Chapter 91

Sharman’s excessive attentiveness to the priest wasn’t because he admired
the priest’s charisma but because someone like the priest, who at a young age
had risen to the rank of bishop, was not to be underestimated.

Randes was brutal and tyrannical, and Sharman had always feared him. He felt
genuine fear towards Randes deep in his heart. Oh, he didn’t want to admit this
fear to anyone, although he found it difficult to conceal his unusual
apprehension in front of Randes. He could only convince himself that he was the
Crown Prince and until the king ordered a replacement, he was still the Crown
Prince!

And this young priest’s rapid rise to prominence was undoubtedly connected
to Randes. If there were no private dealings between the two, Sharman wouldn’t
believe it.

“A while back when the epidemic broke out in Colby, I heard of your
exemplary conduct during that time, Father, and I developed an admiration for
you. I went out of my way to meet you, but unfortunately, Randes fell ill at
that time, and I was injured on the battlefield, unable to support myself
physically. I didn’t get to meet you, and it’s been a regret ever since.”

Sharman’s voice carried a deliberately elegant tone, and his choice of words
displayed his aristocratic literary cultivation. Brune frowned as he listened,
glanced back, and saw the prince alighting from the carriage. His head was
slightly lowered, the brim of his hat covering half his face.

“Your Highness,” the captain of the guard called out.

Sharman seemed to notice only then that his beloved brother had also
returned to the palace. Last time, when Randes assaulted him and made threats
in the palace, Sharman had complained to the king with restrained anger. The
king’s response had been a slow snore.

Sharman forced a smile and turned to the prince. “Randes, welcome
home.”

The prince’s response was similar to the king’s, no response at all. He
picked up his cane and walked forward steadily. His servant was equally
arrogant, ignoring the charming smile the Crown Prince bestowed upon him. They
both ignored Sharman, who followed his strangely behaving master.

The captain of the guard turned to the priest. “Father, please come
in,” he said, giving the Crown Prince a little dignity. “Your
Highness, the king is waiting for the priest. You…”

“I’m here specifically to greet you,” Sharman interrupted.

The captain of the guard thought, Don’t you know you’re not welcome? Even
though everyone in the noble circle eats up Sharman’s act, Brune couldn’t
approve of such a prince who was all show and no substance, a prince who was so
frightened on the battlefield that he fell off his horse without firing a shot
– the captain’s barely maintained respect was only out of respect for the royal
family members. He performed a knightly salute. “Thank you.”

The procession became somewhat odd.

The prince and his servant walked ahead, while the welcoming party followed
behind. The priest was sandwiched between the Crown Prince and the captain of
the guard. The captain tried several times to assist the priest to join the
prince, but unfortunately, those attempts ended in failure. The priest’s steps
were too slow, and Sharman kept engaging him in conversation. The priest walked
slower as they talked.

“Don’t you need someone to support you when you walk?” Sharman
reached out and lifted the priest’s elbow. “Your eyes are the most
beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve grown accustomed to walking in the dark,” the priest
replied.

“It must be very difficult,” Sharman’s tone was sympathetic.

“As long as you fall a few times, you naturally become agile.”

“It’s heartbreaking to hear that.”

“Your Highness, you have a kind heart.”

“No, this has nothing to do with kindness,” Sharman’s voice was
emotional, “Any living person would feel sorry for the suffering you’ve
endured.”

“No, you are the most empathetic person I’ve ever met. I can
tell,” Sharman’s smile was warm, “You truly possess noble
character.”

Sharman laughed his tone like a song. “Father, I regret not meeting you
earlier. I feel that there’s something close between our souls. It’s wonderful
that we finally met.”

“I’m honored to have your appreciation.”

The captain of the guard couldn’t bear to listen anymore. He wanted to
remind the priest that the Crown Prince wasn’t what the priest thought he was.
It would be best for the priest to keep a distance from the Crown Prince,
especially since the priest was going to baptize the prince. But he didn’t know
how to remind the priest. God, he was really bad at socializing.

