Lioren jolted awake.
For a brief moment, his breathing came in ragged bursts, as if he had just been dragged back from a long, suffocating dream. Dim morning light seeped through the gap in the window, illuminating the familiar ceiling of the room—yet it now felt strangely alien.
Lioren
"…Is it over?"
He slowly raised his hand before his eyes. On the back of his hand, the inverted cross was still there—no glow, no pain, but enough to remind him that what had just happened was not a dream.
(So that's the reason.)
(Not just this cult… but in every religion, there are always fanatics.)
(A massive amount of addictive substances injected directly into the mind—)
(causing intellect to deteriorate, reason to collapse, until people fall into it without the ability to resist.)
Lioren slowly clenched his fingers.
(Vincent… he never told me about this.)
(Did he intend to turn me into his puppet…?)
A chilling sensation spread from his chest.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Lioren turned his head to the side.
Kiriel was sleeping right beside him—no, more precisely, leaning against him. Her long hair spilled down, partially concealing her calm, quiet face. She was not wearing anything. Instinctively, Lioren looked down at the bed—the remains of Kiriel's clothes lay torn apart, scattered across the floor.
His heart tightened.
Trembling, Lioren raised his hand and gently brushed her hair aside. Faint handprints were clearly visible on Kiriel's neck.
In that moment, every emotion crashed down on him at once—
sorrow, regret, panic, and a crushing self-loathing so heavy it robbed him of breath.
Time passed.
Slowly.
Until Kiriel stirred. Unconsciously, she raised a hand to her neck, as if confirming a lingering sensation. Then her gaze drifted downward—and found Lioren kneeling beside the bed, head lowered, shoulders rigid.
Kiriel looked briefly surprised.
But only for a moment, before she regained her usual composure.
Kiriel
"So you know your place."
"Lioren."
Her voice was not loud, but when she spoke his name, it turned cold.
Lioren's voice shook.
"I… sincerely apologize."
"I couldn't control my body."
"To do something like that to an incarnation of the goddess…"
"I… I—"
His words broke apart, unable to continue.
Kiriel looked at him, expressionless.
"It's fine."
"It's not entirely your fault."
Lioren clenched his fists.
"I'm sorry…"
Kiriel slowly extended one foot toward him. Slender, pale, flawless—untainted, as though it had never been touched by anything impure. Lioren hesitated for a moment, then lifted it with both hands and bowed his head, placing a gentle kiss upon it.
There is a fairy tale told to children.
It tells of a knight who set out to save a kingdom on the brink of ruin. When the war ended, the knight learned that the princess's foot was cursed—ugly and dangerous, bringing disaster to anyone who touched it. That very foot had brought tragedy upon the kingdom.
The king once considered cutting it off.
But he could not give the order.
In the end, the knight stepped forward, knelt before the princess, removed his helmet, and kissed the cursed foot.
The curse was lifted.
The kingdom flourished once more.
The knight and the princess married and lived happily ever after.
Kiriel looked at Lioren, faintly satisfied.
"I forgive you."
Lioren raised his head.
"But—"
Kiriel noticed the lingering resentment in his eyes. She glanced down at her torn clothes and let out a quiet sigh.
Kiriel
"Anyway…"
"You've ruined this outfit. I'll need to buy a new one."
Hearing that, Lioren's expression softened slightly.
"Use my clothes for now."
He opened the wardrobe and took out a simple black outfit.
Kiriel glanced at it.
"This outfit…"
Lioren
"Most of my clothes are for combat,"
"I don't really have anything you'd call fashionable."
Kiriel took it.
"That's fine. Practical is enough."
She changed right in front of him without the slightest hesitation. Then the two of them left the room and went down to the street.
As soon as they reached the ground floor, the innkeeper called out to Lioren.
Innkeeper
"Lioren, there's something I need to talk to you about."
He scratched his head, looking awkward.
Lioren
"…What is it?"
"I think you shouldn't stay here anymore."
Lioren
"Why?"
Innkeeper
"The guests have been complaining these past few days."
"They say they can't sleep every night because of the noise from your room."
Lioren froze.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Innkeeper
"They're just ordinary people."
"And… last night, my wife and I couldn't sleep either."
Lioren
"…Then I'll leave next week."
The innkeeper shook his head.
"No."
"Today."
"If you stay any longer, no one will dare rent rooms here anymore."
Lioren lowered his head.
"Understood… I'll leave immediately."
He turned to Kiriel.
"Wait here. I'll go pack."
Not long after—
"Then we'll be going."
The two of them left the inn.
Outside, Kiriel looked around.
"So what now?"
"Shopping first," Lioren replied.
At that moment, both of their stomachs growled.
"…We eat first," he added.
