Chapter 178

Aidalia Kendall’s life was perfect—until she turned about twelve.

Her father, Marquis Kendall, was a highly respected noble who adored his daughter. She grew up among the children of other great houses and was always praised for being kind.

But that perfect life fell apart shortly after she entered the academy.

The cause was complicated. Or rather, not complicated at all.

She had been sacrificed—dragged into the schemes of children with far crueler natures than hers.

Megara Lykeandros, who had always seemed like someone who’d take responsibility for anything as long as you lent her a servant, shifted all the blame onto Aidalia when her scheme risked exposure. Looking back, it had been Nerys Truydd who pushed Megara into doing so.

Nerys Truydd. A small, poor girl from a lowly family. She had barely scraped her way into the academy by borrowing money from relatives.

Even now, as a graduating senior, Aidalia couldn’t imagine being as cunning as Nerys had been. That kind of guile must only come naturally to those born with the whispers of devils in their ears—those base and sly from birth.

After Megara’s betrayal, Aidalia was ostracized and eventually forced to transfer to the theology department. She had once dreamed of excelling in the music department and later gaining fame in high society as a noble lady with a talent for music—but those plans had to be rewritten.

Now, she was known as a noble lady with exceptional piety.

Marquis Kendall had been quietly disappointed that his daughter failed to adapt at school. He sometimes hinted that his strained relationship with Marquis Lykeandros was because of her. For Aidalia, who had done nothing but trust her friend, it was deeply unjust.

This semester, Aidalia had come to study abroad in the Papal State of Ullevis.

The theology department offered a program where students could study for a semester or two in sacred places like the Papal State. Aidalia, who had no intention of becoming a priest after graduation, had only come because it was her father’s will.

He believed something was stirring in the Papal State—and sent her to observe it firsthand, to serve as the family’s eyes and ears.

And because he worried that his gentle daughter might not handle it alone, he assigned her a shrewd maid.

Heather Rayling was remarkably well-educated for a commoner. Her father had been imprisoned for some crime, and she had drifted around until she landed in Marquis Kendall’s territory. Clever and skilled at winning favor, she’d somehow risen to become Aidalia’s personal maid.

The Marquis knew exactly what crime Heather’s father had committed and how she ended up in his territory—but Aidalia didn’t. In fact, she had only recently learned that Heather even knew Nerys.

“I heard Nerys was arrested in Maindulante for murder. I didn’t believe it at first—it sounded so ridiculous…”

Aidalia murmured blankly, a storm roiling in her chest.

It was absurd. Nerys? That girl? Becoming duchess?

A high-ranking criminal charged with murder?

Even if being charged and being sentenced were two different things, Aidalia was convinced that Nerys was the type to kill someone without hesitation.

“But it really said so, my lady. It looked like a letter from the imperial family. They were asking to have her sent back in custody…”

It was impressive that Heather had seen so much while only picking up the letter for a second. Aidalia looked at her with wary eyes.

This sort of talent was what had earned Heather the Marquis’s trust, despite her origins. She always delivered every whisper of gossip back to the household.

“Then His Holiness wouldn’t want to marry her off—he’d want to separate her from His Grace.”

“Who knows? If the imperial family offers more money, he’ll follow their will. If the duke offers more, he’ll marry them.”

Heather understood exactly how the pope operated. Aidalia grimaced at how crude the talk of money sounded.

“Anyway, this is a huge opportunity, my lady.”

“What opportunity?”

“A chance to impress His Holiness. Imagine how pleased he’d be if we handed over a wanted criminal the imperial family is after! It’s like handing him a pile of money.”

“He might still marry her off…”

“Oh, come on. Even if he does, it doesn’t matter. If we have the bride, the groom will be desperate and offer even more money. Don’t you see? She ‘is’ money.”

Heather couldn’t believe how dim Aidalia was about such basic logic.

Aidalia found her words terribly vulgar. Even if Nerys was wicked and marrying someone completely unfit for her, it didn’t make sense for a noble lady like Aidalia to personally drag her in.

Noticing her hesitation, Heather sidled up with a sweet smile.

“My lady, think about it. This is for the good of the family. Honestly, how much more can the Marquis afford to pay? He can’t take from your dowry.”

That word—’dowry’—snapped Aidalia back to her senses. Dowry… of course it was important. A woman with no dowry could be rejected, even if her status was higher than the groom’s.

And the man she’d admired for so long—Nellusion—certainly outranked the daughter of Marquis Kendall.

Seeing the change in her eyes, Heather chuckled softly.

“It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong. We’re loyal servants of the imperial family, helping them apprehend a wanted criminal. It’s difficult work—but that’s why only good people take it on.”

❖ ❖ ❖

Nerys found life at the temple rather pleasant.

Waking up early to pray with the neighborhood believers and taking a stroll through the courtyard brought her a strange sense of peace. The crisp, solemn air of a building built for worship seemed to have a calming effect, even on someone like her who lacked deep faith.

