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Chapter : 34
This time, I’ll change the male lead
“We’ve made it to the plaza. We should go inside before it gets any darker.”
“Ah… yes.”
Only then did the man nod, as if finally coming out of his reverie.
“Well then, goodbye.”
“I hope we meet again.”
At the minister’s final words, I hesitated.
‘Again… that’s a voice I’ve heard somewhere before.’
The unnamed boy I had met on the steps up to the temple, the minister standing before me now, and the voice from some forgotten moment—all of it tangled together, giving me a sense of déjà vu.
“Minister.”
When I turned my head, he was still standing there. Even his ash-gray eyes, as if swallowing all the darkness of the night…
“Have we met somewhere before?”
“I’m not sure what you mean…”
One side of his lips slowly curved upward.
“That’s impossible.”
After all, the minister was notorious for rarely showing himself. Most of the people who recognized him were high-ranking nobles, after all.
“It might just be my imagination, but somehow you feel familiar.”
“…Haha. That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”
The man mulled over my words for a long moment before letting out a faint laugh.
“No, perhaps I should say it’s the first time seeing someone like you.”
Then, suddenly, he narrowed his eyes and stared at me.
“Someone so fearless…”
Leaning back in his chair, Dairon gazed down at the window shrouded in darkness.
—First time seeing someone so fearless.
—Is that so?
Throughout his contemplation, he kept clenching and releasing a small jewelry box in his hands.
—I feel like I’ve seen someone like you before.
The words the girl had spoken last, the look in her eyes, the brief smile she gave when turning away…
“Seen someone before, huh…”
Finally, Dairon let out a soft laugh. Gray moonlight shimmered subtly over his curved eyes.
“Minister.”
Just then, there was a knock—tap tap—and Phoebe entered.
“Y-you finished praying quickly, it seems.”
Phoebe spoke naturally but couldn’t hide the tremor in her voice.
“I didn’t expect you to return so soon.”
“You caused a scene.”
Only after pushing the jewelry box into the drawer did Dairon slowly lift his gaze. His ash-gray eyes, which seemed only cynical, revealed no emotion.
“I’m sorry.”
“You still haven’t given up your feelings for the Crown Prince, have you?”
“It’s… not that, Minister. I only prepared that place because I felt sorry for Karl being betrayed by the princess.”
“Lethe Phoebe.”
Her lips pressed tightly shut at his cold tone.
“So you’ve learned to lie now, too.”
Dairon pressed a weary hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.
“I’ll ask one last time. Why did you do such a thing?”
Phoebe’s gaze finally dropped to the floor. Trying to hide something in front of the minister was foolish from the start.
“…Minister!”
Yet she retorted, clutching her skirt in frustration.
“Originally, the side of the Crown Prince belongs to the Saint. That has always been the history of Ignis. So the side of Hyperion should be mine! You know that, Minister!”
As she said, the sun’s heir, Sol, and the moon’s Ar were destined for each other. A fate no force could separate. God had sent Ar, the Saint, to the world alongside Sol as a lifelong companion and soulmate.
The first Sol and Ar were together, the second Sol and Ar, and naturally, the third Sol and Ar—Hyperion and herself—must be together as well.
“Why can’t I become the Crown Princess? I’ll be the only Saint in the empire’s history who couldn’t stand by the Crown Prince’s side.”
“Phoebe.”
Dairon quietly interjected after listening to her.
“Where is the Saint in what you’re doing right now?”
“That is…!”
Tears welled up in Phoebe’s eyes.
“The useless emotions controlling you, your current self worse than humans, is this what you call the Saint I taught?”
“….”
“I don’t care if you can’t let go of Hyperion or indulge in pointless emotions. But if you ever sully the temple’s name with such despicable acts again…”
Dairon’s gaze, cold as ice, looked down at Phoebe from his crossed-leg perch.
“You know what I’ll take from you, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry. Please, just once, forgive me, Minister.”
Phoebe instinctively knelt. The minister was someone who could give her everything and take everything away at the same time.
—This child has golden hair… just like the Crown Prince.
The first person to notice her tangled golden hair, the one who rescued her from that filthy, miserable orphanage, and the one who allowed her to receive praise as the Saint… it was all the minister.
“Minister, please, trust me.”
Phoebe’s life had been entirely shaped by the minister’s power, leaving her no choice but to beg for forgiveness. She could never return to that miserable orphanage, nor could she forfeit her life as a daughter of God, basking in golden praise.