Brune shook his head lightly, looking ahead. The prince walked with
confidence, leaning on his cane, while the guards and servants of the palace
bowed and greeted him. It seemed that the prince had no intention of paying
attention to the two conversing behind him. Brune could only sigh softly,
praying that the priest and the king would meet soon.

—

Brune firmly blocked the Crown Prince from entering the king’s bedroom,
ensuring that the priest could have a private conversation with the king.
Sharman, refused entry, and clenched his fists tightly, feeling powerless, the
kind of powerlessness that comes from losing control over something you hold
dear.

Glancing down the dim corridor, Sharman could see Randes’ palace at the end,
to the right, very close to King Yarlin’s bedroom.

King Yarlin was very weak, and the court physicians had long been at a loss.
When the king saw the priest, he smiled, “As they wished, I finally see
the priest.”

“Your Majesty.”

The priest made the sign of the cross, “May God bless you.”

The king continued to smile, coughing weakly. “Time flies. My sons have
grown up, and I’ve grown old. Death haunts my bedside every night. Oh, I’m
rambling again, Father. I meant to ask you, how did you charm my stubborn
youngest son? You know, Landers is my last son. Poor Kuna, I’ve never blamed
her. Oh, God…”

Thinking of his deceased wife, the king couldn’t help but cry. There was no
handkerchief at hand, no servant in the room, so he covered his face with his
palm. After a brief loss of control, Yarlin lowered his wet hand, his voice
weak. “My poor sons…”

The king rambled on about his unfortunate wife and sons, begging God for
forgiveness for his sins. Everything, real or imaginary, dissipated in the
final moments of his life. He hoped the priest could bring peace to him and his
sons.

“I haven’t confessed in a long time, Father. I’m not afraid to tell you
this, nor am I afraid to say it before God. I admit my heart is not devout.
I’ve long betrayed God,” the king cried and spoke, exhausted. His
nightshirt collar was wrinkled, and he didn’t notice what the priest said, or
perhaps the priest didn’t say anything at all. He just spoke continuously,
needing someone to listen to him. He lay on the stacked velvet pillows,
murmuring as if drunk, “I am a sinner…”

The king and the priest spoke for at least an hour. The king spoke until his
throat was hoarse and his eyes glazed over. His dry eyes couldn’t shed tears
anymore. He had poured out all the secrets he had kept for years and felt
considerably lighter.

The priest said very little, quietly listening. Because of the priest’s
blindness, the king didn’t have to worry about his own tear-stained face. He
had never been so relieved to pour out all his feelings in front of someone
else. What was admirable was that the priest’s face remained calm and
unperturbed throughout, devoid of fear or sympathy.

“Father, thank you for bringing me peace,” the king said with
closed, moist eyes. “Father, no, Bishop, I’m glad it’s you who will
baptize Randers.”

—

The priest emerged from the king’s bedroom, where the captain of the guard
was waiting. He led the priest to inspect the clothes required for his
promotion to bishop, knowing that the priest couldn’t see them and had to touch
them to feel.

“Do you need me to call a servant to help you try on the ceremonial
clothes?” the captain asked.

“No need,” the priest said. “I can manage on my own.”

After saluting, the captain stepped back and closed the door behind the
priest. The sound of the closing door echoed in the empty room. The priest
reached out and picked up the ceremonial clothes. They felt cold, smooth, with
intricate patterns and hard gems.

Mo Yin’s mood wasn’t particularly joyful because of this.

Wealth and power were useless decorations to him, mere tools he used to
bring himself true happiness.

It was a pity that he couldn’t see in this world, only relying on
imagination to speculate on the tormented face of the prince. Certainly, the
prince’s frenzied screams had greatly pleased him, giving him a cruel and
gratifying pleasure. However, beneath this pleasure, there seemed to be another
very shallow and faint feeling… It was that feeling that made him want to
tease and play with the prince, rather than inflict a more terrible blow.

The priest appeared thoughtful.

The ceremony for the promotion to the bishop of the first district should
have been solemn and complex. However, in Lecy, where religious power was not
so strong, royal authority overshadowed ecclesiastical authority. The entire
hierarchical system of the church was in name only, and the king’s will could
freely decide the candidate for the bishop of this district. Because of the
urgency to baptize the prince, everything was simplified.

