Chapter 74

Nerys looked around her room.

It would be the room she would stay in for the next five years. In her previous life, she had remained here much longer, and that had eventually become the seed of tragedy—but not this time.

This time, she would leave before anyone found an excuse to use her.

The quiet corners of the room felt familiar, yet in some ways, unfamiliar too.

She had stayed in this very room for a long time in her previous life, so of course it was familiar—but back then, she had been a true child, unable to keep the place tidy like she could now.

And back then, there hadn’t been books from the upperclass curriculum or the clothes Diane had given her, all now neatly stored here and there.

The days Nerys would spend in the Academy from now on would be like that too. Though they might be experiences she had gone through once before, she would respond differently—and add something new.

And once those five years were over—

‘I’ll begin a completely different life.’

Valentin wouldn’t be able to touch her for a while. Nellusion wouldn’t allow it.

Why else had she gone through the disgust of acting like a good child for Nellusion all this time?

Even after Nellusion graduated, it wouldn’t change. There were more than enough ways to make sure whatever happened at the Academy would reach his ears.

The same went for Megara. Over the past year, Nerys had learned something astonishing during her time at school.

No matter how hard Megara tried to humiliate her, all it took was one friend on her side to completely dull the impact of it.

In her previous life, Nerys had been utterly alone because no one ever said what was happening to her was wrong. There were some who participated less in the bullying, but no one was completely innocent.

Aidalia was the prime example. She believed the bullied child was pitiful, but claimed she herself was even more pitiful for turning a blind eye.

Or Alecto—who lashed out however she pleased, dumping her own insecurities onto others and then conveniently forgetting she ever did.

Did they truly hate Nerys as a person?

Probably not.

What about Rhiannon? She’d promised a sincere friendship, only to betray her—and when she didn’t want anyone to find out what she’d done, she pinned all the blame on Nerys. Did she ever reflect on who she had become?

Angharad? Terrified of being the weakest in class, she eagerly helped the others create a new victim.

Did they really hate Nerys?

No. Most likely not.

Her classmates treated Nerys like an object. Because everyone else did. Because they quickly learned that acting that way gave them a pleasant sense of superiority.

It was that complete indifference to another person’s inner self… That, more than anything, was the true nature of the long, drawn-out years of bullying—pushing the victim to eventually forget their own worth.

So if even one person treated Nerys like a human being, the bullying became far less important—reduced to just a “behavior” rather than something that defined her.

If Valentin and Megara couldn’t move carelessly, then time was on Nerys’s side.

Starting next year, Rob would produce the herbs and Joan would sell them. She no longer needed to worry about her mother’s safety, and no more spies disguised as maids would come.

Ren Fayel would also be graduating this year. Nerys didn’t know what would become of him. In her previous life, Ren had died young and that was the end of it.

But though she had spared him on a whim, she had a strange feeling he would become someone of great significance in the future.

Abelus, Natasha, the royals… They were the same as Nellusion. At the moment, they were protected by the impenetrable armor of their noble houses.

To drive a blade through them, that armor had to come off. She didn’t yet have a way now—but in five years, that would change.

So Nerys Truydd simply had to wait. Quietly. While sharpening her blade.

So she decided to do just that.

* * *

“Is this acceptable?”

At Priest Adams’s question, Ren set down the paper he’d been holding.

An appointment letter, framed in golden ink against ivory parchment.

The kind of fateful document that graduating students of the Theology Department would burn their eyes over, desperate to begin in the best position possible.

Once assigned, it was nearly impossible to leave a parish for the rest of one’s life. Which meant the more profitable parishes were hotly contested.

“Nearly” impossible, of course, left room for exceptions.

The name on Ren’s appointment letter was a rural village, far removed from any large city.

A satisfied smile spread across Ren’s delicately lovely face.

“This is exactly what I wanted. Thank you.”

Priest Adams frowned.

He knew well that the boy before him was no angel, despite his appearance. Angels didn’t manipulate others into killing their enemies with their own hands.

Pope Omnitus had killed Dogon, the servant who first suggested Pezaltzo to Ren. All it took was the slightest whisper of suspicion.

Next had been Priest Birk, who had subtly encouraged Ren’s recklessness in hopes of disappointing the remaining supporters of House Fayel.

Once Dogon was dead, Omnitus had lost track of Ren’s activities. But then came a letter—a message Ren had allowed to slip through, disguised as correspondence to the head of the Theology Department.

‘Turns out Priest Birk was favored by the former Pope Tacitus. I really appreciated the hint to cut off the Pezaltzo.’

‘He always seemed kind, but thinking back, even his strictness must have been for my own good.’

Omnitus, already wondering why Ren had so suddenly quit the Pezaltzo, dismissed Birk.

And Ren hadn’t lifted a single finger to make it happen.

That cold precision. The way he used a few sly words to make his enemy sever their own limbs. His quick thinking. His thoroughness in leaving no mess behind.

The more Adams watched, the more satisfied he was with his choice. Still, Ren’s methods differed greatly from his own rigid ways—and that made them difficult to understand.

This time was no different.

There were two paths Ren could take to survive.

He could completely hide himself and avoid attention, or he could expose himself entirely and win while standing at the center of everyone’s focus.

