“Lord Rockefeller, do you not harbor any hatred towards me? Your cooperation is quite amusing.”
The Marquis’s office. An unexpected guest was sitting arrogantly in the place where the head of the household should have been.
In the Marquis’s office, where the head of the household should have been, an unexpected and arrogant visitor was seated.
Empress Astria, the tyrant responsible for the near-collapse of the once-glorious Rockefeller Duchy, was comfortably settled in a place that should have been reserved for her family’s greatest enemy. Yet all Teolrant could do was one thing.
“I greet the radiant sun of the Empire.”
Astria propped her chin on her hand and observed him for a moment.
“Raise your head.”
Teolrant slowly lifted his head, his expression revealing no emotion.
But Astria remembered the dawn when her father, the previous Emperor, was killed.
The look of pure hatred on Teolrant’s face as he hurried to the scene was something she would never forget.
“Answer my question.”
“The Rockefeller family can no longer endure the Empire’s sanctions.”
“That’s an honest answer.”
“You made it that way.”
“Yet you don’t seem to harbor much hatred, unlike before.”
Teolrant gazed at Astria in silence.
Hatred.
Of course, he harbored it.
The Rockefeller family had been one of the most loyal to the Empire, and Astria, who had brutally killed the Emperor and seized the throne, was nothing more than a traitor in his eyes.
But now, a hatred far greater than before burned within Teolrant.
“Ah, so you’ve just been hiding it. I can feel your intense anger now, as if you wish to tear someone apart.”
“…”
“Well, that’s enough.”
Astria smirked slightly.
“When my knights arrive, I will leave quietly.”
Astria’s order to the Marquis of Rockefeller was simple: deliver the summons for the Imperial Knights.
“Your Majesty.”
“Do you have something more to say?”
“The short girl among the priests recently visiting my estate—is she the Empress’s personal physician, as the rumors suggest?”
Astria seemed slightly irritated by the question.
“Why do you ask?”
“I’ve heard she is highly skilled.”
“Is someone ill?”
“Yes.”
Teolrant swallowed hard.
To Astria, it seemed as though he was suppressing a strong urge to vomit.
“My daughter’s life is in grave danger… very grave.”
“I see.”
“Please, could you introduce me to Your Majesty’s physician? I would do anything if you grant this request.”
Astria closed her eyes briefly before opening them again.
Though she was the cause of near-destruction for his family, she felt a shred of pity for the loyal vassal standing before her.
“You’re mistaken. My personal physician may look like a woman, but he is a man. If you search the inn and explain your situation, he will likely be willing to help.”
“…I am deeply grateful for Your Majesty’s kindness.”
Astria turned her gaze away slightly.
“Leave.”
Thud.
Teolrant began walking, his expression void of any emotion.
Thud, thud.
His steps quickened the farther he moved from Astria, and his mind drifted back to a year ago.
– If you give her this, your daughter will recover.
The savior who appeared when his daughter was critically ill.
Cruyff Birkender.
The future Pope—extended a helping hand to the kneeling Teolrant without hesitation.
He gave him a small, black orb, ominous and flickering, with an unusual shape.
But Teolrant trusted him without question.
After all, it was the great Cruyff who had recommended the medicine.
Yes.
Indeed, just as Cruyff had promised, Teolrant’s daughter miraculously recovered.
– Kyaaaah!
But she awoke not as a human, but as something else.
-Thud.
Teolrant’s steps came to a halt.
A wave of unbearable anger surged within his previously indifferent gaze.
“Cruyff… May you suffer the same. The sorrow of losing a child.”
**
Whether one desires it or not, time passes.
A week had passed since he started that kind of relationship with Sylvia.
Each day, as he engaged in more stimulating activities, his lifespan increased.
After various trials, he found that the more intense the stimulation, the more his lifespan grew.
[55]
This was a positive sign.
He had seen many people’s lifespans as he healed them.
If he could change a single-digit number to double digits, it wouldn’t take long to turn that into triple digits.
‘I don’t particularly want to live that long, though.’
Life is strange like that.
Once you obtain something you deeply desired, the thrill often fades away.
