Chapter 93

Edelis calling him “Lehan” didn’t bother him. Yet deep inside, every time she said that name, a sense of indebtedness toward the girl who had once saved his life tugged at him. He wanted to believe she was living well—but what if she wasn’t? What if the one who had dragged him out of hell was now in trouble herself?

Even as Edelis gradually settled into his heart, he couldn’t help recalling that young girl from the past, and that in turn made him feel guilty toward Edelis. After a moment of hesitation, Lehan rang the bell to summon the chamberlain.

“I want to find someone.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“A girl who lived near the Brill estate eight or nine years ago. She was young back then, so her range of activity wouldn’t have been large. But include anyone who might have relatives nearby.”

He prided himself on his memory, yet strangely, his recollections of that girl were blurred. Her appearance, their conversations, even the memories leading up to his transfer to the Grand Duke’s mansion—all vague.

“She had enough money to buy a gladiator. And since my life would have ended without a doctor, her family must have had access to one. That means she wasn’t a commoner.”

“Yes, understood.”

“She should be at least twenty-one by now. I don’t know her exact age, so investigate everyone under thirty.”

“Any other features you recall?”

“…Not really. Nothing comes to mind.”

When he tried to remember, his head ached, preventing him from thinking further.

“And if we do find her?”

The chamberlain knew the Emperor had once been a gladiator, so he asked cautiously. Should the girl be dragged in, or respectfully invited? Of course, background checks and reports would be the first step regardless.

“…See if she’s facing any hardship.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“If she is, support her. Quietly, discreetly, but thoroughly.”

“Understood!”

Once the chamberlain departed with the order, Lehan felt lighter. She had saved his life; it was only right to ensure she lived the rest of hers without difficulty. Once that debt was repaid, he intended to turn his full attention to his wife at his side.

How is she now? She was older than me—surely she’s married by now. Is she living happily? She was kind enough to care about a worthless gladiator… is she being exploited somewhere instead?

He resolved to think of her only until he could confirm her wellbeing. After that, he would put her memory to rest.

***

In the Saintess’s chamber, an unfamiliar knock came at last. She had summoned a priest long ago, and only now did the sound reach her ears. Irritated, she snapped,

“What took you so long!”

“It’s me, Saintess.”

The priest who entered was Lorenz, the man who held the closest position to her in the Holy Empire. He was the one openly opposing the Pope, robbed of his “supreme” authority by the Saintess, and often whispered about being the next Pope.

“I’ve been waiting forever! Why only now?”

“My apologies. I was receiving reports from the priests about recent matters.”

“Oh, right—the priests. Why haven’t they come? I summoned them ages ago!”

That very issue plagued the High Priest and those assisting her. The Saintess drained their divine power so aggressively that no one wanted to approach her anymore. At first, everyone had scrambled to serve her—after all, a Saintess appeared only once in centuries. But with her, a single misstep could mean losing every drop of divine power. And without divine power, a priest ceased to be a priest, and leaving the temple became inevitable. Outside the temple, stripped of all purpose, only misfortune awaited.

“For what purpose do you need the priests, Saintess?”

“I need divine power. A great deal of it.”

She mumbled words so softly that Lorenz barely caught them. More. Longer. That seemed to be what she said, but he had no time to question further. He already knew—if the Saintess continued like this, it would cast a shadow on his own future. He had been building power in the Holy Empire, aiming for the Papacy, but he hadn’t foreseen her taking this turn.

“Saintess, do you know what the priests are saying now?”

“Does that matter?”

“…Wait until they recover their strength. Then receive divine power again.”

“No! By then I’ll need even more than I do now. Do you think a handful of low-ranking priests will be enough?”

“…What exactly are you planning to do?”

Her lips sealed tight. Lorenz’s mind raced faster. He had no other option left but to support her. If he abandoned her now, he would lose everything.

“I’ll gather the power and resolve it completely. I’ll tell you then.”

“If you continue like this, it will only become harder to gather power.”

“Why! I am the Saintess!”

Obeying the Saintess was natural—when one was a priest. But none were willing to risk losing their very position. Those who had already been drained had left the temple long ago.

“…Lorenz, you’re a high priest, aren’t you?”

