HPV 21

Yurichen could not believe he had actually lost a member of the group.

No, in truth, he had lost three. When Riarun disappeared, the other two went with him. Judging by the traces of holy energy, Bzhan had vanished almost at the same time as Riarun, and Banwes had darted off without a word the moment Riarun disappeared from view, chasing a hunch.

Yurichen began to search for them calmly, but inside, his emotions raged.

“I think Bzhan fired an arrow.”

Paronai, the swordsman, seemed to have sensed something and rushed off in one direction.

Sure enough, someone had been hit by an arrow. The commotion in the area made it obvious. But that man had yanked the arrow from his robe and vanished like the wind. Paronai eventually gave up.

Time was precious, yet Riarun kept delaying them as if he were intentionally obstructing the journey. What’s more, he attracted the attention of the entire group. Penzey was already smitten with his beauty, and even Paronai was weak to him. Just moments ago, Yurichen had made sure they were walking hand in hand, but the two had stopped and caused a scene together.

Yurichen was the only one in the group not swayed by him. He regarded the situation as something that must be resolved.

Above all else, Yurichen couldn’t make sense of Riarun’s true intentions.

A high-ranking priest of Rohin, once enjoying power, yet throwing it all away with arrogant ease… and now offering to serve at the temple of Gaioh.

The doubt turned into wariness, which in turn heightened Yurichen’s vigilance.

Because of the delay caused by Riarun, they were unable to leave the city before nightfall. They reluctantly settled at an inn on the outskirts.

Yurichen, who had stayed awake without sleeping, appeared before Riarun like a ghost when the time came.

Insight was a grace granted only once every hundred days, and usually at the pope’s discretion. But God favored Yurichen, and granted him alone a special boon—a single, small fragment of divine insight.

All he had to do was stretch out his hand above the sleeping one’s brow. Within Yurichen’s grasp lay Riarun’s history. He could lay bare the truth hidden within this man draped in mystery.

A faint tremble stirred at his fingertips. Yurichen’s golden eyes drifted from ordinary sight and began to reflect another scene.

“……”

Yurichen was shaken. What am I seeing?

His furrowed brow refused to relax. He closed his eyes in disbelief and opened them again, but the scenes did not change, nor did they stop.

For the first time, he wanted to abandon the insight. But the result of not doing so was devastating.

Until now, Yurichen had ruled over himself and all around him with understanding and control. That self-assured worldview was long-standing and unshakable.

And yet today, he had run into an immovable wall. The blow felt like his entire body was being shattered.

Because behind the bright, cheerful young man peacefully asleep… was a child, curled up, beaten daily and starved.

Why? Why…

Yurichen’s face twisted as if he had been stabbed. He withdrew his hand, and the insight ceased.

There lay a stark, bony ankle. Just two days before meeting Yurichen, that very ankle had been shackled with cold iron.

Yurichen suddenly felt afraid of the sleeping figure before him. He feared that if he pulled back the covers, he might find a body covered in bruises and a ribcage jutting out.

This didn’t match the Riarun he knew. Nothing made sense anymore. Riarun suddenly felt like a stranger.

Why… didn’t he say anything?

Barely managing to stay upright, Yurichen began tearing down every assumption he had built about Riarun. Each fragment pierced him like a blade.

Riarun was thin, but so was Yurichen himself, having lived on modest temple meals—so he had assumed it was the same. His weakness, he had thought, must be innate, and his languid mannerisms the product of a life of indulgence, commanding subordinates with a flick of the hand.

Realizing now that Riarun had eaten raw dough without complaint because it had been the most delicious, perfect food he’d tasted in ages—Yurichen wanted to dunk his own head into a bowl of holy water.

How had he treated Riarun all this time? When he had made a fuss over eating all kinds of food, Yurichen had judged him as lacking virtue. When Riarun turned his gaze toward new sights in the city, Yurichen had glared at him, impatient and scornful.

—Raised in such luxury, why did you leave the Order?

—Because I wasn’t treated well enough.

How could he smile after being asked such a thing?

—If possible, please take me with you.

—I’ll follow you wherever your journey leads. Anywhere at all, please give me a chance.

Can I truly say… that was him asking for help?

Riarun always wore a faint smile, or curved his eyes in playful mischief.

Yurichen had thought him childish, frivolous. But now he understood—how hard Riarun had fought, bearing his wounds alone, never leaning on anyone.

