“In that case, I’m afraid I won’t be able to accept your donation.”
“W-What?! Why not?”
Daniel looked utterly devastated by Aysol’s words.
Aysol remained silent, observing the young man’s reaction.
“I… I have to make this donation somehow…”
Just as he predicted.
Whatever Daniel wished for, it probably wasn’t anything profound.
From experience, it was usually something mundane.
Judging by his average looks, perhaps he wished to be more handsome—or some immature desire typical of someone who just reached adulthood.
‘These people think money can solve everything.’
Aysol judged Daniel harshly and with condescension.
A petty projection of his own inferiority.
Daniel—born of real noble blood, raised in wealth without ever knowing lack—was living the life Aysol had always dreamed of.
I’m still better than some clueless idiot like him.
He pictured himself standing by Daniel’s father.
Being over thirty didn’t matter much.
It wasn’t uncommon for someone to become more trusted than the son—or even be adopted as the heir himself.
And as someone chosen by the gods, earning others’ trust came far too easily for him.
Whether pretending to be a noble among the rich or chatting with beggar children in the streets, just a few exchanged words were enough to make anyone follow him.
Priest Aysol still wore a sorrowful expression as he opened his mouth.
“Is it truly necessary for you to make a donation? Prayer alone is more than enough…”
Before he could finish, Daniel suddenly raised his voice.
“Because prayer doesn’t mean anything! I came to see you on purpose because you’re the most respected priest here!”
Aysol didn’t look offended or even surprised by Daniel’s outburst—rather, he gazed at him with something closer to pity.
That look made Daniel fidget, scratching his head awkwardly.
“Phew… I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
“No, it’s quite all right. I understand.”
Daniel seemed moved by Aysol’s gentle response.
“So, what would it take for you to accept my donation?”
His youthful face—just barely that of an adult—was now etched with even greater desperation.
Aysol was quite familiar with that look.
When someone wore that expression, they tended to accept even his more unreasonable demands without question.
“Haha… Well…”
He deliberately paused for effect before continuing.
“It weighs on my heart that your father doesn’t believe in Lord Sinoa. If you’re willing, I could visit your estate to personally offer a blessing.”
“Oh, wow!”
Daniel clapped his hands and leapt to his feet.
“Yes! Let’s do that!”
Saying he’d go speak to his father right away, Daniel rushed off.
Left alone, Priest Aysol smiled triumphantly, already picturing the future to come.
But things didn’t unfold as Aysol had hoped.
Instead of receiving an invitation to the estate, Daniel returned—with that same ever-present bodyguard.
There was no sign of the father, who seemed to be a real noble.
“My father… said he might consider it as an investment.”
An investment.
At those words, Aysol didn’t feel surprised—he felt an overwhelming trust in Daniel’s father instead.
‘So he really is a true noble.’
The “true” nobles Aysol had known were like that.
The ones from his birth house who had cruelly cast out their own kin over minor mistakes.
Outwardly pious and principled, but only ever moved by gain or loss.
Blue-blooded, cold-hearted beings.
‘He probably doesn’t believe in things like prayer becoming more effective through donations, nor does he think it’s even worth pondering. But with the temple’s reputation rising recently, I bet what matters to him is whether it’s a worthwhile investment.’
Though Daniel hadn’t said much else, Aysol wrote out an entire scenario in his head.
“An investment… What a blasphemous way to put it.”
Feigning slight offense, he folded his hands in mock prayer.
Then, as if hearing a divine voice, he nodded solemnly and spoke with conviction.
“Yet, this too must be the will of the gods. I shall accept it.”
Now then, lead me to your estate.
A blessing others would beg and pay dearly for—I could grant it as a gift.
Aysol’s eyes gleamed with desire.
He stared intensely at Daniel’s lips.
Daniel’s lips slowly parted.
‘Yes! Let’s go to the estate right away…’
That’s what Aysol expected to hear.
