Chapter 86
In truth, her appearance could very well be called angelic. Her hair was as lush and dark as a black rose, and her eyes gleamed with a green light different from Titania’s.
If Titania was a dazzling beauty who resembled the Empress — famed as the most beautiful woman in the Empire — then Lilium was a natural beauty, like a thicket of flowers blooming deep within the forest. Just looking at her would make one’s guard melt away.
Her dress was made of fine fabric, the kind that wealthy commoners might wear — simple but well-tailored. The loose fit and plain design made it easy to move in, even while working with soil in the garden. With no jewelry adorning her, she might easily have been mistaken for a well-bred commoner at first glance. But even a fool could tell from her flawlessly maintained skin and glossy hair that she was a lady of noble birth.
Lilium brushed the dirt from her skirt and straightened her back. Primrose brought over a chair for the man she had dragged in. Sitting down gracefully, Lilium spoke shyly.
“Oh my, thank you, Prim.”
“Not at all, my lady.”
“Well then, shall we see what gift Prim has brought me…?”
Even though the captive’s appearance was quite pitiful for the eyes of such a refined lady, Lilium’s serene face showed not a trace of distaste.
“Mmph! Mmmph! Ughhh!”
“Let’s remove that gag first. We should at least hear what he has to say.”
Lilium nodded, and the gag was pulled free. The man immediately gasped for air and shouted, his voice shaking with fury.
“Y-you! What do you think you’re doing! Do you have any idea who I am! I am—!”
“Oh, I know who you are. But it seems you don’t know who I am.”
Thwack!
Before Lilium had even finished her gentle words, Primrose struck the man sharply in the throat. As he choked and writhed, gasping for breath, Lilium watched calmly — exactly as she had before.
“Now then, are you ready to listen properly? Good. I know you’re the one they call the chief priest of the southern temple.”
“Kh—! Cough, cough—!”
“And I know you were planning to buy something quite interesting on the black market — after ruining the sacred relic in that fire at the temple.”
At that, the man — Cronen — finally regained his senses.
He remembered hearing that the Princess’s sword would be up for auction at the black market. Half curious, half skeptical, he’d snuck into the secret back auction. There, he had found a mysterious relic that could serve as a replacement for the one lost in the fire — and, desperate, he’d decided to spend his entire fortune to buy it.
It hadn’t been an easy choice.
For a moment, he had even considered using the fire as an excuse to cancel the offering ceremony altogether, claiming it was a bad omen. He’d thought of putting up a fake relic instead. But people had already begun whispering:
“Why would the sacred relic suddenly burn like that?”
“Maybe it was weak against fire?”
“That’s absurd. How could something blessed by the gods burn? Isn’t divine power supposed to heal burns?”
And then Gregory had openly threatened him.
“We’re in the same boat now. Things have gone too far. If we don’t handle this properly, do you really think Her Majesty the Empress will spare either of us?”
Cronen had to agree. The temple fire and the theft of the Princess’s sword had drawn far too much attention already — including that of Raymond, who was watching them like a hawk.
Even though Cronen had long held influence as the high priest of the southern temple, he wasn’t reckless enough to risk faking a sacred ritual under the direct gaze of a Kastline noble. If Titania were to be “dealt with,” it would be safer to hire someone to do it outside the temple. For now, the best option was to act as if everything was proceeding properly.
So, swallowing his pride and despair, he’d gathered every last coin he owned to purchase the replacement relic. It took time to gather his hidden funds, all while worrying someone might recognize him or rob him on his way back. When he realized that the very sword the Princess had lost was being auctioned, he had nearly laughed in disbelief.
After all that fuss, this was where it turned up? If the sword was really as powerful as the rumors said — capable of slaying monsters at the cost of its master’s life — then how could it have been stolen so easily? Surely such a “divine weapon” should have sensed danger from a mere thief.
(And indeed, Cronen’s doubts were correct — though he would never live to learn the truth.)
He had already decided to spend his entire fortune on the relic, so the sword was beyond his reach anyway. He had been watching half-heartedly when monsters suddenly attacked the auction.
Cronen panicked and fled.
The thought of saving the relic — the one he’d risked everything to buy — never even crossed his mind. He just shoved through the panicking crowd, trampling others in his desperation to escape. Helping people, as a priest should, didn’t even occur to him.
He was, after all, one of the noble-aligned priests with ties to Marjid — not one of the humble “commoner priests.” Unlike them, he had never once set foot on the battlefield where the beasts raged.
This region had always been peaceful. There had never been a monster attack here. The southern lands were supposed to be safe.
Which meant this was the first time Cronen had truly faced death — aside from the one time Raymond’s killing intent had terrified him.
As he shoved people aside, throwing others into the monsters’ path to save himself…
“Huh?”
Yes — he remembered seeing someone. A man swinging a sword wildly, shouting furiously. Someone he knew. The same man who once threatened him with the words: ‘Useless commanders die early on the battlefield.’
Could it really have been him, the one he’d cursed inwardly as another arrogant Kastline noble? Cronen had been trying to confirm it when his vision went black.
Now, staring at the two calm young women before him, he felt pure terror.
It didn’t look like much time had passed since he’d lost consciousness, though in this strange greenhouse garden — bathed in an unnatural, timeless light — it was hard to tell.
He didn’t recognize the place at all.
He’d been invited to many noble estates and lavish villas throughout the south, but nowhere had ever given him this eerie, otherworldly feeling. If a place like this existed, there would surely have been rumors — yet he’d heard nothing.
Which could only mean one thing…
“Well, at least he’s smart enough to understand the situation. Isn’t that nice, Prim?”
“If he weren’t, we could simply kill him here and now.”
“No, no. He’s our client’s little errand mouse. If we kill the mouse, who’ll run the errands? The cat will be furious.”
Cronen didn’t dare protest being compared to a mouse. The maid with lifeless purple eyes — and her mistress, the smiling young lady — clearly had the power to end his life in an instant. And perhaps… they were the ones quietly exerting influence over the entire southern region without anyone realizing.
Lilium chuckled softly, as if she had merely made a lighthearted joke. Then she stood and lifted the lid of a basket woven from straw. She rummaged through it for a moment, as though selecting something, before pulling out an object.
It was a fruit shaped like an apple — but its skin was pitch black and glossy. Lilium tapped it gently, and the shell cracked open with a snap, like the shell of a boiled egg. Inside gleamed a brilliant red pulp, translucent like a cluster of pomegranate seeds bound together.
“The item you bought at the auction seems to have been delivered safely. But it would be such a pity if you were too poor to cover your travel expenses after spending all your money on it, wouldn’t it?”
Her voice was as sweet as sugar melting on the tongue.
“W-what do you want from me?” Cronen asked instinctively.
