Chapter 80

The outbreak of disease in the Colby district quickly spread throughout the
entire capital, and the news of Prince Oss’ return to the capital also
circulated swiftly among the nobility. The combination of these two events led
to very unfavorable associations. Prince Oss had a notorious reputation, always
considered an ill omen.

Sharman had sustained multiple injuries on the battlefield and officially
claimed to have been hit by the revolutionaries’ muskets. In reality, no bullet
had hit him; he was terrified and tried to retreat. His purebred horse, bought
from Arabs and meticulously cared for in the stables, had lost its ancestral
courage through years of pampered living, just like its owner. Scared by the
sound of gunfire, it threw Sharman off, nearly smashing his head to pieces.

The crown prince ordered to the front lines, was immediately sent back to
the capital for treatment. After relentless efforts by the royal physicians,
Sharman finally survived. He then found the palace filled with his brothers,
and what alarmed him most was that Randes had also returned to the capital.

Sharman might not excel in warfare, but he was undoubtedly the best in the
Hacat family when it came to scheming and vying for the king’s favor. He knew
that none of his other brothers could replace him, except for the terrifying
and disfigured Randes.

God bless, Randes was as unlucky as ever, trapped in the quarantine area.
Sharman, despite his illness, knelt before the shrine, thanking God for his
favor and praying that the disease would soon drag Randes to hell.

Unfortunately, it seemed God did not hear his prayers.

The situation in the Colby district improved day by day. The panic-inducing
rumors about the disease in the capital gradually subsided, and people’s views
of Randes seemed to improve as well.

Sharman only heard about Randes’ good deeds in Colby and the reputation he
was building, without receiving the news he so desperately hoped for—that Randes
had contracted the disease. This wouldn’t do. He quickly went to King Yarlin’s
sickbed to plead for his poor brother’s release from the quarantine.

King Yarlin, whose mind was easily swayed in his confusion, agreed to the
request. He felt both fear and awe at Randes’ predicament, fearful that his son
had once again overcome a dire fate and in awe for the same reason. As the
supreme ruler of Lethi, he desired a strong heir. However, as his health waned
and he sensed his time was limited, he also feared his son’s strength.

The king’s orders soon reached Colby. Randes was patrolling the district,
using his unique blend of roughness and pride to inspire the people. A young
man came to summon him.

“No, I don’t want to leave here,” Randes ruthlessly refused.

“Prince, what is this stubbornness?” Brune said. “If you can
leave, you should. It’s still dangerous inside.”

“I don’t think so, Brune. I’m not afraid of disease. It won’t defeat
me. Since I’ve come here, the residents have listened to me and followed my
commands. I am their master. I will wait until the disease has passed and
everyone is safe before I leave. Staying was not my original intent; when to
leave must be my decision.”

Randes’ attitude was extremely domineering, leaving no room for Brune’s
persuasion. Brune felt proud of this; this was the king he wanted to support.
He saluted Randes as a knight would, saying, “Prince, you truly possess
freedom.”

Randes did not find much joy in the captain’s submission. He believed it was
only natural that he had the power to conquer any land or person on this
continent, except…

As long as he didn’t think about that matter, Randes remained calm. But the
moment he thought of it, the normally decisive and imposing prince became
restless and indecisive.

When he made demands to the priest, the prince appeared calm and confident.
However, once he left, he was plagued with anxiety, lacking any certainty of
success in his coercion.

The priest was so intelligent and cunning; he would definitely negotiate
terms with him.

Once the negotiation began, it would mean that the priest was already
halfway into his grasp.

But damn it, the priest seemed incredibly composed. He continued to pray for
the sick, hold the hands of the dying, and bid farewell to the deceased amidst
the tears and gratitude of their loved ones.

The prince knew this was a critical moment. He restrained himself from
looking at the priest, speaking loudly and animatedly with others. He even told
a popular joke from Oss, causing laughter among the young people from the slums
in front of him. The prince himself didn’t laugh, though. He made such a
commotion, unsure if the priest noticed.

The priest had a remarkable hearing. He heard the laughter and chatter from
the prince’s direction, along with the prince’s slightly nervous breath and the
sound of his hand pressing too hard on his cane, the cane grinding against the
ground.

It was amusing.

For the first time, the priest felt genuine amusement at the situation.

Unlike the First World’s tendency to weaponize such situations, this was
purely about enjoying teasing the prince.

In the evening, the prince approached the priest calmly during his meal,
informing him that someone had come to the palace and asked him to leave, but
he refused. The priest praised and supported the prince’s actions.

The two conversed politely, and Bunnell said, “Your Highness, have you
had dinner?”

“Not yet.”

“Then join us,” Bunier asked the priest, “Father?”

“Most welcome.”

After a moment’s hesitation at the door, the prince elegantly nodded and
said, “Very well, then.”

The three dined together. Bunier engaged the prince in conversation
enthusiastically, while the prince maintained a noble, distant demeanor,
greatly impressing Bunier, who praised him profusely. He also admitted feeling
ashamed of his previous biases and thanked the prince for everything he and the
priest had done in the ward.

“It’s what nobles should do,” the prince said, downplaying his
actions.

While compliments pleased him, the priest seemed much colder compared to
Bunier’s warmth. He ate silently, and no one could glean anything from his
unseen, emerald-green eyes.

The prince endured, trying to appear unaffected. To distract himself, he
retold the joke from earlier to Bunier, who laughed heartily. This time, the
prince chuckled along twice, noticing a slight curl of the priest’s lips in his
peripheral vision, feeling satisfied.