But instead—
“Um… It’s just, my father said he must see for himself whether it’s worth investing in.”
As if on cue, the bodyguard pulled something from his coat and handed it to Daniel.
A visual orb.
The moment he saw it, Aysol’s face stiffened.
Daniel, watching his reaction, hesitated and tried to put the orb away—but the guard stopped him.
“Master Daniel.”
“But…!”
“This is the right thing to do. You tried to donate in secret and got caught. You were even grounded because of it. The master is being generous, letting you do this much.”
‘So that’s why the contact was delayed—because he was grounded.’
Aysol thought, his irritation growing at the ever-intrusive bodyguard.
There was something disturbingly unsettling about him—how he stood out unnecessarily for a mere guard, and how every time their eyes met, it sent a chill down Aysol’s spine.
‘I’ll have to get rid of that guard later.’
Resolving as much, Aysol looked back at Daniel.
Thankfully, the boy seemed aware that he was on thin ice.
“Well… As you know, the inner sanctum of the temple can’t be shown to outsiders. And recording it with a visual orb, no less…”
A little firmness would surely make Daniel back off.
Then he’d go cry and beg his father to reconsider.
The father would relent, reluctantly.
“I know… but…”
Daniel hemmed and hawed before mumbling on.
“The temple’s always using the gods as an excuse to squeeze out money, but never actually does anything, he says… He said he’d gladly give me the money if I really wanted it, but only if I could prove it’s worth the investment.”
“Sigh…”
Aysol was growing irritated.
He didn’t care about the money—it wasn’t his goal.
Continuing this fruitless back-and-forth with a naïve boy, and the situation slipping from his control—it all grated on him.
‘Just tell me to come to the estate already!’
Once he met Daniel’s father, a real conversation would change everything. Just one meeting…
Aysol tapped the table with his finger.
It wouldn’t be hard to manipulate this clueless boy into leading him straight to the estate.
But that might worsen the noble father’s impression of him—especially risky, considering the man was already a skeptic.
If he lost more points now, building trust later would be difficult.
But opening the temple’s inner spaces to outsiders was absolutely forbidden.
All they were allowed was to pray in the public areas.
And this temple on Crete Island was even more restricted, especially because of certain educational facilities.
‘Still… there’s probably nothing more convincing than showing them how we’re educating those stupid beggars.’
The poverty relief project.
A major initiative the temple was preparing to launch.
The pilot program was happening right here on Crete Island, and Aysol was the one dispatched to oversee it.
“Well then… This isn’t something I normally brag about, but we’ve been running a poverty relief initiative recently. It’s almost time to distribute aid to the street kids—perhaps you could film that?”
But Daniel shook his head, looking glum.
“He already knows about that. I told him. But he said it’s meaningless—feeding those kids when you’re not even raising any of the useful ones.”
“Ah…”
Aysol’s lip twitched.
He felt an odd thrill at how closely his own thoughts aligned with a “true” noble’s.
‘Exactly. Feeding beggars is useless.’
He was nearly bursting to say it aloud.
In truth, it wasn’t just about handing out food—they were also identifying the useful ones and educating them.
That was highly confidential, but Aysol, now excited, began twisting things in his head.
‘If I just say recording is prohibited by temple rules… but show them a glimpse anyway, it should be enough, right?’
Then that immature brat would relay the message to his father, and the father might come to the temple himself to confirm the truth.
‘Right. I don’t have to go all the way to the estate myself—just make him come to me, don’t I?’
At that point, the “prohibition” the High Priest had warned him about had been neatly erased from Aysol’s mind.
Honestly, calling it a prohibition was laughable.
‘I’m someone chosen by the divine. Whatever I do, surely the gods would forgive me.’
After finishing his self-justification, Priest Aysol smiled gently.
“As I mentioned before, filming is difficult. However, I believe a tour can be arranged.”
He had no doubt that he was in complete control of the situation.
