#61. The Pretty Boy Comes with the Vine
“Mr. Boritz. Are you humble, or are you incompetent?”
Her red lips parted.
Maybe it was the cold, drippingly sharp look in her eyes.
Boritz — and even Susan and Franz — froze on the spot.
“Why would someone who’s nothing more than a lowly farmer accumulate so much debt?”
“W-How did you—!”
“And this farm is practically the loan shark’s property. How long were you planning to hide that?”
Boritz hadn’t skimped when funding research into famine-resistant crops.
He wasn’t the only one who’d noticed him.
Inexperienced in the ways of the world, Boritz must have seemed like an easy, tasty target.
“I thought something was off. How did Borman’s theft of expensive herbs become common knowledge among thugs? Isn’t that a bit too convenient to be coincidence?”
“Who told them?”
“I looked into the owner of the herb shop you dealt with exclusively. He not only trafficked illegal goods, but he was also very close with underworld types.”
“That man genuinely understands me.”
Boritz replied with a groan.
I couldn’t help but frown.
“You’re ignoring reality.”
“He’s the only one who ever paid attention to me.”
“He was flattering you. Buying high-grade herbs cheaply.”
“W-What?”
“You bought all your agricultural books, foreign seeds, and seedlings through him, didn’t you? You didn’t even realize you were being ripped off.”
“T-That can’t be true.”
Boritz retreated a step, as if frightened to lift the lid on the truth and see the deceit and folly beneath.
“You grew the best crops, yet you became poorer and poorer — unable even to buy paint for your sister.”
“That’s because I’m incompetent…”
“That’s right. Mr. Boritz, you are incompetent.”
“!”
“And foolish, and irresponsible too.”
Boritz’s legs gave out and he sank down with a thud.
Susan, unable to bear it, grabbed my sleeve and shook me.
“Poor Mr. Boritz. He was just used by bad people.”
“That’s exactly why he’s a fool.”
“Elisabeth-unnie.”
“He didn’t suspect anything suspicious, and he nearly had everything taken from him. He knew nothing — an innocent victim. Who would help him like that?”
“……”
“Living in your own little world and only seeing what you want is irresponsible. Acting lofty and upright will only make you someone else’s prey.”
Boritz had no answer.
He just stared blankly at the wilting purple flower.
“Still don’t get it? What matters to you isn’t saving this flower.”
I picked up the potted plant before Boritz and hurled it up and off the table.
—Crash.
The pot shattered loudly.
Soil and shards scattered everywhere.
When the white fibrous roots of the flower were exposed, Susan and Franz snapped their heads toward me.
“No, no—!”
Thick tears fell from beneath Boritz’s black hood.
He trembled as he moved to lift the plant. I spoke to him.
“You cry over the death of a single flower. Until when will you ignore people starving to death?”
“That’s right! You’re incompetent. You don’t yet have the ability to help people!”
As if in rebellion or in despair, Boritz cried out for the first time.
“Do you think that ability will appear suddenly if you just stay like this?”
“What can I do if no matter how hard I try it doesn’t work? I did my best. There’s no such thing as a cheap, easy-to-grow, filling crop!”
“You’ve been slaving day and night, right? Trying to make something the world has never seen.”
“Maybe it’s a tree I could never climb from the start. Famous scholars can’t do it — how could a poor farmer like me…?”
“Stop whining!”
I scolded Boritz sharply.
What Boritz needed now wasn’t a carrot but a whip.
A harsh lash to break the shabby shell and force a rebirth.
“If you can’t do it, then give up cleanly. If you can’t give up, then keep at it until you can. How long will you sulk like a child?”
“!”
“I told you I’d help. You threw away every opportunity to keep your petty pride, and you say you did your best?”
For a moment, a heavy silence fell.
The trembling shoulders of the sobbing Boritz stilled.
“That’s true. I’ve been slothful. I’m a stupid, obstinate man.”
Boritz mumbled while holding the purple flower.
But he no longer fumbled like before. His clipped words were full of resolve.
He whipped off his hood that had covered his face.
“But I won’t give up! I’ll make it happen!”
For the first time, I saw Boritz’s bare face.
I was speechless.
What the—? Can a man be this pretty? Was Boritz always like this? He looks less like a farmer and more like an agricultural sprite.
Even tear-streaked, his beauty was untouched.
His wet eyelashes and reddened eyes made him dazzlingly seductive.
I thought I’d grown used to handsome men thanks to Nikolai and Douglas, but Boritz belonged to a totally different class of beauty.
Olive-green hair down to his shoulders.
Skin so white it didn’t fit the image of a farmer.
A thin silhouette that looked as if the wind might carry him off.
Susan and Franz were stunned by his looks too.
Noticing our gazes at last, he bowed his head again.
“Sorry for getting excited in front of such esteemed people…”
Boritz mumbled and tried to pull his hood back on. I grabbed his wrist.