You even begin to wonder, why did I want this so badly?
“Do you have something to say to me?”
Today, Lucia and Ellie, who hadn’t shown themselves for some time, came to his room.
Sena, with a doll-like appearance, faced them.
Though he was faintly smiling, his eyes were void of any emotion.
Sylvia looked at him with a face that seemed on the verge of tears.
“Sena-nim.”
Ellie and Lucia simultaneously knelt before him.
Sena tilted his head, puzzled by their serious demeanor.
“Yes?”
“There is something we must tell you.”
Sena raised only the corners of his lips.
“Go ahead.”
Sena’s demeanor had changed a lot recently.
Ellie and Lucia, who were more susceptible to the influence of divine power, felt a shiver down their spines at the sight of him.
An overwhelming sense of awe filled them, making them not want to disturb him in the slightest.
However, they had to speak, so they opened their mouths.
“The devil worshippers who have been obstructing you are not mere coincidences. There is a mastermind behind them.”
‘That much is obvious.’
It was clear that something had happened—there couldn’t be so many devil worshippers where even one was rare.
But Sena didn’t care much about that.
“The mastermind is…”
Lucia glanced at Ellie, who swallowed nervously and placed her hand over her chest.
“It’s Cruyff Birkender.”
“?”
Life returned to Sena’s previously lifeless eyes.
“What did you just say?”
“It’s definitely Cruyff Birkender. Several pieces of evidence have already been discovered.”
“What evidence?”
“As you may know, a year ago, Cruyff was an archbishop who wielded great influence over all the churches in the western region.”
“And now, most of the devil worshippers are concentrated in the west. It’s impossible for someone as powerful as him to have missed this.”
To Sena, Lucia’s calm report sounded like a dull buzzing noise.
“So… you’re saying Cruyff orchestrated all of this?”
“Yes.”
Lucia spoke without a hint of doubt.
Sena remained silent for a long time before finally forcing himself to speak.
“Tell me, devil worshippers… they’re evil, right?”
“They are heretics who have forsaken Justitia…”
“No, no, Lucia. That’s not what I’m asking. Just one thing—do devil worshippers kill people?”
“Demons always crave human souls.”
“Ahaha.”
Sena laughed, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes from how much he was laughing.
“What… is so funny?”
“That’s right. That guy can’t even kill an ant, and he did something like this?”
“It might be hard to believe, but it’s true.”
“Lies.”
Sena walked up to Ellie.
“It’s a lie.”
Ellie hesitated for a moment, caught in an internal conflict.
‘Sena-nim is not in a good state. Can he even accept this? Maybe we should just say it’s a lie and try to handle this ourselves…’
As Ellie wavered, Lucia grabbed her wrist, stepping in front of Sena and speaking clearly.
“I believe that Cruyff made this choice to extend your lifespan.”
“Cruyff would never do something like this.”
“Are you certain? Can you be absolutely sure that Archbishop Cruyff wouldn’t do anything to save Sena-nim?”
At that moment, Sena recalled something Cruyff had once said.
– ‘I haven’t given up on anything. I’ll do whatever it takes to save you.’
Bang.
Sena slammed the table and stood up.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Stop acting like you do.”
“…!”
Sena abruptly ran out of the room.
The atmosphere grew heavy and tense.
Sylvia swallowed hard.
“This is the first time I’ve seen Senior speak like that.”
**
Sena had never once refused to help someone in need.
Even when pickpocketed, he would just scratch his head and continue on his way.
If kidnapped and forced to comply with unreasonable demands, he would still treat the captors without hesitation.
There was even a time when Sena saved someone who had tried to kill him.
Chris once called him “insane” for it, a comment that had annoyed Sena enough to bite Chris’s arm.
Sena was kind.
No one would dispute that.
But.
He hadn’t always been this way.
– ‘What’s your dream?’
– ‘To be a wealthy physician.’
Like many others who had found themselves in a new world, Sena had once harbored the same thoughts: Use modern knowledge to get rich and live comfortably.
His ethics were a bit more stringent than most, but that was more because it felt like the right thing to do, not because Sena was inherently kind.