Cledwyn, who now accompanied her during prayer and walks, looked satisfied whenever he saw her serene face.

“Should we dig this up and plant it in White Swan Castle’s garden?”

To anyone listening, it would’ve sounded like a conversation about a fairy statue in a private garden—not a centuries-old sacred temple. Nerys ignored the comment—it was too ridiculous.

Despite enjoying the temple stay, the lack of news regarding their marriage approval was frustrating. Coming all the way to Ullevis unexpectedly and lingering here felt like a waste of time.

The ever-busy Duke of Bistor, on the other hand, strolled in the sunlight with Nerys in the courtyard as if he had not a single care in the world.

When the “few days” Ren had initially mentioned stretched past another two, Nerys found him alone and stormed into the prayer room.

“Senior, what exactly are you scheming?”

Ren was wearing the same pristine white robes he usually wore. Kneeling in prayer, he rose slowly with a serene smile, unbothered by her intrusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve heard what the laypeople are saying. That the pope is acting strangely. That he’s growing pale and lashing out at even his closest advisors.”

“I told you that already. He’s been irritable lately.”

There was no trace of reverence in their discussion about the pope, but neither seemed to care.

‘Right.’

He pretended to be humble and kind—but there was no way Ren had just matured into a charming adult. He was clearly after something.

And apparently, becoming a cardinal wasn’t the end of it.

“It’s not strange that you know the pope’s condition. But it ‘is’ strange that the laypeople do—especially when it’s something bad. The pope’s closest aides would hide his instability from the public at all costs. Especially with someone like you—his biggest political threat—in Ullevis.”

“He nearly blinded his treasurer by throwing a candlestick at him. Anyone would gossip after that. People around here ‘love’ gossip.”

“So, he wasn’t sent his usual favorites lately?”

Ren, who had been speaking casually, fell silent. He smiled knowingly, as if Nerys had passed a test.

That smile was her answer.

Nerys sighed. Just as she thought.

That ‘Fezaltzo’ he used to chew on when they first met at the academy—he had likely arranged to send it to Omnitus. And now, as a cardinal, finding a way to get it delivered wouldn’t have been difficult.

While Fezaltzo had medicinal uses as a sedative, it was also highly toxic and addictive. It wasn’t surprising for an addict to become more agitated and irritable over time.

“Nerys, sit.”

Ren pulled over a chair from the corner of the prayer room and gently seated her in it. Then, he knelt on the floor and looked up at her.

It was not a posture befitting a cardinal before a minor noble.

Rather, it was something one would do before a being they revered like a god… and at that realization, Nerys froze momentarily.

“There’s no need for unnecessary thoughts. Just ignore whatever anyone says. It won’t be long now.”

“You’re planning to kill him.”

“If I don’t, he’ll kill me.”

In Ren’s eyes, there was deep sincerity. And unmistakable faith—and affection.

Nerys stared at him in stunned silence.

A cardinal should not be looking at ‘her’ that way.

A priest should only look at ‘God’ as the object of his devotion.

Something was seriously wrong. Nerys suddenly felt the weight of the ring on her left hand grow heavier. She couldn’t offer any sort of emotional reciprocation to someone like Ren.

He didn’t miss the confusion that flickered across her usually composed face. His gaze was filled with awe and adoration.

“Now that you understand, I’ll say this too. Send that cocky junior back to his land. He has heirs and responsibilities waiting. His future is a thorny road that stretches up to the heavens. But you don’t have to be part of it.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why? Do you love him?”

Nerys’s eyes trembled visibly. Seeing that, Ren’s face twisted with pain. (T/N : I feel bad for Ren…)

He spoke quickly—like he’d rather acknowledge it himself than hear it from her.

“You do love him.”

“…Even if I don’t love him, please don’t say that, senior. I pity him. And this marriage—we both need it.”

“No way. Whatever excuse he gave, he only wanted to possess you. Do you know what kind of look he gives when I talk to you? I swear, I can’t stand him. I don’t think he can protect you.”

But words like that meant nothing now. Nerys gently closed her eyes.

They shouldn’t talk any longer. Her heart would only soften. Like it had for that lonely, unstable boy she once couldn’t bring herself to abandon.

If she couldn’t give him anything, she couldn’t leave him with hope either.

“Stop. I’m not a child anymore, senior. If you don’t plan to help with our marriage, then at least don’t get in the way. I truly appreciate everything you’ve done until now—but this is something I’ve thought deeply about.”

When she opened her eyes, they both knew instinctively: any further words would only lead to arguing.

Nerys rose from the chair. Just then, someone knocked on the prayer room door.

“Who is it?”

Ren masked his tone with gentle warmth—but anyone who knew him would hear the edge of irritation.

Father Adams’s heavy voice answered from beyond the door.

“Miss Truydd, you have a visitor. They say they’re an old classmate from the academy.”