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“……is the message I was told to deliver. My role is finished, so I shall take my leave.”
Alexandre grabbed Valentin, her voice laced with tears.
“D-don’t go! Who on earth said such a thing? C-could it be Bishop Parben……?”
“I cannot tell you. It is certainly not the priests of the holy hall or Lord Libertan.”
“Answer me this instant. I am the daughter of Viscount Bisque!”
“…….”
“I am…… I am a noble! My daughter and I are not people to be treated this way…….”
Valentin ignored the woman's sobbing and left the room.
Ten minutes later. When Valentin returned, Alexandre and the child were no longer in the room.
He stood blankly on the ground where the carriage had briefly stopped before moving on. He recalled the tragic news of the Empress that had reached him without fail a few weeks prior.
‘This should be enough.’
As long as Alexandre maintained her sanity, both mother and daughter would be able to preserve their lives.
There were no other options. This is my best. I did my best. With a worn expression, Valentin wiped his face with his hands and turned away, praying that Alexandre would never return.
Her childbirth and subsequent disappearance caused quite a stir in Makhachkala, just as they had in his previous life, but as was also the case then, the commotion did not last long.
Fortunately, it seemed God had listened to Valentin's prayers.
At age twelve. He had not yet obtained the golden Phasia, the symbol of a prophet, but Valentin's presence within gabrielism had grown compared to before.
It was thanks to his contribution in increasing the wealth of certain cardinals, having ceased his prophecies of natural disasters like floods.
Time flowed smoothly.
“Priest Valentin. What do you think of the future of the Ohala Empire?”
“When you speak of the future, what exactly are you asking?”
“I heard the Crown Prince there has gone half-mad. Concerned voices are frequently heard from various places. In the future the priest has seen, what kind of Emperor has Crown Prince Vasily become?”
“……Prophecy is a divine revelation. I have not yet received a revelation from God regarding the future of Ohala.”
Occasionally, voices would ask about the well-being of the Imperial family, but he dismissed them with feigned ignorance.
He was not wrong.
Valentin was simply walking the path he had chosen. A path of survival to stay alive. That was not a sin, but an instinct.
Age fifteen. Time still flowed smoothly.
However, while the majority of the imperial citizens knew of Valentin of House Dmitriev, they remained ignorant of Valentin the Prophet.
How could that be? Bishop Parben's answer to that question was as follows.
“The Curia is, after all, a gathering of many people. For a long time, various factions have been vying for power. They are always wary of the emergence of a new power.”
“You mean they are worried I might exercise influence by leaning on my family.”
“Yes. Moreover, is the Baron not a descendant of saints with a long history and distinct symbolism?”
Saints with a long history and distinct symbolism.
‘The Order of the Oracle.’
Are they wary of the revival of the Order of the Oracle?
“Therefore, they are likely blocking the achievements of the prophet from spreading outside of gabrielism. It is a pity…….”
He had converted to gabrielism to avoid Libertan, only to find that things here were no different from the outside. He let out a hollow laugh.
Age eighteen.
Finally, the Pope designated Valentin.
The order was that the golden Phasia would be granted in three years, and until then, he was to wrap up all his affairs in Makhachkala, accumulate good deeds, and officially succeed the lineage of the oracle.
Upon receiving the news, Valentin quietly closed his eyes while receiving the blessings of the priests.
‘……Finally.’
He finally had power.
Three years. If he could just endure for exactly three years, he would be granted a power that Libertan could not ignore. Anyone with a sane mind would not dare to antagonize gabrielism.
This hell is ending!
……Perhaps.
From that day on, Valentin became extremely careful with his words and actions.
Spending his time alone in the prayer room until late at night, he played the part of a devout priest with all his heart and soul.
Then, on a certain autumn night, a little over half a year later.
It was while he was killing time in the prayer room, eating dried raspberries as usual.
“Um…… Priest? Are you here?”
A girl, hunched over like a mouse, fearlessly opened the door to the prayer room and walked in.
When he turned his head, the girl stared at Valentin blankly for a moment before suddenly stiffening and hurriedly bowing her head.
“H-hello. I am Fedora from the Patty Orphanage.”
Valentin was about to answer that it was a time when general believers were forbidden from entering, but seeing the girl Fedora's shabby appearance, he slowly nodded.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Fedora. Do you have business with me?”
As soon as she straightened up, Fedora knelt and pressed her head against the floor.
“Priest! I beg of you. Please save my younger siblings! For a powerless orphan like me, there is nowhere else to ask for help but the holy hall!”
Here we go again.
‘Sigh.’
Unfazed by the familiar sight he had witnessed occasionally, Valentin helped the girl up.
“The floor is cold, so please stand up first.”
“Adults are selling strange things to the children at the orphanage!”
“……Strange things?”
“They're wrapped tightly in paper, so I don't know what they are. They stagger as if they've lost their minds, babbling about seeing angels or something, and then they look for those envelopes again……. The adults say they have to work to get those things. Already more than ten older sisters and brothers have disappeared from the orphanage……. I don't know where they are or what's being done to them…….”
Fedora's eyes were intelligent.
Though he had repeated death for decades, children with eyes as clear as this girl's were rare. There was no lie, no exaggeration. Moreover, hadn't Valentin already experienced the existence of suspicious items in Makhachkala that caused people to lose their minds?
‘Is Libertan using even children, using the Messiah as bait?’
He must absolutely not get involved.
He must not feel sympathy for the children. The moment he felt pity for them, Valentin would lose his family again and return to the beginning of this hell.
Yet, he could not simply send Fedora away. It was obvious that this intelligent orphan girl would keep coming back.
Even if Valentin fled far away, someone in the holy hall would eventually hear the girl's plea for help. Not all priests follow only profit. A conscientious and kind person would surely respond to the girl's request, and upon learning of this, Libertan might hear Valentin's name after an interrogation.
He had to prevent that at all costs.
Four days later, a new residence for Fedora was decided. It was a position helping and learning to cook at a holy hall in a quiet small town far from Makhachkala.
Late at night, the day before she left.
Fedora, who had burst into the prayer room as before, held a piece of stationery she had received secretly from Valentin.
“Is this letter true, Priest? You're really going to save my siblings? You're really going to punish those bad adults!”
“That is correct.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Ugh…… th-thank…… thank goodness.”
Sob. Large tears pooled on the girl's dark face.
“Th-the city people said so. That the Priest is rich, smart, devout, handsome…… anyway, that you are a very amazing person. Sob. But I hated people like that. Because people that amazing all look at me like I'm a bug.”
“…….”
“But…… I guess my perspective was narrow. Thank you so much, Priest…… I will definitely repay this kindness someday. I'll definitely come back to Makhachkala!”
That would never happen. As long as Libertan was alive, Valentin would never, ever let Fedora enter Makhachkala.
In the empty prayer room after the girl left, Valentin suddenly felt a thick sense of self-loathing.
I'm not an idiot. Despite everything that happened, I repeated a judgment that might become a threat to my father. And after repeating it…… all I can do is send her far away and hide her.
‘Pathetic.’
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