“I will never tarnish the temple’s honor again. Please believe me.”
Phoebe bowed her head and asked for forgiveness, gritting her teeth.
‘This life… I fought so hard to earn it…’
Her entire life was under threat—because of Kaela Veritas.
“You’ve turned eighteen this year, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Minister.”
Startled by the sudden question, Phoebe lifted her clear face with the same innocent, transparent gaze as always.
“The child I chose that day seems to be gone now.”
“…Huh?”
Yet Dairon, watching her, muttered something strange. His eyes seemed to pierce through everything.
“Ah, but…”
Suddenly recalling something, he opened his lips again.
“When the princess and Karl fell from the spire, was the magic circle made by you?”
“Me…?”
—Fortunately, the temple had a magic circle installed. I was startled when I saw you falling from the spire.
“No. I don’t yet have the power to create a magic circle of that level. You know that.”
Phoebe shook her head.
“It was obviously not a magic circle made by ordinary magicians. So it had to be either a pre-existing one to protect the temple, or…”
She suddenly remembered the minister appearing at that moment and continued.
“I thought maybe it was the magic circle you created, Minister.”
“Is that so?”
Dairon, who had looked so composed, slightly furrowed his brow.
“I see.”
He turned his back to the room and gazed out the window again.
Perhaps in preparation for the pre-festival fireworks, small sparks were already bursting in the night sky.
“Not… really?”
Phoebe cautiously asked, noticing his previously enigmatic expression.
‘The only people who could make a magic circle are the Saint, the Crown Prince, and the Minister.’
Besides them, only a few exceptional magicians of the empire or Latani who could handle magical energy could do it.
But there was no magician or Crown Prince there, and certainly not herself.
So the only one left… was the Minister.
“I’m tired. I’ll go inside. That’s all for now.”
“…Yes, Minister.”
Yet he offered no reply, turning deeper into the room.
Watching his silhouette disappear into the darkness, Phoebe looked back toward the window.
If it wasn’t the Minister…
‘Then who made that magic circle?’
Tap tap. The fireworks seemed to be starting, gradually lighting up the darkness.
“Who… Babil?”
Returning to the room, a large shadow stretched across the terrace window.
“When did you get here?”
“Ma’am.”
Babil’s face brightened as if he’d been waiting for me, crouched and looking at the sky. Despite his size, his behavior reminded me of a cat twitching its ears in greeting.
“Finished with regular training?”
“Yes. I hate it the most.”
Though called “regular training,” it clearly involved dealing with the remaining remnants of the illegal merchant guild.
I knew Hyperion and Babil had both grown tense and busy because of this.
‘Though I’m the one who leaked that information.’
As I sat on the terrace chair, Babil scurried to sit next to me.
“So it seems you can finally rest a bit.”
“I’m resting, but the master…”
Through his black hair, Babil’s face looked sullen. By “master,” he probably meant Hyperion… who still couldn’t rest.
“Oh, today’s the fireworks, right?”
From afar came the faint tap tap of sparks.
“My head hurts.”
Suddenly, Babil pressed his head against my lap, twisting his face in pain. His complexion had even turned pale.
“Why does your head hurt all of a sudden?”
I stroked his hair worriedly, and his eyes slowly closed.
He really does look a lot like Hyperion… I thought, and Babil groaned before speaking.
“My head hurts whenever she appears.”
“…She?”
“I hate her smell.”
“Ah…”
Though he didn’t say it explicitly, I knew he meant Phoebe. The temple’s scent filled the empire for the festival.
Strange… I thought the Saint’s presence was supposed to quell Lucius’s royal mania and heal things.
“But… when I’m next to you, ma’am, I feel better.”
“Next to me?”
“Yes. Smelling your scent makes it better.”
Not in pain… a voice, soft and drowsy, came between his red lips.
“That’s good then.”
“I missed you.”
My hand, stroking Babil’s hair, paused.
“I missed you, but…”
Drowsily, Babil mumbled incomprehensible words.
“I couldn’t come.”
“….”
It was strange. Why did Babil’s words keep overlapping with Leon’s voice?
Moreover, in the original story, Babil had always been fierce, so seeing him this exhausted felt odd.
‘Babil and Hyperion are the same being.’
Then perhaps Hyperion is now sitting in the office looking just like this.
“…Hmm.”
Soon, Babil fell into a deep sleep.
I covered his shoulders with a thick blanket and stood up.
“I should go save the prince.”
A small smile curved on my lips as I wrapped the cloak around myself.
