It’s been over two years since Olovice arrived in this unfamiliar world. In the first year, he was frantically learning the language and knowledge, trying to blend into this world, or at least not let anyone easily spot any flaws. Now, he can chat and laugh with anyone without revealing anything. In the following year, he learned how to be a good village priest deacon, and Olovice feels he did quite well in both tasks.

“We should reach Montpelier by evening,” Susan said, gazing at the small hills by the roadside. Ever since they left the small town of Letania, the hills have become more frequent, lush with greenery and looking vibrant.

“I’m a bit reluctant to leave,” Susan admitted, having grown fond of this quiet, unassuming countryside village.

Emile stretched out her hand, feeling the breeze as the carriage trotted along. “We can come back to visit when we have time.”

“It’s hard to come during the winter holidays. I have to go hunting with my dad and attend various social gatherings, plus celebrate the New Year with my family. After graduation next year, you’ll be heading to Morito City,” Susan said, feeling even more reluctant as she spoke.

“After graduation, I still want to stay in Montpelier,” Emile said, her light purple eyes filled with melancholy and longing.

Susan immediately understood her friend’s thoughts. Emile’s boyfriend was in Montpelier, but their love wasn’t favored by the Violet family. It was clear that her friend’s path to love would be a rocky one.

Listening to the two noble young ladies talk, Olovice shifted his gaze to the gradually disappearing mountains. This was the only main road leading to Montpelier from the nearby small towns, built in the last century. After years of effort, this main road was finally completed.

Olovice stroked the embossed cover of the “Holy Rite of the Light Cross,” opened the book, and began to study. With exams approaching, he had a lot of data to memorize. After a while, Olovice looked up at the sky. Under the clear blue sky, a crow was circling above the carriage.

“Ah, it’s Pike coming to meet me,” Emile said, putting down her parasol and standing up with a look of delight. She quickly covered her mouth and glanced back. Her maid was in the last carriage, and no one noticed her breach of etiquette.

Meeting Olovice’s gaze, Emile blushed slightly and sat back down, regaining her ladylike composure, though she couldn’t suppress the smile on her lips.

“It seems Noah is also nearby. He’s always inseparable from this crow,” Susan said, familiar with the crow, and waved at it. The crow landed beside Emile, and she immediately cradled the pitch-black bird in her arms, stroking it.

“Did Noah send you to find me?” Emile asked, unable to hide her joy.

The crow pecked at its feathers with its beak, affectionately nuzzling Emile’s fingers, then turned its eyes to the deacon priest opposite.

“What a beautiful crow. Miss Emile, is this your boyfriend’s pet?” Olovice asked with a smile, closing the “Holy Rite of the Light Cross.”

“Yes,” Emile replied. “His name is Pike, and he’s very smart.” She lifted the crow, looking at it from different angles, unable to resist giving it a kiss. “I didn’t even say I was coming back today, so how did you know to come?”

The crow couldn’t speak, only letting out a caw.

“Not many people keep crows. Your boyfriend has quite a unique hobby,” Olovice remarked with a smile. In Hearn, crows had another name, known as death birds. Death was always associated with black, like the black mandrake that always bloomed under the gallows, listening to the wails of the dead. Crows often hovered in places thick with the scent of death, symbolizing misfortune, disaster, and bad luck. Even witches rarely chose to transform into crows.

“Mr. Olovice, a crow is just a bird, no different from any other. I know many churches don’t like crows, but times are changing, society is progressing, and we need to recognize that,” Emile said softly, defending the crow.

After meeting the crow’s gaze, Olovice smiled and said, “Indeed, we can’t use old perspectives to define the present. The world is different now.”

In his time, a crow was just a crow, but in this world of mysticism, whether a crow was still a crow was uncertain. At the very least, Olovice noticed a faint aura of death around the crow, a layer of dark, cold energy enveloping it.

Hearing Olovice agree with her, Emile brightened up. Her parents were stubbornly old-fashioned, and she even suspected they didn’t like Noah because he kept a crow.

“Can I take a look at Pike? He seems well cared for, with smooth feathers and a healthy body,” Olovice asked.

“Of course,” Emile said warmly, handing the crow over.

Olovice reached out, gathering the crow that was about to spread its wings into his hand. His fingers were long and slender, with clean nails, preventing it from moving around.

Olovice looked down and met the crow’s gaze, seeing a flash of human-like coldness in its eyes. Then he felt a slight pain in his palm, a burning sensation suddenly spreading. He turned his palm over, finding it clean and uninjured, but the pain persisted. The holy spirit within him flowed, dissipating the pain in his palm.

There were no obvious signs of magic; it was either a special bloodline or a magical pet or demon.

Olovice placed his hand on the crow’s wing, letting pure light energy leak from his palm. He noticed the crow trembling slightly, its wings flaring up, and at the same time, the burning sensation in his palm intensified.

Olovice released the crow.

The crow unsteadily flew back to Emile’s side.

“Why does it seem listless?” Emile asked, puzzled as she cradled the crow.

“The weather is too hot; maybe it’s thirsty,” Olovice suggested, knowing the crow couldn’t speak.

“Poor Pike,” Emile said, just about to have the carriage stop so her maid could fetch some water for the crow.

“I have water here. If you don’t mind, let Pike drink mine,” Olovice offered, opening the suitcase by his side and taking out a medium-sized glass bottle. The water inside was clear and rippling. He pulled out the cork and held the bottle to the crow’s beak, saying warmly, “I’ve always liked small animals and even worked as a forest ranger for a while. I have a fondness for birds, these forest spirits, so please don’t hesitate.”

“Thank you,” Emile said gratefully, just about to let Pike drink the water when the usually quiet and obedient crow suddenly flapped its wings and flew away from her hand.

Emile was caught off guard by this sudden change and called out several times, but the crow wouldn’t come down.

“Pike is being disobedient today,” Emile could only apologize to the kind-hearted Deacon Olovice.

“It’s fine. Pets have the right to be capricious,” Olovice said, putting the holy water back in his suitcase.

Emile smiled.

The crow let out a strange caw in the air.