[Alvar’s POV —Divine Temple—A Week Before at Capital City]

The temple’s silence was heavy, almost reverent, broken only by the soft echo of my boots against polished marble. I had come here seeking answers—answers about Elowen, the saintess-in-candidate whose presence stirred far more questions than it calmed.

A priest appeared before me, tall and serene, hands folded. His eyes, sharp yet calm, studied me with an intensity that made my back straighten instinctively.

"Did you say you wished to know about Elowen?" His voice was soft, almost melodic, yet carried the weight of authority.

I inclined my head, tone clipped. "Yes."

He hummed, a sound of contemplation, then asked, "She was among the strongest candidates for the next saintess, yes?"

I nodded, not wanting to reveal more than necessary. "Indeed. Since your temple is responsible for selecting candidates, I thought it best to consult someone who knows her better than anyone."

The priest’s gaze sharpened, scanning me with quiet suspicion. "Something happened, Grand Duke?"

I let a faint shrug pass, careful to keep my expression neutral. "Nothing that requires concern. Curiosity, that’s all. Our house will stand in support of her, and I prefer to understand those with whom we align."

He studied me a moment longer, then a small, approving smile touched his lips. "Curiosity is wise, Grand Duke. Follow me. I shall provide information about her."

I followed him down the marble hallway, my mind already racing. Each step echoed in my head like a warning. Why is she so desperate to have Leif take an oath? The thought gnawed at me. Was it mere devotion, or something deeper... more dangerous... darker?

The walls seemed to whisper secrets of the temple as we walked. I sensed the weight of countless rituals, countless decisions, and countless souls whose fates had been bound by the will of the divine.

And now, Elowen’s name was etched among them.

My eyes narrowed. Everything is suspicious about the way she kept asking me to convince him to take a Oath in front of her. And If Leif really takes an oath, then what does she intend to do with it?

He studied me for a moment. "You are cautious, Grand Duke. You notice her dedication... but you do not yet see the full picture."

I met his gaze, cold and unyielding. "I do not like riddles, Priest. Speak plainly if you mean to speak."

The corners of his lips twitched in a faint, enigmatic smile. He said nothing further.

A shiver ran down my spine—the kind that comes when standing on the edge of a secret. The temple office doors loomed ahead like silent sentinels, guarding the answers I sought.

Caldric—the priest—opened a drawer and pulled out a neatly rolled parchment. He handed it to me without comment.

"This is all the information we have on Elowen," he said.

I unrolled the parchment carefully. The writing was neat, almost too clean , as if every detail had been polished to perfection. Birth records, entry date into the temple, her assignments and achievements—everything was flawless. Nothing unusual, nothing messy.

I raised an eyebrow. "Every detail... precise to the day?"

Caldric nodded. "Yes. We keep records meticulously. Every candidate’s date of shelter, every trial they pass."

I furrowed my brow. Something about it felt off .

"And... why was she chosen as a saintess candidate?"

The priest regarded me for a long moment, his gaze piercing. "Ah... the question comes from the very one who requested the Emperor and High Priest to put her forward as a candidate."

I froze.

"...I... did?"

A hazy memory flickered before my eyes—my own hand signing the letter, sending instructions to High Priest Kalix and the Emperor. But why? Why had I done that?

I shook my head, uneasy. I placed the parchment neatly on the table. "Thank you... that will be all. I shall take my leave."

I turned to leave, mind buzzing, when Caldric’s voice stopped me mid-step.

"Grand Duke..."

I pivoted slowly.

"Let me remind you," he said, calm but measured, "Elowen gained her holy power three years ago."

. . .

. . .

I blinked. "I... see."

I walked out, the temple doors closing behind me with a soft thud.

But... her holy power. Three years ago. Why did he phrase it like a warning—or perhaps a clue? Something about the way he said it... it left a subtle unease crawling down my spine.

I didn’t fully understand what was happening here. But one thing was certain: something was very, very fishy and it’s all surrounded by Leif.

And if I was to protect Leif... if I was to truly keep him safe... I had to act before anyone—or anything—could exploit a loophole. Before any path could lead to him taking or forcing an oath in front of a woman.

And there’s only one way.

Marriage.

According to imperial law, only unmarried nobles or knights could make such an oath.

A small, cold smile tugged at my lips. "Then... it seems the time has come. The time to make sure Leif is tied to me. Forever."