As the meal ended, Bunier went to prepare tea for the priest as usual. Once
the monk left, the prince remained seated at the table, the candlelight
flickering.

Neither spoke.

The priest held the cross in his hands, his lips moving lightly as if
silently reciting scripture.

The prince told himself to be patient. He didn’t know how much time had
passed, fearing the monk might return soon, and he would miss his chance. He
struggled with conflicting thoughts, wanting to appear nonchalant but also
considering confessing directly to the priest, willing to pay any price.

God witness, he was close to madness!

The damn cabin was stifling, making Randes sweat profusely, his forehead and
palms damp. It was unbearable. If this continued, the priest would notice his
discomfort.

Randes picked up his cane leaning against the table, “Well, Father, I
must go.”

“Wait a moment.”

The prince immediately set the cane down, excitement gleaming in his eyes.
He suppressed his eager tone, speaking with feigned mildness, “Is there
something important you wish to discuss with me, Father?”

“I heard the Crown Prince’s condition has improved.”

The prince, who was eagerly anticipating extortion, froze.

The priest said softly, “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

The excitement on the prince’s face slowly faded.

“Before I became a priest, the Crown Prince had gone to Marland to join
the war. It’s a pity we haven’t had the chance to meet. Perhaps he will soon
wish to see me. Do you think I’ll have that honor, Your Highness?”

The prince’s breathing grew heavier, understanding the priest’s implication.

The priest had options other than him.

Feeling humiliated, the prince’s voice was barely audible, “Is this how
you show loyalty? By indirectly threatening me? My dear Father, do you think
this is appropriate?”

The priest sensed the prince was on the edge of fury, yet he remained calm.

“This is exactly what I wanted to say,” the priest’s voice was
gentle. “Your demand for me to show loyalty is unreasonable.”

Oh, God—

The prince’s fists clenched tightly. He wanted to slam his palm on the table
and shout, “Father, let’s not beat around the bush. I’ve fallen in love
with you, and it has nothing to do with damned loyalty. I’ve fallen for you,
desperately craving you. Please, fulfill my desires!”

The prince roared in his mind but didn’t utter a word. He stared intently at
the calm-faced priest, suddenly grabbed his cane, and left without saying a
word.

Bunier returned and encountered the prince, whose expression was extremely
unpleasant. This time, Bunier forgot to greet him, marveling internally. Why
did the prince always seem so dissatisfied after speaking with the priest?

Suppressing his curiosity, Bunier said, “Father, there are few patients
left. If all goes well, we should be able to return to the church in a few
days.”

“Yes, hopefully, the illness will pass soon.”

Bunier placed the water down and crossed himself, facing the priest.

Mo Yin finished washing himself contentedly, donning clean inner robes. He
leisurely reminisced about the prince’s obvious suppressed anger from earlier.

It felt like teasing a lion’s beard.

He had truly tormented him enough.

Mo Yin chuckled involuntarily, then froze at the sound of his own laughter.

He had indeed found joy in this. It felt so novel to him, leaving Mo Yin to
savor it for a long time. He imagined the prince would likely spend another
sleepless night, tossing and turning in regret over his actions and words. Mo
Yin couldn’t help but feel delighted, slipping into sleep contentedly.

The next morning, the priest’s mood remained pleasant. After breakfast with
the monk, he quickly went to the ward to greet and care for the patients.

From behind the fence not far from the square, came a commotion. The priest
turned his “gaze” towards the sound, and the monk followed suit.
After watching for a moment, the monk said, “Father, it seems someone
important has arrived.”

It was Sharman. He stood far from the fence posts, inquiring about the
situation inside the ward.

Brune said, “Thanks to the prince’s blessing, everything inside is
fine, and the epidemic will soon be over.”

Sharman’s face lit up with relief. “That’s good news. I’d like to see
my dear brother. We haven’t seen each other in almost a hundred years.”

“Now might not be the best time. The prince doesn’t know where you are,
and Crown Prince, your health hasn’t fully recovered yet. You should return to
the palace to rest.”

Sharman’s face turned pale, suffering from a terrible headache. It felt like
he had ten thousand wasps buzzing in his head. However, upon learning that Randes
refused to return to the palace, he rushed over despite his illness.

“It’s nothing. How can my personal health compare to the health of the
people? I’ve brought some food and water for everyone.”

The prince’s attendants unloaded one box after another from the carriage.

These tactics of waiting for things to end and then coming to pick the
fruits, buying people’s hearts, were truly in line with the Hackett family’s
style, Brune mused respectfully. He bowed in a knightly manner and said,
“I thank Your Highness on behalf of the people for your kindness.”

Sharman coughed. “It’s what I, as the Crown Prince, should do.”
His gaze swept over the nearby square, a trace of disgust passing through his
eyes. This place smelled awful. He spoke softly, “I heard there’s a
respected priest trapped inside.”

“Yes, it’s Father Eugene from the Church of Esburg. He’s a nobleman.
I’ve seen him taking care of patients, praying for them. During this time, the
deceased patients have been taken care of by him, allowing these poor and
destitute people to leave with dignity. Father Eugene deserves all the praise.”

“Then I’m fortunate enough to meet Father?”

“Of course.”

Brune instructed someone to fetch the priest from behind the fence.

Bunier had been secretly observing the situation. When someone came running,
he said to the priest, “Father, it seems they’re looking for you.”

The priest had heard everything. He stood silently, like a painting.

As the messenger sent by the captain of the guards came running, another
barefoot youth came running to the priest in a panic.

“Father, something big has happened. The prince is infected—”