---

Many things happened, but in any case, the aftermath was settled smoothly.

After a three-way meeting at the royal family’s villa, the misunderstandings were finally cleared up.

“…So, there was nothing personal going on with the child, and you simply came for official business?”

“…That’s right.”

A murmur of embarrassment escaped the duke’s lips.

“Ahem… If it was such a matter, then there was no need for me to go out of my way to stop you.”

Although he didn’t express it in words, his expression hinted at something like, ‘This is quite a mess’. With ten mouths, he wouldn’t have anything to say.

It was only natural. He almost went about hitting someone who came for official business.

Having sensed the alarm magic he personally set up had rung, the duke launched into teleportation mode and rushed to the villa. The moment he spotted me glued to Camila, he unleashed a barrage of spells, intent on judgment.

Of course, being a noble who knew honor, he generously gave me a chance to explain before deciding my fate.

If she had come at me vigorously with questions instead, I might have wound up waking up in the infirmary with a headache.

“…I’m sorry about that. I mistook the situation, considering you are my first disciple in old age.”

It seemed he had heard rumors about me being cozy with our precious disciple, thinking that was the case again.

What a ridiculous slander.

…Really.

“It was quite the misunderstanding.”

“Too bad.”

We exchanged awkward glances in a somewhat uncomfortable atmosphere.

“So! Why did you suddenly start casting spells, Professor!”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Seriously… You should listen to what people have to say before making decisions. What is this, seriously?”

“Ugh.”

Camila began her complaints toward Alexandra Petrovna.

No matter how stern a teacher she might be, it looked like she had no other excuses. The duke merely nodded, mumbling in response to his disciple’s sharp, albeit not very pointed, remarks.

“And why does it matter to you whether I’m seeing a man or not, Professor?”

“…But still, isn’t it?”

While Camila might have been somewhat upset, or maybe thinking this was her chance to call her teacher out, the stern master swiftly smacked the spark of rebellion right off her behind.

Thus, her cute, rebellious defiance was brought to an end.

“What’s your deal? Every time, you just rotting your teacher’s mind!”

“Gyaaaah! Professor, it hurts! Save me!”

“Be quiet!”

I sighed softly and shifted my gaze away from Camila, who was forcibly laying over the duke’s knee. What a sight to see.

In any case.

With misunderstandings cleared and permission granted, all things considered, it turned out well. I’m not entirely sure if it’s appropriate to say it turned out well, though.

Ultimately, everything resolved nicely, so today was another peaceful day.

Episode 21 – A Peace of Our Time

Before the northern duke noticed, the initial plan to sneak away to the cult had long since failed miserably.

From the moment they entered the villa, the master had already sensed the presence of some nefarious individuals plotting against their disciple (a blatant misunderstanding).

However, as they say, even if the sky were to fall, there’s always a hole to crawl through. After an honest conversation, Duke Alexandra Petrovna readily allowed our trip to the cult.

“I have no reason or right to interfere in what is clearly important official business. Especially if it’s related to the saint of the cult.”

Alexandra Petrovna was a retired magician long ago.

During the dark age, when magicians were actively persecuted, she had prided herself on being a pillar of the magical society. But decades ago, when the Magic Tower had finally stabilized, she turned over all authority to the Oracle and returned to the empire, to where she belonged.

Officially, the duke is no longer a pillar in today’s magical society.

However, the influence and weight carried by the title of archmage still greatly affect the modern Magic Tower and Ivory Tower alike.

Because of this, Alexandra Petrovna could not visit the cult for any mundane matters.

To be precise,

“Aren’t you going, Professor?”

“I don’t really want to go.”

She herself didn’t seem inclined to join the cult visit.

“Though it happened over fifty years ago, I am still a magician. I fought alongside the leaders of the cult back then.”

“The war is over, isn’t it? It was more than a century ago! Is there really anyone left who would blame you for that?”

“……”

The master crouched down, locking eyes with her timid disciple begging her to go. By now, a lonely smile had appeared on her cheeks.

“My dear, sometimes even the smallest matters can lead to conflicts among people.”

