Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was a gloomy day with a torrential downpour.

The pounding rain against the ground sounded as sharp and merciless as gunfire. A flimsy umbrella would have been useless in weather this brutal.

And yet, despite the storm, the temple was packed.

Those who had lost family, those suffering lingering injuries from horrific accidents, those fleeing from debts, those who had committed crimes and shamelessly sought absolution, those escaping domestic violence… all of them had gathered here, clinging to the hope of salvation.

“Number 120!”

The priest’s voice boomed as he called the next in line. A man hurried forward, unfolding his crumpled slip of paper. Those with numbers further down the line groaned in frustration.

Most were commoners, and slaves were not an uncommon sight.

In that crowd, Sian stood out. While the destitute gave nothing but their names to claim a number, she handed over a passport and an ID to the priest. A mint green passport from the Principality of Sedin, and a white identity card marking her as high nobility.

The bright colors of those documents caught eyes as they peeked out from beneath her dripping black robe.

“She’s royalty!” Someone cried.

Murmurs spread like wildfire. Nobility appearing here was rare enough, but royalty?

“Silence!”

At once, the priest’s voice cracked like a whip. The desperate, each with their own burden, quickly quieted.

The priest tore off a ticket and handed it to the black-robed royal, Sian.

“I understand your status, but there will be no special treatment here. This is the temple. All are treated equally.”

Meaning: not even royalty would be given privilege here.

“Are you sure about this?” The priest asked once more.

Sian simply nodded as she took the ticket. To her, even the question itself felt like special treatment.

[244]

Her distant place in line made her vision darken.

“Number 121!”

Fifteen minutes after 120, the next number was called.

Sian let out a sigh she couldn’t suppress.

If each person took fifteen minutes, then four people meant one hour. With 123 still ahead of her, that made roughly thirty hours and forty-five minutes. More than a day and eleven hours. And since temple rules forbade activity at night, the wait would stretch to at least three days.

“Ridiculous… this is insane…”

Anxious, she bit her lip and tapped her feet. She had rushed here without an umbrella, soaked to the bone, and had no change of clothes. She had come alone, without even time to pack belongings. All she could do was shiver and cling to her ticket.

Exactly one hour later, Sian Heartperion collapsed. Shaking under her rain soaked robe, fever burning her body, she simply crumpled to the floor.

Unfortunately, it was at that very moment that the High Priest stepped into the temple’s main hall from the entrance corridor.

Priests at first tried to hide the unconscious princess as though sweeping away trash, but when they spotted him, they bowed deeply.

The High Priest! High Priest, grant us salvation!

A few who recognized him shouted in frenzy. The priests moved quickly, pushing back the curious crowd. The temple’s main hall was as noisy as a market square.

And in that chaos, Sian was left lying in the middle of the corridor.

The High Priest, draped in a pristine white robe, walked over to her.

“What is this?”

His tone was as if he were looking at some odd animal at the zoo or a piece of refuse.

There was no warmth in his voice. The supplicants, who had come here in desperation, flinched. To them, denial of the High Priest’s mercy was as good as a death sentence. The temple worked by unanimous decision: if even one High Priest opposed granting salvation, it would not be given.

“I asked what this is.”

“She is the princess of the Principality of Sedin,” A priest blurted breathlessly, rushing over from where he’d been struggling to control the crowd.

“A princess?”

“Yes. We checked her passport and ID. No sign of forgery. Without a doubt, she’s Sedin’s princess.”

The High Priest crouched down.

The hall fell silent at once.

He examined the unconscious princess, then slipped a hand inside her robe.

Gasps and murmurs rose again. The supposedly celibate High Priest was boldly touching a princess. What scandalous entertainment this was.

But all he pulled out were her passport and ID. Straightening, he carefully examined them.

“A real princess, then?”

“Yes, indeed…! Quiet! Silence in the hall!” The priest barked again at the crowd.

Another priest, calmer than the rest, hurried to the High Priest’s side to add:
“We gave her a number as per protocol, but we didn’t expect she would collapse.”

“I see.”

“We’ll bring her to the infirmary immediately.”

“No need. Bring her to my office.”

“What? But is that appropriate?”

“She’s a princess, isn’t she?”

The High Priest chuckled softly, lowering his voice.
“I’ve never seen a princess in such a pitiful state.”

“High Priest! You shouldn’t—”

“Why not?”

“There are many eyes watching…”

“That’s why I whispered.”

