Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was an unexpected question… no, more like an unexpected favor.

Sian stared at him with wide eyes.

Lose, and she would learn his name. Win, and she would learn not only his name but his title as well. It was a wager where Sian had nothing to lose.

Is he mocking me, or showing me mercy?

“What are you thinking?” He asked.

“Why don’t you try guessing?”

He turned over the first card in front of him.

[3]

A low number.

Without hesitation, he flipped another.

[6]

The total was only 9. Not even double digits.

“Your turn, Sister.”

Despite his poor draw, he showed no hint of agitation. After all, the game favored him if Sian won. Calmly, he announced her turn, unconcerned. There was nothing serious at stake anyway.

But the same was true for Sian. Win or lose, she would still learn his name. She had nothing to risk. Without a trace of hesitation, she revealed two cards in succession.

[5], [1]

A total of 6.

She had lost.

She had lost with a lower number to a man for whom losing would have been to his advantage. Still dazed, she stared at the pitiful cards in front of her. He glanced at them, then chuckled softly.

“Fortunate, it seems.”

“I suppose so.” She muttered without thinking.

With a faint smile, he slid his [3] and [6] cards to the edge of the table. Then he extended his hand, as though offering a handshake.

“I am Actarachion Jerdin, Margrave of the Empire’s western border and head of House Jerdin.”

The answer flowed smoothly from his lips.

Caught off guard, Sian accepted his hand. Long fingers curled lightly around hers, his palm warm against her own. Though his grip was not tight, the weight of it carried an oppressive pressure. Perhaps it was the sheer weight of the title she had just learned. Her voice was tight as she asked,

“How does a Margrave come to serve as High Priest in the temple…?”

“Is that your next question?”

The handshake ended as quickly as it began, his hand slipping away first, as decisively as he had offered it. He gave and took with equal control, always setting the terms.

As Sian awkwardly withdrew her hand, he calmly drew two more cards and placed them down, as though entirely focused on the game itself.

Feeling oddly self conscious, Sian rubbed the edge of the table and then tried calling him by his newly revealed name.

“High Priest Jerdin.”

“Just High Priest will do.”

He had revealed both his name and his title, only to suggest an address that sounded even more distant. If that was the case, why bother offering so much information?

A Margrave, the head of a great house, serving as a High Priest bound by vows of chastity? None of it made sense. House Jerdin was no obscure family. Quite the opposite; they were well known and respected throughout the Empire. Why had someone of his standing chosen this path? And if he had, who was to inherit after him?

Would he adopt an heir? The title of Margrave was hereditary. Without direct descendants, it would fall to a relative or adopted successor…

“Do you have siblings?” she asked as she drew two more cards.

“I’ll tell you if you win.”

“And if you win?”

“Then you tell me, have you ever felt anything for your fiancé?”

Sian’s hand faltered at the intimate question. Her own question had been personal, but his was far too private.

“What kind of feelings?”

“Affection. Attraction. A spark.”

“…Why would you ask that?”

“I want to know if the man I’m about to break your engagement with still has your heart.”

So that was it.

“Why?” She pressed.

“You ask too much for someone who hasn’t won yet.”

He cut her off sharply. The message was clear. Questions could wait until she won.

Staring at him in disbelief, she found no expression on his face. After dropping such a bomb of a question, he calmly revealed his cards.

[11], [11]

A strong pair, totaling 22.

Her throat felt dry as she turned her own cards.

[10], [4]

14.

Another loss. She closed her eyes, dragging up painful memories, and with difficulty, gave him his answer.

“There was.  But nothing deep. Just mild attraction, some fondness. Shallow, really…”

“So, there were feelings.”

He cut her words short, summing them up in a single, undeniable line.

Her eyes lowered, bitter. Dion had certainly played the role of a kind fiancé well. He was attentive, considerate, and gentle. She had been moved, even happy, and had welcomed those feelings. After all, she had believed they would soon be family.

“Before everything happened, I thought the Duke was… a good man.”

“Well, you did say he treated you well while deceiving you.”

His words pierced her like a blade.

Yes. He wore a mask just to trick me.

She did not deny it. She only gave a hollow laugh and pushed her losing cards aside.

“I don’t have siblings,” he said suddenly.

Sian’s head lifted at that. He had chosen to answer her question anyway, even while calmly drawing new cards.

“But you won,” she said.

“Exactly. So I did as I pleased.”

