Chapter 77………………………..
Could this be related to the magic placed on Mr. Eperman?
At first, Cordelia thought she had misheard. She went blank for a moment, but once she grasped the situation, she turned her head—neither quickly nor slowly—toward Benjamin.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She forced her voice into the calmest, most steady tone she could muster.
The warning she’d heard at the very beginning of the body swap resurfaced in her mind: Don’t get caught at the temple. Linus’s voice echoed—Do you want to be dissected?
Gulp. The sound of her swallow rang far too loud.
“I should say this first—it’s not that I intend to report anything to the temple.”
As if anyone would believe that. You’re a priest yourself!
“You’re looking at me with nothing but suspicion. Well then, I suppose I have no choice but to fulfill your expectations and report this matter to the high temple—”
“Wait!”
Cordelia clutched the hem of his robe, stopping him as he pretended to withdraw, wounded. Wait… wasn’t he one of the ones who received reports, not gave them? She realized too late, and Benjamin smirked mischievously.
“I can sense a faint magic in Mr. Eperman’s body. Clearly a spell was cast to conceal something. The amount is so minute that most mages wouldn’t even notice. Even among the priests of the Grand Temple, few could control magic this precisely.”
Cordelia narrowed her eyes at how easily he explained what he had discovered.
So much for thinking he looked sloppy. Whatever else he was, this man hadn’t survived by sheer luck.
“What exactly are you trying to say?”
“Priest Linus Sandria is away from the Grand Temple on some business. There’s no telling when he’ll return.”
Cordelia blinked at his straightforward reply. If he even knew she had come looking for Linus, then he must have been watching her ever since her scuffle with that other priest earlier.
“So it would be better if Mr. Eperman avoided coming to the temple for now. You might not realize it, but you’re fairly well-known at the Grand Temple—your appearance alone is memorable.”
I suppose my build stands out. Cordelia thought drily and asked,
“Where did he go? Some kind of mission?”
“Something like that.”
He didn’t elaborate. Cordelia let it slide—there was something more important to ask.
“Will Priest Linus… be punished for this?”
“I’m getting older, you see. My memory has begun to fail me. Why, I can hardly recall what I had for breakfast a week ago.”
Even with those words hinting at leniency, Cordelia’s wariness didn’t fade.
“Why are you showing me this kindness?”
Magic was the temple’s jurisdiction. Using it outside was grounds for punishment. Yet here was the head of the famously strict and exclusive Sandria Grand Temple offering to conceal the fact she was under a spell.
“Well… if I had to put it into words, I suppose it’s because I owe a debt.”
“A debt?”
“To the person who recommended you.”
Cordelia’s intuition immediately supplied a name: Tirain May.
Of course. That man wouldn’t throw Noah into danger. Still… just how far did his connections reach? Cordelia clicked her tongue inwardly.
“The great barrier of the temple is under my authority. No one else here can handle it as well as I. So you needn’t worry about eavesdroppers.”
Which also means I can’t run from you, doesn’t it.
“You seemed to want something from Priest Linus. Whatever he could do, I can likely do as well.”
Even with his offer to help, Cordelia pressed her lips together before answering cautiously, one syllable at a time.
“Would it be alright… if I refused?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll refuse. But thank you for the thought.”
She bowed politely, still keeping her guard high. Benjamin rubbed his chin.
“Suspicious by nature, I see. Well, that’s to be expected.”
Was that the end of it?
“Then, shall we share a meal? I’m sure the others would be pleased.”
“No, I’ll just head home—”
“What, after I went to the trouble of showing you the mural? Do you dislike me so much you won’t even sit down with me? I’m hurt. After a whole year, I thought we’d grown close.”
Benjamin drooped his eyes dramatically. Cordelia wanted to scream. Close? I don’t even know you!
If she confessed the truth—that she wasn’t Noah—it would be disastrous.
