Chapter 108

The lord of Clay eventually learned of the king’s arrival and rushed to the monastery to greet him. The king did not reprimand him for the impoverished state of his territory but kindly suggested that Oss had many unregulated sheep and that anyone willing to sleep in the sheepfold could significantly increase Ost’s wool production.

The lord of Clay turned pale with fright. The king’s hand on his shoulder was so firm it nearly crushed his bones. Trembling, the lord assured him that the situation in Clay would soon improve.

The king nodded in satisfaction and then assigned the lord a special task: he wanted the lord to help the new Bishop Eugene find his biological parents.

The lord solved this issue promptly.

The nuns had diligently searched for information about the bishop’s parents. The lord, endlessly and gently badgered by them, had no choice but to send people to assist the nuns in finding out who had abandoned this beautiful child.

Unfortunately, they found nothing.

“Bishops are supposed to be God’s children,” the lord cautiously suggested. “I think that’s very likely.”

The king gave him a cold look. “Your guess is incredibly wise, fully reflecting your governance of this land.”

The lord licked his dry lips and shrank into himself like a trembling fat sheep.

As for his own origins, the bishop had come to terms with it, at least in this world.

Bill and Barnett quickly bonded as father and son. Both being good people, they swiftly warmed to each other, rekindling their lost familial bond. Bill had cried several times since realizing the truth, and Barnett had completely submitted to the king. He felt no shame in this; any choice made for the family was not an act of cowardice. He was willing to return to the capital to face any judgment.

The bishop, however, sneered a few times in private.

It was wonderful that the person he had set his sights on had so quickly shown loyalty to the king. Truly, the protagonist’s aura shone brightly.

The king noticed the bishop’s growing coldness towards him. Though the bishop agreed to accompany him on the tour of the fief, he rarely spoke to him.

Because of the bishop’s blindness, the lord of Clay offered a carriage. The bishop and Achill rode inside, while Bill and Barnett laughed and talked outside.

Initially, Achill was somewhat downcast, but he soon cheered up and began to converse easily with the bishop. Although the bishop was usually taciturn, Achill could chatter happily on his own, so the carriage was often filled with laughter.

The king, holding the reins, felt incredibly lonely.

Several times, he found opportunities—during breaks, while setting up tents at night, during meals—there were always chances. The king wanted to talk to the bishop, to find an excuse for them to leave the group, to speak alone and intimately. This was the king’s plan. Unfortunately, the plan failed from the start. The bishop deliberately avoided him. Whenever the king spoke, the bishop would close his eyes—a clear sign of refusal for a blind man.

The king’s face stiffened, and he closed his mouth, his gaze lingering on the bishop’s face, trying to guess his thoughts.

Was it the reunion of Bill and Barnett that made the bishop feel self-pity? Or was it the bishop’s difficulty in adapting to the king’s changing feelings?

Maybe he should give the bishop some time.

The comfort the king felt from the bishop’s handling of the Hebrew matter surpassed any words of love.

“He doesn’t completely reject me,” the king thought silently. “He’s just nervous or confused by this unfamiliar feeling. He doesn’t know what to do, so he deliberately distances himself.”

“Just like I did when I first realized I loved him.”

A faint smile appeared on the king’s face, and his gaze softened. He watched the bishop from afar, his intense passion gradually transforming into a more serene yet profound and enduring affection…

*

Ost was a fertile and beautiful land, filled with the fragrance of plants. Happiness and tranquility radiated from everyone’s faces. The people showered the returning king with flowers, and they greeted the bishop, who the king personally helped down from the carriage, with equal enthusiasm, even though Ost didn’t have a single church.

A bishop crowning the lord of a land devoid of faith was itself an interesting event. The residents of Oss were curious about the bishop. The roadsides were crowded with people waving and shouting, making it very lively.

Everyone praised the bishop’s appearance and demeanor. Bill, in the crowd, spotted Nia and gazed at his beloved with eager eyes, telling his father, “That’s Nia, my fiancée—”

The king, supporting the bishop, welcomed the cheers of the people. The bishop also smiled gently and nodded to the crowd.

Once the group entered the estate, the bishop and the king parted ways again.

The king did not pursue him, merely watching the bishop leave in silence.

The day after returning to Oss, Bill announced his wedding, and the king immediately commanded the entire estate to prepare for the joyous event.

Bill expressed sincere gratitude and respect to the bishop. “Thank you for officiating our wedding and for your mercy in pardoning my father,” he said, kissing the bishop’s hand, his eyes brimming with tears. “You and His Majesty will forever be our family’s benefactors.”

The bishop withdrew his hand. “Everything is by God’s grace.”

Bill continued to express his personal thanks, his earnest and strong emotions reminding the bishop of the previous world.

The people of Oss also reminded the bishop of the people of Yongcheng. They brought him similar feelings.

These emotions were neither cruel nor sharp, very unlike the preferences of natural people.

If he had to say he hated it, the bishop questioned himself in solitude, the answer was no. If he had to forcibly exclude these emotions by natural standards, he could, but why?

The bishop placed his hand on the balcony railing, his expression fluctuating between coldness and contemplation.

The entire estate worked together, and everything was prepared in two days.

On the wedding day, the bishop officiated the ceremony on the estate lawn. He wore a cardinal’s robe, hastily tailored by the best tailor in Oss. No one expected the king to have such a talent for drawing, contributing greatly to the bishop’s dignified officiation.

This was the first religious wedding in Oss in decades. The newlyweds thanked the bishop, the king, their parents, and God.