“……”

“My master said this, ‘Gratitude is as deep as a well, but resentment is deeper than an abyss.’ Do you understand what this means?”

“…Um.”

Scratches her head while pondering the meaning, Camila mumbled.

“Don’t make unnecessary enemies?”

“Exactly. Just remember that any grudge you hold will not disappear, whether it’s ten years or a hundred years.”

“Umm….”

“If so, what must we do to avoid holding grudges?”

“Quickly resolve things without leaving any loose ends?”

“What now?!”

The pristine fingers of the delicate teacher rang sharply against the disciple’s head, and her cherry-like lips twisted as she let out a muffled groan.

The teachings of the esteemed teacher, which were hard to gaze upon, were quite misinterpreted by the disciple, who paid her due price. She had to endure even a lecture of, “What kind of pirate are you to speak like that?!”

If any issues did arise between us, nine times out of ten, it was due to careless remarks. At that moment, the indubitable truth that had never faltered once proved itself again.

“Heh…”

“Where did this little brat come from? Tsk, tsk.”

Of course, it wasn’t simply because I was worried about old grudges that I flatly refused Camila’s company. Alexandra Petrovna was someone of the royal family, and she had numerous official duties to handle in the empire.

The vast northern territory, which includes Novo Nikolayevsk, naturally fell under the duke’s duties.

Thus, Alexandra Petrovna had no choice but to reluctantly allow Camila’s departure.

It wasn’t because it was happily granted like sending her off on a school trip. The extent of her concern involved meticulous warnings and anxieties as thorough as any helicopter mom.

And as everyone expected, or rather, as I predicted.

The master sending off her disciple was solely worried about ‘me.’

“I trust you will handle things well, but please be cautious, so no dangerous incidents befall the child.”

“Yes, understood.”

“I also hope you will prevent her from sneaking in treats.”

“Yes.”

“Furthermore, out of caution, I advise you to take special care to avoid any ‘unnecessary rumors’ just like last time.”

“…Ah, yes.”

This was beyond mere earnest exhortation. It could very well be seen as a firm expression of intent that, should anything happen to Camila, she would pursue me to the ends of hell.

Suddenly, a scene from an old movie came to mind. The moment a father and a drunken nephew confronted a reckless young man who had come to pick up the daughter…

Oh.

The Duke’s gaze upon me felt startlingly similar to that of a movie star.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Of course I’m not. …Tsk.”

If it’s nothing, then why the tongue click?

This is truly maddening.

The Duke, maintaining a consistently displeased demeanor, didn’t just click his tongue but actually followed me all the way to the Warp Gate departure lounge. Regardless of whether the royal attendant was sweating bullets saying, “You must hurry to the palace,” she simply shook her head with a face full of complaints like a spiteful bulldog.

What am I, some kind of troublemaker?

What do they believe I am, to treat me like this? It was utterly incomprehensible.

As I muttered to myself in frustration, Camila, who was merrily dragging her luggage, began to giggle at me.

“Why does your mentor always make my life difficult the moment she sees me? What did I do wrong?”

“Oh, come on! She must be worried about you. Just worried.”

“Twice the worry will probably catch someone.”

“Why so aggrieved? The more you act like this, the more suspicious you appear. Like a thief whose conscience is pricked.”

“Camila, keep being cheeky like that, and you’re really going to get it.”

“Who knows? Maybe the wise elder’s intuition is spot on…?”

It’s not wise intuition; it’s probably just the ramblings of an old person.

“Hehe.”

It seemed like Camila was determined to turn her rotten insides inside out, smiling broadly. I found that smile utterly infuriating, and as an impulse, I slyly flicked her forehead.

The sound was sharper than expected, and that I ended up giving her a second flick was our little secret.

*

Searching for the ‘Blonde Priest’ at the Holy Land, Lateran, is harder than finding Mr. Kim in Seoul.

However, looking for the ‘Saint’ or ‘Blonde Saint’ is an absolute piece of cake.

Long ago, the members of the National Assembly of Korea put on a large-scale cooperative raid reminiscent of a siege, with antics like slapping each other’s backs, launching tear gas, firing extinguishers, jamming doors with pipes, breaking down locked doors, and carrying out synchronized mission acts.

