The Weight of Old Grudges
As he walked down the corridor, Alexandro encountered a pair of priests.
“If it isn’t His Grace the Duke of Addis. It has been a long time. May the blessings of the gods be with you.”
One priest was exceedingly polite.
“I truly did not expect to see you here, Your Grace.”
The other priest spoke with open mockery.
His colleague grabbed his arm as if to restrain him, but the man paid no heed.
“Have you not kept your distance from the Great Temple all this time? Naturally, I assumed we would not have the honor of seeing you this time either.”
“Priest Crion, restrain yourself.”
“Why should I, Priest Aile? I am simply surprised to see someone who has never once associated with the Great Temple after so long.”
Yet Alexandro did not even spare them a glance. He simply continued walking.
Or rather, he tried to.
“Ah, or perhaps it is because of your lovely daughter. Was it Duchess Canna Valentino? I really must pay her a visit and offer my greetings while I have the chance.”
Priest Crion smiled at Alexandro, who had stopped abruptly beside him.
“She must be truly precious if she can make the Duke of Addis cooperate with the Great Temple. Surely she is…”
His words trailed off. Alexandro had suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder.
Before Crion could even register the surprise of the sudden contact—
“…!”
Alexandro shoved him violently.
Bang! Crion’s body slammed into the wall. A spiderweb of cracks spread across the surface as the priest’s shoulder twisted at an unnatural angle.
“Duke Addis! What is the meaning of this!”
Priest Aile cried out, catching the now-unconscious Crion.
“How dare you raise your hand against a priest who serves the gods! This is blasphemy! Do you think the Great Temple will tolerate such an act?”
“Blasphemy?”
Alexandro repeated the word in a bored tone.
“I look forward to seeing what divine punishment the gods will bestow.”
“…!”
While Aile stood speechless, Alexandro walked past them without another word. The priest’s fists trembled as he glared murderously at the duke’s retreating back.
Assaulting a priest was indeed blasphemy—an offense that warranted burning at the stake. Yet Alexandro showed not the slightest hesitation.
“That arrogant bastard…”
In the end, Aile clicked his tongue and chose to scold his colleague instead.
Unless the Great Temple wished to go to war with the head of House Addis, the matter would likely end with nothing more than a fine.
“Priest Crion, why on earth did you provoke the duke?”
Not that he couldn’t understand the impulse. After all, Alexandro Addis was practically an enemy of the Great Temple.
Only a few of the highest-ranking priests—including Aile and Crion—knew the truth: Alexandro Addis and the Great Temple had been at odds for a very long time.
The reason was Canna—Alexandro’s eldest daughter.
When Canna was born, the Great Temple had demanded her.
Rumors had spread that she was the child of a Black Apostle, and they had stepped forward to verify the claim themselves.
But Alexandro refused. Undeterred, the Great Temple dispatched dozens of enforcers.
Enforcers.
They were priests trained exclusively for combat. A singular organization with the authority to carry out immediate executions in the name of the gods, regardless of the target’s status—even if they were nobility.
However.
‘Every last one of those enforcers went missing.’
Not a single one returned.
And their severed heads were delivered to the Great Temple.
Everyone knew who was responsible.
Yet no one dared speak the name aloud. The killer had left behind no evidence whatsoever.
Only suspicion remained.
After losing dozens of enforcers, the Great Temple never demanded Canna again.
More precisely, they couldn’t.
‘So why would that lunatic go and poke the mad dog?’
He probably never imagined the noble duke would swing his fists like a common thug.
Priest Aile clicked his tongue again and helped the unconscious Crion to his feet.
“What?”
Kallen glared at the servant who had just entered his room.
“What did you just say?”
“Lady Rachel Dale… has committed suicide.”
The shocking news made Kallen frown. But that wasn’t what he had asked.
“Besides that.”
“Ah, yes. And Sir Jerome, who served as her escort knight, has escaped from prison.”
“And the high priest has also disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“…Leave me.”
Once the servant was gone, Kallen leaned back deeply in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
Suicide. Prison break. Disappearance.
All three happening at once?
Kallen was not a man who believed in coincidence.
