Chapter 149

“What is it?”

“What if the soup had really been poisoned?”

“You mean the soup? We both knew it wasn’t. Senior Ren just cleverly played along, that’s all.”

“I know. But what if something had gone wrong? If I hadn’t brought Fayel here, you would’ve eaten it, wouldn’t you?”

Cledwyn’s eyes darkened. Nerys’s heart dropped.

She hadn’t imagined it—within that darkness were sorrow and fear.

And she knew exactly what that sorrow and fear were. His childhood had been shattered by the same kind of tool, by someone using poison.

Maybe… she had gone too far. Nerys turned her eyes away.

“…I won’t lie.”

She knew he had been looking out for her. She had pushed ahead without asking for understanding, without explanation… She had crossed many lines. Though he was someone capable of recognizing things on his own and had tolerated a great deal, some things had clearly been oversteps.

Nerys believed the only reason he allowed it was because of his fundamentally upright nature.

‘Because he’s someone who trusts.’

She was truly grateful she had met Cledwyn after returning to the past. She wouldn’t have come this far without him.

Only those worthy of trust can trust others.

Seeing the ease return to her expression, Cledwyn smiled and gently lifted her hand. Then, he pressed his lips to the back of it and locked eyes with her.

A warm breath slipped through his lips. A gaze that clung to her, as if begging for something.

“I-I should get up.”

A chill ran down her spine. Nerys spoke awkwardly and stood up abruptly. Cledwyn let go of her hand without resistance and chuckled, as if the intense moment had been nothing but a joke.

“Alright. We’ll be seeing each other again later anyway.”

“Y-Yes, of course.”

They’d see each other a dozen more times today, and again tomorrow… Nerys was now acutely aware of how terrifying it was to be physically unable to distance herself from someone she cared about. It was no longer easy to harden her heart. Contrary to what she’d once believed, it wasn’t something she could hide as easily as she thought.

Now, his presence beside her felt too natural. She heard his voice everywhere, and when he took her hand, she didn’t even think of pulling away. At this rate, who knew how far she might allow him to go without realizing?

“Thank you.”

Cledwyn tossed the words playfully toward the back of the fleeing Nerys. She stopped at the entrance to the greenhouse and turned to face him.

“For what? For getting revenge?”

“No.”

Sunlight poured onto Cledwyn’s face. Golden beams filtered through the leaves like scattered fragments of light.

He smiled gently—like the little boy who once laughed in this very greenhouse.

“For giving me another good memory here.”

The toy he had buried as a child was properly reburied under the large tree when they renovated the garden. Nerys turned away, unsure of how to respond. Her voice came out sulky and awkward.

“…See you later.”

Laughter echoed behind her as she rushed out. (T/N: They are sooooo cute WTH. hahaha)

❖ ❖ ❖

“It’s such a shame to part like this, Nerys.”

Ren had already said that several times with the droopy face of a puppy seeing off its master.

It was a crisp autumn day—perfect for travel. And if he wanted to reach the Papal States before winter, this would be his last chance to depart.

Even with three elite Maindulante knights assigned as escorts standing behind him, Ren’s gentle and harmless air didn’t change. In Nerys’s view, he came off as disconcertingly serene.

Still, the way he looked at her with open sincerity was the same as it had been in the past.

There must have been many reasons he had risen to fame in just a few years despite having no noble backing. Nerys could only guess at what those years had been like.

And the reason he still treated her with such kindness after all that time…

“Travel safely, senior.”

Because he asked her not to use the title ‘Father,’ Nerys addressed him more familiarly. Ren smiled brightly, clearly pleased—but Cledwyn didn’t seem to share that sentiment.

“Shouldn’t you get going? It’s going to be a long trip.”

Despite Ren saying he didn’t need a send-off, Cledwyn had insisted on accompanying Nerys and now seemed bored with it. Ren responded like a perfect saint.

“Thank you for your concern, Your Grace. Such kindness is a great blessing. Thankfully, the next village isn’t far, so I should arrive before sunset.”

“I said that because, at this rate, you’ll still be here after dark.”

“Please don’t worry. I offer a blessing to Your Grace, who cares so much.”

Because Ren didn’t want a big farewell, only a few people had come to see him off—among them was Talfrin, disguised as a soldier. Internally, Talfrin gagged. ‘This guy turned out pretty unique too.’

Ren still perfectly fit his reputation as someone detached from worldly affairs. Anyone with a shred of faith would probably drop to their knees and start fasting on the spot just from looking at him. But hadn’t he just sent a high noble off to his death the moment he arrived?

Even now, under the guise of concern, he continued to poke at Cledwyn’s nerves.

“Nerys…”

He reached toward her hand again, clearly about to repeat his sentiment of regret. Since it was normal for a priest to bless a follower by holding their hand, Nerys didn’t think much of it.

Someone else did, however.

“Alright, that’s enough. Time to go.”

With a flash of teeth, Cledwyn reached out and grabbed Ren’s hand before he could touch Nerys. Even Ren, usually unflappable, stiffened slightly.

Their eyes clashed sharply for a moment. But then Ren turned back to Nerys and smiled as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll be off now, Nerys. It’s chilly—go inside.”

