The Lady Only Deals With the Real Ones - Chapter 190

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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*

The temple’s columns cast long shadows.

Crescens walked beneath the shadows like someone burdened by the dawn light.

Passing through several secret passages of the temple that only he knew, he arrived at what was always a small and modest office.

The desk was old and the bed was worn. The covers of the books on the bookshelf were all frayed, and there wasn’t a single decoration to be found.

There was only one clue that revealed this place, austere to the point of bleakness, was actually a cardinal’s office.

『Crescenziano Diosa Pilgrim』

A nameplate with his name written on it, nothing more.

Perhaps because it was a given name.

Crescens rolled the name around in his mouth—his own name that felt like someone else’s—and chuckled softly.

“Ah. There was one more clue.”

It was a notebook.

Crescens’s eyes slowly closed as he flipped through the notebook he had used for written conversations with Elisha.

He had been forgiven. Crescens was happy about that fact.

Though towering waves of joy swept over his previously quiet life, like the aftermath of receding waters, Crescens sank deep into contemplation.

“Our manager’s forgiveness came too easily.”

Because she’s a kind person?

Because she’s someone who, even when appraising items, is more curious about intentions and circumstances than results?

No.

“It must mean she didn’t have high expectations of me… unlike with ‘his’ brother.”

Both the Duke and he had deceived others about their identities.

Both had failed to confess on their own, and both had been late with their apologies.

Yet Elisha’s reaction had been different.

It must have been because they were different people.

Crescens, who had been thinking with downcast eyes, soon shook his head.

“Still, our manager didn’t cry because of me.”

He knew that complaining about forgiveness coming too easily was itself a luxury.

Because he didn’t have to see again the sight of Elisha crying sorrowfully while praying for someone, or the sight of her tears falling as she faced the Duke’s truth.

Wasn’t that enough?

“Because our manager is a special person to me.”

A special person.

It was a highly irresponsible declaration of favoritism for a cardinal who should treat everyone equally, but it couldn’t be helped.

She was a saint with divine-level holy power. She was the temple’s sacred artifact appraiser, and though not even a believer, she sometimes spoke words that touched upon the World Tree’s teachings more than anyone else.

But that wasn’t the complete reason.

This vague fondness, this curiosity to know more, this anxious heart that feared being hated—in other words…

“Ha.”

Wasn’t it exactly like his feelings toward the World Tree?

Crescens, who had been about to unconsciously stroke the notebook, stopped.

After remaining frozen for a long while, he rubbed his face with dry hands.

“Come to think of it, that’s right. I’m only realizing it now.”

Crescenziano was the name of a martyr.

Diosa means god, and Pilgrim means pilgrim.

A pilgrim who martyrs himself for god.

Gazing at the shadow of god that filled his name, Crescens continued speaking.

“It’s not about what feelings I had for Sister Elisha, but what feelings I harbored toward you, World Tree.”

The people of the Church called him someone loved by god.

Powerful holy power resided within Crescens’s body, and he could use it freely from the very beginning.

The reason there was no opposition even when he became a cardinal at the youngest age was also because of this.

But Crescens remained merely calm even when his holy power manifested, even when the cardinal’s purple stole was placed around his body.

“It was unrequited love, wasn’t it?”

Every time Crescens breathed in the temple, he thought:

Would god truly entrust a beloved child with the power of holy force, with the task of impersonating His representative?

Would He drive them to anguish, suffer, glimpse their own depths and be disappointed again and again?

If You loved me, You couldn’t do this to me.

So this is.

“Isn’t life just like a ridiculous joke?”

A terrible joke.

To the Church people who smiled and applauded as if they didn’t know this fact, Crescens smiled back.

Because it was a joke. Shouldn’t he laugh?

“It’s strange that someone who hates You and someone who loves You are thinking the same thing. Is this also part of the ‘cycle’ You have arranged?”

Crescens, who had put down the notebook, headed toward the bed.

The area beneath the bed was deeply worn. It was the trace of countless hours spent kneeling in prayer.

“I may not know for sure… but I won’t be able to turn my back on You. I told You, didn’t I? It’s unrequited love.”

Before that love he would have to continue despite knowing it would never be reciprocated, Crescens knelt.

