Chapter 83

The prince’s mind went blank with a loud bang, and he didn’t know where he
found the strength to suddenly stand up from the priest’s embrace. Although his
steps were a bit unsteady, he did manage to stand. The prince shook his head as
if drunk, trying to clear his mind. His lips were still wet, and he wiped them
with the back of his hand, asking a foolish question, “Did you know I was
awake all along?”

The priest remained calmly seated, “I simply believed that Your
Highness’s body is not so frail.”

The prince was left speechless, feeling both ashamed and angry, just as the
priest had anticipated. However, he couldn’t lash out, forcing himself to
maintain his composure. He had been completely outmaneuvered, hoisted by his
own petard. The prince finally realized that the priest had come specifically
to mock him.

It was not the priest’s fault. The prince had been so preoccupied with his
arrogant pride, trying to completely dominate the priest, that the priest had
risen to the challenge and countered him at every turn. The Prince of Oss had
never encountered someone who could rival him in dignity, and now he had been
played and couldn’t even get angry.

It was both extremely clever and infuriating.

Dizzy, and Randes leaned against the wooden wall and slowly sat down. The
illness and the priest had dealt him a double blow, grinding down his
overwhelming arrogance.

Randes leaned against the wooden planks, tightly pressing his lips together,
saying nothing as if he were the only person in the room.

He knew the priest had gained the upper hand, and now, in his illness, his
thoughts were not as sharp as when he was healthy. Even when he was not sick,
he had never gained any advantage over the priest, let alone in his current
condition. It was best to pretend nothing had happened.

There was only one time when he kissed him, but even afterward, he still
ended up losing.

This truly frustrated the prince.

His breathing was sometimes fast, sometimes slow, his chest laboriously
rising and falling, feeling annoyed, ashamed, and helpless over his repeated
failures in front of the priest…

“Prince,” the priest’s call was still gentle, “do you still
need water?”

Randes: “…”

His barely calmed heart was once again stirred into turmoil. Randes gritted
his teeth and said, “Thank you, I can manage it myself.”

“Does His Highness no longer need my care?”

Randes pressed his lips tightly and deliberately said, “No, I very much
need your care. Even if you leave me for a second, I might be dragged into
hell.”

The priest’s lips curved slightly upward, “Then I will pray for you
constantly.”

“To Satan?” The prince had evidently regained some of his spirit
and began to respond with sarcasm.

“Perhaps to Cupid.”

“…”

Randes’s face turned red. He clenched his hand resting on the ground and
whispered, “Priest, do you find this amusing?”

“My unease, my fear, my embarrassment—do these bring you such joy that
you mock me so ruthlessly?” Randes raised his voice slightly, his throat a
bit hoarse.

The priest listened quietly, his expression and tone remaining calm,
“What exactly do you think I am mocking, Prince?”

Randes’s throat suddenly felt as if it were being choked. In this situation,
he could not possibly confess his love to the priest; it would be tantamount to
slapping himself in the face.

“I sincerely wish to cooperate with you, but you have made unreasonable
demands. You think that as a mere priest of the seventh divine rank, I am not
worthy to negotiate on equal terms with you and must accept your so-called
‘extra contributions of loyalty.’ Prince, let me tell you, from Clay to
Ersburg, I have always been alone, without anyone to rely on. Becoming the
priest of Ersburg Cathedral at the age of eighteen proves that I am not someone
to be trifled with.”

The priest stood up, his black robe wrapping around his tall, slender
figure. His lake-green eyes appeared dark and profound in the room.
“Forgive me for being blunt, but it is your honor that I have chosen you,
not mine.”

“Disease can bring out a person’s potential. I hope you will take this
opportunity to think clearly. If you miss this chance, I swear that one day,
the entire Hakat family will condemn you for missing the favor of the
Pope.”

The priest left, but the prince’s heart and breath remained unsettled for a
long time. The priest’s proud and resolute demeanor left a burning imprint on
his heart, like a firebrand.

He stirred his emotions so profoundly that his chest ached and tightened
from the vigorous beating of his heart.

Randes raised his hand to press against his left chest, feeling as though
his heart might burst out from within.

An arrogant man encountering someone even more arrogant.

Randes couldn’t help but smile slightly.

He had once thought that if the priest only had beauty, he might not have
fallen so deeply. But the priest’s actions and words made the prince inwardly
exclaim, “I am justly enchanted by him. Even if he were plain or
disfigured like me, I would still one day be captivated by him!”

The prince’s soul finally found peace. He saw his fate clearly: in the face
of love, he was like any ordinary person, despite any special traits he might
possess. This helpless state was natural, like facing an infectious disease.
Confidently and adamantly, he had believed he would never fall ill. Ah, love is
like a disease, one that strikes everyone eventually. The only difference is
timing, and because he resisted so fiercely, his suffering was sometimes
greater than that of others.

The prince alternated between frowning and smiling. The illness no longer
mattered; he accepted his hopeless love for the priest. It felt like a heavy
stone was lifted from his heart, and his entire being relaxed, naturally
beginning to heal. He stood up to drink water and eat, regaining some strength.
Vague fragments of memory started to surface.

Someone had touched him, caressed his back, then his chest, and whispered
something gently. The prince’s hand paused his eyes, aching, stared at a dim
corner of the room. He recalled waking up in the priest’s embrace…

No, his thoughts were too narrow and too cynical—

He had assumed the priest’s presence was purely for mockery. No, this was
incorrect. The very fact that the priest had held him in his arms meant he
couldn’t think of him so one-dimensionally!