‘What is she saying?’ he thought. ‘Me? The man destined to be Pope?’ Panic and calculation warred in his mind. If he gave her his power, was there still a way to ascend?

“…Ah. Saintess, I do have an idea.”

“What is it?”

A sly smile spread across his face, sharply at odds with his immaculate white robes.

“I am merely a high priest, after all.”

She scoffed; there weren’t many of them.

“No matter how much divine power I have, it’s nothing compared to yours.”

“So?”

“There is one person who meddles in all your affairs… and who holds greater power than any of us.”

There was indeed only one such man.

“The one with the most divine power in the Holy Empire.”

The Pope.

“Can you manage that?”

If this succeeded, the Saintess would replenish her strength, and he would ride her coattails straight to the Papal throne. He could avoid expulsion, avoid ruin, and instead claim the highest seat of all. Wasn’t it worth the risk?

“Leave it to me.”

***

The chamberlain returned to Lehan with documents retrieved from the gladiator arena: accounting ledgers, purchase and death records. With an imperial edict in hand, the arena had no choice but to comply, though not without grumbling.

“As soon as I relayed Your Majesty’s intent to visit personally should they refuse, they surrendered the documents at once.”

“As expected.”

Of course they would. If a man who had once survived their arena with only a sword now approached them as Emperor, their fear was inevitable. Still, Lehan had no desire for petty vengeance; he had enough on his plate already. He spread the documents open.

The records listed purchases, deaths, and sales, with names of both buyers and deceased. Next to the name “Lehan” was written, in stark simplicity: Deceased.

If not for that girl, it truly would have been the end. Gratitude welled in him again—without survival, there could have been no throne, no vengeance, no repayment.

He turned to the ledgers, searching for entries from the date he had been marked dead. If she had bought him, her name must appear there.

“Laurelei, Arden, Kurf, Rodenhart, Pantheon, Lionel… Brill?”

Among the minor nobles listed was the Brill family.

“I don’t recall hearing that the Brills purchased a gladiator.”

“Such matters are usually kept discreet, lest suspicion arise.”

“True enough.”

Even he, had someone brought a gladiator into their private retinue, would have immediately suspected ulterior motives.

“And here are the investigative reports on the six families, including Laurelei.”

The chamberlain handed him another dossier, detailing their wealth, daughters’ ages, and backgrounds.

“According to Your Majesty’s conditions, the Laurelei, Rodenhart, and Brill families fit.”

“…Brill.”

The only daughter of the Brill family was none other than Edelis Cronad—his wife. She was a count’s daughter, a little older than him. In hindsight, it was odd her name hadn’t stood out immediately.

“Investigate the daughters of Laurelei and Rodenhart more thoroughly.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. And the Empress?”

“…I’ll ask her myself.”

Lehan rose at once and headed for the Ruby Palace where Edelis resided. When she heard he was coming, she hurried to greet him.

“…Don’t tell me you came in person just to deliver a letter?”

“I should have. I came in such haste I forgot to write one.”

“And besides, I don’t think you’d have much to write in reply anyway.”

Her teasing laugh was light, but he was visibly tense.

“Did something happen?”

“No. I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

Did you ever buy a gladiator?

No, that sounded too accusatory—too close to asking if she’d plotted treason. Her father, Joerne Brill, had indeed risen from count to marquis thanks to the coup, but it was still an impertinent question.

Have you ever been to the arena?

That wasn’t quite right either. Most spectators were jaded, older nobles with nothing better to do. If young Edelis had gone and found pleasure in the bloodshed, he didn’t want to know.

“In reviewing the arena documents, I found mention of the Brill family.”

He chose his words carefully, so as not to be misunderstood. Edelis answered lightly.

“Oh, that was probably me. I know Father never went.”

“Really? And what did you do there?”

“What else? Watched a match or two, then brought a gladiator home.”

She said it casually, as though it were no more than another of her whims. Lehan, however, froze. It was his turn to ask—Which gladiator?

He thought it impossible. Surely not. Edelis Cronad, whom he had treated so coldly, couldn’t be the very girl he had been searching for all along.

But as he looked at her, the fog clouding his memory began, at last, to clear.