She glanced toward the mural. The man depicted there, hands clasped, gazing at the elder—he looked exactly like the man in front of her. Of course he did. It was the same person.
But why did the painted version look so dignified and noble, when reality was… this?
“Come with me, and I’ll show you something amusing.”
As though reading her mind, Benjamin smiled. Cordelia’s eyes flickered with curiosity.
“Amusing?”
“Yes.”
Cordelia pondered for only a short while before replying.
“Alright.”
Let’s see what’s so amusing, then.
One of the group abruptly rose from his seat. He wore a white coat of shimmering fabric.
While the man brightened at their approach, Jasmine’s demeanor was perfectly polite, yet distant.
“Greetings, Viscount Rosiand.”
“Miss Jasmine. What a pleasure to see such a familiar face.”
“We already met at the last reading circle, did we not?”
At that, Noah quickly scanned the group at the table. Counting the man who had just stood, there were five men and one woman.
Are these the same people Lady Cordelia met at the book club?
“And what’s with that bouquet?”
“…I received it.”
“I hear the young master of House Francis has been chasing after you.”
Another man interjected—a dark-haired, bespectacled noble: Baron Eland.
“That pale young pup? He had a pretty face, I’ll give him that.”
“I hear he can’t wield a sword, though.”
“Looks the type to make plenty of ladies cry. Best be careful, my lady.”
“Indeed. Rumor has it he’s not only after Miss Jasmine, but dallying with others as well.”
“Well, bees must be busy if they’re chasing after honey, eh?”
The men burst into hearty laughter at their own wit. In contrast, Jasmine and Noah’s expressions only grew heavier. They exchanged a glance, silently agreeing to leave. Jasmine spoke for them both.
“We’ll be going. Please enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“So soon? Stay, join us for some conversation.”
“No thank you. I’m not much for company.”
She rejected them firmly. But Noah suddenly leaned toward her, whispering in her ear. Though she gave him a puzzled look, she answered with the name he wanted. Noah turned to the group.
“Excuse me, Miss Emilia. Will you be staying there?”
He addressed the only woman at the table. With black hair, a pale complexion, and green eyes tinged with brown, she reminded him of someone he knew.
That was the only reason he spoke—to give her an excuse to leave, if she wanted one.
But her reaction was odd. Her face drained of color, lips parting as if in shock—then flushed red a moment later.
“Yes. Take care.”
Her voice was icy, as though he had insulted her. Noah didn’t press further. He turned away and followed Jasmine.
They retraced their steps, mansion to their right, open scenery to the left. Jasmine muttered under her breath, controlled face belying her anger.
“Ugh, how annoying. Of all people to run into, why them? Just my luck.”
Then she shot Noah a sharp look.
“And why did you ask her that?”
“She looked troubled…”
“Troubled? She’s with them because she wants to be. She didn’t so much as open her mouth when we argued at the reading circle. Cowardly, if you ask me.”
Grumbling softly, Jasmine fanned herself lightly. Noah debated internally whether fanning someone else was something Cordelia would actually do.
“Lady Cordelia. I’m thirsty. Shall we go back inside?”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
He couldn’t face the glittering ballroom again, so he made an excuse. Jasmine nodded, lifted her skirts, and hurried off, promising to be quick. Noah watched her retreating figure with a smile, then turned his eyes toward the distant mountains.
The mansion sat high on the hillside, giving a wide view of the capital. Sunlight poured down on the clustered rooftops below. A cool breeze stirred his braided hair.
Peaceful.
Then, glancing down toward the parked carriages, Noah froze. Someone was moving among them, face hidden beneath a deep red hat.
Who is that? What are they doing?
Noah stepped toward the stairs to investigate. At that instant, something pressed hard against his back.
Huh?
A powerful shove sent him flying. Time seemed to slow—the sensation of drifting like a falling feather—before he tumbled down the stairs.
He crashed into something both hard and soft, impact slamming through his body. Then, everything went dark.
