* * *

The grip on my collar loosened, and the threatening aura that had been suffocating me dissipated slightly.

“I… I…”

Kaindel looked bewildered, his Adam’s apple quivering as if he were trying to speak, only for his voice to abruptly cut off.

It was as though he had forgotten what he was going to say.

His bloodshot eyes, barely visible beneath his tense eyelids, added to his disheveled appearance.

Was he even breathing properly?

Glancing briefly at his hand still clutching my collar, I raised my head.

Kaindel’s lips twisted as his brows furrowed deeply.

The man who always presented a facade of perfection and kindness in front of others seemed completely unable to maintain it now.

As his silence stretched on, an oppressive stillness filled the room—fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

It was the calm before a storm, the eerie quiet before a tidal wave surged.

I had two choices: to press forward or to retreat.

Whichever I chose, I’d have to take responsibility for having pushed Kaindel to this point.

How my impulsive actions would backfire was anyone’s guess.

And so, I chose the latter.

[I’ll take my leave now. Our time is up.]

Right on cue, the minute hand of the clock pointed to the hour.

The allotted time for our meeting had ended.

I pulled away Kaindel’s weakening hand from my collar.

I didn’t bother fixing the mess his grip had made of my clothes; any attempt to neaten them would only look clumsy.

Changing in the privacy of my dorm room seemed like the better option.

That should be enough.

Adjusting my crooked sleeve, I set my pen down.

The pen rolled across the table and came to a stop next to the sheet of paper.

Having said all I needed to, I was confident that Kaindel wouldn’t indulge in any foolish curiosity for a while.

The shock from today would take time to wear off.

If my words managed to extinguish his interest in me entirely, so much the better.

I double-checked the final note I’d scribbled on the paper and prepared to leave the room.

“Where…”

“…?”

“Where did you hear those things?”

Kaindel’s strained voice broke the silence.

His face, drained of all expression, tilted slightly toward me, his green eyes cold and devoid of any warmth.

The mask of gentleness he had worn so well was now utterly gone, leaving behind a visage that sent shivers down my spine.

Where had I heard those things?

His voice, sharp and cutting, echoed in my mind like an insidious insect burrowing deeper and deeper.

[In this world, who doesn’t know about the Hero’s concubine?]

“That’s… impossible.”

[Do you have any idea how infamous he is? Even children know the name of the Hero’s concubine.]

“…Don’t call him a concubine so carelessly.”

[Then what should I call him? A plaything? Or perhaps, a lover?]

I showed him the note I’d written, complete with a mocking question mark at the end.

A wry laugh escaped me.

Unlike the bitter humor I’d used to provoke his faded memories earlier, this time, my amusement came from a far more genuine place.

[Apologies. I couldn’t help myself—it’s just so absurd to think of him as the Hero’s lover.]

It was true.

No one had ever acknowledged that relationship, and it had been over for more than two years.

Just speaking of it felt ridiculous.

Kaindel, silenced by my laughter, slowly lowered his hands from his face.

He read and reread the words written in Harilson’s handwriting before balling his fists, veins bulging on the backs of his hands.

Cracks began forming in his usually flawless features.

“That man…”

His sudden words made me realize something I hadn’t paid much attention to until now: Kaindel hadn’t called me by my name even once.

Since the day we exchanged introductions, he’d always used a familiar nickname.

But now, he referred to me only as that man.

Was it just a whim?

Or was it something more?

“He is not someone you can speak of so carelessly.”

With that warning, Kaindel brushed past me.

His purposeful strides halted only when he reached the door of the consultation room.

For a moment, he stared at the closed door with an unreadable expression, his hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob.

“We’ll meet again.”

His farewell was curt.

The tremble in his voice, however, betrayed the turmoil simmering beneath.

Confusion had replaced his earlier anger, leaving a raw and vulnerable edge.

I watched his retreating figure, then crumpled the sheet of paper in my hand.

Wet ink smeared against my palm, leaving a sticky, unpleasant residue.

“Just what are you thinking?”

Would there even be a next time for us?

