* * *

Her smirk silenced me, leaving me to clench my jaw in frustration.

Kaindel had only mentioned that the marriage was a contractual arrangement, never the specifics.

A long, shaky exhale escaped me.

Kerelona’s revelation clarified one thing: Kaindel never intended to marry her.

Their contract ended with walking down the aisle.

Now I understood why he’d been so adamant about not actually going through with it.

Yet, I wasn’t sure how to feel.

Relief? Emptiness?

If this had been two years ago, I might’ve been comforted by the fact that he hadn’t betrayed me.

But now that I’d resolved to move on, her words only left me confused.

What was her purpose in telling me this?

If she and Kaindel had already severed their ties, what reason did she have to seek me out and say all this?

Her calm, smiling face was anything but reassuring.

“Why are you…”

“Hm?”

“… telling me this?”

Was it cruel curiosity?

Misguided pity?

I masked my suspicion behind a neutral tone.

Simultaneously, I forced myself to suppress the stifling feeling swelling inside me.

The more I learned about Kaindel after our parting, the more this oppressive sensation grew, leaving me clueless about how to alleviate it.

At my question, Kerelona silently stroked her chin.

Then, she lowered her hand and tapped the table rhythmically.

The repeated sound filled the consultation room, creating an oddly tense atmosphere.

“So, if I said, ‘You need to know this too,’ would that be too cliché?”

“What do you mean?”

“Because it’s amusing.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s kind of funny, really—how you and your lover always manage to pick the worst possible choices for each other. A strange sort of comedy, don’t you think?”

Kerelona muttered this with a hum, chuckling softly.

Then she smiled, her eyes narrowing playfully.

Her laughter lingered gently at the corners of her eyes, while the shadow of her long lashes lightly touched her under-eye bags.

“When do you think stars fall?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Then, let me rephrase. When do you think stars shine the brightest?”

“When the sky is darkest.”

“Wrong. It’s when they die. Stars shine the brightest at the moment of their death. Paradoxical, isn’t it?”

As proof, she explained in a soft voice, the stars visible in the evening sky were already long dead.

She added this as she gazed through the small window of the consultation room.

Her sky-blue eyes glowed even more vividly against the azure sky outside.

They shone with a clarity devoid of any trace of hesitation.

I blinked slowly, lowering my eyelids briefly before raising them again.

I found Kerelona’s sudden mention of stars odd, especially when we were discussing my dealings with Kaindel.

But instead of voicing my thoughts, I responded compliantly.

Even from this brief conversation, I could tell she wasn’t one to say unnecessary things.

Occasionally, she twisted her words into puzzling tangles, but never without reason.

Based on what I’d gathered about her character, there was surely a purpose to her bringing up stars now.

As I shelved my suspicions for later, Kerelona caught a leaf drifting in from the window.

“Perhaps the hero should have never returned after defeating the great calamity. Had they not, they would have remained forever the kingdom’s hero—a savior who sacrificed their life to save their people. How glorious.”

“He’s still a hero.”

“Is he? How long do you think a hero can remain a hero?”

“I don’t see why that’s something we need to dwell on.”

“When the calamity was here, people exalted the hero. But what about after it was gone?”

“…”

“Honor eventually fades into the past, and achievements get buried in history. So I ask you—does a hero remain great in a world that no longer needs one?”

Kerelona toyed with the leaf in her fingers, her precise movements sending her well-maintained red hair cascading over her collarbone.

“Of course, you don’t understand this yet. Then take your time to ponder it deeply until our next meeting.”

“…Do you wish for me to forgive and understand Kaindel, Princess?”

“No, quite the opposite. I want you to completely abandon the hero.”

“What?”

“I want to see that proud hero utterly crumble. Wouldn’t that be entertaining?”

Her voice, laced with amusement, carried a faint chuckle.

As if recalling something, she clapped her hands together.

“Speaking of which, I have an errand for you.”

“An errand?”

“Could you deliver this to Gazette?”

Before I could respond to her sudden request, Kerelona pulled a small note, about the size of a finger, from her pocket and handed it to me.

The neatly folded note replaced the leaf that had been in her hand.

As I glanced briefly at the dangling note, she added in a subtle tone.

“Tell him this is the final piece of our puzzle.”

“The final piece…”

I stared at the note, mulling over her words.

I didn’t know how she’d figured out I was heading to Gazette, but it seemed clear she intended for me to read the note.

It wasn’t sealed, which only reinforced the point—she expected me to decide what to do after seeing its contents.

Even though I’d already decided my answer, I didn’t voice it immediately.

Instead, I bit the inside of my cheek, murmuring reluctantly.

“I’ll deliver it when I feel like it.”

“Suit yourself.”

Kerelona smirked, shrugging as if it didn’t matter.

Her demeanor made it clear she wasn’t concerned whether the note ever reached Gazette.

Seeing that, I unconsciously gripped the note tighter.

---

After finishing my conversation with Kerelona, I made my way to Owen’s room.

Now that I had this note, delaying my meeting with Owen any further felt out of the question.

I needed to inform him about the mole and proceed to Gazette.

I firmed my resolve and loitered in front of the unmoving door for an hour.

Finally, it creaked open, and Owen emerged alongside another priest.

Seemingly seeing off the other, Owen turned away as soon as he finalized their next meeting.

“See you tomorrow,” he said slowly, exhaustion clinging to his voice.

I waited quietly, stepping forward only after the unknown priest had gone far enough.

Stopping Owen before he re-entered his room, I called out.

“Owen, do you have a moment to talk?”

“Isa? Why are you here…?”

Owen blinked in surprise, his eyes widening.

After glancing nervously down the empty hallway, he gently touched my shoulder.

He seemed to understand immediately why I’d come unannounced.

“Come in.”

He ushered me inside before closing the door behind him.

Pulling off his mask and rubbing his face, Owen moved toward the table.

He started to ask, “So, what brings you—”

“Harilson.”

I cut him off before he could finish.

I hadn’t intended to interrupt, but the weight of what I’d kept silent for so long pushed the words out.

Hearing Harilson’s name, Owen frowned, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“What about him?”

“He’s the mole. Harilson’s been in contact with Viscount Chernian.”

I explained briefly how I’d discovered Harilson’s betrayal.

The traces of Owen’s sacred energy on a memo found in Harilson’s possession and the poisoned food Harilson had been giving me were undeniable clues.

Owen’s face darkened momentarily upon learning about the poisoned food, though his expression quickly returned to a calm neutrality.

As he filled a teapot over the fire, he nodded slowly.

“Funnily enough, I recently uncovered another mole among the clergy. This lines up perfectly.”

“You’ve found someone too?”

“Yes, someone was careless enough to leave a trail.”

“Who?”

“Nathaniel Damon.”

Pouring tea into a cup, Owen mentioned the name of someone familiar to me.

Then, setting the teapot back down, he added.

“I discovered him exchanging letters under a pseudonym with Viscount Chernian. Those letters also contained confidential information from the temple.”

He quietly added, brushing back his platinum hair.

* * *