They stopped by a small roadside eatery. The smell of hot food made it feel as though life—ordinary life—was still continuing.
"Brother Lioren?"
Basle, Topas, and Avana were sitting there.
After a few greetings, Basle's gaze settled on Kiriel.
Basle
"You're… the person from the hunters' guild the other day?"
Kiriel
"My name is Kiriel."
Basle
"Since I ran into you here, there's something I want to ask, Brother Lioren."
"Why did you join the church?"
Lioren
"That's classified information."
Avana hesitated, glancing at Kiriel.
Avana
"You and Miss Kiriel… what are you to each other?"
Kiriel gave a faint smile.
"Lioren and I are lo—"
Lioren
"Companions."
Avana let out a quiet breath, as if relieved.
When Lioren asked about lodging, Basle mentioned an abandoned house on the west side of the city.
Lioren
"An abandoned house?"
Basle
"Yes. Even though it's abandoned, it's very clean."
"There are also rumors that many people have died after going there."
Topas added,
"Doesn't sound great,"
"But if it's you… you'd probably survive."
Lioren nodded.
"We'll take a look."
Leaving the eatery, Lioren and Kiriel passed several clothing shops without stopping. After a while, the most luxurious clothing store in the city stood before them.
Lioren
"This is the most prestigious clothing store in the city—officially recognized by the king himself."
Kiriel raised an eyebrow slightly.
"I thought you'd take me somewhere… more ordinary."
Lioren gave a faint smile.
"For women, wearing expensive clothes is a kind of joy, isn't it?"
He opened the door.
"Let's go in."
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The moment the door closed behind him, an entirely different space unfolded before Lioren—refined, elegant, and carrying the unmistakable dignity of the upper class. Soft golden lights cascaded down from the high ceiling, reflecting off dark wooden display racks intricately carved with delicate patterns.
Clothes were everywhere.
Not stacked carelessly, but each piece placed separately, as if it were an individual work of art. Cloaks, gowns, formal wear, enhanced combat outfits—each carried its own presence. Some were solemn, some free-spirited, others cold and commanding.
A faint scent of perfume lingered in the air.
Expensive, refined fragrances intertwined—never overpowering, yet strong enough to announce the presence of wealthy patrons strolling through the shop. That subtle scent, combined with the deliberate quiet of the space, elevated the status of every garment on display.
Lioren swept his gaze across the room once, then spoke calmly:
"The combat gear I usually wear… was also made here, by a renowned tailor."
Kiriel tilted her head slightly, her eyes passing over the dresses hanging nearby.
"Quite luxurious," she said simply.
Then she turned to Lioren, the corner of her lips lifting ever so slightly—not quite a smile, but something closer to acceptance.
"If you're inviting me," Kiriel said,
"then I won't hold back."
By reflex, Lioren glanced at the coin pouch hidden in his sleeve.
"Feel free."
(I hope she doesn't pick too many.)
(Even the cheapest piece here costs over a million coins.)
He let out a quiet breath, his eyes drifting to the clothes he was wearing—frayed seams, cuts, places that no longer fit as they once had.
(I need to have this repaired too.)
---
On Kiriel's side.
She moved slowly between the display rows, though the interest in her eyes was impossible to hide. Each time her fingers brushed a fabric, Kiriel lingered a moment longer—soft silk, thick velvet, perfectly treated leather.
The clothes surprised her.
Not just because of their luxury, but because of their design—beautiful without being ostentatious, refined yet clearly distinctive. She draped a cloak over herself, turned slightly before a mirror, then shook her head and moved on.
From one section to the next.
Unnoticed by Kiriel, the gazes of the wealthy patrons in the shop began to follow her. Not crude or blatant—just brief glances, eyes lingering longer than usual.
Some whispered among themselves.
Others simply watched in silence.
Kiriel… did not care.
---
On Lioren's side.
He slipped through a small door tucked away inside the shop. The space beyond was completely separate from the showroom—quieter, more private.
Inside, rolls of expensive silk were neatly arranged along the walls. Colors ranged from deep, muted tones to pale shades, each roll carrying its own quiet elegance.
At the center of the room, with her back to him, sat a woman.
She was seated before an embroidery frame, her hands skillfully guiding needle and thread through the fabric. Each stitch was steady and precise, without hesitation—the work of someone who had spent many years mastering the craft.
Without turning around, she spoke:
"You're earlier than I expected, Lioren."
He stopped a few steps behind her.
"Just passing by."
The woman let out a soft laugh—a hint of teasing, but not unkind.
"I thought you came for me."
Lioren lowered his gaze.
In that moment, the lightness he had felt upon entering the shop faded away. His voice dropped, heavier than when he spoke with Kiriel.
"…How is the child?"
The air in the room subtly tightened.