MTO C4

Chapter 4

“What seems to be the matter, my lord?”

Unfortunately, there was a guard stationed outside the door. For the past three days, every time Jeong-oh had opened it, this same man had politely asked his business before firmly closing it again.

Not going to let me through, huh.

Jeong-oh’s eyes darted, searching for any gap to slip by, but the guard’s physique was far too formidable. In his original body, he might have tried his luck—but now, bound to the frail shell of an orphanage director, he had no chance.

All right then. Smile.

Jeong-oh plastered a bright grin on his face.

“Would it be all right if I stepped out for a quick stroll?”

“The Duke has commanded that the Saint not leave his chamber.”

“Aw, I’ll just be a moment.”

“That will not do.”

“Not even ten minutes? Five?”

“Please return inside, my lord.”

The guard declined every request without a flicker in his eye.

Wait a second—weren’t saints supposed to be revered or something in this country? I’m not some condemned criminal!

Annoyance bubbled up at Kaidan, who had caged him here, but Jeong-oh didn’t wish to get the guard in trouble. He was just another poor soldier under the heel of a rigid superior.

Jeong-oh remembered how parents used to complain that Director Usung-woo clung to the same outdated methods for decades, and how Jeong-oh had ended up fighting day in and day out to modernize the dojang despite that stubborn boss.

“What’s your name? I’m Geum Jeong—uh, I mean… Michel.”

No rule had said conversation was forbidden, right? After all, they wouldn’t post someone here if he wasn’t allowed to interact with them.

Caught off guard, the guard hesitated but answered simply, “Owen Holt.”

“Pleased to meet you, Owen!”

“……”

“Don’t you get awfully bored just standing here every day?”

“This is my duty. I am content.”

I was about to suggest we take a walk together in the gardens… oh well.

Jeong-oh clicked his tongue in mild disappointment but was nonetheless glad Owen humored his questions.

“So, what did you do before this? You couldn’t have spent your time guarding empty rooms.”

“Previously, I manned the castle walls.”

“Wow! Are there a lot of dangers outside the castle?”

Owen gave him a bewildered look, clearly thinking him foolish for asking something every local should know.

Oops. Guess that was a dumb question here.

Jeong-oh scratched his head with a sheepish smile.

“Well, what’s your workout routine? You’re in excellent shape.”

“I train with the knight order at dawn each day.”

Even beneath his steady voice was the note of pride. His chest swelled as he subtly broadened his shoulders in display.

The knight order—straight out of a comic book world.

Jeong-oh’s eyes lit up eagerly.

“I’d love to know what that knight training’s like!”

After the sumptuous evening banquet, Kaidan walked outside the walls to see the visiting priest off. A carriage already awaited in the forecourt.

Before stepping in, the elderly priest bowed.

“Thank you for your gracious invitation to dinner tonight. It was truly a blessing.”

“The gratitude is mine, Father. Thank you for undertaking such a long journey here.”

“With the honor of proclaiming a Saint with my own hands, I would have come running even from Hesod itself.”

Hesod, a region at the very southern end of the Kingdom of Formené, lay vastly far from Valois in the northern reaches. At the old priest’s little jest, Kaidan offered a faint smile.

“For Valois to produce a Saint… my late predecessor would have rejoiced.”

The moment the words left the priest’s lips, Kaidan’s smile died, freezing hard around the edges. But the cleric, lost in his pleasant recollections of the previous duke, noticed nothing amiss.

“Godspeed on your way back.”

“May the grace of God be with House Eglence.”

Masking his discomfort, Kaidan gave the customary blessing in parting. The priest returned a light benediction and climbed into the carriage.

Only once the carriage rolled out through the gates did Kaidan finally turn back, his face stripped of all the warmth it had carried through the meal.

Close behind him, his adjutant David fell into step.

“What do you intend to do now, my lord?”

“What do you mean?”

“That mouse of a man cannot truly be a Saint. Never mind God’s wrath—sooner or later, the truth will out.”

The “mouse” he referred to, of course, was the orphanage director.

Kaidan dismissed him coolly.

“The man died and returned. You were there yourself.”

“Yes, I saw it with my own eyes. But perhaps the physician made a mistake?”