“If you have something to say, show your face and speak clearly.”
“I c-can’t.”
“You just haven’t tried. Try slowly. I’ll help.”
“Elisabeth?”
“Yes. This Elisabeth Emster will help you, Mr. Boritz.”
“Why…are you trying so hard to help me?”
Fear showed on his face. Even that look was as lovely as a daffodil.
“Because you’re a hero.”
“N-No way.”
“The desire to feed the poor until they’re full—I think a person with that heart is a true hero.”
“……”
“So, let’s do it together. As comrades who trust and protect each other.”
I extended my hand.
Hesitant, Boritz took my hand.
Despite his bright appearance, his hands were thick and rough like tree bark.
Nikolai didn’t like clerics.
They looked to him like swindlers who extorted money in the name of God.
The Hartmann Empire worshipped many gods.
Farmers had gods of agriculture, fishermen had gods of the sea.
Mora Sinthia, goddess of healing, was popular among everyone.
Clerics in white would sprinkle a few drops of water on the old and sick and extort offerings.
Nikolai regarded the Archbishop of Arkanso as one of those priests—until he met the man who had his eyes veiled with a white silk band.
“May Mora Sinthia’s grace fill Your Majesty’s breath.”
A tall cleric leaning on a staff knelt.
Nikolai frowned on the throne.
“Priest, rise.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Why did you come alone?”
“In exchange for my sight, I gained the eye of the soul.”
“I don’t like vague words. Speak plainly.”
“I have lost sight, but perceive things with other senses. I can move without issue, so please do not worry.”
He spoke with a soft, steady voice.
Silver hair falling to his waist.
A spotless white priest’s robe.
Perhaps because of the blindfold, a strange sanctity and mystery emanated from his robust body.
‘They said he was the youngest cardinal appointed. The only one who receives oracles. What did he train his body for?’
Though covered in the robes, Arkanso clearly had a well-disciplined body from steady training.
His impeccably straight posture was something even top prosecutors rarely had.
“I heard you study the Deathflower. The Deathflower’s collapse happened years ago; why is that?”
“I apologize for saying this, but the Deathflower is a plague that cannot be eradicated.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because there are too many wicked people who wish for the reavers to run rampant.”
A chilling smile curved the cleric’s lips.
Not violent, but the will pressing down the air was intense.
Nikolai felt curious about this cleric who did not seem like one.
“Did you receive an oracle?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“Please understand that I cannot convey the goddess’s words to a nonbeliever such as Your Majesty.”
“The late emperor offered a 100-day ritual to Mora Sinthia.”
“It was merely a means to calm the plague, not a true veneration of the goddess. Your Majesty did likewise.”
“Clerics are my people. The temple is my land.”
“My master is the god alone. The god’s servant does not value life.”
“Do you mean you accept death then?”
“I apologize.”
Arkanso showed no trace of apology.
Nikolai tugged the corner of his mouth up.
“Why did you come to the palace? You could have stayed hidden in the temple and staged protests.”
“There is a message that must be delivered to the one qualified.”
“You’ll deliver an oracle to someone other than the emperor?”
“A servant obeys the orders of the master.”
“Another oracle, then.”
“Thank you for understanding, Your Majesty.”
Arkanso pressed his palms together in reverence. Every sentence sought out the deity; it made Nikolai uncomfortable.
“Who is qualified?”
“One who holds the goddess’s sacred artifact.”
“Sacred artifact?”
“The artifact acts on the goddess’s behalf. Only those chosen by Mora Sinthia may possess it.”
‘There’s no artifact of Mora Sinthia in the royal treasury. If he came anyway, does that mean the artifact’s owner is in the palace?’
A scene suddenly flashed before him.
Douglas had offered the family heirloom and begged that Elisabeth be allowed to leave the palace.
Elisabeth had demanded an old, copper monocle.
He already knew she was not a medium.
‘Could the monocle be the artifact? Is that why Pinch became poisoned and they discovered it?’
Nikolai had tried the monocle himself.
But nothing happened.
Perhaps it was a power that only a specific person could wield.
If Elisabeth possessed it, what might that mean?
Her smile — which he had tried to forget — tightened Nikolai’s chest.
“Let me meet Elisabeth. There is an oracle that must be delivered.”
I won Boritz over.
I could be sure without a contract.
“I will follow Miss Elisabeth’s wishes unconditionally. Please take care of me from now on.”
Boritz was shyer than a bride on her first night.
If he learned the original story’s background, Boritz would soon develop a famine-resilient crop that would go down in the continent’s history.
Of course, mass-producing the crop and spreading the cultivation methods would be the work of me and the Emster guild.
Money and fame—and even a pretty boy—would roll in along with it.
‘First, buy the land. It would be good to start a charity too. My life will bloom brightly with Boritz!’
I thought everything would go smoothly.
My life never went that easily.
“Don’t move! If you move, you’ll die!”
