CHAPTER 42……
Everett pointed at the paper Kyle had spread out.
“You said these were letters, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I’ve never seen writing like this before.”
“They’re called runes. One of the ancient scripts used in divination.”
Kyle brushed back the hair that had fallen forward.
His revealed eyes sparkled with interest.
“Ancient script, huh… Everett, do you know all of these letters?”
“Of course.”
“Is there anyone other than you who can read them?”
“Hmm… I’m not sure about that. But I’ve never seen anyone else use them before.”
This was a place that revered the Arcana, yet it seemed they didn’t know how to interpret them—nor even the symbols on tarot cards.
“Everett, I want to learn these letters.”
“…What?”
Everett didn’t know how to respond to Kyle’s sudden request.
It was baffling.
To suddenly want to learn runes…
Seeing Everett blinking in confusion, Kyle asked:
“Is that so surprising?”
“Well, Lord Kyle, why all of a sudden…? These are letters used in fortune-telling. Are you interested in divination?”
“No, I couldn’t care less about fortune-telling. I just want to write a diary.”
“…A diary?”
The note he had received from Everett had been a great shock to him.
Even someone like him—who prided himself on having read every book in the Empire—had never seen such letters before.
He had spent days obsessively trying to decipher the writing in that note.
Eventually, he had sent it to a few subordinates skilled in cryptography, but all of them returned the same reply: they had never seen such symbols before.
Reading their answers, Kyle had smiled with satisfaction.
Perfect. No one can read it, so it’s ideal for use as a code.
Of course, he couldn’t tell Everett that.
Was ‘diary’ too strange an excuse?
Looking at Everett’s baffled expression, Kyle tried to think of another pretext.
“Alright then. How about this—Everett, you lost my very precious foot towel. I’ll forgive you for that if you teach me these letters instead. How about it?”
Everett let out a short sigh.
“Lord Kyle, I did say these were letters, but they’re not like the ones people normally use. It’s hard to form complete sentences, and each character carries a meaning, so they’re tricky to learn.”
“The harder, the better. People are always curious about my diary. Diaries contain lots of secrets, so I’d like to write mine in a difficult script so no one can read it.”
“…Alright. I’ll organize the letters for you, then.”
Everett knew she shouldn’t keep meeting Kyle.
The quickest method she came up with was to give him summarized notes.
“Didn’t you say these letters were hard to learn?”
“Yes, so I’ll attach detailed explanations. If you read them—”
“Hold on, that won’t do.”
Kyle raised his hand to cut her off.
“Education is a very important process and requires proper etiquette. Therefore, from now on, I shall treat you as my teacher.”
“…Ah.”
Everett felt like she had no energy left to even be surprised.
She just sat there, letting out a short sound, though her expression betrayed her.
Kyle smiled at the visible fluster in her eyes.
“Lord Kyle, I think it will be difficult for you to learn in person.”
“Why’s that?”
“First of all, you’re a Grand Duke…”
“Don’t worry about that. No one cares about me. Look at me now—freely drinking in a tavern.”
“There’s also no place to study.”
Kyle turned his head and pointed at the tarot shop.
“I hear that place is empty now.”
His answer came without hesitation, as though prepared in advance.
Whatever excuse she tried, it seemed there was no escaping this.
“Lord Kyle, I told you—it’s hard to learn.”
“Yes, I heard.”
“And I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a Grand Duke.”
“I wouldn’t want you to. And I already told you—I’ll treat you as my teacher.”
Everett’s lips curled in a sly smile.
“Very well. Then I take it you won’t be asking for your foot towel back anymore?”
“The word of royalty is as binding as law.”
Everett’s eyes gleamed.
“I’ll teach you very thoroughly, Lord Kyle.”
Priests walking down the long corridor bowed their heads.
“Saintess.”
Through the space they made passed Saintess Angelus, clad in a plain white dress without a single ornament.
With nothing but a long, thin lace draped over her head, there was no one who could look upon her beauty without being captivated.
Saintess Angelus Corta.
If angels existed, surely they would look like her.
Among the priests, she was already considered more than an angel.
Her long, fine platinum hair that fell to her waist and her pale gray eyes made her seem all the more holy.
With her hands clasped together, Angelus walked with elegance and dignity.
