.jpg)
Valentin racked his brain, desperately searching for any way to keep Larisa within the imperial palace, even if it meant resorting to threats.
Should he go to Vasily and threaten that if Larisa were to leave, he would also abandon Horgan? Or should he deceive the Emperor by claiming he had seen a future where Princess Larisa was assassinated during the public prayer service?
Or perhaps...
‘Dammit.’
Letting out a sigh, Valentin rubbed his face harshly. Thanks to the cold temperature of his palms, reason returned to his tangled thoughts.
There was no need to be this extreme.
Valentin's goal of completely severing his ill-fated ties with Libertan and his goal of protecting Princess Larisa might head toward the same destination, but they didn't need to walk side-by-side. He could control Larisa as Larisa, and Horgan as Horgan.
It wasn't that he didn't know that. So why did his mind keep painting the worst possible ending—one where he held Larisa's cold, pale hand and did nothing but repeat his regrets?
“Your Eminence Valentin.”
The call came from right beside him.
Taking a silent deep breath, Valentin donned his usual impassive mask over a face that must have been severely distorted. The mask of Prophet Valentin, who never wavered in the face of external winds and instilled trust through every minor word and action.
What was held out before the prepared man was a single drink glass, clearly showing signs of age.
“It is warm milk. Please drink it before it gets cold.”
Caught off guard, Valentin didn't take the glass immediately; instead, he looked up to identify the person. As soon as he recognized the face, he accepted the warm milk.
The weary-faced old priest who had slowly taken the spot beside him was Bishop Parben.
“Seeing you from behind, you've truly grown quite a bit over these four years. Boys are quite fascinating. One day they suddenly return as fully grown adults. It's certainly a different feeling from girls, who grow steadily year by year.”
There was always a magical, calming power melted into Bishop Parben's voice.
It was a sense of tranquility that came from knowing the person well. Bishop Parben was also the first person Valentin had earmarked as a teacher for Larisa. This was because his honesty was like eternal snow that did not melt even over long years.
“The day I first met Your Eminence now feels like a distant dream. A young boy, barely seven years old, stood right there and left a prophecy that shook the heavens and earth. It was the moment five thousand Cherenskoins were saved from the great catastrophe.”
“…….”
“However, is not an apostle of prophecy merely a human the moment his feet touch the ground? His Holiness the Pope would surely be enraged and tell me not to speak such blasphemy, but I at least hold such a question. If a savior saves the world, who saves the savior's world...?”
Bishop Parben's eyes, glancing briefly, were deeper and calmer than they had been four years ago. Looking back, meditation was an act Valentin had learned from this old priest.
“Are you aware that today is a lunar eclipse where the moon does not rise? Since it is dark and devoid of moonlight in all directions, no one will be able to eavesdrop on the conversation in this holy hall. And this priest, Parben, will also forget today's events once the morning sun rises.”
“…….”
“…….”
“……I heard that Her Highness the Princess will be attending the prayer service.”
The words leaked out like a sigh after much deliberation.
The fewer words, the better, and weaknesses disappear when hidden. Knowing this, he wanted to refrain from opening his heart to others as much as possible.
Yet, there are days when one gives up even that restraint. Especially in front of Bishop Parben.
“It is not surprising. Princess Larisa has always found the palace suffocating.”
“The justification given is that she intends to identify and remember the faces of the traitors. I wonder if stopping her is truly the right thing to do.”
Bishop Parben's face showed that he immediately understood the meaning behind those words. Larisa was not the type of person to make those around her anxious simply because she felt her room was suffocating. She simply wanted to save more people.
As if hearing the voice of that heart, a faint smile played on Bishop Parben's lips.
“I know well, Your Eminence. Is Princess Larisa not always a person overflowing with love? Although she tried to use every trick in the book to skip her theology lessons, she would report the facts to the Crown Prince with modifiers like ‘pranking Bishop Parben’ or ‘while Bishop Parben was focused on the lesson’ so that the anger wouldn't splash onto this old man. It was only three years ago, so it hasn't been that long. Hoho, to me, she still feels like the nine-year-old girl I first met...”
Seeing him nod contentedly with a hazy expression, it seemed he was reminiscing about the Larisa of old.
“When she wears the face of a grown lady, I feel the reality of growing old, and it's a strange feeling.”
Valentin let out a small chuckle.
“A child becomes an adult and leaves home. The act of stepping out the door signifies adventure. They may lose much, but they return with even more spoils and move toward a further path. Then, from a certain day, it becomes the start of a long journey from which they will never return. Does Your Eminence not feel the desire to watch such an adventure?”
“I fear that while watching, I might lose her vainly.”
“Even if it is the adventure she desires?”
“Just because you desire it does not mean my fear will subside.”
“In that case, the heart with which Your Eminence worries for her must be a heart for your own sake.”
A heart for my own sake. The meaning melted into that expression was so cruelly accurate that Valentin let out a hollow laugh.
“Is that so. Not the Princess's heart, but mine...”
Was his heart simply selfish?
He felt he finally understood why his concern and worry for Larisa felt so strange.
All those emotions were for Valentin himself.
The lies, threats, and persuasions he had agonized over to protect Larisa were, in truth, measures for his own benefit. If he truly wanted to support his Princess, would he not have devised the optimal plan to protect her in a wide plaza instead of thinking of locking her in a castle?
His affection had become corrupted.
He could no longer deny it; at some point, he had begun to show Larisa... a selfish and gloomy obsession.
And that obsession was of a slightly different form than the affection he had cherished while watching Larisa for the past seventeen years.
“Your Eminence Valentin. Your wish is not wrong. It is a confusion that anyone easily experiences when dealing with someone they hold dear.”
“It seems you have experienced that confusion yourself.”
“Haha. What is there that one does not experience in their youth? Is this protection for the other, or protection for my own stability... This dilemma often eats away at oneself. In such times, even if it is regrettable, please let go a little. I am not saying do not love. Just let go enough so that you are not tormented by the heart that loves.”
If he wanted Larisa to experience a wider world and grow, it meant he ultimately had to let go of his selfish and twisted obsession.
But Bishop Parben... how could he possibly not cherish that child?
There were countless reasons why Valentin adored Larisa. They were piled up like a mountain, so high it was overwhelming to look up at, and even pulling out memories from just the last few days made them vivid before his eyes.
[...Right, that must be it. It probably isn't a lie.]
Her innocence in believing his words exactly as they were.
[I understand. You're surprised not because I fainted in shock, but because I'm too calm, right?]
Her primness as she squared her shoulders proudly while looking up at him.
[You said it, Valentin. That Ivan was being used by Duke Libertan.]
Her excellent intuition that never missed his sincerity—all of it. Every bit of it was precious.
Of course, not every side of Larisa was lovely. The way she occasionally locked eyes and smiled softly at Igor at the imperial balls. The way her letters were filled with detailed worries for Sergei. And...
‘Phew.’
As he recalled a few more dissatisfying memories, Valentin grit his teeth, unable to withstand the surging self-loathing.
Just how pathetic was he planning to become, dammit.
.jpg)