Currently, Lucia has risen to fame as an idol (and honestly, she seems like she might drive one insane) by performing ‘Drop and Roll’ to the gathered bishops and cardinals from all over the world.

Standing out for no reason would not bode well.

One must absolutely avoid encountering the Saint.

Whether inside or outside the conference room.

The high-ranking clergy of the cult, all of them, whether traditional conservatives or progressive reformists, would panic and hide whenever the Saint appeared. I managed to gather information from a few of them about Lucia’s whereabouts.

I devoured the intel like a slice of cake.

“Are you referring to Saint Lucia?”

“Yes.”

“I heard she hasn’t been seen for days. I’ve gotten news that she’s staying at the Cathedral of Tranquille.”

This was the testimony obtained from the bishop overseeing overseas charity work, who happened to be one of Lucia’s close acquaintances formed during her time volunteering throughout the Empire and Mauritania. I stumbled upon him while circulating documents here and there.

“…For several days? Is she unwell?”

“The Saint’s health is a closely guarded secret within the cult, but at least as of recently, there hasn’t been any unusual developments. I mean…”

The bishop trailed off, his expression a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness.

He meant to imply that there was no way the Saint, known for giving the bishops and cardinals a collective workout, could be seen as a bedridden patient. So, the implication was that she wasn’t in seclusion due to illness.

In any event.

After probing a few close aides, we headed straight to the Cathedral of Tranquille, where Lucia was said to be.

We were well-prepared.

“How do you think? Can you persuade her?”

“We have to do our best.”

“Are you familiar with the precedents and materials?”

“Yep.”

“Good.”

Let’s go quickly! Camila took the lead with a serious expression. Just like she intended to persuade Lucia, I also had a serious face while crunching numbers in my head.

How can I calm the rampaging Holy Berserker?

How can I pull the cornered cult up onto a lifeboat?

The length of the operation is determined by the situation, but,

“Let’s go in.”

First, I must do what I have to do.

*

Cathedral of Tranquille.

A newly elevated religious facility commemorating the birth of a new Saint. It’s also where Saint Lucia conducts her affairs and serves as her actual living space.

The Cathedral of Tranquille, which I hadn’t visited in a while, was far more solemn than I remembered. The stone structure, which had once seemed youthful like a newly canonized saint, now bore a grandeur that rivaled even the most majestic cathedrals.

Deep within that cathedral.

We found Lucia waiting for us.

“……”

“……”

“……”

“…Um, Lucia?”

“Yes.”

A calm reply echoed, and her blonde hair flowed gently with a nod. The sound of droplets resonated like echoes in a vast cavern, and her brief response created an indescribable reverberation against the bricks.

Then came the clank, a heavy noise of metal clanking.

Camila beside me couldn’t hold in her curiosity any longer; she barely managed to ask with her slightly parted lips.

“…Why in the world are you in prison?”

Surprisingly, you might find it hard to believe, but.

The cult’s second Saint was incarcerated.

The place was the underground of the Cathedral of Tranquille.

The condition: chained firmly from her ankles to her waist.

“……”

Lucia hung her head, offering no response.

Rather than resembling a penitent sinner, she looked more like a student caught having her secret diary read.

We stared at Lucia, bound like a sealed monster, and the more we stared, the more she avoided our gaze.

“…I made a little mistake.”

“What mistake did you make to end up trapped in here? More importantly, who locked you up?”

“Um… Saint Veronica…”

“…? No, why would Saint Veronica lock you up?”

“I hit someone…”

“You?”

“Even if there’s legitimacy to charging me with assault, isn’t this going a bit too far?”

“Exactly what I’m saying.”

The moment I spoke, Camila chimed in, and when she spoke, I added on too. The absurdity of it all left us staring at each other in disbelief.

“Oh, this is precisely why you shouldn’t play soldier recklessly. Tsk… So, who did you hit?”

“……”

There was an extended silence.

And finally.

Without saying a word and merely wriggling her toes, she managed to respond.

“…His Holiness the Pope?”

 

---