MTO C94

Chapter 94

“How can anything in this world be so breathtaking! This—this is our magnum opus!”

“Ahh! Even Madam Adeline would weep at the sight! I can die without regrets now.”

The Bever siblings were, as always, riotously dramatic. All while helping Michel dress, they gossiped endlessly about the outfits the nobles would be wearing tonight—and once Michel was fully adorned, they sniffled and fanned themselves like they were witnessing a holy revelation.

Michel, in contrast, stared into the mirror with a somewhat embarrassed expression.

Surprisingly, the outfit the siblings had made did not stray far from a priest’s robe. Fortunately, they had remembered he was a cleric. But unlike his former loose garments, this one fit perfectly. The sleeves brushed neatly at the wrist, and the hem no longer dragged on the floor.

Though the collar and short mantle bore exquisitely intricate embroidery, the rest of the garment appeared simple. Yet the true beauty of it emerged when Michel moved.

“Your Holiness, would you spin for us?”

“L-like this?”

Michel turned awkwardly in place—and the robe shimmered, a soft radiance unfurling like an aurora. A maid attending nearby let out a quiet gasp.

Up close, one could see subtle patterns woven directly into the fabric—not embroidered. The base tone and the pattern hue were nearly identical, creating an understated sheen that whispered luxury. It was the kind of refined extravagance befitting a saint bound to humble virtue yet deserving of dignity. It also showcased the Bever siblings’… eccentric genius.

Michel, unversed in fashion, did not comprehend all that. He simply appreciated that the outfit fit well and would be comfortable to wear all evening.

He lifted a leg high, trying to stretch—and Mister Bever screamed in horror, begging him not to tear the fabric. Michel sheepishly lowered his leg.

“It’s easy to move in. Thank you for such a fine gift.”

“No, thank you for letting us create this masterpiece!”

Ms. Bever, suddenly remembering something, hastily clasped a necklace around Michel’s neck—a gold pendant shaped like an open doorway, set with a radiant blue gem.

Michel could not tear his eyes from the jewel. At that moment, the door opened.

“You are not yet—”

Kaidan stepped inside and froze, eyes locked on Michel’s reflection.

Michel also turned, drawing in a soft gasp.

“Kaidan! …Brother.”

He quickly corrected himself, mindful of the tailors. They bowed politely to Kaidan. Michel rushed over, circling him like an excited squirrel.

“Wow! Brother, you look incredible today!”

Kaidan normally wore somber black, absorbing all light. But tonight he donned a deep sapphire tailcoat that sculpted his form, with a silver vest that lit his features like moonlight. A silk cravat and violet brooch completed the vision—he looked every inch the aristocratic ideal.

Even as a fellow man, Michel could only marvel.

Kaidan had swept back his bangs, exposing his striking features—bold brows, a strong line from brow to nose to lips—nothing out of place, everything severe and beautiful.

“…Fitting.”

“Sorry? What did you say?”

Michel, lost in admiration, missed the murmur. Kaidan frowned faintly, the tiniest twitch making him look even more imperious.

“You look beautiful.”

The words, however, were anything but imperious.

Isn’t this where one says you look splendid too?

Michel tilted his head but soon let it pass. To be fair, “beautiful” suited this robe better than “splendid.”

“If you’re ready, let’s go.”

Before Michel could respond, Kaidan insisted they leave, looking strangely stiff. Michel thanked the Bevers again and hurried after him.

“Are we very late?”

“No. We are actually early.”

So he wasn’t angry.

Kaidan’s voice was gentle. He didn’t look at Michel as they walked, but one didn’t need eye contact while moving.

When Michel stepped closer, Kaidan flinched—then subtly offered his arm.

“If something goes wrong, I’ll find a way to cover it. Don’t worry. Tonight’s guest of honor is you. Just enjoy yourself.”

He seemed convinced Michel was nervous. Yet it was Kaidan’s face that looked rigid with tension.

Relieved, Michel grinned and placed his hand boldly atop Kaidan’s arm. For both their sakes, projecting closeness in public was necessary.

“With you by my side, I am reassured, Duke Eglence.”

Kaidan said nothing, but the tips of his ears reddened rapidly. Michel beamed, pleased his little joke landed.

They reached the grand doors of the Great Hall. Servants opened them; brightness, music, and lively chatter spilled forth.

“Make way for the earthly vicar of our Lord, the newly descended light of this land—Saint Michel!”

The announcing herald was… dramatic. Michel stepped inside.

“Count Meiren of House Meiren, with the Countess.”

“We greet Saint Michel.”

From the moment he entered, nobles flocked to Michel. Fortunately, Kaidan remained at his side, discreetly whispering each name and title. Michel greeted each noble with serene grace.

“Brother and Sister Meiren, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“It is the greatest honor to behold you! You shine like morning dew, as pure as the earliest star! Standing before you, every sin I have ever committed rises in my heart—I am tormented beyond words. Please, forgive my sins!”

“W-what… sins might those be?”

The man looked genuinely agonized. Michel swallowed nervously. Should the guilty not be in prison rather than at a banquet?

The noble hid his face in shame.

“Saint, behold my wife—so exquisitely beautiful. And yet… I committed a shameful wrong against her. Ah, may God have mercy! It happened this very morning, as sunlight graced the world and birds sang…”

He spoke for a long time.

The great sin?

He had eaten a roll meant for his wife.

Yes. He stole bread. Michel’s soul sagged.

Michel told him to apologize to his wife; the man praised Michel’s wisdom with florid poetry before turning to his smiling wife.

“My love, forgive me!”

“Oh, dear. I already knew. I simply thought you were being considerate. If you ate it, you would be too full to wear your favorite red suit. But if I’d known it tormented you so, I would have thanked you sooner!”

“Oh, my angel! How pure your heart is!”

“And so, Saint, please forgive him?”

Michel wasn’t sure why his forgiveness was necessary, but he nodded. The couple rejoiced.

“And—oh, in my excitement I nearly forgot. We have brought a humble gift for the Saint—please accept it!”

“Thank—”

“This gift comes from the far southern continent, where fierce sea winds—”

Just as the noble began bragging about the provenance of his present, Kaidan cut in briskly:

“We are grateful for the Count’s generosity. The Saint is most pleased.”

“Oh, the honor is ours—”

“Next, Baron Hobbes of House Hobbes, with his heir, Baron Maron.”

The next family swept forward. The thwarted noble reluctantly withdrew. Michel exhaled in relief.

“Thank you. You saved me.”

He muttered behind his hand. Kaidan only twitched a brow—his habitual expression—but tonight, with his refined appearance, even that looked unfairly striking. Several young noblewomen clustered nearby, whispering with excitement.

Yet Michel could not chat further; nobles would not leave him alone. He smiled rigidly while listening to elaborate poems praising his holiness and virtue.