“Bill,” the king still called his attendant by this name. He had set aside his usual arrogance and sarcasm. Something resentful and dissatisfied had disappeared from him, meaning he no longer harbored bitterness towards the world or his fate. His heart had shifted from a turbulent volcano to a serene, profound sea. He said to Bill, “I bless you, and wish you and your loved one a happy and beautiful life.”

The newlyweds cried with joy, as did many present. Barnett leaned on Archil’s shoulder, nearly fainting from tears. If he hadn’t cried so much on the journey, he might not have been able to stand through the entire wedding today.

Guests enjoyed lunch on the lawn. Anyone from Oss could enter the estate to bless the couple, drink, and dance with them. Laughter and joy filled the estate. The king showed no airs of a monarch, dressed simply, sitting among the people, occasionally raising a toast.

The bishop sat beside the king, holding a wine cup. The scents of wine, various foods, the laughter of the people, and the slight vibrations of the king’s laughter surrounded the bishop.

The king seemed fully immersed in the wedding, but in reality, most of his attention was on the bishop beside him.

The bishop appeared calm, with a faint smile on his face. As for what he was thinking, the king couldn’t be sure. As he lowered his hand to set down his wine cup, he gently held the bishop’s hand. The bishop’s hand was soft and slightly cool, feeling unlike anyone else’s in the world.

The bishop slowly withdrew his hand, and the king did not forcefully pursue.

Relentless pursuit was for escaping prey.

The bishop was not his prey.

The king looked at the bishop and said softly, “The cheese here is excellent. You should try some.”

“I’m not hungry,” the bishop replied equally softly.

The king’s heart clenched slightly. “Your appetite seems poor. I mean, you’ve been eating very little these past few days.”

“Are you very concerned about how much I eat?” the bishop said lightly.

“Of course,” the king said without hesitation. “I care about everything about you.”

The bishop put down his wine glass and rose from his seat. The king, feeling uneasy, also set his glass aside, worried that his blunt confession had once again upset the bishop. He watched as the bishop’s back receded.

The banquet was lively, and with the people of Oss being less religious, the bishop’s departure went mostly unnoticed. The king sat for a moment, finishing his drink, then quietly left after giving a few instructions to those nearby.

The king was often surrounded by many people. On his way to find the bishop, he drank several more glasses of wine, spun around a few times, kissed a few children’s cheeks, and blessed them with health before finally breaking free.

The estate was not particularly large, and the king found the bishop in a secluded corner of the garden.

The bishop stood alone by the fountain, his tall figure emanating a sense of solitude.

The king’s heart trembled. He took a few steps forward with his cane, then stopped, keeping a respectful distance. He silently accompanied the bishop, thinking that the bishop must have sensed his presence—he could never hide from him—but he hadn’t been dismissed… However, remaining at a distance was not in Randes’ character. He strode towards the bishop.

“Eugene.”

The king stopped behind the bishop and took a deep breath. “What’s wrong? Ever since that day, you’ve been ignoring me…” The king lowered his gaze to the bishop’s pale earlobe. “Are you angry with yourself? Because you forgave me…”

The bishop stood still, unresponsive.

After a moment, the king placed a hand on the bishop’s shoulder. “If it makes you regretful, you can take back those words,” the king said calmly. “I won’t mind.”

The bishop turned his face slightly. “I never regret anything I say or do.”

His empty eyes seemed to “look” at the king. Indeed, he never regretted any decisions, whether they caused pain to the protagonist or forced him to confront his own feelings.

“Randes, I do not love you,” the bishop said.

Faced with yet another sudden judgment, Randes felt his heart wrenched again. He had heard the bishop’s refusals and malicious provocations many times, but he thought things had changed between them, subtly but surely. Yet the bishop’s solemn declaration was more profound than any previous rejection, almost devoid of purpose, merely stating a fact. This made Randes feel an unprecedented and intense panic that left him breathless.

The fear wasn’t that the bishop didn’t love him; it was the bishop’s attitude as if he was finally bored with the game before him…

Randes dropped his cane and gripped the bishop’s shoulders tightly. His throat was dry. “I know, Eugene, enough. Today is a happy day, you don’t need to say more. I had some wine and feel a bit dizzy. I mean, enough, let’s go back. I want to build a church in Oss; it will help restore religious strength…”

“But perhaps it’s not absolutely necessary to love,” the bishop said in a light tone.

Randes’ mind, chaotic with his own ramblings, caught the bishop’s words. He continued babbling, “Strength… our goals are aligned…” His mouth spoke nonsense, but his mind kept repeating the bishop’s words—”But perhaps it’s not absolutely necessary to love.” Oh, how complex that statement was. Randes, slightly dazed, repeated it out loud, “But perhaps… it’s not… absolutely necessary… to love…” A loud ringing filled his head.

“Yes,” the bishop affirmed the king’s repetition.

If he had those “undesirable” feelings and wanted to avoid them, wouldn’t that prove he feared those feelings?

He was not afraid, nor did he avoid them.

Randes suddenly lifted his head. The bishop said, “Alright, I’ve said my piece. We can continue discussing the church…”

Lips met in a forceful kiss.

It was barely a kiss, just lips pressed together.

Randes’ breathing was more rapid than when they were in bed. His body trembled, and the tremor was transmitted to the bishop. The bishop tried to push him away, his palm pressing against Randes’ chest, feeling the frantic heartbeat beneath.

He wanted to push him away? It seems he didn’t really want to do so… He just felt he should push him away… Naturally, people resist the so-called “shoulds.” He didn’t push him away; instead, his hand lightly grabbed his coat.