The entire palace was busy preparing for tomorrow’s ball.

Randes sat on the sofa by the window. This was his first time returning to
the palace since the fire that year. However, his mood today was not much
happier than when he escaped the fire.

As Bill tidied up the room, he observed the prince, noticing an expression
on the prince’s face that he had never seen before—melancholy. He let the
blanket in his hand fall and looked at the prince with great surprise.

The prince’s emotions were always exaggerated, whether in joy or anger. He
was always willing to show them on his face. He was the lord of the entire Oss,
and he didn’t need to hide anything.

However, an emotion like sadness was rare. Even Bill, who was the prince’s
closest attendant, found it hard to see such an expression on the prince’s
face.

“Your Highness,” Bill walked to the sofa, earnestly asking,
“What’s wrong with you?”

Randes sat silently with his hands resting on his lap, gazing out the
window. He neither got angry nor responded to the attendant’s concern. He was a
wealthy man, not because of how much land he owned or how much tax revenue he
collected, but because he never felt lacking in anything or desperately desired
something. Conquering the entire continent was more like a destiny-bound duty
to him. He was extremely sure of what he carried in his heart. Yet, the priest
had made him feel as though he had suddenly lost everything…

He couldn’t control himself from diving into that gap. He thought of the
priest like a madman. He didn’t believe, didn’t want to believe, that the
priest was someone who could separate body and soul like that. No, he must also
love him. The prince’s emotions fluctuated wildly. He was convinced that he
must have won the priest’s love, but then he fell into a deeper whirlpool,
suspecting that the priest had been playing him from the beginning.

But why? Was it because his initial offense made the priest hold a grudge
and want to retaliate against him? Or was his declaration of love too hasty?
No, no, he shouldn’t look for reasons from himself. He should think about the
priest. If he thought like this… How many lovers had the priest had…

Jealousy gnawed at the prince’s heart like thousands of ants, enveloping him
in sadness and turning it into anger, burning fiercely within him!

Sharman kept circling around the priest, that malicious guy…

The prince suddenly stood up, startling Bill.

“Where is the priest now?”

“I’ll go find out.”

Bill quickly inquired about the palace where the priest resided. He tried to
persuade, “Your Highness, have you had a disagreement with the priest?
He’s such a gentle and kind person…”

The prince couldn’t be bothered to explain the misunderstanding to his
attendant. His footsteps and the tapping of his cane echoed in the corridor.
The servants at the door bowed nervously. The prince pushed the door open
suddenly, surprising Bill. He managed to control his legs from swinging and
stood still, not bumping into the prince. “Your Highness…”

With a “bang,” the door closed forcefully in front of Bill.

It was a somewhat secluded room. The curtains were tightly drawn on all
sides, and none of the dozens of candles on the crystal chandelier were lit.
The room was extremely dim. The priest stood barefoot on the discarded clothes.
His naked body was fair and clean, with smooth skin, like a beautiful statue.
He held the blood-red bishop’s robe in his hand, facing away from the door. He
turned slightly upon hearing the door open, and his golden hair lightly brushed
against the back of his neck. His unfocused green eyes calmly swept over.

The prince’s heart was as if hit by a bullet.

The priest’s lips moved slightly, “Randes?”

The prince’s Adam’s apple rolled lightly. He restrained the surging tide in
his heart and whispered, “I want you to answer my question honestly.”

“I’m willing.”

The priest’s expression and tone were calm, which also helped the prince
calm down a lot.

Gradually, a hopeful and expectant light rose in the prince’s eyes. He
restrained himself from letting his voice betray that hope, speaking in the
most ordinary tone as if it were just casual conversation, with no ulterior
motive, no emotional coloration whatsoever.

“Am I the first man to have the pleasure of spending some time with
you?” The prince said, he held his breath and fixed his gaze firmly on the
priest’s face.

Please, please, for God’s sake, please—

He shouted in his heart.

The priest said, “No.” ”