My mind sharpened, strategy forming like a blade in the dark. Every move, every road... every distraction would be mine to control. And I would not let anyone— or anything

—take him from me.

"I shall meet the emperor right away."

***

[Frojnholm—Back To present—Celebration Day]

Peek!!

I crouched behind a stall with my crimson babies, peeking like some overly cautious, food-obsessed ninja. The air was thick with the smell of sizzling meat, sweet pastries, and fried dough—the kind of junk food that makes your brain scream, "EAT ME RIGHT NOW OR REGRET IT FOREVER."

"W... wow... what is this?" I muttered, stepping closer, eyes wide. My babies’ tails twitched in perfect synchronization.

The shop owner beamed at me. "Oh! It’s... deer kebab—freshly grilled—!!"

He froze suddenly as he saw me and Blinked.

I blinked in reply.

My babies blinked.

We all blinked again.

Then the shop owner did the unthinkable. He took a giant leaf plate—and like some hyperactive squirrel in a winter forest, he shoved everything onto it: kababs, dumplings, fried pies, and a suspiciously sticky-looking pastry that smelled amazing but slightly terrifying .

Then—he knelt.

And I swear, if my brain had a "panic" button, it would’ve exploded.

"TH... THIS IS FOR YOU, SAINT OF FROJNHOLM!!!!" he yelled, his voice cracking the very fabric of my poor eardrums.

I froze. My babies froze. Even Sir Ronald and Nick, who had seen more weirdness than a cat in a bathtub, just blinked at me with the calmness of monks who had accepted that life is fundamentally chaotic.

And then it happened.

The entire crowd of villagers looked at me—yes, the entire village

—and—

BOOM!!!

—fell to their knees as if I were an emperor. All of them. Like synchronized swimmers of loyalty. And they shouted in unison, their voices rising like some dramatic opera chorus:

"WE GREET THE SAINT OF FROJNHOLM!!!"

I flinched so hard my crimson babies almost toppled me. WHAT THE HELL?!

I waved my hands frantically. "P-Please... raise! I’m... I’m not—I’m NOT that important, okay?! I’m... I’m literally just a... uh... citizen with puppies!!"

Their heads slowly lifted, revealing faces sparkling with excitement and adoration. Every single villager’s eyes were like glitter bombs of happiness.

"Wow...there are more sparkles here than in the sky," I mumbled.

"Why... why the hell are they kneeling like I’m some... some saint... emperor... or the love child of the sun and justice itself?!" I whispered to no one in particular, trying not to hyperventilate.

Nick popped in, hands raised like a tiny general, eyes gleaming with dramatic pride. "I told you, my lord... our villagers gave you the title—"

"THE SAINT OF—" he shouted, hands raised in the sky, voice echoing like a war trumpet.

"Alright... alright, stop. I GET IT, Nick. I GET IT!" I groaned.

He blinked innocently. "Yes, my lord."

I exhaled loudly, scanning the villagers. "Please... stand up."

One by one, like obedient little action figures, they rose. I raised my hands, stepping forward like some flustered idol at a fan meet.

"Please... I was just here to... you know... be part of the celebration. If you keep treating me like some saint... or god... I... I won’t even be able to enjoy myself. So... have fun and..." I gritted my teeth, muttering under my breath, "Let... me... have... my... fun... too."

The villagers’ eyes sparkled brighter than any firework. One even nodded sagely, muttering, "He speaks wisdom."

I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. One brave soul stepped forward, bowing low. "My lord... will you be there for our traditional dance tonight?"

I blinked. "Traditional... dance?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Our village has a traditional dance, my lord, but due to... uh... poverty and hunger, we couldn’t celebrate before. But this year... thanks to you, we can! So, as our chief guest, we would be honored if you joined us!"

"Oh..." I looked at Sir Ronald. "Is this the part where you said Villagers requested me to be chief guest?"

Sir Ronald nodded calmly. "Yes, my lord. This is the part of the celebration the villagers requested."

I blinked. Then... I smiled. "Well... I don’t mind."

Their collective cheer made my ears ring. Looks like it was going to be more fun today than I had bargained for .

Until... I noticed some faces. Faces twisted with hatred.

Huh? Who... who are they?

I blinked again. They were gone. Just like that. Vanished. Poof.

Probably nothing.

And, like some idiotic main character out of some novel, I shrugged off the danger creeping toward me... even though I’d just seen an unfamiliar face.