HWWRC Chapter 17

Chapter 17 

Normally, the Marquess of Blanché would’ve taken Charlotte’s letter to his study and read it alone, but this time, he was so eager that he opened it right away, without even using a letter opener.

He began reading slowly, but his expression grew more and more serious… and then completely froze.

“Is my eyesight going bad?” he muttered, pressing between his eyes with his fingers and reading the letter again with a worried look.

But his eyes stopped at the bottom of the letter and wouldn’t move.

His hand holding the letter began to shake.

“Wh-What is this…?”

“My lord? What’s wrong?”

“What the hell does this mean?!”

His voice echoed so loudly through the ceiling that everyone in the house could hear the shout.

***

“Good morning, Saintess. May the blessings of the goddess Rebelline be with you.”

Rieta began her day like always—with prayer and a warm smile for every priest she met. Her lips were gently curved, and her golden eyelashes seemed to softly catch the morning sun. Everyone in the temple adored her. One kind word from Rieta made people feel blessed.

And Rieta, too, was always kind and gentle in return, holding a pure and graceful heart.

But today was different.

Not just in her actions, but in her thoughts and emotions, too. She didn’t have the strength to manage her usual gentleness today.

She stood in front of the altar, hands tightly clasped, praying to the goddess with more desperation than ever before.

Today was the day they would punish those believed to be collaborators of a captured dark mage.

Though they weren’t proven guilty—only suspected—Rieta didn’t care.

Even if they were innocent, she believed just being suspected of such a crime was enough to condemn them.

Dark mages—those who stood against the Empire and served evil—were filthy, impure.

‘Disgusting… dirty…’

Even in death, they didn’t deserve peace. They should suffer forever in hellfire.

Despite the pain in her knees from kneeling on the cold marble floor, Rieta didn’t stop praying. The veins on the back of her hands popped out, and her bones showed through her pale skin.

Dark mages had no right to exist. They had to be cleansed through divine judgment. Rieta prayed the High Priest would bring down harsh punishment and that the goddess would help him defeat evil.

She prayed from dawn until noon.

When the golden bell at the top of the temple rang, signaling midday, she finally stood. Her legs were weak, and her joints ached, but she felt joy—it meant she had purified the evil part of herself that was once raised by dark mages.

‘What a warm afternoon,’ she thought, feeling lighter as she left the prayer room.

Then she saw a familiar back.

With a bright smile, Rieta lifted her skirt up to her ankles and ran toward the figure.

If someone saw her, they might say, “A Saintess should always behave with grace,” but she didn’t care.

“High Priest!”

“Oh, Rieta.”

It was Silbert—the High Priest Rieta respected and followed more than anyone. She took a deep breath as she felt the holy aura coming from him.

“What brings you here today?”

“Well, the hero is returning soon. I thought it was only right to welcome him with my full attention.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You’ve already helped a lot, haven’t you? I heard you organized the blessing ceremony and the banquet. Still, come with me for a final check. Let’s take a look together.”

With a gentle smile, Silbert led Rieta to the temple’s main banquet hall. It was opened only for special events or holy celebrations, and today was one of those days.

Everyone was busy preparing for the blessing ceremony—cleaning and arranging holy relics.

“High Priest, who are the knights returning today?”

“They are those with especially strong divine power and deep faith. Since we had to send someone to Leopold’s territory—a place corrupted by evil—we had to choose carefully. That’s when Theodore Arbelche volunteered. After he stepped up, his subordinates followed willingly.”

Rieta had become a Saintess after they left for the mission, so she had never met them before.

Knights with such deep faith—she couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Theodore is a special young man. Coming from the slums, he took on tasks others avoided, and succeeded where many would have failed.”

He’s from the slums? Rieta’s eyes widened.

She, too, had been abandoned in the slums and was raised by a dark mage. It was a past she hated and tried hard to erase.

With the High Priest’s help, she was adopted and raised as a noble’s daughter.

But Theodore—he didn’t hide his past. He became a knight with pride, rising to the rank of Commander. He had served with honor in the most dangerous region of all.

He was different from her. Brave and unashamed.

Rieta’s heart started to beat faster. She hesitantly asked,

“High Priest.”

“Yes?”

“If… if it’s okay with you, could I be the one to bless them this time?”

She asked cautiously, her golden eyes shining.

If the High Priest praised this man so much, then he must be truly good and righteous.

Rieta rarely asked for anything. She lived modestly and without greed. So the High Priest saw no reason to say no.

“Not a bad idea. The other knights have already received blessings from you, but these men haven’t. Yes, I allow it. You may attend the blessing ceremony.”

“Thank you so much!”

Rieta’s heart raced with excitement. She truly hoped Theodore Arbelche would return safe and sound.

But she didn’t know…

That Theodore was the disciple of Ronan Blanché.

That he had spent his childhood with Charlotte.

And…

“Lady Charlotte tried to poison the Saintess? Who dared to spread such lies?!”

“……What?”

…that he cherished Charlotte more than his own life.

***

The sound of horses echoed through the forest.

The knights had been riding for two hours straight without rest.

Their horses looked like they might collapse any moment, but they kept going.

Finally, one of the knights, Mark, shouted in frustration.

“Commander! Please! Can we slow down a bit?!”

“Why? I feel great. It’s been five years since I’ve been home. Try to understand.”

“I wouldn’t complain if that were the real reason! But you’re just lovesick!”

“If you don’t want your head chopped off, shut up…”

Mark, the youngest knight, grumbled the most.

But the others understood.

“He’s been in love for years and couldn’t even confess. Then he had to leave for a five-year mission.”

“He couldn’t even write to her once the dispatch started. It must’ve driven him crazy.”

Though romance wasn’t forbidden in their order, it was rare. Long-distance relationships often ended when the other person gave up and married someone else.

“Hey, it’s Siveron.”

“He’s holding something?”

A knight rode up beside Theodore and handed him a letter.

Theodore bit it open and read it while riding.

Mark mumbled, ‘Even reading while riding… what a talent.’

Then, Theodore suddenly shouted,

“We’re taking a break! Stay nearby—no one wanders off!”

“Huh? What’s going on?”

“Is that a letter? A love letter?”

“Looks like it.”

“Wait—has he been sending letters to the Lady all this time?”

“No. That one’s from the Marquess of Blanché.”

Siveron, who had delivered the letter, patted his tired horse.

“If it’s from the Marquess, it makes sense we’d stop.”

“Hey, Siveron… are you sure that letter is from the Marquess?”

“Why?”

“Look at him. Don’t you think his reaction is… strange?”

“Huh?”

“Look closer.”

Siveron turned to look.

Theodore had dismounted. One hand was petting his horse’s nose, the other holding the letter. He was staring at it intently.

He slowly lifted his head, still turned away—his face couldn’t be seen, but the back of his neck was clearly red.

Mark and Siveron were speechless.

Theodore Arbelche. Even as a man, they had to admit he was ridiculously handsome.

Wheat-colored hair, gem-like blue eyes, a face that stayed beautiful despite battle scars.

And now, he looked like a man completely in love.

Was that really a letter from the Marquess?

“The face of a man in love is…”

“Is what?”

“…kind of gross.”

“Agreed.”

They nodded together.

Unaware, Theodore continued reading the familiar handwriting.

And then he let out a sigh of relief.

Five years.

He had been so anxious that Charlotte might have met someone else.

But the letter said nothing about her being engaged or married.

Thank god.

He had been so afraid he’d never get to confess.

“Finally, I can see Charlotte again.”

The reunion was near.

He would see her soon.