A faint floral scent lingered where Kaindel had touched me.

Despite the brevity of our meeting, the ties that bound us had left their mark.

That distinctive scent seemed to reflect his possessive nature.

Muttering under my breath, I shoved the crumpled paper into my pocket, intending to burn it as soon as I returned to my room.

---

Contrary to my concerns about a second encounter, the days that followed were uneventful.

Life resumed its normal rhythm. I prayed at the appointed times, listened to the confessions of believers, and caught up on my transcription duties.

In my free time, I indulged in some reading.

Lately, I’d been engrossed in a history of the Hadelber Kingdom.

Though the prophecy of the Hero’s birth by the eighth pope startled me, the rest of the text proved fascinating.

Today was shaping up to be another ordinary day.

“Not bad.”

Stretching, I murmured to myself.

Having finished my morning prayers and a meal, I felt drowsy under the midday heat of late summer.

A nap seemed like the perfect idea.

With three free hours ahead of me, I decided to head to the annex.

While the senior priests were busy preparing for the Hero and the Princess’s wedding, I, a mere common priest, had an abundance of time.

With fewer believers visiting for confessions as the Festival of the Goddess approached, I could finally focus on my transcription work.

I planned to nap first, then finish yesterday’s incomplete transcriptions before attending evening prayers.

As I reached the annex, I spotted Harilson walking toward me from the opposite direction.

Normally, I would have greeted him cheerfully, but I stopped short.

His usual bright demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a dark, haggard expression.

Shadows under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept well the previous night.

Had Nathaniel scolded him again?

Nathaniel reprimanding Harilson was nothing new.

I approached to offer some words of comfort, lightly patting his slumped shoulder.

“Harilson, are you okay?”

“Ugh… no.”

Harilson shook his head, his watery eyes making him look pitiful.

Up close, I noticed he didn’t just look tired—he was downright pale.

It was clear that Nathaniel’s scolding wasn’t the issue this time.

“Stomachache?”

“Mm… maybe it was the alcohol I drank last night.”

“You drank alcohol?”

My disbelief must have been obvious, as Harilson gave me an awkward smile.

As priests, we were taught early on to avoid worldly indulgences.

It was one of the most basic rules drilled into us during our training.

I never expected Harilson, barely a year into his ordination, to be openly drinking.

“Harilson…”

“…Don’t tell Deacon Nathaniel, please.”

“This isn’t the first time, is it?”

“Please! If I get caught again, I might not survive!”

Though he clearly knew he was in the wrong, Harilson still managed to look pitiful, his brows drooping as he hunched over in discomfort.

Watching him clutch his stomach as if he might faint at any moment, I let out a resigned sigh.

Harilson had a knack for finding trouble, yet somehow, I could never stay mad at him.

“What’s your next task?”

“Confession counseling…”

“Can you go?”

“I have to.”

“What about your legs? Are they okay?”

“They’re a bit numb, but manageable.”

“Manageable, you say.”

Lies.

I scoffed and tapped Harilson’s knee lightly.

It was such a weak touch that, on a normal day, it wouldn’t have tickled.

But in his current poor condition, even that small force caused him to lose his balance and stumble forward.

“Ouch!”

“How exactly is this ‘manageable’?”

“Hehe.”

I caught Harilson before he fully toppled over, his brows furrowing as he grinned sheepishly.

It was clear his mind was elsewhere.

I couldn’t help but worry he’d fall asleep halfway through listening to a believer’s confession.

“I’ll go instead.”

“What?”

“You filled in for me before, didn’t you? I’ll return the favor and take yours this time.”

Besides, I still owe him for that gossip tabloid money.

I added that lightly as I nudged Harilson toward the annex.

His eyes widened in surprise.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

It wasn’t until I nodded firmly that Harilson seemed to grasp the situation.

He suddenly threw his arms around me.

“You’re the best buddy ever.”

The stench of alcohol wafted from his mumbling lips, making me instinctively grimace.

Fighting the urge to scowl, I carefully patted his head as he clung to me.

“Sure,” I replied softly.

* * *