With that, still holding her passport and ID, he left. His white robe flowed gracefully, untouched by even a drop of rain.

For a moment, all eyes followed his retreating figure, until at last the crowd broke apart into whispers again. Priests shouted “Silence!” over and over.

Five minutes later, two priests finally carried Sian away.

* * *

Her throat felt as though it had been torn apart. Her head pounded, her whole body ached, her heavy, rain-soaked clothes weighing her down. She could hear the faint drip of water.

What is this place?

Groaning at the discomfort, Sian forced her eyes open. Her vision was blurry, but she realized she was sitting in a hard wooden chair, a desk before her. The realization only made her feel worse.

“What is this… why am I… here…”

Her voice came out raw and broken.

“I told them to heal you properly,” A voice across the desk clicked its tongue. It was a smooth baritone, tinged with the languid tone of a refined noble. Pleasant to the ear.

“Only low ranking priests are here now. They didn’t have the ability to heal her fully.”

“And the higher ones?”

“The Empire took them all away.”

“Ah, for the prince’s illness, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Which means the temple is behind on its work.”

“Then I’ll just heal her myself.”

Heal me? Who? Why? Who is this man?

Her hazy mind reeled.

“Focus,” the man said, tapping her forehead lightly.

A cool touch spread divine power through her. A holy force said to be granted only to those blessed by the gods. The pain consuming her body melted away. Her blurred vision sharpened.

At last, she saw him clearly: ashy gray hair, lashes like silver, and deep, dark eyes beneath them. A breathtaking face.

Am I dreaming? She steadied herself, forcing her dazed mind to meet his gaze.

“Thank you,” she blurted reflexively. It wasn’t the ritual gratitude nobles gave to the gods, but it was a simple, human thanks.

The man leaned his chin onto his interlaced fingers, elbows on the desk, and smiled.

“Why did a princess come here alone?”

She forgot to answer. His face was divine in its perfection, sculpted without flaw. He was more handsome than even the emperor or duke, both famed as the most beautiful men in the empire.

“Stop staring at me and answer,” he teased.

“What did you say?”

“I asked why you came here alone.”

Finally pulling herself together, Sian drew a deep breath, trying to summon a princess’s dignity.

“What happened to me?”

“You collapsed while waiting with your number slip. I felt sorry for you, so I brought you to my office and healed you.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank the gods. This is the temple’s mercy.”

“Yes… I thank the gods,” She said, and he smirked.

“So, why did you come?”

For the third time, he pressed. His persistence forced her to answer calmly:
“Why does anyone come to the temple? For salvation. Or at least for a little help.”

“And what salvation would royalty possibly need?”

His words struck like an accusation. Beneath her robe, Sian clenched her fists. Her lips moved, but she couldn’t say it aloud. Her circumstances weren’t ones to share lightly. She wanted someone trustworthy, someone who could keep her secret.

Someone like the High Priest.

Her eyes took in his details belatedly. The sharp black suit beneath that striking face. Not the robes of a priest.

“Who are you? If you’re not someone I can trust, I won’t speak.”

“Strange, how many conditions you set when you’re the one seeking help.”

His smile faded. He leaned back lazily in his chair, plucking a lighter from the desk. From his breast pocket, he drew a cigarette, flicked the golden lighter, and inhaled deeply. Smoke curled as his gray eyes half lidded in a languid gaze.

He’s no priest.

Certain now, Sian edged back in her seat, eyes wary.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a High Priest of this temple.”

“High Priests wear white robes with golden embroidery.”

“Even High Priests own casual clothes.”

“…”

“If you’d rather, I can go put the robes back on for you.”

Tilting his head, he took another drag of smoke.

That’s no High Priest…

Her brow furrowed. His clothes, his manner, and his irreverence didn’t fit. Even the priest at the entrance had seemed more devout than this man.

“I healed you, and even let you skip the line. And this is the look I get?”

“Well, I can’t just—”

“He really is a High Priest. Rough around the edges, but I’ll vouch for him,” Came a voice at her side. It was the same priest who had given her the ticket earlier.

“Really?” She asked.

“If you doubt him, I’ll just call number 245.”

“…Fine. I’ll believe you. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Good. Go on.”

He smiled kindly.

Sian inhaled deeply again. The acrid smell of tobacco clung to the air, the same scent the duke used to smoke.

Then, hardening her expression, she spoke:

“Help me break off my engagement.”