For the first time in his life—Yurichen, who had never known failure, understood:

That even a flower once broken and scarred… could still be beautiful.

The experience of watching someone’s sleeping face making his chest ache was, even to himself, a shock. As Yurichen turned away, he staggered slightly and had to brace himself on the doorframe before leaving the room.

The floorboards of the inn’s empty corridor gave a low creak under his unsteady steps. Yurichen lifted his head.

At the end of the corridor, someone stood with their back turned, gazing at the moon through the window. A small bottle of liquor sat on the windowsill, along with a familiar bracelet. The figure turned around.

“What’s wrong? Had a nightmare or something?”

The mage’s voice had sunk into the shadows of the night.

Despite his carefree appearance, Penzey suffered from insomnia. Often unable to sleep at night, he would lean by the inn’s window and empty bottle after bottle of liquor—far more than the potions packed in his bag.

Yurichen opened his mouth.

All the thoughts crowding his mind about that young man—they needed to be spoken. He had to tell someone. But… the words caught in his throat.

The insight he had performed tonight was, in truth, something that should not exist in this world. It was a blessing granted by god through their special favor. And there was a strict prohibition: he must never speak of it aloud. If he did, he might lose that radiant divine power.

He couldn’t speak of it. Not to anyone.

As the high priest’s face turned increasingly pale, the mage watched with sly interest. Yurichen eventually shut his mouth. He leaned his elbows on the windowsill, clasped his hands, and appealed to the moonlight.

“O Lord…”

Penzey narrowed his eyes into slits, like cracks in a wall.

“You only ever call for god when you’re in trouble. Are they your mother or something?”

“Blasphemy…!”

The rebuke burst out at once—but just as quickly faded. His head was still reeling from what he’d seen moments ago. He had no desire to get into a long argument with Penzey.

In his mind, he kicked Penzey out of the way. Then he recalled the others in their group, one by one.

Bzhan was probably sleeping on a rooftop or somewhere away from people. Paronai was on the bed right next to Riarun, but he always fell into a deep sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, so he wouldn’t know a thing about tonight’s events.

But if there was one man whose intuition far surpassed that of ordinary humans…

Yurichen’s insight had had a witness. That grim man, Banwes, had been watching with his red eyes from the moment Yurichen had risen from his bed.

Yet even as Yurichen held out his hand above Riarun and stood there for a long time, Banwes had only watched in silence—and Yurichen hadn’t paid him any mind. After all, it wasn’t possible for someone to see the contents of an insight just by watching. He probably didn’t even realize it was an insight.

…But what if even he knows something about Riarun?

And yet, everything about Banwes screamed that he simply saw Riarun as some pampered and pretty young lord. He had no idea what kind of past Riarun bore as he shone so brightly—he was merely dazzled, like a moth drawn to fire.

Yurichen came to a final conclusion. No one knows about Riarun. No one.

In the end, the truth of what he had suffered would only come to light if Riarun himself confessed it.

But even so… Yurichen couldn’t understand why he hid it, even going so far as to act. Everyone here would help him if they knew.

If they heard that story, they would be furious alongside him. If he sought revenge on the Order, they would give him powerful magic or a strong sword. That’s the kind of people they were.

He was surrounded by some of the finest talents from the royal court, all dancing to his tune, and yet he didn’t even try to make use of them.

You prattled on about power and living splendidly, yet when it comes to something that truly matters, you clam up like a damn fool…!

He hated relying on others. He was afraid they would betray him again. So he chose instead to shoulder it all alone.

Though he acted calm and indifferent, the truth was, he didn’t trust a single one of them. …He had no real intention of growing close to anyone. He strongly preferred isolation.

Yurichen steadied his spinning vision and stood straight. The successive shocks were overwhelming his mind.

Alongside his ever-growing inability to understand Riarun, a powerful rage flared within him—one that coursed through his heart and resembled his divine power.

Now that you’ve caught my eye, it’s over. I’ve always found the existence of other religions besides that of Lord Gaioh offensive.

Just wait and see. I will bear witness to the moment your pitch-black inner self is exposed. And when that time comes, I’ll lock you away in the temple’s guest chambers so you can no longer pull your petty tricks with that glib tongue of yours. Once you spend your days doing nothing but eating and sleeping…

“The Order will have found itself on trial.”

The High Priest’s golden eyes blazed with holy fire.