snapped back,
“What’s needed isn’t divine power—it’s holy water.”
“…Holy water?”
Ah.
The suspicion in his eyes hit me instantly. My words had slipped out before I could stop them.
I cursed myself inwardly. I already looked suspicious enough. The last thing I needed was to blurt out more nonsense.
“Why holy water? It isn’t much different from divine power.”
Rixion’s doubtful gaze pinned me in place. I looked away nervously, but his eyes followed, persistent.
I had to say something. Anything.
“W-well… I just have a feeling it might work better.”
