It had been two weeks since Alon set out for Terea to attend the ball.

“Finally arrived, have we?”

“Looks like it.”

The distant outline of the capital began to come into view.

Nearby, Evan exhaled, as if overwhelmed by the heat.

“After this ball, are we heading to Lartania and then straight to the Colony again?”

“That seems to be the plan.”

“I see.”

“You sound disappointed about something.”

When Alon glanced at Evan with curiosity, Basiliora cut in.

[Heh, judging by that look—like a dog that needs to pee—it’s about a girl.]

“What nonsense are you spouting now?”

[Don’t deny it. I saw you pull a letter out of your pocket a few days ago and smirk like a creep.]

“Ugh—you saw that—when!?”

[Aah, the nights when Evan’s gaze feels so nostalgic—]

“Waaaargh!!”

Evan screamed at the top of his lungs as Basiliora began dramatically reciting the letter’s contents.

Watching Evan’s face turn crimson, Alon gave him a strange look. Evan, mortified, steadied his breathing and eventually forced out an awkward laugh.

“Haha, well, you see... When we visited the Zenonia duchy last time, I met a lady knight. We... got along quite well.”

“So you’ve been exchanging letters, then?”

“Yes, yes, something like that.”

As Alon watched Evan squirm, he asked quietly, “You’re more flustered than I expected. Haven’t you been in relationships before?”

“Well, that’s true, but....”

Evan—who had always stuck close to Alon while chatting and laughing with all kinds of women—looked different now.

And there was a hint of grievance in his voice.

“This feels... different, you know?”

“In what way?”

“Those were just light conversations, but this... feels like something deeper. Maybe... a step beyond mere flirting?”

[Hmph. How sickening.]

“Don’t ruin the mood, you snake-headed bastard! And you—haven’t you been flirting with our family’s maid?”

[W-What?! Flirting?! When did I ever—! I only chatted with her because she seemed so eager to serve me!]

“Yeah, right. Didn’t you pull all kinds of antics whenever she brought you snacks?”

[Krrrrgh!]

Basiliora started writhing with embarrassment at the sudden exposure of his “dark history.” Seizing the opening, Evan pressed the attack.

Amid the racket, Blackie peeked his head out from Alon’s chest, watching the two bicker and chatter noisily.

Before long, the group reached the capital.

‘Terea hasn’t changed a bit.’

Their carriage rolled through Terea’s well-kept, bustling streets and entered the inner city.

When they stopped in front of ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) the ballroom, Alon stepped out.

“Marquis Palatio, before attending the ball, His Majesty requests an audience with you.”

“...? Very well. Let us proceed.”

As if he’d been waiting, a guard approached and delivered the message. Alon tilted his head, puzzled, but followed after him.

At the Queen’s invitation, Alon entered her private office for the first time in a long while.

“It’s been a while, Marquis Palatio.”

“Have you been well, Your Majesty?”

She greeted him with the same ambiguous smile as always—Queen Siyan.

“Please, sit.”

She gestured to the chair across from her.

Once Alon sat down, the queen produced a sweet potato again and set it in front of him.

“You may eat it.”

“Ah... Yes. Um, Your Majesty...?”

“I’ll simply watch.”

“...Understood.”

And so another sweet potato eating session began.

By now, he should have been used to this, but it was as baffling as ever...

For a while, only the sound of Alon munching on the sweet potato echoed through the office.

“You still eat well.”

“My apologies.”

At Siyan’s ambiguous remark, Alon lowered his head cautiously.

“Hm?”

He paused, his eyes caught by a statue at the edge of his vision.

A statue tucked into one corner of the office.

It was undoubtedly the first time he’d seen it, yet it felt strangely familiar.

“Ah, do you mean this?”

Noticing his stare, Siyan picked up the statue.

“It’s a sculpture brought from Luxible.”

“...Luxible, you say?”

“Yes. I’ve heard they revere the figure depicted in this statue as a god. That is to say...”

Siyan paused briefly, then spoke a name.

“‘Bearer of Lightning,’ Kalannon, was it?”

“...I’ve heard of that as well.”

“Then have you seen this statue before?”

“No. This is my first time seeing it.”

At Alon’s answer, Siyan studied the statue in her hand with interest.

“This is my first time seeing it too. It was sent as a gift from the Duchy of Luxible.”

“I see.”

“So, what do you think of it?”

“...What do you mean, exactly?”

“This statue. To me, this Kalannon figure resembles you quite a bit. What’s your take?”

She asked, tilting her head slightly.

*****

Sergius stared blankly ahead.

Before him, the party led by Eliban stood face-to-face with Cardinal Yutia.

They had dealt with numerous strange phenomena outside the Papal Basilica.

“You’ve done wonderfully this time as well.”

“All of it is thanks to the power granted by Him.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Without His power, none of this would have been possible.”

Amid the crowd of priests, Yutia and Eliban exchanged pleasantries.

Time passed, and Eliban spoke again.