‘Someone is pulling strings.’
High Priest Carleon was a free man; he could leave whenever he wished. So he was secondary.
But Jerome—that knight had been locked up.
Kallen recalled his face. The impression was faint, but thanks to his excellent memory, he could picture it clearly.
‘He was an unpleasant fellow.’
After the Purification Ceremony, Kallen had heard the full story from Claude. The way Jerome had disrespected Canna was so appalling that it made his blood boil.
He had scolded Claude for not cutting the man’s tongue out at the very least.
Claude had looked strangely wronged.
‘So that arrogant bastard has vanished.’
A knight who deserved death for daring to insult his sister.
Kallen thought of Canna.
How difficult must it have been for her? The mere thought of the hardships she had endured made his heart sink heavily.
Come to think of it…
Father had summoned her earlier. What could they have talked about? Father would never have said anything kind to her.
‘Is Sister all right?’
The moment the thought crossed his mind, his body moved on its own. Kallen shot up from his chair and strode toward Canna’s room.
“Sister, it’s Kallen.”
Knock, knock. He rapped on the door.
“Canna, Sister.”
There was no answer.
She was clearly inside—why wasn’t she responding? Kallen could sense her presence distinctly through the door.
“Sister, are you there?”
Still no reply. It seemed she did not wish to see him.
“…”
There was nothing he could do.
Kallen turned to leave. If his sister did not want to meet him, he would simply come back another time.
But after only a few steps, his body turned around of its own accord. He strode back the way he had come.
He grasped the doorknob.
“Sister, forgive my intrusion. I’m coming in.”
He spoke briefly at the door, then counted five seconds. He was giving her time to prepare herself.
When he opened the door, sure enough—
Canna was sitting blankly on the bed.
“Sister?”
Her complexion looked far from normal.
“Sister, are you all right?”
Kallen knelt on one knee in front of her, gazing up with concern.
Only then did Canna’s eyes slowly shift toward him.
The moment their eyes met, Kallen was taken aback. Canna’s gaze was stained with irritation and utter weariness.
Just like before—back when they had not yet reconciled.
“It’s you, Kallen.”
But the moment she blinked, Canna was smiling. It was the same breathtakingly beautiful smile as always.
“What brings you here, Kallen?”
“…I was worried, so I came to see you.”
Kallen barely managed to speak.
“Even though you did not answer, I took the liberty of entering. Please forgive me.”
“Ah. Really? You knocked? I didn’t notice.”
“…You didn’t notice?”
That couldn’t be.
He had knocked multiple times. He had called her name. How could she not have noticed?
‘Why is Sister lying?’
The moment a fierce doubt surged within him—
Canna’s fingertips suddenly reached out.
At that approach, everything about Kallen came to a halt.
His breathing. His thoughts.
He held his breath quietly. Her white fingers descended onto his hair like a butterfly.
“I must have been lost in thought and didn’t hear you. It happens sometimes.”
Down, then up again. Down, then up.
The gentle warmth stroking his hair brought Kallen a strange helplessness, as if something deep inside his mind was melting. It was a sweetly intoxicating defeat.
“I see.”
“Yes. You came because you were worried about me. Kallen, you really are kind.”
“Yes. I am kind.”
Kallen answered absentmindedly, barely aware of what he was saying.
“So what did you come for?”
Canna quickly withdrew her hand. Kallen stared at it with lingering regret as he spoke.
“Father called for you earlier, didn’t he? I was worried, so I came.”
“Ah. That?”
Canna laughed as if it were nothing.
“It was no big deal.”
She smiled, but inside she was thoroughly annoyed.
‘Annoying brat. I almost let my true feelings show.’
She had been deeply pondering the Korean words her father had left her when this boy interrupted.
That was why she had unconsciously looked at him with irritation. Kallen must have clearly felt that hostility.
‘Poor Kallen. A few strokes of his hair and he’s forgotten everything.’
It was both pitiful and pathetic.
Canna discarded her shallow sympathy and changed the subject.
“By the way, what do you plan to do about Lady Rachel?”
“Ah. That woman.”
Kallen spoke with perfect indifference.
“She committed suicide.”