The scars on the floor, carved by long years, were surprisingly comfortable.

Crescens smiled bitterly.

“So I beg You.”

He prayed.

“If there is any love You would give me, if even the slightest meaning could dwell in Your meaningless whims.”

Very earnestly.

“Please give all of it… without exception to my very special sister.”

It was a prayer offered after a long time.

For Crescens, prayer was a ritual that marked the beginning of rest. He always used to pray before sleeping.

In other words, Crescens had been unable to rest for a very long time.

Perhaps because of that.

“…”

Complex images floated before Crescens’s eyelids as he lingered somewhere between meditation and reverie.

Most of them were of Elisha. Elisha smiling in the viewfinder, Elisha grumbling but still cutting and pushing cake toward him, Elisha turning away with tears flowing.

Though it was natural to think of the subject when praying, Crescens suddenly felt a faint sense of unease.

‘Have I ever seen our manager crying like this…?’

Have I seen it before?

But unease was just unease.

That was the end. His consciousness slipped away smoothly.

In the room stained with silence, a thick shadow leaned over Crescens, who had fallen asleep as if collapsing onto the bed.

Click.

The man who emerged, tearing through the quiet and bending down to look at Crescens, sat down as if it were his own bed.

“How soft.”

The man, who had been carelessly stroking Crescens’s silver hair as if he were a puppy, sneered.

“To offer prayers even knowing they’re performed meaninglessly—how is that different from believing in some purposeless clockwork mechanism?”

“…”

“This is why you won’t do…”

Click, the man withdrew his hand and straightened up.

His face was reflected in the narrow window.

A man with vivid green hair and green eyes smiled.

“Well then, I’ll be going.”

For the failure of your unrequited love.

Eivor, who had whispered a farewell with no one to hear, scattered into black smoke.

*

“No, coming here at the crack of dawn, I wondered what on earth was going on…”

Emma was a rare type of mage in many ways.

She got along well with her family, had as many as three friends, and above all, was a morning person mage. Which meant she was open-minded.

Even so, Emma looked at me with bewilderment as I knocked on her door from six in the morning yet thoughtfully brought bribery toast.

I wasn’t sure if it was because of the time or because of my request.

“You want this? And the concentrated version at that?”

“Yes, no dilution needed. Give me everything you have.”

“Don’t tell me you think this is some kind of tonic…? Oh, or perhaps you’ve developed some ‘special’ hobby?”

“I’m suddenly very curious about what counts as a ‘special’ hobby by your standards, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

Emma glanced once at Tesagh, who was standing behind me with his arms crossed, then once at me, and shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, sure. The world is wide and tastes are diverse!”

As expected, Tesagh’s expression crumpled completely.

Emma, who seemed to be an expert not only in romantic affairs but also in jumping to wrong conclusions, handed me a shopping bag.

As she munched away at the toast, apparently finding it to her liking, I said “Ah” and started speaking.

“I received the investigation results for the magic stones you gave me, thank you.”

“Oh come on, what’s with the formal thanks between us?”

Emma, who had been giving me that typical ‘whoever raised you did such a good job’ look, tilted her head.

“But you told me to store those magic stones separately just in case, so I put them in a pocket dimension, right?”

“Yes, and?”

“But yesterday I noticed they seemed to be faintly glimmering or something?”

“…That’s not a phenomenon usually observed in ordinary magic stones, right?”

“Right. It doesn’t seem dangerous, but just keep it in mind for reference. I can’t use them right away, so I’ll probably need to let them sit for a while.”

As we said our goodbyes and came back out, keeping Emma’s words in mind, Tesagh, who had been wearing a suspicious expression the whole time, spoke up.

“So what did you buy? That… magical tool of unknown identity that mages sell really helps in tracking down Eivor?”

“Oh, this? Of course it helps. Which brings me to this, Your Grace.”

The cause of Emma’s misunderstanding about why I came to get such a thing from early morning.

Or rather, a method to find out Eivor’s three years’ worth of activities all at once.

I gently shook the subtly fragrant spray and grinned.

“You’ll need to be my companion for another journey into my unconscious.”

That’s right.

What I was shaking was none other than the ‘worst memory’ magic spray.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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