“Until next time, Cardinal Yutia.”

“Yes, Chosen. I look forward to seeing you again.”

Yutia handed over the reward for resolving the disturbances to Eliban.

“All for His sake.”

“Yes, all for His sake.”

After their farewells, the Chosen led his group out of the Papal Basilica.

Sergius, confirming the priests had dispersed after the event, followed behind Cardinal Yutia out of habit.

Carefully, he spoke.

“...Excuse me.”

“Hmm? What is it, Cardinal Sergius?”

As always, Yutia looked at him with a gentle smile.

Caught in her calm gaze, Sergius hesitated—then finally spoke.

“...Yutia, may I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

Even with her permission, Sergius hesitated again.

He wasn’t sure it was wise to ask what was on his mind.

He knew better than anyone—having “experienced” it firsthand—that questioning Cardinal Yutia was reckless.

But even so, he couldn’t suppress the curiosity and doubt that had been relentlessly building inside him.

“It’s about... the Chosen.”

“...The Chosen, you mean?”

“That person... didn’t receive their power from Sironia, did they?”

Sergius recalled the “Chosen” whom Yutia had previously acknowledged as selected by Sironia.

Their power did resemble the divine energy Sironia was known to bestow.

The faint radiance they emitted also resembled the subtle glow saints gave off.

The priests who had observed Eliban earlier seemed convinced he’d been chosen by Sironia.

The other cardinals believed the same.

But Sergius alone—

‘It was clearly different.’

He knew the divine energy Eliban radiated wasn’t Sironia’s.

He remembered the sacred power Eliban had displayed with perfect clarity.

A pure silver-white glow, faintly tinged with blue.

It only looked similar to Sironia’s divine energy. It was something else entirely.

At that moment—

“Heh.”

Yutia let out a soft chuckle, amused.

Sergius was certain now: his suspicion had been right.

“You noticed. I was a bit worried, since it’s still unrefined. But I thought I’d fooled everyone except the saints.”

Yutia’s frank admission left Sergius speechless.

Ordinarily, Sergius shouldn’t have been able to tell.

The holy power wielded by that “Chosen” was undeniably close to the divine energy bestowed by Lady Sironia.

In fact, aside from the saint currently engaged in relief efforts, none of the other cardinals had detected even the slightest inconsistency.

But Sergius had one reason he could sense the difference.

Cardinal Yutia.

Long treated as little more than a servant by Cardinal Yutia, Sergius knew one crucial fact:

Yutia didn’t only use the divine power of Lady Sironia. She also drew on another kind of holy energy.

Sergius had seen Yutia wield this “other” divine energy only a handful of times.

But for someone of Sergius’s standing—a cardinal—those few instances were enough.

Eliban’s holy energy closely resembled Yutia’s “other” holy energy.

...The Chosen was not a being selected by the goddess Sironia.

That was Sergius’s conclusion.

“How did you figure it out?”

The chilling question sent a shiver down Sergius’s spine, but he steadied his racing heart.

“...The divine power you briefly displayed was identical to the Chosen’s.”

“Hmm~ I see. That explains it.”

Yutia nodded as if she’d put the pieces together, then turned her crimson eyes back to Sergius.

“Still, it seems you haven’t realized everything yet.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Never mind. More importantly, you don’t need to concern yourself with this matter too much.”

“...Is that so?”

“Yes. After all—”

Yutia’s eyes softened into a faint, unsettling curve.

“Soon enough, it’ll all be the same. So much so that even you, Cardinal Sergius, won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“...The same...?”

“Yes. Everything will become the same. The holy power, this and that—right now, they may seem a little different, but eventually it will all be indistinguishable.”

Sergius couldn’t understand a single word she’d just said.

What, exactly, would become the same?

What did “this” and “that” refer to?

And what would happen in the future?

Above all—

What was Cardinal Yutia plotting right now?

The only thing Sergius could infer from what he knew so far was one unsettling possibility:

...Perhaps Lady Sironia’s recent silence had something to do with Cardinal Yutia.

It almost certainly did.

But even if it were true, there was nothing Sergius could do.

“...In a way, things might actually improve,” Yutia mused.

“The current Rosario is rife with corruption, after all. When that time comes, everything will be better.”

No—Sergius couldn’t do anything.

“Corruption and injustice will vanish. All the holy knights will act for ‘Him,’ all the believers will worship ‘Him,’ and everyone will offer their faith to ‘Him.’”

He—

Sergius—

Had already been swallowed by the suffocating fanaticism swirling in Yutia’s eyes.

“But before that happens... if word of this spreads, it could become a little troublesome... so, I ask you~”

Again and again, Sergius had been overwhelmed—until he finally submitted.

“Keep quiet, will you, Cardinal Sergius?”

In the shadowed halls of the Papal Basilica, beneath the fading light of the setting sun, Yutia pressed her index finger to her lips, backlit by a flickering crimson glow.

“...Understood.”

Sergius could give only one answer.