It wasn’t chilly. But it seemed like Ren’s own way of giving a proper goodbye, so Nerys nodded.

“Thank you for coming. If anything happens, contact us in Maindulante.”

“I will.”

Even if they didn’t get along, Nerys knew both Cledwyn and Ren were people who could cooperate when needed. This situation had been proof enough.

Ren boarded the carriage with visible reluctance. His group really was that small. You could call it austere, or just plain sparse.

‘He probably came with the temple’s blessing. Might even have hidden guards with him.’

Now, Ren Fayel was no longer just the last descendant of a ruined priestly family—he was a highly regarded figure of influence. Every move he made would soon become public discourse.

And this humble image of his would remain in people’s memories far longer than the golden halls of Omnitus ever could.

“Let’s go inside.”

Before Ren’s carriage had even passed the castle gate, Cledwyn linked arms with Nerys and said it just like that. Nerys smiled and agreed.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

And so Ren departed for the Papal States, and she remained.

Each of them moving toward their own goal, in their own place.

❖ ❖ ❖

The northern tower of the White Swan Castle—reserved for high-risk prisoners.

A guard yawned as he stood watch.

It was night. The sky was heavy with clouds, making it hard to see much.

A torch burned at the tower entrance, but it did little against the creeping breath of early winter.

Lots of them will die this year too.

The guard thought indifferently. Prisoners in the north tower couldn’t be allowed to die before receiving authorization, so extra caution was necessary.

Just then, someone approached the guard.

“Hard at work on a cold night, aren’t you?”

A man with a southern accent smiled warmly and rubbed his hands. Behind him stood a hooded figure whose face was hidden.

The guard raised his spear in warning.

“This is a restricted area.”

As if expecting this, the southern man untied a pouch at his waist. It was clearly heavy and packed with something substantial.

Moments later, the two men were inside the tower with the guard’s silent consent.

As the door shut behind them, the hooded man scoffed.

“Third floor, right? That pampered old bastard must be losing his mind locked up in here.”

“Indeed. What do you think, my lord? Could the Maindulante bastards have already…?”

The southern man trailed off, watching Adrian’s reaction. Adrian sneered.

“They won’t kill him easily. He’s probably been tortured, but he’s alive. They’re just scared he’ll talk, so they won’t let anyone near.”

“I see.”

The two passed through the door marked “3” and ascended the spiral staircase. On the third floor, they checked each cell through the bars.

Soon, they arrived at their target. The elderly man sitting slumped on a cot jumped to his feet upon seeing them.

“O-Ohh…!”

From the Marquis of Tipion’s mouth came something between a gasp and a groan. He rushed to the bars and clutched them with both hands.

A knight in the next cell—middle-aged, filthy, clearly imprisoned far longer—stood up as well and addressed the marquis with a clear voice.

“See, Your Excellency? I told you the Empire wouldn’t abandon you. Lord Adrian would never betray you.”

The old man nodded. He had cursed those who betrayed him thousands of times during his torture. Especially Adrian—who had come for him and yet sneered through the entire banquet.

But Adrian was the only one who might still get him out of here. The knight next door had taught him that.

He had been brought to the tower during a past winter trip and imprisoned ever since. Loyal, long by the marquis’s side… but fearing betrayal, the marquis had tried to distance himself from him from the start. Yet they were in adjoining cells, and the knight had remained polite. Slowly, the marquis began to listen.

“What a pitiful sight.”

Adrian clucked his tongue, standing back from the bars. The marquis didn’t even speak—he lacked the strength.

The knight explained in his place.

“He only gets a chunk of bread and one cup of water per day. No rope, no knives, not even forks. They’re very thorough.”

“Hmm. So they’ve removed anything that could be used for suicide?”

Finally, the marquis rasped out words.

“T-That’s right! F-Fools, as if I’d try to k-kill myself! I, Hudis Tipion, wouldn’t g-give in so easily…!”

“Right.”

Adrian clicked his tongue again.

Despite the conversation, he never approached the bars. The marquis suddenly felt something was off. A cold dread.

Adrian looked at him with the greatest sympathy his nature allowed and said,

“You’d have been better off taking your own life.”

The next moment, the marquis saw the knight from the next cell reach through the bars.

In an instant, the knight strangled the feeble old man with cold precision.

As his vision flickered, the marquis thought about what had just happened.

His life had been magnificent. Born to a wealthy and noble family, he had always held power—and worked hard to climb even higher.

Many of his efforts had borne fruit. Most who defied him had been crushed, and his future looked unstoppable.

Who would’ve imagined his end would come in a prison cell, betrayed by a loyal aide?

Unable to even struggle properly, he died. The knight dropped his limp body to the floor.

“You’ve waited long.”

Adrian’s voice was solemn. The knight bowed.

“Not at all.”

“Your lord would be proud.”

“I wanted to report the truth about the gem earlier, but couldn’t find the opening. I have no excuse.”

“It’s fine. She already knows.”

Camille’s informant—Silver Moon.

A member stationed under the Marquis of Tipion had awaited his time. The knight bowed again, sharp and precise.

Adrian smiled in satisfaction.

“Come now. We’ve got higher places to reach.”