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Chapter 24
“I must’ve startled you too much.”
The unpleasantly handsome priest continued speaking.
“Don’t worry. As you can see, I’m a servant of God. I also happen to be quite familiar with the layout of the Imperial Palace.”
That was because this fake priest visited the palace far more often than he did the temple.
Marienne’s gaze swept Leslie from head to toe.
The way he brushed his hair back to reveal a clean forehead, the single strand of reddish hair falling perfectly across it—every detail was annoyingly deliberate.
He looked less like a servant of God and more like the kind of host who entertains noblewomen in a secret salon they’d never admit visiting.
“They say that on the days Priest Anais enters the confessional, you can hear the married ladies sobbing from outside.”
Leslie himself had never bothered denying the rumors.
If he had a shred of sense, he’d conduct himself properly—but Leslie?
“What kind of priest dresses like that?”
Even the small buttons running down his front were made of moonstone.
Of course, there’s no rule saying priests must live plainly.
One can devote one’s life to God and still appreciate beautiful things.
After all, any normal person would prefer fine, handcrafted shoes to tattered ones that let the wind through.
But Leslie was on another level entirely.
“A fraud in league with power.”
Suspicion crept into Marienne’s eyes.
“You seem rather timid, Sister.”
Leslie smiled, his eyes curved like crescent moons.
“But tell me, Sister—have we met before?”
“No.”
“Then why does it feel as though we’re already so familiar?”
Because you’re a flirt, you scoundrel.
Marienne tilted her head. If she were a man, he wouldn’t have spared her a single glance.
“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Priest Anais.”
Leslie smoothly took her hand and brought it toward his lips.
No one had ever tried to kiss Marienne’s hand before—she wasn’t some noble lady, after all.
Completely caught off guard, she snatched her hand away just before his lips could touch.
“Are you insane…?”
“Pardon?”
He blinked, clearly not used to such a reaction.
Marienne didn’t care. She was too busy wiping her hand on her dress, furious even at the almost-touch.
So this is what it means to be robbed right under your nose!
She glared daggers at him.
Though his title was “ordinary priest,” one word from Leslie Anais could have the High Priest replaced by tomorrow.
His connections were dazzling.
Leslie was born a high noble. His aunt was the Empress’s chief lady-in-waiting, his sister a neighboring prince’s wife, and his youngest sister married to the richest merchant on the continent.
And he himself is cozying up to the Second Prince.
The dull Crown Prince and the sly Second Prince were both destined to fall to Odette anyway—but the key difference was this: Leslie would survive.
Odette would later win him over to expand her own faction, using him to pull others from rival camps under her wing.
She destroyed the imperial family, yes—but those with value, she kept alive.
Leslie Anais was a narrative device, a way to showcase Odette’s political brilliance in the later arcs.
It had felt a bit uncomfortable reading about him before, but since it was Odette’s choice, I let it slide.
A man who shifted allegiances as easily as breathing—no one ever knew what he was really thinking.
Compared to the secondary male lead, Baileon, Leslie’s role was minor: he appeared occasionally to add a seductive undertone to scenes, and that was it.
What do you even call him? A “sub-sub male lead”? A third male lead? Whatever…
Marienne thought grimly,
Odette really should’ve purged him along with the rest.
Reading about him and facing him in person were two completely different experiences. Leslie wasn’t just a handsome fraud—he was practically walking pheromones.
Just being near him made her uncomfortable.
If he’d been a commoner, he’d have been burned at the stake for enchanting half the women in town.
At this point, she couldn’t help wondering if he had seduced Odette, not the other way around.
So our heroine’s secretly a woman of physical tastes, huh? Maybe he picked up on that and used it.
The more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
And if the Imperial Palace was full of people like him, it must’ve been like a jungle—roaring beasts in every room.
Poor, dutiful Baileon probably carried on his work amidst the chaos, unshaken.
Once again, Marienne mentally shouted the author’s name.
Why do you insist on making even the scummiest men absurdly handsome?!
“You’re not only timid, Sister, but also quite shy.”
Apparently, Leslie had the unique ability to interpret everything to his own advantage.
Marienne couldn’t take it anymore.
“Who would like being kissed out of nowhere?”
“Kiss? Did you think I was trying to kiss you?”
He placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended.
“I swear, I did no such thing.”
“Oh please. You don’t even remember what you just did?”
