Chapter 9
“So you told them to prepare the carriage, and then left for the temple right away?”
One of the maids wiping dust from the window frame lowered her voice and whispered.
“That is what I am saying. At five in the morning, we are just getting up, but the Third Young Master already had all his clothes on and was completely ready to leave.”
Meril, the maid cleaning the table, took over the conversation.
She flipped over the dust-stained rag and recalled the moment she had encountered the Third Young Master in the still-dark corridor.
Ventilating the corridors by opening all the windows and collecting the laundry were duties assigned on a rotating basis.
And today, it had been Meril’s turn.
As the first among the servants to step out of her room, Meril yawned while opening the windows on the first-floor corridor—and that was when she saw him.
Aquila Reschenhardt, his black hood pulled down to his chin.
“At first, his face was hidden by the hood, so I did not even realize it was the Third Young Master. I only figured it out thanks to Ashent.”
Once the story began, the other two maids tidying the room drifted closer and joined in.
“What on earth was going on? Someone who never wakes up early! Did he say why he was going to the temple?”
“Why do you think? That party a few days ago. I heard he coughed up blood so badly that his clothes were soaked. He must have gone because he is ill.”
“He has collapsed before, though. I heard he has not gone to the temple since he was a child.”
They huddled together, words tumbling out one after another.
Their mouths had been itching all morning to talk about this anyway.
Then one of them cautiously craned her neck and glanced around, lowering her voice even further, as though sharing a secret.
“I think the Third Young Master has caught some incurable disease.”
“…What? Why?”
All eyes turned to her at once.
“He came down to the kitchen briefly yesterday, did he not? I was too far away to hear clearly, but the assistant head cook said he definitely caught a few words.”
Savoring the attention, the maid nodded, then whispered dramatically.
“The priest told the Third Young Master that ‘the shadow of death has fallen upon him’!”
“What?”
“…Good heavens!”
The maids let out short cries of shock.
“The shadow of death has fallen upon him” was a phrase the priests of the Sun God used only for those with a terminal prognosis.
After sweeping her gaze across their stunned faces, she recalled what had happened in the kitchen the day before.
“And after that, both the priest and Ashent were in tears! I could not hear what they were saying, but I saw them crying with my own eyes!”
“Surely not Ashent!”
“No, I am certain! I swear it!”
At her words, everyone’s expressions grew grave.
There was no one who did not know how devoted Ashent was to Aquila Reschenhardt, the young master he served.
Moreover, he was usually indifferent to anything that did not concern his young master.
If even Ashent had shed tears, then something truly terrible must have happened—so everyone present believed.
“But with the blessing of the Great One, he should not fall ill easily. They say the other young masters grew up without even minor ailments.”
“But if it is not just any illness, but a fatal one, perhaps even the blessing would not work…”
“Do you think he wore the hood to hide his complexion? Even when he is sick, he tries not to show it.”
At those plausible conjectures, their expressions shifted moment by moment.
What they had exchanged among themselves gradually solidified into accepted truth.
Their faces turned pale as they hurriedly finished tidying the room and rushed outside.
A sense of obligation seized them—the need to tell someone, anyone, about the Third Young Master.
The story that Aquila Reschenhardt had headed to the temple soon transformed into “the Third Young Master has a fatal illness,” spreading back through the estate.
***
The carriage rattled softly.
“In about five minutes, I think we will arrive at the temple.”
Shen lifted his head after pulling aside the curtain covering the window.
“It is my first time visiting the Temple of the Sun in Igrail.”
“Other Great Ones do not hold much influence here. You may be disappointed, Yujelia.”
At Shen’s added comment, Yujelia shook her head.
Igrail, the land ruled by the Reschenhardt family.
Geographically located in the north, Igrail lay closest among the territories of the Delvion Empire to the Frost Forest, where the most powerful monsters roamed.
That was because the land chosen as a strategic stronghold by the first head of the Reschenhardt family, acting under the orders of Delvion’s first emperor, had become Reschenhardt territory.
Originally, it had been a frozen wasteland where no living creature could survive, but everything changed when the Red Dragon settled here and made its nest.
Where the dragon’s mighty breath touched, the land softened and thawed, and its great wings enveloped the entire territory, shielding it from the piercing gales blowing from the Frost Forest.
Thus, blessed by the protection of the ancient dragon said to have existed since the birth of this world, Igrail became a land mild and fertile throughout all four seasons.
“Still, it is clean and pleasant. It is much smaller than the Grand Temple of Portplum, though.”
“Compared to the Grand Temple of Portplum, every place is small. That one is among the largest on the continent.”
Yujelia clasped her hands together, chose her words carefully, and then lowered her head.
“…They will not move right away, will they?”
Only then did Aquila lift his head from where he had been sunk deep into his seat by the swaying of the carriage.