The priests’ gazes followed her, but she paid them no mind.
“Please rest well, Saintess.”
Her attendant priest closed the door to the room where she stayed.
Click.
The sound of the door closing rang out.
At the same time, Angelus snatched the lace from her head and threw it to the floor.
“Ugh, this is so annoying!”
Her high-pitched, ringing voice carried into every corner of the sitting room.
Apparently still not satisfied, she lifted the hem of her long skirt and stomped on it with her shoes.
Beautiful Saintess Angelus.
From her rosy lips poured an endless stream of vulgar curses.
“My lady.”
At that moment, a shadowy figure emerged from a corner of the sitting room, calling her name and approaching.
“Ah! You scared me! Didn’t I tell you to make some noise when you come in?”
The man didn’t reply—he just picked up the lace she had thrown.
“There could be people outside the door. How many times have I told you—the temple walls have eyes and ears.”
“Hmph. What’s there to be afraid of from those pathetic priests?”
The man let out a short sigh.
“You must be careful. Not yet—”
“I know, I know! We can talk inside, can’t we?”
Angelus snapped back and strode straight into the bedroom.
She was staying in the former High Priest’s quarters—the largest, deepest chamber in the temple.
Past the outer sitting room lay another sitting room, a study, and a bedroom.
Once the inner door was shut, no one outside could tell what was going on inside.
A secret, secluded place.
There, Angelus vented all the stress she had built up over the day, yelling until she felt better.
A short while later, Angelus emerged from the bedroom looking refreshed.
She dropped onto the sofa and drained the wine the man had already prepared for her.
“So when exactly is Kyle coming to the temple? You said he’d arrived in the capital.”
“His Majesty has already granted him an audience. He should be coming to the temple soon.”
“Are you sure? What makes you so certain he’ll come here right after arriving in the capital?”
“Lord Yankeller, the High Priest’s son, is a close friend of Grand Duke Kyle. Whenever he comes to the capital, he meets Lord Yankeller right after His Majesty.”
“Hah. So he came just to see a friend?”
Angelus snorted and refilled her glass.
“How long do I have to keep playing this ridiculous saintess role? The rumors should be enough by now—can’t I stop?”
The man answered firmly.
“You must continue until you meet Grand Duke Kyle.”
Grinding her teeth in irritation, Angelus shot him a glare.
The man lowered his eyes in silence.
His rough life had left scars that were plain on his face.
He held a peculiar cane topped with a silver snake’s head, completely at odds with his black butler’s uniform.
This was Hugo—a man whose loyalty to his master was unmatched, though it wasn’t Angelus he served.
Her rude words and actions grated on him, but he was far too disciplined to let his feelings show.
“My lady, when will you meet Lord Yankeller?”
“Yankeller… that stiff prig. I’ve sent him several invitations to have tea, but he hasn’t responded once.”
Angelus had never been rejected by a man before.
Her voice brimmed with anger.
“He’s a priest. You should be more proactive.”
Hugo’s voice was rough, but resolute.
“I thought he looked decent, but to think he’s so uptight and old-fashioned…”
Yankeller, the priest with pure, clear eyes.
Angelus was certain he’d never so much as held a woman’s hand.
She was confident she could seduce him in an instant.
“I am trying!”
Shouting, Angelus turned her head sharply and called to the maid standing nervously in the bedroom corner.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Tell me—have I or have I not told you to contact Yankeller several times to meet with me?”
The freckle-faced maid glanced fearfully at Hugo.
“Many times… you have told me to contact Lord Yankeller, my lady.”
Hugo sighed.
“You became Saintess because the High Priest gave you the Arcana. You know this, don’t you?”
“I know!”
“And the reason he gave it to you…”
“Is to marry me to his son, Yankeller. You think I don’t know both the High Priest and I have our own ulterior motives here?”
“But the High Priest doesn’t know you came here aiming for Grand Duke Kyle.”
Angelus clicked her tongue in derision.
“Pathetic. Does it make sense for a woman as beautiful as me to marry just a priest?”
“Your personal thoughts don’t matter. While you’re Saintess, you must show sincerity.”
“Fine. I’m just waiting for my chance, so be patient. It’s coming soon.”
An enigmatic smile curled on Angelus’s lips.