“My nameless sister, there’s been a misunderstanding. I was merely greeting you politely, not kissing you.”
His gray eyes locked onto hers.
“But if I had truly intended to kiss you…”
He lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret.
“…you wouldn’t still be standing on your own two feet.”
This perverted priest is actually trying to use his charm on me.
Marienne stared, appalled.
Get a grip, cultist. You’re still wearing a cross—at least pretend to have some restraint!
He didn’t even look embarrassed. He was boldly pushing the limits.
Then, suddenly, Leslie burst out laughing.
“Ah, forgive me. I took the joke too far.”
He added, with a teasing grin,
“Your reaction was just too adorable.”
“…What?”
“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around the palace before. Are you perhaps here for the Fourth Princess’s engagement ceremony?”
As he pointed her in the supposed direction, he leaned a bit closer.
The closer he got, the more certain Marienne became that he had seduced Odette.
No other man in the palace wore clothes that tight!
“If it’s the engagement hall you’re looking for, you’ll need to go around to the southern building.”
“…”
“But this is quite far from there. I can even see Duke Blackwood’s chambers from here. I’m guessing you wandered off without asking the maids for directions.”
In a blink, the topic shifted—he was probing her now.
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
At that, Marienne thought of the key and the hair remover hidden under her dress.
Temptation struck.
An empty room. Kain would definitely bathe after the ceremony. The key was right there in her petticoat pocket.
Would she let this golden opportunity slip by?
Or risk exposure to this untrustworthy priest and proceed anyway?
“You might not realize it, Sister, but there’s quite a lot I can do in this palace.”
He was clearly baiting her—offering help to reel her in.
But his honeyed tone only sharpened her mind.
So this is what the serpent tempting Eve must’ve sounded like.
Marienne mentally tied herself to reason. This man was the brains behind the Second Prince—the main rival of Odette’s faction.
Anyone who could make a cunning prince dance in his palm wasn’t to be underestimated.
I can’t let him learn anything important.
Of course, she still desperately wanted to turn Kain Blackwood into a bald egg.
How desperately?
If smearing hair remover on her own head would guarantee his baldness, she’d do it in a heartbeat.
But she couldn’t risk Odette or the Empire in the process.
That northern bastard deserves baldness—but his enemies must never know his secret.
Not even Baileon knew the truth; a sensible man like him would’ve strongly objected.
If she’d hidden it from Baileon, there was no way she’d reveal it to Odette’s enemies.
Kain Blackwood… damn it, you really are the male lead of this story. The entire world seems to be conspiring to protect your scalp.
Only one challenge remained—how to get away from Leslie without exposing her plan.
Simple.
Compared to sneaking hair remover into a nobleman’s shampoo, this was a thousand times easier.
Men who try to mess with others’ heads deserve a taste of their own medicine.
Marienne prepared her escape. Then she looked up at Leslie with wide, innocent eyes—like a frightened little bunny.
“Priest Anais… um, do you… do you know who I am, by any chance?”
Leslie replied, “Didn’t I tell you earlier? I’m meeting you for the first time today.”
“Oh right, you did.”
Then, in an instant, Marienne looked past him and screamed.
“There’s a hornet! Be careful!”
She snatched out a handkerchief and began swatting wildly at the air—specifically, at Leslie’s face.
“Ahhh! It’s on you! On your ear! Oh no, it’s huge! Close your eyes!”
Through the fluttering handkerchief, her fist shot out and landed squarely on his eye.
Then she spun around and bolted down the corridor.
“The hornet’s chasing me!”
Her dress tangled around her legs as she ran. Again? She was running again? Good thing she’d refused Cloise’s jewelry recommendation earlier—it would’ve slowed her down.
Fortunately, Leslie didn’t chase her—unlike that northern brute.
Maybe he thought sprinting in priest’s robes would ruin his image.
Still, how could a man joke about making women’s legs weak while wearing those same robes?
“Hah… anyway, aside from Sir Beers, all the rest are rejects. Absolute rejects.”
Truly, the world was ending. Decent, modest men had gone extinct.
Black-haired men were rude, red-haired ones were debauched… perhaps the answer really did lie in warm brown hair.
Clicking her tongue, Marienne returned to the engagement hall. The ceremony had ended, and the ball for the second half was already underway.
Meanwhile, someone quietly approached Kain and whispered in his ear.
After listening, Kain turned to look—gazing intently at Marienne Didi, standing right beside Baileon.
