I Became a Childhood Friend With the Villainous Saintess-Chapter 89: Count Eshk’s Territory (3)

Chapter 89: Count Eshk’s Territory (3)

The truth is, we had no choice but to cover our faces.

Our biggest worry today was the possibility that one of the mourners might recognize us.

After all, with the House of Count Eshk being such a prestigious family, there was no telling who might show up here.

Even now, though we tried not to show it, we were pretty anxious—wondering if anyone familiar might be present.

It didn’t matter if our identities as the Saint of Hibras and the Guardian were revealed.

What worried us was someone recognizing Sirien Eilencia or Razen Berthus.

It might’ve just been needless worry, but we couldn’t help being on edge.

Thankfully, only a handful of nobles had ever seen our faces—and even then, it would’ve been from over four years ago, back when we were still kids.

With this level of disguise, we figured we wouldn’t have too much trouble.

So far, no familiar faces had appeared.

“As you requested, we set aside the water drawn first thing this morning. As for the burial clothes, we followed our tradition, but we did add a layer of black silk inside the coffin.”

“That’s more than enough. Our Order makes it a point to respect local customs as much as possible.”

Noble funerals are always long affairs.

It’s because they have to allow time for mourners traveling from distant places to arrive.

Religious rites, however, were usually carried out as early as possible.

In essence, the real farewell to the deceased happened at the beginning. The rest of the funeral served as a pretext—a way to reaffirm social ties and relationships.

After all, funeral announcements usually weren’t sent out until at least a day or two after the person’s passing.

By the time the bereaved faced visitors, the raw grief had somewhat subsided.

Still, of all things… it had to be the father.

It was a strange twist of fate, considering we had recently been entangled in something involving our own father.

His face came to mind.

We hadn’t even said a proper goodbye to him.

And yet, his face was still clear in our memories.

Neither I nor Sirien had ever properly sent off our parents, so moments like these always left a bitter taste in our mouths.

“Was he… a good man?”

“Yes. I can say that with pride. He was a father I could be proud of—he held onto his dignity to the very end. The calmness he showed even in the face of death… it’s something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.”

“I see. Being able to part from your parents with good memories… that’s a gift, really. Even if the goodbye came too soon, I hope your heart finds peace.”

“…Thank you.”

After a brief wait, it was our turn.

This was the reason we’d endured the crowd of mourners and insisted on coming to this funeral—no matter the risk.

Sirien would personally perform the rite that guides the soul of the deceased to their final rest.

She would officiate the funeral of the House of Count Eshk.

This was also a favor extended to us by Dersian.

In the central political world, the name Hibras was virtually unknown.

To be chosen by the House of Eshk would be a powerful credential going forward.

In a way, this was our grand debut—under the protection of a noble family.

“Ah, looks like everything’s ready. Please, follow me.”

It was the moment when Hibras’ rite of Sanctum would be presented to the high nobility for the first time.

****

Sanctum represents the divine power of Hibras.

He is the god who awaits all souls at the end of life’s journey—and, at times, he personally guides them to their final rest.

But to living beings, Sanctum implies death.

And the instinct of all living things is to reject death.

Which is why most people, when faced with the divine power of death, instinctively recoil.

Even someone like Baron Esquente—who had encountered it many times—still couldn’t shake the ominous feeling completely.

For those experiencing it for the first time, that discomfort was even stronger.

“O Sanctum…”

Clad in ceremonial robes, the Saint began the ritual. She lit the incense and recited a long prayer.

Sirien’s gentle voice echoed through the hall.frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

And it wasn’t just because she was my lover—her voice was a rare, universally acknowledged gift.

No one had told the nobles to be silent, yet all their whispering had ceased.

Everyone had their eyes fixed on Sirien—drawn in, unable to look away.

“Your Saint stands before you, ready to guide a soul to your embrace.

He has completed a long and noble journey… and now seeks eternal rest in your arms.”

Unlike the harshness typically associated with the divine nature of Sanctum, it also carried warmth—an emotional comfort.

It wasn’t like the god of mercy, who could ease one’s fatigue or pain, but it had a quiet, calming effect on the mind.

Like a soft, inviting bed.

The kind you dream of when you’re exhausted—a pull you couldn’t quite resist.

