Episode 13
Castian seemed genuinely moved by the fact that, even while I was on the brink of death from mana depletion, I had clung to his soul to keep it from slipping away.
Still, the way he chose to repay me was… a little extreme.
The chaotic meal—where I couldn’t even tell if I was eating with my mouth or nose—finally ended.
The table was quickly cleared, and tea with cake was brought in.
As much as I liked meat and cake, this didn’t feel like the right time for a tea party.
I glanced at the untouched teacup in front of me, then looked at Castian, who was staring only at me.
“So… aren’t we going to find Marcus?”
“There’s no need to rush. He’s currently imprisoned.”
“You imprisoned a priest?”
“Not me. The local lord did.”
“The lord locked up a priest? Why?”
“He knocked out the lord’s son.”
“A priest knocked someone out?”
The conversation veered wildly off track.
I stared at him in disbelief, and Castian silently handed me a dessert fork.
“Eat while you listen. It’s a long story.”
I accepted the fork with a sigh, and his blue eyes curled slightly in satisfaction.
By the time I’d finished my slice of cake, here’s what I’d learned:
There’s a breed of golden-furred wolves that only live in the nearby forest, and their pelts are something of a local specialty.
The lord’s son went hunting and used a wolf pup as bait to catch the clever adult wolves.
Marcus happened to be passing by, saw it happening, and punched the guy square in the face.
I had been surprised to hear a priest used violence—but after hearing the full story, I could understand why.
Hunting wolves by baiting them with their pups? That’s just cruel.
Violence is wrong, sure—but standing up to power to protect animals? My opinion of Marcus rose a bit.
“I guess he’s the kind of priest who truly values life.”
I said this with hope, thinking that someone like that might be willing to save Castian too. But Castian’s expression turned a bit complicated.
“Priest Marcus is just as famous for his healing powers… as he is for his hatred of humans and his love of animals.”
He hates humans? That was an unexpected twist.
“I’ve heard he especially despises nobles,” Ethan added from the side.
Even he looked uneasy, his brown eyes flicking cautiously to Castian.
But… all life is supposed to be precious, isn’t it? What kind of priest discriminates like that?
“S-still, he wouldn’t ignore someone in need, right? He is a priest.”
“Marcus only treats nobles who have a letter of recommendation from the High Priest.”
“Then we’ll just ask the High Priest for one!”
“The High Priest’s letters are monopolized by His Majesty the Emperor.”
What kind of corrupt church-state collusion is this?
Turns out, Marcus is nicknamed the High Priest’s golden goose.
The High Priest issues appointment slips disguised as recommendation letters, sells them all to the Emperor, and gains imperial protection in return.
And the Emperor uses those recommendation letters as a loyalty test for nobles.
I was about to say, Then let’s just ask the Emperor—but bit my tongue.
If it were that easy, they would’ve gone to him in the first place.
In the original story, the Emperor had long been wary of the Bernstein family.
And if we go into debt to the very man who already makes Castian crawl, who knows what he’ll demand in return?
So, we had no choice but to persuade Marcus directly. But that Marcus turned out to be a misanthropic noble-hating priest.
I thought finding Marcus would solve everything. Turns out, nothing is ever easy in this possessed life.
“But… if you asked him sincerely, wouldn’t he listen?” I asked, hopefully.
“We’ll see…” Castian replied, unconvinced.
Desperate, I dropped my head to the table with a groan. Castian gently patted my hair to comfort me.
“I’ll try asking him sincerely.”
I lifted my head at the sound of his completely insincere voice—only to find his face as relaxed as ever.
Why does he sound like this has nothing to do with him?
“You can’t afford to be so laid back! Your life is on the line!”
“I’m just… not mentally prepared yet.”
“What do you mean, not prepared? You have to come back to life now! Not later!”
I resisted the urge to grab him by the collar and just hit my chest in frustration instead. Castian laughed softly.
He’d been acting so carefree—had he already given up?
If he had, then I needed to stay strong.
Even if I had to throw myself on the ground and cry, I’d convince Marcus.
With renewed determination, I grabbed Castian’s arm.
“Let’s go see Marcus now.”
Castian let himself be pulled along with a helpless smile, and we soon boarded a carriage.
The carriage rolled toward the outskirts of a small village and stopped at the edge of a vast forest.
Rows of military tents stood where the trees began.
At first, I thought Marcus was being kept in one of those tents—but no, we were greeted not by a priest, but by hunters.
The local lord, Count Pilgrin, and his son had set up camp here to hunt the forest wolves.
Just as we arrived, a group of men returned from the hunt and gathered in the center of the camp.
“Whiiine… whiine… whiine…”
A pitiful cry echoed out, drawing us closer. A wolf pup was locked in a small cage, whimpering.
Next to it lay the body of a large adult wolf with a gorgeous golden coat.
The pup reached its little paws through the bars, crying out for the dead wolf.
It was heartbreaking.
I’m not some environmental activist—but in that moment, I totally understood why Marcus had thrown a punch.
“Oh my! Isn’t this Duke Bernstein?”
A slightly chubby middle-aged man and a younger man with a huge bruise under one eye approached us.
It was Count Pilgrin and his son—the ones who’d hunted the wolves and imprisoned Marcus.
“What brings you all the way out here? If I’d known you were coming, I’d have prepared a proper welcome!”
The Count greeted Castian with an exaggerated laugh, trying to be friendly.
Castian didn’t respond. He merely gave him a cold stare, but the Count didn’t seem to notice—or didn’t care—and kept playing the gracious host.
“Please, come to my tent. Lady, you too.”
Thanks to walking around with the male lead, I was getting called Lady too. Perks of good company, I guess.
But I couldn’t help feeling uneasy. If they found out who I really was, they might shoot that bow they were holding.
Inside the tent, Count Pilgrin fussed around, ordering wine and food.
He poured a drink into Castian’s untouched glass and asked with a hopeful smile:
“Did you come here to see me?”
Castian looked at him flatly and replied in a monotone voice.
“I’ve come to purchase something from you.”
“Oh? I had something valuable? If you’d just said the word, I’d have gladly gifted it!”
Count Pilgrin seemed like the type who either had a big heart—or was just good at flattery.
His exaggerated friendliness was a bit much, but it would be helpful if he were cooperative.
But the moment Castian spoke again, the Count’s jovial expression froze.
“I want the Golden Forest and Priest Marcus.”
“Well… that’s an unexpected request, Your Grace. The Golden Forest has been in my family for generations. And Marcus still owes my son.”
“I’ll pay the debt for him.”
“If it’s something else you want, I’ll gladly offer it, but…”
The Count hesitated, clearly uncomfortable.
From his perspective, it wasn’t a request he could accept lightly. The forest was part of his legacy, and Marcus—regardless of his healing powers—had assaulted his son.
Even though he seemed ready to decline, Castian’s expression didn’t change.
“The Golden Forest and Priest Marcus, Count. In return, I’ll give you the Arcandra Mine.”
“That’s still a difficult request, Your Grace. I do have my own pride, you know…”
“Count.”
Castian’s icy voice cut him off.
The Count looked up. Castian’s deep blue eyes glinted dangerously.
“It would be in your best interest… to accept my offer.”
It was a clear threat.
The tension in the air made it feel like Castian would start a territorial war if the Count said no. The Count swallowed hard.
So did I.
When we first arrived, I thought Castian had come to politely ask for Marcus’s release.
But this? This was outright coercion.
What if the Count lost his temper and refused everything?
I watched nervously as the Count’s hands trembled in frustration—until, finally, he clenched his jaw and said:
“…Understood.”
Wait. That worked?!