He had always dreamed of becoming a doctor, a dream rooted in a desire to save as many lives as possible—like most people with that aspiration.
-‘Priests have a lot of money. What do you think?’
-‘Lies. Cruyff is a beggar.’
-‘…You really don’t hold back, do you? Try being as cute as your face suggests.’
In other areas, though, it was hard to say Sena was overly kind.
He believed in living life moderately. Even if he hadn’t met Cruyff, he likely wouldn’t have been able to ignore patients in need, but he would have managed his affairs more prudently—avoiding becoming a ‘pushover’ as some might call it.
-‘I will never become a priest. I don’t need to believe in some strange god to save people.’
-‘Such grand dreams you have.’
-‘Hmph, just wait and see. I’ll save far more people than Cruyff ever will, and make a lot more money doing it.’
-‘… I don’t think you really needed to say that last part.’
But there was one event that completely changed Sena’s outlook on life.
He was 8 years old. It was Christmas. A rainy night.
-‘There was no need to go that far to protect others. This time, if something had gone wrong even a little, you would have died.’
A fire had broken out at the orphanage.
Most of the people had managed to escape safely, but one person had been trapped too deep inside to be rescued.
That person was Raham, the director of the orphanage.
However, Cruyff entered the blazing director’s office without hesitation, risking his life to save him.
A priest is not a knight. His entire body was covered in burn marks.
-‘Besides, that man harassed Sister Betty. He embezzled donation money, and the kids at this orphanage couldn’t even have a simple snack. He deserved to die. Why would you risk your life for someone like that?’
-‘I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a Christmas present.’
As Sena furiously questioned him, Cruyff stroked his head and spoke gently.
-‘But Sena, there isn’t a person in this world who deserves to die. Even he will become a good person after this incident. Kindness has a way of coming back around.’
-‘No. People don’t change. I’m sure you’ll regret this later. That greedy orphanage director is going to do something terrible someday.’
Cruyff just laughed heartily as he looked at Sena, who was questioning him so fiercely.
Instead, he took Sena by the arm and led him somewhere. It was the front yard of the orphanage, now burnt down.
He started digging the ground with a shovel, a seemingly absurd action, and then brought out two sheets of paper, handing one to Sena.
-‘Then let’s make a bet.’
-‘… A bet?’
-‘If you win, I’ll give you the Christmas present I couldn’t give you today.’
-‘What’s that all of a sudden? I don’t need that?’
-‘I was really looking forward to it. I saw you sobbing earlier.’
-‘Wh-when did I?!!’
Cruyff continued speaking as he gently patted Sena, whose cheeks were puffed out in protest.
-‘Write down here what you think the other will be like in 20 years. Then, in 20 years, we’ll open these and see whose prediction was right.’
It seemed ridiculous and childish.
A time capsule? That’s something you do in kindergarten.
-‘Hmph.’
Still, Sena earnestly wrote the letter as Cruyff instructed. Surprisingly, Sena was very competitive.
At that time, however, perhaps because he was physically young and mentally immature, he filled the letter with stubborn and prideful words.
Something like, “Your values are wrong. Some people do deserve to die.”
But eventually, seeing how consistent and good Cruyff remained, Sena’s values began to change little by little.
Later on, he felt embarrassed about what he had written in that letter.
That’s why he wanted to return home.
He wanted to change the contents of that childish letter from that day.
And…
He was curious.
What did Cruyff write in his letter 12 years ago?
Could it be that he had become the person he described?
Sena ran frantically and stopped in front of the fountain, catching his breath. He looked back, but no one was following.
He washed his face with the fountain water. The cold touch of the water helped him regain some composure.
“It can’t be.”
His vision blurred. He couldn’t see clearly.
Drip.
A warm drop of water fell onto his hand.
“That shouldn’t happen.”
Cruyff was a good person.
He was someone Sena wanted to be like.
He was Sena’s role model.
He was someone Sena sincerely thought of as a father, a spiritual pillar.
If such a good person had been ruined because of him…
“I’d surely fall apart.”