Until now, Priest Adams had assumed Ren was choosing the latter. He had started diligently attending advanced theology classes he’d previously ignored, and hadn’t skipped a single session of scripture reading during breaks—when he’d once been known for disappearing.

And then suddenly, just like this, he wanted to be assigned to some tiny parish no one else even wanted?

“You look confused.”

Ren, reading Priest Adams’s expression instantly, smiled lazily. Adams didn’t deny it and gave a small nod.

“Yes. What could you possibly do in a place like that?”

“That’s not the right question.”

Ren lifted his right index finger and tilted it side to side. His mischievous eyes sparkled with deeper meaning.

“You should ask, ‘What is it I can’t do there?’”

“Excuse me?”

Priest Adams paused, trying to guess what he had missed in this situation. But no matter how long he thought about it, nothing came to mind.

Ren chuckled softly. He didn’t know exactly what Priest Adams expected of him—but he could sense that there was a great rage burning deep inside the rigid priest’s heart.

A rage so immense, it would drive someone to stake their entire life just to shake the current order.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? How quickly people forget. Even names they called out a hundred times yesterday—today they pretend they don’t even know them.”

The long prelude, intended to pique Adams’s curiosity, was also Ren’s own story.

He regretted the years he had wasted, unable to accept the fall of House Fayel.

A brief bitterness passed over the boy’s charming face.

“When my brother was elected Pope, there were a few who helped him a great deal. One of them used to dote on me when I was young. But after a disgraceful incident, he returned to secular life and vanished. Still, he must be living in peace somewhere—he has many loyal followers.”

By the time Ren finished speaking, Adams’s expression had shifted to one of disbelief. He blinked several times and opened his mouth without saying a word.

So much political strife had followed Omnitus’s ascent to the papacy. So many figures had disappeared—not just from the Holy See, but from the world altogether. That was why he had forgotten the prominent figures of the previous generation.

At the beginning of the former Pope’s reign, a fierce dispute had broken out within the Holy See over doctrinal interpretation.

Adams no longer even remembered what exactly the debate had been about—it was so trivial—but it had split the clergy in two.

Naturally, it had been nothing more than a political power struggle disguised as a theological disagreement.

To quell the uproar, one man had stepped down as a gesture—a figure so respected that, regardless of politics, many priests paused their heresy declarations and showed him reverence instead.

And with that, they quickly fell in line with the new Pope’s order.

Current Pope Omnitus had been among the few who did not.

Ren, seeing Adams’s face, nodded.

“That man’s hometown is here. He told me so when I was a child.”

Ren Fayel had no noble house, no wealth, no influence among the clergy.

And yet, for a boy like him to survive—

That man was the key.

* * *

“It’s registered.”

At his subordinate’s disgruntled tone, Cledwyn raised a brow.

“You don’t like it?”

“How could I dislike something our precious Master wants?”

“Sounds like complaining to me, Talfrin.”

The man sitting in the corner of the small chamber, Talfrin, made a short, strange noise. Cledwyn thought it sounded like a scoff.

Most masters might have been outraged by such a tone from a subordinate.

“You told me before, when you first took me in, that complaining was my right.”

“Did I ever say you couldn’t?”

‘Strange’—it was a rare word, but it perfectly described Cledwyn Maindulante’s subordinates. To lead people like that, respecting individuality was essential.

Leaning against the wall, Talfrin mumbled,

“I’ve adjusted the library chair to recognize Miss Truydd’s mana. Even if you’re gone, as long as your timings match, you’ll be able to speak with her. But… you’re really not taking her with you? She could be an asset.”

“For what?”

What do you mean, for what? Talfrin narrowed his eyes behind his monocle.

“Weren’t you worried about leaving her behind?”

Cledwyn’s subordinates weren’t many in number, but they were elite—and they missed nothing happening across the Academy. That’s how Cledwyn knew everything Nerys had done.

Which meant, by extension, he was aware of what others had tried to do to her as well.

Like it or not, that girl couldn’t live quietly. There was no shortage of people who resented her.

So from Talfrin’s perspective, it would have been a perfectly sound decision to leave the school before things escalated further.

Granted, most of the nasty underclass brats wouldn’t be able to move freely for a while.

But when it came to truly dealing with someone they didn’t like, kids always had simpler, more direct methods than tricks or schemes.

If someone really wanted to, all it took was hiring a mercenary—and a small girl could disappear from the world just like that.

Then Cledwyn mentioned another name—someone else in the hidden chamber.

“Aidan will stay.”

If Joseph was Nellusion’s right hand and playmate, Aidan was Cledwyn’s most trusted aide. Maybe not as brilliant as Cledwyn, but still worthy of the title ‘genius.’

Leaving such a capable subordinate at a mere school? For someone about to walk into enemy territory, that didn’t seem like the move to make. Talfrin genuinely thought so. But what could he do?

“Yes.”

If that’s what he decided. And his young master was someone who never took back what he said.

Cledwyn leaned into the back of his chair, falling deep into thought.

Nerys would do well in the rest of her school life. If she faced something truly difficult, he’d step in—but even as a powerless first-year, she’d managed to outmatch her arrogant peers.

So what he needed to focus on wasn’t the social dynamics of children.

He had to return.

Return and show those filthy bastards who the real master was. And by the time the girl from Ja’an graduated—

She would have a place where she could be safe.

End of Part 1