He laid down his cards.

She mirrored him, though she felt herself being pulled along by his rhythm. Yet still, she did not wish to stop. What kind of person could he be? The Margrave, the High Priest, the man with no siblings yet bound to chastity.

As her thoughts tangled, he cast her a sidelong glance.

“Did you ever sleep with your fiancé?”

Her shoulders jerked, her eyes widening in shock. Her mouth fell open. He had gone far past the line.

“What?”

“That’s my question.”

“You said you wouldn’t cross lines!”

“Did I? I don’t recall.”

His shameless tone made her glare, but he only smiled.

“Answer me if I win.”

He placed his cards down, waiting.

This person…

Sian’s brows knitted tightly, irritation clear. But she drew in a quiet breath, steadied herself, and resolved to match him. 

“If you’re going to act like that, I should cross the line too.”

Meeting his unflinching gaze, she asked,

“You’re bound by a vow of chastity, but as a Margrave you must produce an heir. How do you intend to pass on the title? Is a relationship even possible?”

His eyes curved faintly, as if amused. Without a word, he revealed his cards.

[18], [19]

She groaned inwardly.

Disheartened, she drew hers, dreading the result with eyes squeezed shut. She turned over the cards, ready to answer his question with a heavy heart. It took considerable courage to look, but she opened one eye slightly, earning a light snicker from the High Priest.

I lost.

She opened her eyes, the numbers that would determine victory or defeat spread before her.

[20], [20]

“…What?”

Two perfect cards. Embarrassingly, the unexpectedly high numbers made her let out a series of shocked noises. He smiled faintly.

“Am I unlucky, or are you just fortunate?”

She found his faint smile intriguing. Confirming her question, he repeated it bluntly:

“You asked how a Margrave bound to vows of chastity manages sex and heirs, didn’t you?”

“Isn’t that too explicit a choice of words? Sex?” Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Yes.”

“You have no sense of tact.”

As though he had not crossed the line first. She bit her lip, but he only pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and turned his head to exhale.

“I never said I don’t have sex. If I get caught, I’ll be excommunicated. Simple.”

He said something crazy in such a calm way.

The words hit her like a blow.

“How can you… You’re a High Priest!”

“I never said I did, either.” He smiled lazily, smoke curling from his lips. “Why bring it up at all? I’m enduring just fine.”

Sian covered her mouth unconsciously.

So does he, or doesn’t he? Is he sneaking around, or not?

Either way, it was nothing a High Priest should be saying. Sian did not understand how such a person could have this position. She should have realized the moment he called her out at midnight.

Instead, the question that escaped her lips was, “Do you really endure it?”

“What do you mean? That I don’t sneak around? Or that I’ll keep my vows?”

“Both.”

He raised a brow, smirk tugging at his lips in an almost mocking expression, before smoothing back to blankness.

“If you tell me whether you slept with your fiancé, I’ll tell you.”

“….”

“Or we leave it to the next round.”

“I didn’t.”

His gaze, which had been focused on the dispersing smoke, shifted to her with curved lips, satisfied. He stubbed out his cigarette with a flick.

“Then yes, I endure it. Even now.”

“….”

“I am a High Priest. Isn’t chastity required of me?”

His gentle tone carried a mocking edge, as though to chastise her for asking what should have been obvious.

How shameless.

Sian flushed, tapping her fingers irritably against the table. He watched the motion for a moment, then rose from his seat without drawing another card.

She looked up. “That’s all?”

“No.”

Then what? Another game? She stared as he walked leisurely toward the door. Barely ten minutes had passed since midnight.

“Until next time, Sister.”

And he was gone.

Sian sat alone, staring after his retreating figure. Oddly, she did not feel like leaving. Her eyes drifted down to the pair of [20] cards, and she leaned back, strangely comfortable in the silence. It felt as though she had passed some kind of test.

She closed her eyes, recalling the stormy exchange. He had hurled shameless questions about her fiancé, and she had retaliated in kind. And in the end…

If there’s a next time, he had said, as though there might not be.

Until next time, Sister.

He had left the possibility open.

“Actarachion Jerdin.”

A man ill-suited to priestly robes. A Margrave.

From this brief exchange, she felt certain: Dion would never control him. He was not the type to be led. His power was immense, and if he became her ally, he would be a formidable force.

Which meant she needed him on her side.

For the sake of breaking the engagement.