“There has never been a case of the Curse of Deadly Poison being lifted, so they will not suspect anything immediately. Even our heading to the temple like this will look like desperate flailing in an attempt to cure the curse.”
Yesterday, during their discussion, Aquila had revealed that priests of the Night God were involved in the Curse of Deadly Poison.
Since the truth would eventually come out anyway, he had chosen to inform Yujelia in advance and ask for her help.
Judging from previous runs, using the Temple of the Sun was the most effective way to keep the Temple of the Night in check.
And in the process, they had uncovered a startling fact.
“I still cannot believe it. That a priest of the Night would be involved… and that Lady Celsia…”
That fact was that Celsia Reschenhardt was a follower of the Night God.
The reason Shen and Yujelia had been able to obtain the evening primrose so quickly in the Reschenhardt garden was because the flowerbed had been nearby.
The evening primrose was a common offering to the Night God Helitica, and a flower that symbolized her.
“She is definitely the one who cursed you, Young Master. She has always regarded you as a thorn in her side.”
The moment Shen heard Aquila’s explanation, he concluded that Celsia Reschenhardt was the culprit.
She had never made much effort to hide it, but since yesterday, Shen had shown undisguised contempt and loathing whenever Celsia was mentioned.
The current Aquila might not know the reason, but it was certainly connected to the way his heart chilled whenever he heard her name.
‘Still, I agree that Celsia Reschenhardt is the culprit. Considering the previous runs, this world’s story is not particularly convoluted.’
Aquila Reschenhardt was a character who was originally meant to die.
The fact that he had died in all twenty-nine runs before Aquila possessed this body left no doubt.
Thus, it was unlikely that the story would twist itself with elaborate details or sudden reversals.
‘What puzzles me most is why Aquila was chosen as the target. If it was about succession, Aquila is only the third son, with little chance.’
Clatter.
The carriage jolted once more, then gradually began to slow.
As the horses snorted, someone knocked on the carriage door.
It was the signal that they had arrived at the temple.
At the sound, Shen straightened his back and turned toward Aquila.
“Hah…”
Aquila let out a quiet breath.
One of the advantages of this world being structured like a game was that once you cleared something, you could later confirm the finer details through the system.
‘…Right. For now, I just need to focus on the quest in front of me. Once it is cleared, everything will be revealed anyway.’
Just as when he had boarded the carriage, Aquila pulled his hood down deeply.
Now was the time to seek out a miracle himself.
***
The Sun Priest Humbert threw open the shutters with vigor.
The rising sun slowly painted the surroundings in light.
With March giving way to spring, the already clear weather felt even brighter.
Humbert swept and polished every corner of the temple.
‘It is nice and quiet again today.’
Compared to other locations, the Temple of the Sun in Igrail was not large, and few people came and went.
That was because most of Igrail’s inhabitants worshipped the Red Dragon.
Temples belonging to Igrail, where the influence of other Great Ones was weak, thus displayed a unique character unlike other regions.
They focused more on serving as clinics or orphanages.
Humbert himself had grown up in the orphanage of this very temple.
‘Once I finish cleaning and prepare today’s snacks, that should be it. Will I be cutting it close before the children’s lesson time…?’
Humbert looked around the quiet temple.
It had not been long since the current head of the Reschenhardt family had departed for a monster subjugation in the northern Frost Forest, so things would remain even quieter for a while.
He idly enjoyed the stillness, then suddenly shook his head and came to his senses.
‘No, no. This is exactly when I need to stay alert. Let us get moving!’
Humbert’s role was to guard the temple and care for the children until the other priests returned.
If he simply completed his duties, then surely nothing would disturb this quiet, beautiful temple today.
That was what he thought.
But the peace Humbert hoped for came to an end roughly ten minutes later, when a massive carriage stopped in front of the temple.
Two knights dismounted and escorted those who stepped down from the carriage.
There were three in total.
One wore the same white robe as Humbert, another was dressed neatly in clothes made from fine fabric.
But the one who drew his eye most was the tall figure wrapped in a black hood.
That person was holding the hand of the priest in the white robe.
Humbert could not see the face clearly, yet he was struck as though by lightning.
Through the shifting hood as they walked, he had caught a glimpse of vivid red hair.
Shen, who stopped in front of Humbert, inclined his head slightly.
“We apologize for intruding so early, before the sun has fully risen. The Young Master wishes to borrow a communication crystal that allows contact between temples.”
“Y-yes? A c-communication crystal? For what reason, or rather, to where…?”
Humbert stammered in his flustered confusion at the sudden turn of events.
“To contact another temple, you must clearly state the name of the temple you wish to reach and the purpose, and then—”
“To the Grand Temple of Portplum.”
A cool voice cut cleanly through the bustle.
Humbert froze mid-sentence.
The man with the hood pulled low, Aquila Reschenhardt, spoke quietly.
“There is only one purpose. I wish to borrow the Sun God Raspalara’s holy relic kept there—the Right Hand of the Halo.”