The Snow Leopard Baby of the Black Leopard Family - Chapter 154

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 154
Iandros had only recently discovered that his Pocket Dimension was warping in a peculiar way.
‘I’m exhausted.’
That particular day, worn down by fatigue, Iandros opened his Pocket Dimension intending to rest his eyes for a moment.
But then.
“……Hmm?”
Iandros narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. Something felt different, didn’t it?
Iandros’s Pocket Dimension did not change. It was something like a law unto itself.
Toys scattered across the floor, picture frames, photographs—even if he cleaned them away, they would reappear in the same spots the next day. Even if he opened all the doors or smashed every window, everything would be restored by the next morning.
The only thing that continued to change within Iandros’s Pocket Dimension was the Pink Cushion, which had come into being when he first met Tiel.
Yet something was different now.
‘Has someone else invaded again?’
Iandros scanned the Pocket Dimension with an irritated gaze.
But nothing appeared to have changed. The picture frames, the photographs, the toys, the broken landing—all remained as they were.
Then why did he have this feeling?
It was as Iandros walked down the familiar corridor.
“……?”
Sensing something amiss, Iandros stopped in his tracks and turned around.
A long corridor lined with doors in a single row.
Taken at face value, there was nothing strange about the sight. And yet, Iandros himself could tell.
‘A door is missing.’
Iandros had lived in this Pocket Dimension for nearly two decades.
Before he met Tiel, this space had felt more like home to him than the Imperial Palace itself—more familiar, more intimate.
Because of that, as the master of this Pocket Dimension, he knew exactly how many rooms the estate contained, how many staircases it possessed, and so forth.
Yet now, a door was missing.
Struck by the wrongness of it, Iandros strode purposefully down the corridor, counting each room carefully.
And it was true—a door was indeed missing.
‘Have I misremembered?’
But that was impossible. Iandros knew this Pocket Dimension better than anyone alive.
Even if the estate contained ten thousand rooms, he could never confuse the count…. Only then did he grasp the gravity of the situation and thoroughly examined all the rooms in the estate.
Two doors were apparently gone.
They were not important rooms.
Even Iandros did not frequent every room in the estate.
But the significance lay not in whether those rooms were important, but in the fact that his Pocket Dimension was beginning to distort.
Intruders had breached it, doors had vanished, doors would not open…… His Pocket Dimension was twisting out of shape.
Iandros swallowed hard.
It did not matter if his Ability twisted. It did not matter if his mind fractured in the process.
But if that happened, what would become of Tiel?
Tiel had undergone Imprinting with him. Even if it was only a half-Imprinting, an Imprinting is an Imprinting!
If something happened to Iandros, Tiel would not escape unharmed.
The moment that thought crossed his mind, Iandros’s face drained of color. He gripped his throat as if suffocating.
The thought that Tiel might come to harm because of him—it strangled his breath as surely as if he were drowning in a pond.
Iandros leaned against the Pink Cushion, now considerably enlarged, and fought to steady his breathing.
There was nothing he could resolve in this moment. Only he understood his Pocket Dimension intimately.
No one else knew what it looked like. He could not ask anyone for help.
So he himself had to keep his mind clear. First, he needed to understand why this was happening.
‘I knew his Ability was deteriorating.’
But he had not expected it to manifest this way.
What would happen if, door by door, they all disappeared? What then?
Iandros drew both hands across his face. His golden hair, neatly combed back, fell into disarray.
That moment.
Whissh—
A single book, tucked away in the remotest corner, scattered into shadow and vanished.
Iandros did not notice.
***
“It grows more grave by the hour. We must do something! This cannot be left as it is!”
One priest raised his voice. The others followed suit. The Temple, quiet moments before, fell into chaos.
“Enough.”
The High Priest spoke. The other priests fell silent at once.
In the absence of the Pontiff, all the priests had to obey the High Priest’s word, so they said nothing further—though their discomfort was plain to see.
After observing them for a long while, the High Priest turned his gaze toward the window.
The sun was setting.
‘In times past, it would still be bright at this hour.’
The sun would not yet have set. The streets would be bathed in golden light, and only later, as more time passed, would the sun dip below the horizon and the people of this world prepare to close out their day.
But now the sun was setting.
The people of this world were already preparing to end their day, and some, gripped by fear, would spend the long night awake.
The High Priest was not ignorant of their dread and unease. Yet what adequate solution lay before them?
“Then what do you propose? The Oracle has fallen silent, and the daylight grows shorter still. Shall we offer a sacrifice to the god Lucette and pray for the day to return?”
At the High Priest’s words, all bowed their heads. They too knew there was no path through this crisis.
All of it was frustration born of desperation. The days grew ever shorter, the balance between day and night had long since shattered, and everyone blamed the Temple and Tiel for it. The Temple’s standing had fallen to a fraction of what it once was.
The priests were fortunate if they could walk the streets without being struck with stones.
“Might we not ask the Lady Tiel to offer prayers at the Temple……?”
“The Lady Tiel is the Head of Household of Asterian before she is a Child of Light. We have no grounds by which to move her. What grounds do you imagine will persuade her?”
“……If we asked her for the sake of the empire’s people, surely given her temperament, the Lady Tiel would——”
“The problem is not her.”
The High Priest cut him off.
Of course, if the Temple asked Tiel to offer prayers to the god Lucette, she would consent without a moment’s hesitation.
But the problem was not Tiel.
It was Duke Ebalte, who stood beside Tiel; Marquess Celeste; Tiel’s two brothers; and the Crown Prince of the Empire, Iandros Crassion, her betrothed—they were the problem.
For Tiel to offer prayers at the Temple would mean she bore sole responsibility for all that was occurring.
Knowing all of this, would they permit Tiel to offer prayers at the Temple? Surely not.
The fact that Tiel now refrained from external activities and maintained almost no contact with the Temple was surely their doing.
By severing ties with the Temple and demonstrating that Tiel’s Ability remained intact, they made clear that Tiel bore little connection to this calamity.
All the priests exhaled in defeat. There was no way to resolve this situation now.
The only consolation was that Tiel’s Ability remained undiminished.
And that Tiel continued to demonstrate her undiminished power at Luminarie.
With that, the Temple could still assure the empire’s people that the power of the god Lucette remained intact, and that this calamity would soon be resolved.
But how long could that suffice?
How much longer could they endure?
The High Priest dismissed the priests with a gesture. The council ended without meaningful progress.
‘If only she were not the heir to Asterian.’
Had she not been of Asterian blood, the Temple could have used Tiel to pacify the people’s anxieties.
But because Tiel was Tiel Asterian, Head of Household of Asterian, the Temple could not lay a finger upon her.
Her loved ones surrounded her, protecting her with their whole bodies.
The High Priest’s troubled thoughts deepened.
***
“Speaking of which, there is to be a festival soon, I hear.”
Ferdi set down his teacup as he spoke. Steam rose gently from the cup on the table.
Tiel sat across from him, sipping her black tea loaded with sugar cubes, watching him.
“A festival?”
“Not Luminarie, but something similar—a festival to pray for the return of light, or so I’m told. In truth, it would be more accurate to call it a prayer than a festival.”
Ferdi continued in an even tone. His neatly bound hair fell beside his neck.
As Ferdi lifted his lowered eyelids, brilliant golden eyes came into view.

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