“He was already brought to me as a corpse. The doctor was summoned only to confirm it.”

Kaidan himself had verified that Michel’s heart had ceased. Never before had he heard tale of a man walking away unharmed after being struck by lightning.

Of course, the man’s head was not entirely sound…

Finding no further argument, David let out a noisy sigh.

“Why would God choose such a man to show forth a miracle…?”

“Mind your tongue. He is a Saint now. We must be the first to treat him as one.”

Even Kaidan, who said it, tasted bitterness at the words. He had never imagined he of all people would be forced to endorse such a figure.

A Saint (聖人). The one who manifests heaven’s miracles, chosen of God, highest among mortals. A Saint was revered across all Three Continents.

The servile wretch who had come groveling before him only three days past hardly fit the term.

“May you grant us mercy, my lord.”

The very first thing Kaidan had done upon inheriting his title was purge House Eglence’s ledgers of vain expenses.

The late Duke had been a hypocrite. Under the guise of “charity,” he poured vast sums into orphanages and almshouses, never once bothering to inspect how those funds were spent. What he truly craved was the noble praise he earned at banquets, not the miserable lives of peasants.

Kaidan, however, had conducted an audit. Most institutions receiving his family’s donations squandered them flagrantly.

Worst of all was the Valois Orphanage. Its director was a drunkard who gambled away triple the aid funds allotted to other homes, all while technically holding holy orders.

Kaidan slashed the orphanage’s allowance to one third. Even then, it was a sum large enough to sustain a peasant family for months. And when he ignored the letters begging for restoration, the director had crawled up to the castle in person.

“My apologies, my lord, but the donation for Saint Pablo’s Day has yet to arrive. The festival is what the children await all year. Should you grant them your generosity, they shall never forget your grace.”

The man was sly. Rather than request an increased regular stipend, he wrangled for “special” holiday donations. With so much already pouring in, Kaidan could easily guess what became of it.

“The late Duke was a man of generosity.”

So he prattled, though his breath reeked of spirits.

His matted gray hair, stiff like a rat’s pelt, clumped in greasy tangles above his sickly pallor. Purple eyes darted incessantly, gauging reactions.

No doubt he had come straight from squandering coin at the gambling house. Revolting enough to turn the stomach.

“You are right—I am not my predecessor. I am not known for mercy. Perhaps I should cut the charity off entirely, hm?”

“W-why would you say such a thing…!”

“I do not suffer thieves, no matter how paltry the rat that creeps into my granaries.”

His sarcasm burned. The man’s face went crimson with humiliation. Trembling with indignation, he dared to stammer a curse.

“God will not forget your actions today, my lord.”

At the time, Kaidan dismissed it as drunken rambling. But when lightning struck the castle courtyard—on Saint Pablo’s very birthday—and the orphanage director fell dead beneath it… he was no longer laughing.

It had been less than a hundred days since he ascended the dukedom. Lightning in the depths of winter was shocking enough—but on Saint Pablo’s holy day, and in the very forecourt of House Eglence?

And the victim? The head of an orphanage founded upon Saint Pablo’s creed. If word spread, it would shake the domain. Already the servants were whispering whether some curse had befallen their new master.

God’s son, even when crawling through the filth, is still divine, is he.

Kaidan recalled the director’s bitter words and gave a grim smile.

“So what will you truly do? Will you keep the man trapped in the castle forever?”

David spoke softly now, chastened by the earlier rebuke.

“Yes.”

“Ah, I see… Pardon?!”

Kaidan’s ready answer made his adjutant’s eyes bulge.

The man had died beneath heaven’s judgement, only to awaken in full view of all. A crisis, yes, but also an opportunity. Kaidan had at once proclaimed before his household: this was no curse, but a blessing.

A wretch worth little more than the dirt—yet Kaidan had crowned him with glory by his own hand. Disgusting as it was, this farce would not endure forever.

“I shall keep him close, watch him. Then, when the time is ripe, I shall dispose of him. Remember: Saint Veronica ascended whole into heaven—leaving not even a corpse behind.”

“My lord… surely you do not mean! You speak of killing… a Saint?”

“So you accept him as a Saint now as well? A good mindset.”

David closed his eyes and recited under his breath. It was a prayer of repentance.