The prince grew excited, a feverish smile spreading across his face. He felt
uplifted, his spirits soaring. He ate a large piece of cheese in one go. Yet,
while chewing, his emotions plummeted again, suspecting that this too might be
another of the priest’s methods of torment.

Ah, love, which humbles even the strongest, makes the proudest feel inferior
and leaves the great Prince of Oss lost and bewildered.

*

After resting in the small wooden house for a night, Randes felt completely
recovered. His strong constitution had overcome the illness.

Outside, the day was breaking. The flowing river carried faint birdsong. The
prince heard footsteps—it was Father Bunier, bringing clean clothes and a cane
for the prince.

The prince stepped out of the wooden house. Bunier saw the old scars on the
prince’s strong body and couldn’t help but say, “God bless you.”

“I’m already better.”

The prince took the shirt, his long arms sliding through the sleeves.

Bunier couldn’t help but remark, “The priest is truly remarkable. He
said you were probably already well.”

The prince’s actions paused, his determined lips pressed together as he
finished putting on the shirt and started buttoning it. “The priest always
sees through some truths.”

Bunier smiled, pleased with the prince’s change in attitude towards the
priest. “Prince, I have good news to inform you.”

“What?”

“You are the last patient in Colby.”

Randes was taken aback. He looked at the monk, whose face was full of joy
and smiles. “Colby is saved!” the monk added, “Thanks to you and
the priest!”

The prince continued buttoning his shirt, his emotions mixed. As the lord of
Oss, leading a group through a small obstacle was just a routine task. But this
disease had taught him much—it made him realize he had fallen in love and
struck at his arrogance. Here, he had kissed someone for the first time…

Randes finished buttoning his shirt, neatly dressed. He turned to the monk,
made the sign of the cross over his chest, took the cane handed to him, and
said in a low voice, “God bless.”

The epidemic had revitalized Colby, which seemed almost unreal, but it was
true. Colby had rested for two weeks. People no longer had to struggle for
food; they had filled their bellies and finally had time to clear accumulated
rubbish and repair broken houses. Children spent days and nights with their
parents, whispering, hugging, and kissing. Some people had passed away but with
an unexpected dignity unimaginable to the residents.

The residents bid farewell to the priest, who remained as gentle and
approachable as ever. They kissed the priest’s face, fingers, cross, and robe,
while he blessed them and assured them that God always watched over them.

The fence was being dismantled, and Brune couldn’t help but feel a mix of
emotions as he watched the priest surrounded by the residents. He knew this
priest would rise to great heights; daring to venture into danger would surely
yield corresponding rewards. The epidemic had elevated the priest’s reputation
to astonishing heights, and even Brunen believed the priest’s words without
reservation—when the priest said the prince would recover today, it seemed like
a miracle. Brune was a believer, but he admitted he wasn’t devout; he, like his
nephew, harbored doubts about the existence of God deep down.

The crowd turned back due to the noisy commotion.

“It’s the prince—”

“The prince—”

“Goodness, the prince is well!”

The prince leaned on a cane, dressed neatly with no signs of illness. His
deep brown eyes radiated firm determination, and no one paid attention to the
scars on his face. They looked at the prince affectionately, with reverence and
hope. Men and women alike bowed silently, offering their respect to a noble for
the first time with such sincerity.

Brune rushed in, “Randes—”

The prince extended his right arm to accept the captain’s embrace.

“Thank goodness, you scoundrel! You had me worried—”

A tear welled up in Brune’s eye as he punched Randes’s back. “I knew
it. You’re one tough bastard. Nothing can bring you down!”

The people from the Esberg church also entered the square. They surrounded
the priest, kissing his hands, thanking God for their blessings, and expressing
gratitude for having such a noble and great priest.

“Of course,” Randes said, wrapping an arm around the captain and
effortlessly lifting him off the ground. “You know, even Satan can’t stand
me. Hell wouldn’t take me.”

“Oh, come on—”

Brune released himself from his nephew’s grasp and looked at Randes with
pride in his eyes. To him, Randes was never ugly; scars only added to his
charm. Randes’s resilience and courage far surpassed those of the waltz master
Sharman by ten thousand times. “You should return to the palace. I
insist.”

Randes patted the captain’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I know what to
do.”

The prince looked towards the priest, lifted his cane, and walked steadily
towards him.

The priest was speaking to the monks. When they saw the prince approaching,
they instinctively stopped and reminded the priest that the prince was coming
from behind. The priest calmly turned around; he knew the prince was coming.

The prince stood before the priest.

The entire square fell silent as everyone looked at the prince and the
priest. The crippled prince raised his cane with both hands, its metallic
surface gleaming in the sunlight like a scepter. His right leg stepped back
slightly, and his disabled left leg slowly bent, kneeling on the ground. He
looked up at the priest, his magnetic voice like a song as he said,
“Beloved priest, please accept this lost child. I am willing to gain the
strength of faith under your guidance.”

Under the azure sky, the sun hung over the priest’s head like a brilliant
gem. The priest leaned down, his golden hair lightly brushing against the
prince’s scarred cheek. His lips moved softly, and the onlookers tried to
decipher what he was saying to the prince. Perhaps blessings, perhaps prayers.
This scene compelled them to kneel down, clasping their hands together in
prayer.

Little did they know, the priest wasn’t offering blessings or prayers to the
prince.

“Your Highness, I know faith doesn’t reside in your heart, but that
doesn’t matter…”

The priest’s voice was low as his lips brushed against the prince’s ear.

“From this moment on, I am your master, your god, your father.”