* * *

“Hah, serves him right. Maybe he’s forgotten, but Jeanne is different from you. She’s a frail noble lady, body and soul. I’m sure she’s gone mute from the shock.”

Ignoring Marchen’s provocations, Jerome just kept staring at me.

He probably thought that I was genuinely in shock from yesterday’s events.

Well, yes, it had been shocking, but having been subjected to Jerome’s various antics, I wasn’t traumatized to that extent.

But still, this felt like a perfect chance to break Jerome of his bad habit of pouncing whenever he pleased.

It was a kind of “indifference therapy,” if you will.

And it was working much better than getting angry.

The way I looked, as if I might jump into the nearest river, seemed to be driving the severity home for Jerome, as he grew more and more silent.

In this ice-cold atmosphere, the carriage entered the northern border.

As we crossed the boundary into the northern lands, pine trees lined the path, and a snowstorm began to rage outside.

Despite my thick woolen cloak and leather gloves, the chill seeped in, and I shivered.

I caught a glimpse of majestic snowy mountains through the dense forest, and the memories started flooding back.

‘Around this time, the Starlight Festival should be in full swing up north. At that festival, Freya summons the divine beast Parak to the village square, planning to make the villagers a sacrifice to ensure Parak’s incarnation.’

The Starlight Festival was one of the empire’s most significant events.

Distinguished figures gathered to celebrate, forming ties in the spirit of unity.

Even the major guilds of the Academy were part of it.

‘In the original story, Jupiter and the Flare Guild attended the Starlight Festival. But because of Parak’s ice soldiers, many guild members lost their lives, leaving Luke with a deep trauma.’

I pulled out the pocket watch hanging around my neck and pressed the notch.

The sight of five empty slots met my gaze.

If I could stop Freya’s rampage and Parak’s incarnation at the upcoming Starlight Festival, I’d not only gain the chance to obtain the stone but also take the first step towards using Maya’s miraculous power to eliminate Mephisto within Jerome.

‘That’s the plan, at least…’

Just then, the carriage, having crossed a long stone bridge, came to a halt.

We had arrived at the castle where Freya resided. I peeked outside.

A giant iron gate blocked the entrance as if to ward off any intruders.

“This is Marchen, a close friend of Lady Freya! Open the gate!”

At the driver’s booming voice, the ground seemed to shake, and the iron gate slowly rose.

A few knights inspected the carriage with torches.

I shuddered a bit, intimidated by the imposing appearance of the northern folk.

Marchen, watching my reaction, gave me a meaningful grin.

“Jeanne, you haven’t forgotten, have you? You promised to pretend to be my lover in front of Lady Freya.”

I froze.

Marchen, unaware of Freya’s current condition, seemed almost pitiful.

‘Might as well do it; it’s a small request. Besides, if Marchen’s my ‘lover,’ it might lower Freya’s guard.’

Just as I was about to nod, Jerome cut in.

“What do you mean, introducing her as your lover? That’s unacceptable. Jeanne is my wife.”

“…And just what is it that you gave permission for, then?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Jerome’s innocent smile as he pointed to himself left Marchen’s expression darkening by the second.

Jerome then added, without a hint of shame.

“I’m the one who will pretend to be your lover, not Jeanne.”

Marchen scoffed, as if it was a joke, but I knew better.

When it came to Jerome, anything that sounded like a joke was deadly serious.

So this was indeed his genuine intent.

I was no longer surprised by Jerome’s antics, but Marchen, on the other hand, seemed on the verge of panic, repeating, “Why?” and “Do you have a death wish?” while wiping cold sweat with his handkerchief.

“So… you’re saying I should tell her I’m interested in men?”

“You said you didn’t want to get engaged, right? What better excuse than that? Besides, you already have unofficial partners.”

“Damn it, that’s not the issue! I’d rather die than be linked to someone like you! Jeanne, help me out here. Talk some sense into this madman!”

Marchen desperately grabbed my arm, looking at me with pleading eyes.

Feeling pity but not enough to intervene, I just smiled kindly and asked.

“How many kids are you two planning to have?”

“Ahh!”

Marchen finally broke, letting out a scream as he shielded his head with his arms.

He seemed genuinely disturbed.

Jerome sighed deeply, holding his cheek with one hand.

“Honestly, men… give them a little room, and they turn around the moment it suits them.”

“You’re surprisingly unbiased about things like that.”

“Not really. I just hate the idea of you becoming anyone’s lover.”

Jerome answered firmly.

He must have really disliked the idea if he was ignoring his own preferences for it.

Watching Marchen, who still seemed in a bit of a panic, Jerome cautiously asked.

“So, what if, hypothetically, some guy asked you to be his partner?”

Contrary to my assumption that he’d be horrified, Jerome showed no reaction.

Even I wasn’t sure why I was asking this.

The silence grew, and I clenched my fists on my lap.

Still gazing out the window, Jerome answered nonchalantly.

“Are you done being mad at me?”

“Huh?”

“You were still upset with me, weren’t you?”

I blinked quickly at how easily Jerome changed the subject.

His eyes, now on me, had taken on a strangely cool expression.

Just as I stammered to answer, the carriage came to a halt, and the servant waiting outside opened the door.

“Welcome, Master Marchen. And I see you’ve brought a friend today.”

“Yes. Where’s Sister Freya right now?”

“She’s just finished the evening prayers and is resting.”