All divine powers had duality. But among them, Hibras’ dual nature was especially pronounced.

“Please grant him your light, so he may not wander in the darkness of night.

Welcome him with the warmth of your embrace.”

As the crimson glow of divinity spread through the hall, the nobles began whispering among themselves.

“I’ve never heard of a god named Hibras before… but his divine energy feels so warm.”

“I heard he’s a deity who guides souls. It’s my first time seeing this, too, but apparently his name is starting to spread in the North.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. A relative of mine runs a merchant guild up North. They told me the god is gaining a reputation, especially among soldiers and mercenaries.”

From what I could hear, the reaction was mostly positive.

A small sigh of relief escaped me.

Even if I covered my face, there was only so much I could do about my natural aura.

Honestly, I’d ruined many first impressions just by being there.

People instinctively kept their distance—probably because of the scar on my neck.

Even in the original story, my looks didn’t get much love.

Sirien might be the narrative foil to the protagonist, so she had her own appeal. But as for me, a pure antagonist? There was no need for someone like me to be handsome.

The most common reaction was that I looked too wild—too fierce.

Since I was mostly introduced as an enemy, there were a lot of fight scenes.

And during those, people often described me more like a beast than a man.

Objectively speaking, they weren’t entirely wrong.

The only person who ever said I looked good was Sirien.

But… doesn’t that actually prove Sirien was right?

She’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

So, when it comes to appearances, Sirien is basically the ultimate authority, right?

If Sirien thinks I’m handsome, then who cares what anyone else says? Don’t like it? Then come at me with a sword.

The Edelmar Empire considers death by duel perfectly legal.

“The river of forgetfulness shall wash away his sins…”

Anyway, while Sirien conducted the ritual, I didn’t have much to do.

But that didn’t mean I could just hang around in some quiet corner.

As the Guardian of the Order, it was my duty to protect the Saint and ensure the ceremony proceeded without interruption.

That said, this was the Countdom of Eshk.

They had their own private guards, and no one would be foolish enough to disturb the funeral of a prestigious noble house without cause.

So I stood a short distance from Sirien, putting on a solemn act and watching the mourners.

Thankfully, it wasn’t all for nothing.

I managed to recognize some of the family crests the mourners wore.

Even if it was mostly for show, I was still the adopted child of a count’s household.

I’d been educated enough to identify the crests of major noble houses.

Some of these characters appeared in the original story.

A few were people Elise had encountered while wandering the capital.

For instance, the man who mentioned the northern merchant guild earlier—he eventually became one of our allies.

Though, once the tides of war shifted, he ended up joining the female lead’s side.

Not that I’d call him a traitor, but that didn’t mean I had to trust him either.

Most of the others weren’t major figures.

I had wondered if we’d see the Golden Duke of Harmenia or the Crown Prince, but it seemed the timing was off.

I wanted to at least see their faces in person. The original novel had illustrations, sure—but come on, I never cared about how other guys looked.

Reality was always different from fiction.

Illustrations and descriptions could only tell you so much.

Who would’ve guessed Dersian would turn out to be such a clueless softie?

The other male leads might have hidden sides the novel never showed either.

The biggest question mark was still the Crown Prince.

In the novel, he was described as the flawless ideal man. But no one in the real world is perfect.

You never knew what someone might be hiding behind their perfect facade.

Besides, his supposed love for the female lead made no sense.

—You are…

—No, it’s nothing. I just… found you a little curious, that’s all.

—Yes. Just curious. Since you’re said to be the new Saint of Light, I thought it best to maintain good relations—as Edelmar’s guiding light.

—That’s all it is.

Classic romance-fantasy cliché nonsense.

The cold-hearted Crown Prince falling in love with Elise? The story never gave any real reason.

It was just accepted—because it was a reverse harem, after all.

That’s when I felt the mood shift slightly. A murmur stirred through the mourners.

There wasn’t any noise, but you could sense it—in their glances and posture.

People were reacting to the ones who had just arrived at the funeral hall.

Even in this era, there were always latecomers.

There were three of them—one young nobleman and two attendants.

Their formal black attire bore the emblem of a snowflake—symbolizing eternal snowfall.

The moment I recognized that crest, my brow furrowed.

“The eternal snow of the North…”

Count Eloran had arrived.