🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 7
Ah.
A groan slipped out, and then Melissa, who had come to her senses, asked again.
“How much of a jerk is that guy?”
“He’s the one who cheated, but he deliberately ruined my reputation and pinned the blame on me. He might not have committed a crime, but he still wrecked a person’s life.”
“What?! Then don’t hesitate—just get revenge. I’ve lived longer than you, Clara. Trust me on this. Do it.”
It was advice from no one else but my long-time pen pal. Someone I liked, and who also cared for me in return. I wanted to hear her counsel.
Thinking back, the path Herace and I were walking didn’t seem all that different—whether it was success or passionate love with someone else.
“I’ll do it. I’ll carry out my revenge to the end.”
At my reply, Melissa let out a cry of delight. For a brief moment, a strand of her hair passed across my vision. Brown hair—the same appearance she had once described in her letters.
“Scum like that should suffer so much that they break a rib and have to use it to knit with!”
It was far from the graceful image I had imagined from her cursive handwriting.
But I didn’t dwell on it. Writing always makes it easy to hide a person’s tone and true personality.
Meanwhile, Herace was reading a letter from Philena with his glasses on.
“Pfft! What is this?”
Herace covered his mouth, laughing. Paper spilled endlessly out of the envelope. It was Philena’s scenario—prepared with Plan A, Plan B, and Plan C, just in case things went wrong.
“Ah, Philena.”
You really haven’t changed at all. Even back then, you carried around books far too difficult for someone your age to even consider reading.
So rational, yet so pure—so irresistibly endearing.
“And this is how you want to talk to me?”
It was the scenario for the upcoming Saintess Selection Ceremony, just a few days away. Philena wanted them to bump shoulders on their way out, causing a scene.
“Hm…”
Letting out a low sound, Herace straightened his posture. He rose, sat at his desk, and tucked Philena’s letter deep into a drawer.
The door burst open, and Whisler strode in without hesitation. He walked around like it was his own room, then sat confidently on the sofa.
“What brings you here?”
Whisler’s face was cold—none of the gentle smiles he usually wore in high society.
Herace, used to such situations, simply gave a small smile and folded his hands together.
“What else? To see my precious little brother. You missed me, didn’t you?”
“Did you hear me say I missed you?”
Ha! Whisler let out a mirthless laugh and shook his head like he had a headache.
“They say delusion is free.”
“People don’t usually get angry at someone they feel nothing for. Which means—you must have missed me.”
Whisler started to argue, but then only frowned. His gaze turned pitying, as if he were looking at someone pathetic.
“Think whatever you want. It’s not like you can do anything anyway.”
“Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Thinking of you? Please. Keep your delusions.”
“Why wouldn’t I have power? You dragged your busy self all the way here just to see me, didn’t you?”
Herace’s words made Whisler’s eyes narrow. Leaning forward, he spoke in a forceful tone.
“Did you meet someone? A woman?”
Herace only shrugged, changing the subject.
“And what about Philena? I heard you were dating her.”
The moment Philena’s name was mentioned, the air around Whisler grew colder—like icicles forming. He wrinkled his nose and lowered his voice.
“Why do you want to know about Philena?”
“I thought I heard you two broke up.”
“Who told you that?”
“If I’m wrong, forget it.”
Herace flipped through the documents on his desk as if it were no big deal. Whisler was about to leave, but paused.
“Oh, right.”
“I’m listening.”
“At that party a while ago, there was a woman in a fashionable, expensive red dress. Do you know who she was?”
Herace clicked his tongue inwardly.
Whisler was probing him. True, Herace had escorted her there, but Whisler had been the last one to greet her that night. Even so, Whisler still didn’t seem sure that woman had been Philena.
Herace smiled faintly, stroking his chin.
“A party? I haven’t been back long. If you know, you’d know better than me. I might not know about the party, but I do plan on attending the Selection Ceremony. You’ll be there too, right?”
“The fact you even ask that is pathetic.”
“Maybe I just wanted to double-check because I care about my brother.”
The Grey family was the greatest patron and supporter of the temple. Thanks to that, their access was easy, and even if they caused trouble, they could usually cover it up.
The Saintess Selection was held in three stages—First, Second, and Third. Even if Grey couldn’t control the later stages, the first stage was fully within their influence.
Of course. The Grey family had supported the temple for generations. The Imperial Family couldn’t ignore that contribution.
The Imperial Family would prefer to cover up any disturbance. The high nobility would need to watch both the royals and the Greys. And the lesser nobles wouldn’t want to be caught in anyone’s crosshairs. With few participants, any commotion could remain secret.
Above all, it was a chance to use power as a kind of declaration.
“This should be fun. Did you send out all the invitations for the first ceremony?”
The first Selection Ceremony was practically the Grey family’s playground, sanctioned by the Imperial Family and the temple.
“Almost all of them. You were gone, so I had to handle it. In truth, you’re nothing but the figurehead.”
“Oh dear, sorry about that. Since I’m back now, I’ll handle the rest myself. Figurehead or not, it’s still my duty. Our parents think so too.”
Whisler clenched his fist and let out a bitter laugh. His expression said, If that’s your last act of defiance, I’ll allow it.
“I can’t tell how amusing this year’s ceremony will be.”
Herace hoped Whisler would be there that day.
Because that was the day the play he’d prepared would begin—performed for Whisler and no one else. That day, Philena would shine brighter than anyone.
That was Herace’s reason and goal for returning.
If you hadn’t ruined her reputation, I wouldn’t have come back.
Whisler had destroyed Philena’s name. That’s why Herace returned. For the first time, he disobeyed his parents’ wishes and set foot again in the Empire.
He had liked Philena before Whisler ever did.
The first Saintess Selection Ceremony arrived.
The ceremony was divided into three stages: the First with the Imperial Family, the Grey family, and a small number of upper nobles. The Greys also had the privilege of inviting many lesser nobles. These made up the First participants.
If no Saintess was revealed in the First, it would proceed to the Second, summoning all nobles. If still none, it would proceed to the Third, gathering both nobles and commoners together.
If the Saintess appeared in the First, then the Second and Third would no longer be selections, but rather celebrations. Instead of rituals with Lady Cynthia, the Second would be for greetings with nobles, and the Third for greetings with the people.
The temple explained the system this way: Lady Cynthia dislikes commotion. So the numbers are kept small at first, gradually increasing each round. It allows her time to adapt, with proper etiquette and reverence.
What a grand-sounding excuse.
To me, it sounded like nothing more than wordplay to seize power.
The Saintess held power equal to that of the High Priest. Naturally, nobles wanted the Saintess to be chosen from among the “noble-born” like themselves. Dividing it into three rounds increased their odds.
Politics never changes, no matter the world.
With that thought, I stepped into the carriage. I didn’t know if the invitation had come from Whisler or Herace, but I had received one.
Even nobles and citizens not invited knew today was the day of the Selection Ceremony. Outside, the streets were festive. Laughter and excited exclamations filled the air.
The ceremony was held at the ancient temple near the Imperial Palace. A domed building, with the first verse of Lady Cynthia’s scripture inscribed along its edge:
Neither past nor future, but in this present, we shall devote our lives.
When the carriage stopped, Clara looked at me. There was still time, but I wanted to see Herace before going in.
“My lady, what is it with that letter you keep holding on to?”
It was Herace’s reply. Despite my carefully written, perfect scenario, this was all he had sent back:
[See you then. I’ll have a surprise prepared just for you.]