Beyond a tangled wall of thorny vines, the grand mansion where Freya resided came into view.

Marchen, after a quick conversation with the servant, nodded and said, “Why don’t you two explore the area? I should speak with Sister first.”

As Marchen stepped out of the carriage, brushing back his tousled hair, he looked somewhat at a loss about how to introduce Jerome.

But Jerome, unfazed by Marchen’s reaction, playfully blew a kiss at him, pressing his index and middle fingers to his lips in a mock gesture.

His awkward attempt at a wink was almost endearing; it was one of the few things he couldn’t quite master.

That clumsy wink made me chuckle despite myself.

Watching silently, Marchen sighed, then reached for the sword at his hip.

The servant quickly stepped in to stop him.

“I knew it was too good to be true that he was behaving!”

“M-Master Marchen!”

Though Marchen seemed ready to lunge, Jerome just waved with a wide grin.

Annoyed, Marchen slammed the carriage door shut.

As silence fell between Jerome and me, I was left with a lingering feeling from his earlier deflection.

‘Did he… just avoid answering my question? His expression didn’t look so good either.’

It wasn’t really something I had a right to feel upset about.

After all, I was still concealing my gender.

Feeling disappointed would just be shameless.

But for some reason, it stung a little.

I knew my guess had been right.

The moment Jerome found out I was a man, things would never be the same.

Even if he was understanding, there was no way he’d forgive me for hiding my true gender all this time.

‘And, as expected, ignoring him hasn’t worked at all.’

I had tried to avoid giving him any attention until he changed his habits, but keeping things strictly professional with Jerome was harder than with anyone else.

Nothing was going as planned.

‘No, focus. Meeting Freya is what’s important now. I need to figure out what to do about her.’

The demon that had possessed Freya was Belial, a demon of corruption.

Unlike Mephisto, who had no interest in humans, Belial, being a younger demon, held a certain sympathy for them.

And so, with Freya’s memories merging with his own, Belial began to empathize with her sorrow.

Recalling the original story, I reviewed everything in my mind.

Belial, possessing Freya’s body, came to a new understanding each day. It was about the deep sorrow embedded in Freya’s heart.

Though people revered her as an apostle sent by the Maya god for humanity, Freya was merely a symbol created to unite the faith of the Northern lands.

“You look beautiful as ever, Freya.”

Count Gonte fawned over her, standing behind her as she prepared for her evening prayers.

Adorned beautifully, Freya looked more like a doll than a living person.

Gripping her shoulders, he continued.

“Freya, you’re still young and innocent, so you may not realize, but the world is full of vile people who covet your divine power and influence.”

In that moment, Belial felt an inexplicable anger.

This feeling was clearly Freya’s.

A flash of memory passed through his mind: the count mercilessly beating a male servant with whom Freya had shared a secret affection.

Belial recalled how the count wouldn’t stop, no matter how much Freya wept and screamed.

‘Poor woman. After saving so many weak souls, she never got to have even one thing she truly wanted.’

Freya’s loss didn’t end there.

She hadn’t even been allowed to attend the funeral of her nursemaid, who was like a mother to her, because she was expected to lead a prayer for the people that day.

With Freya’s memories flooding in, Belial felt an unshakable sympathy.

As Count Gonte whispered ominously in her ear, she remembered.

“So forget about that lowly man and move on. You have a mission far more important than love, don’t you?”

“……”

“And remember, at the upcoming Starlight Festival, you have to do your part. It’s an important gathering of key figures from each region.”

Finishing his threats disguised as advice, the count turned to leave. Belial, rubbing her shoulder where a red mark remained, thought to herself.

‘The Starlight Festival… Yes, that’ll do. I’ll summon heretic Parak there and kill them all.’

Her red eyes flashed in the mirror.

A faint smile crossed Freya’s lips as she touched a ring on her left hand’s fourth finger, identical to the ring on the dead servant’s hand.

‘You accepted me because that’s what you wanted too, didn’t you, Freya?’

As the great saint, Freya had no choice but to bear the deaths of those she loved.

It was almost inevitable that she would turn heresy; despite being a saint, she was merely a weak human in the face of loss.

Knowing Freya’s past made it impossible for me to kill her.

Fingering the sleep-debuff potion I had obtained through Marchen, I thought to myself.

‘Tonight, I’ll meet with Freya and get her to drink this sleeping potion. Then, she won’t be able to attend the Starlight Festival in two days. That way, at least I can avoid the massacre route from the original story.’

As I turned the potion in my pocket, lost in thought, Jerome suddenly reached towards my face, making me flinch.

But he just tightened the ties on my cape.

“It might take a while for Marchen to return. Want to check out the shops?”

“Do you think we should?”

“Oh, and while we’re at it, let’s buy Chloe a winter coat. My daughter’s just like her mother; she refuses to wear any fur that isn’t from Northern foxes!”

I stifled a laugh at Jerome’s increasingly detailed fantasies.

Apparently, his imaginary Chloe had developed a taste for luxury.

But something strange was happening.

In the past, his delusions would’ve bothered me, but now, I didn’t feel any discomfort at all.

In fact, I felt a strange excitement too, looking at the snow falling outside.

“Picky? No, she just has good taste.”

“Hm? What did you say just now?”

I paused after saying it.

Luckily, since I muttered it softly, Jerome didn’t seem to have heard.

He leaned toward me, as if asking me to repeat myself.

I pushed his shoulder back and said, “It’s nothing.”

* * *