The High Priest had entered the temple after the death of Sister Margaret, so he did not know that the mere sight of a blue shrine maiden had made Fran feel sick for some time, nor that he had traumatic memories in the orphanage director’s chambers. That was exactly why I had recommended Lady Rozemyne stay in these chambers, and why I suggested Gil serve alongside him.
It had been more than entertaining to see Fran’s displeased, pained, and miserable expressions during the trombe extermination mission and the Dedication Ritual, and while Lady Rozemyne was suffering as a result of my malice, that was a sacrifice I was willing to make. And yet, Fran was now serving Lady Rozemyne entirely as though he had conquered his past. The sight of him calmly spending time in this room was a clear sign of how much he had grown, and while that frustrated me to no end, I hid my irritation beneath an expressionless mask.
The High Priest took out a magic tool—a ring with a large blue feystone embedded into it. “Rozemyne, have this. It is a gift from your father.”
Rozemyne took the ring from the High Priest’s hand and placed it on her finger. The feystone was large enough that it looked odd on her small hand.
“Use it to register your mana with this door. Follow me.”
The High Priest pulled aside the canopy of the bed to reveal another door, just like the one in his room. The very sight was nostalgic, frustrating, and sent waves of emotions through my heart. I quelled them and looked toward Fran.
As expected, his face had paled, and he was looking at the door with fearful eyes. Despite how calm he had been acting before, it seemed he had not entirely conquered his past. I could feel a dark joy spreading through my chest.
“What’s wrong, Fran? You look unwell,” Lady Rozemyne said, giving Fran a concerned look.
“It is nothing. Pay me no mind.”
“Surely it’s something. You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
Fran’s expression twisted into a troubled frown as everyone looked at him worriedly. That was to be expected; he certainly didn’t want anyone to know about his past, where Sister Margaret had called for and taken him into that room practically every night.
“High Priest,” I interjected, “I will spare everyone the details, but Fran does not have good memories in that room.”
“It will be fine, Fran. The room is created by magic, and will not be the same one you are familiar with,” the High Priest said casually, unaware of Fran’s circumstances. He then shifted his focus to registering Lady Rozemyne’s mana with the door.
Considering that just seeing the door was enough to drain the blood from his face, Fran would surely feel an enormous amount of stress regardless of what was inside. But nobody seemed to notice that—all thanks to Fran working as hard as he could to appear calm on the surface, no doubt.
“And that concludes the registration. You may use that room when you wish to discuss matters you want no one to hear, even your attendants, as voices out here can be heard elsewhere even if you clear this room.”
“Can anyone go inside?”
“Unlike my workshop, there are no special restrictions in place.”
It was likely that she would be using the room daily from now on. The sight of Fran enduring his stress and fear alone, unable to say a word of complaint, made me very pleased.
“Are you okay, Fran?” I asked.
“...Thank you for helping me there, Arno.”
“I will have to explain your situation to the High Priest if he asks. My apologies, Fran, but my hands are tied.”
...I intend to tell him everything regardless of whether he asks. How does it feel to know that the High Priest you respect so much will know the secrets of your past that you want to keep hidden more than anything else? I offered a small smile, hiding the poison beneath it, and Fran gave a defeated nod.
“I imagine that the High Priest will ask for details, but nothing can be done about that. I will just have to be thankful that Sister Myne, or rather Lady Rozemyne, has not heard about it.”
...Oh, so you are more concerned about Lady Rozemyne finding out than the High Priest? Aah, I wonder when and where I shall inform her, then...
Fran had received the affections of Sister Margaret that I desired so much, and yet rejected her.
Fran just watched as Sister Margaret fell into despair, having become unable to return to noble society due to sleeping with a gray priest. He did nothing to stop her from killing herself.
Fran thanked the gods in utter relief when Sister Margaret died.
I have not forgiven you, Fran.
Benno—Maybe Lessen the Workload
Friggin’ everybody and their mother is dumping work on me! Do they want me to die or something?!
The day after I heard that Myne had become Rozemyne, the High Priest summoned me to the temple. I’d figured he would since I knew so much about Myne’s circumstances, but the day after the incident? I never saw that coming. That was way too fast for a noble. It always took them days and days to set up meetings.
The store got busier after second bell thanks to the gates opening, and it was then that Gil came rushing in carrying a letter of invitation. It was the first time I had ever gotten one from a noble with no dates or anything written on it—all it said was to come as soon as possible.
“Take care of the store while I’m gone, everyone!”
Mark and I hurriedly got changed before heading to the temple at once. This was going to be an extremely important meeting that determined the Gilberta Company’s future. We knew that if the High Priest determined we weren’t necessary for Rozemyne, the daughter of an archnoble, he could have us eliminated at any given moment. It
