Chapter 15
She didn’t remember ever visiting the Odor Province’s main church, but she asked just in case. Adults usually remembered a child’s whereabouts better than the child did.
The Count of Odor furrowed his brow slightly.
“Well… you and my sister always wandered around outside the city more than in it. But you might have come here at least once. Why?”
“I suppose so, right? I must’ve been here.”
That would explain such a vivid dream.
Accepting that as the answer, Olentia followed her uncle toward the entrance of the church.
But then—her eyes caught something flickering like candlelight: an orange shell-shaped hairpin. A woman had arrived in front of the church.
“Aaah!”
Overwhelmed by the nightmare-like déjà vu, Olentia let out a scream and covered her face with both hands.
The Count of Odor flinched in surprise, and the woman with the orange shell hairpin also turned to look at Olentia.
Olentia felt like she would faint on the spot.
Why on earth was she seeing the woman—and the hairpin—from her dream right here?
She jolted slightly, and the Count stared at her with a puzzled expression.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s nothing.”
She forced a smile to reassure him—only to meet the woman’s gaze again.
The woman was a beauty with thick brown hair. A beauty mark sat beneath her right eye, and when their eyes met, her thin lips curved into a smirk—the kind that suggested she had made many men cry. A faint perfume lingered around her.
It must have simply been a bad, ominous dream.
Once she calmed down, Olentia followed the Count inside the main church.
Truthfully, even after entering the church, she couldn’t stop feeling shocked. Just like in her dream—magnificent frescoes, a golden altar, and oak doors carved with ornate patterns.
Bathed in the shimmering light from the stained glass, she finally saw Archbishop Werbu—the man she had been so eager to meet. His overall demeanor was gentle, but the intent in his eyes was sharp; understandable, given that he had traveled down personally to resolve the matter in Odor Province’s church.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Armeniacha.”
Olentia bowed respectfully at his words.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Grace.”
“You must be tired from the long journey. I’ve been told you have something very important to tell me. Is that true?”
It seemed the archbishop disliked wasting time.
Olentia nodded nervously. Would she be able to cancel the wedding with Marquis Luxsus? She worried since she couldn’t predict the outcome.
Beside the archbishop stood a man with a gentler—no, more plump—appearance. He bowed politely.
“I am Ankedo, the priest temporarily assisting Archbishop Werbu during his stay in Odor.”
Olentia returned the greeting with a bright smile.
“Yes, Father Ankedo.”
“If the Lady requires anything during her stay at the Count’s estate, simply ask Ankedo here. The Count will no doubt be busy.”
The archbishop’s words carried clear trust in Ankedo.
Olentia nodded, and the priest guided her and the Count toward the reception room.
The room was pristine. A white tablecloth lay neatly over the table, with several golden religious figurines arranged atop it.
Olentia swallowed hard in her nervousness. Beneath the table, her fingers fidgeted, and even her legs trembled. She dreaded the possibility of being coldly rejected by the archbishop.
Worse, her uncle looked ready to speak on her behalf—something she absolutely did not want. It would look like she was trying to sway the archbishop with her uncle’s status or influence.
I need to speak first. Before Uncle does.
Sure enough, the moment he sipped his tea, he began—
“Well, the thing is—”
“I’ll explain. I want to tell you myself.”
Her calm interruption made the archbishop smile faintly, while her uncle turned to her in surprise.
“No, but still—”
“Uncle, it’s fine.”
Silencing him, Olentia cleared her throat. If only she could borrow even a sliver of her mother Malisa’s wisdom—Malisa, the renowned philanthropist of the Bonus Empire, known for delivering stirring speeches in massive public squares.
Mother, please give me strength!
After a brief prayer, Olentia opened her eyes wide and looked directly at the archbishop.
“I’m terribly sorry, but please cancel the wedding that was scheduled using the special marriage license. I never agreed to the marriage. The application was submitted solely by Count Armeniacha, who was my guardian at the time.”
She had done well. The archbishop disliked drawn-out explanations, so being direct was the only way.
Honestly, she wanted to explain everything—how petty Sokor and Kikozeria were, and how awful Marquis Luxsus was as a future husband.
But those details were irrelevant to Archbishop Werbu.
Olentia believed she had conveyed her position clearly and simply.
Yet the room somehow felt colder. A subtle chill lingered in the air.
The archbishop didn’t reply right away. Eventually, he touched his teacup and spoke.
“No. Lady, the special marriage license carries the heavy weight of a promise—precisely because it allows a quick wedding at the Grand Cathedral.”
“Even though I had no idea this was happening? I was practically deceived.”
Olentia clasped her trembling hands tightly and straightened her back. If she let herself slip even slightly, her strength would fail her. She refused to appear weak.
“Please, Your Grace. I don’t want to be sold off like property to an alcoholic philanderer.”
She pleaded again, but the archbishop replied with a weary sigh.
“If you cancel the wedding entirely, you will never again be allowed to hold a marriage ceremony blessed by the Church. Are you prepared for that?”
Among the nobility of the Bonus Empire, no one married without the Church’s blessing. Such a ceremony was of immense importance. Losing that right meant being forced to marry in secrecy—something unthinkable for nobles, and likely to result in being shunned or even stoned under accusations of ill omen.
Olentia trembled, clenching her fists.
For a moment, she imagined herself walking into the Grand Cathedral alongside Marquis Luxsus under Sokor and Kikozeria’s triumphant gaze.
Absolutely unacceptable.
Isn’t there any other way? Some alternative!
But the archbishop’s voice cut sharply through her thoughts.
“Lady, your marriage to Marquis Luxsus is as good as a vow before God already. Proceed with it. That is the best course.”
Her heart crumbled.
Olentia looked at the archbishop with sorrowful eyes. But he sipped his tea indifferently—as though it had nothing to do with him.
Then—
Her uncle finally spoke.
“It doesn’t necessarily have to be Marquis Luxsus, does it?”
Olentia shot him a bewildered look. What was he even talking about?
The Count’s face was utterly serious.
“Count Armeniacha was the guardian who applied for the license. So the one bound by this promise before God should only be Olentia. Meaning the groom does not specifically have to be Marquis Luxsus.”
The archbishop lowered his teacup and let out a short chuckle.
“Quite reasonable. Count Odor is correct.”
After leaving the reception room, Olentia felt dazed. When she replayed the conversation between her uncle and the archbishop, a helpless laugh escaped her.
So basically—I can’t cancel the wedding, but I can swap the groom as long as I find another man?
But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted the wedding canceled outright. Finding someone to replace Marquis Luxsus sounded impossible—and she didn’t even want to marry anyone right now.
Yet her uncle looked extremely urgent.
“I’ll need to find suitable men quickly. Among those I know, Viscount Hermil has a decent character—”
“No, Uncle. I’m not giving up yet.”
“What do you mean? Don’t tell me you still want to cancel the wedding?”
“Yes. I’m going to look for another solution.”
“You know the archbishop. When he calls something a promise before God, he never changes his mind.”
But Olentia still wasn’t ready to give up. Her uncle’s suggestion would be her very last resort.
As he headed toward the carriage, he said,
“Let’s go back for now. This is enough for today.”
Olentia stopped in front of the church and said,
“I still have business here. Could you come pick me up around evening?”
She still had something she needed to confirm at the church. Mistaking it for stubbornness, the Count didn’t question her further and simply nodded.
“Fine. Don’t cause trouble.”
“Uncle, I know exactly what you’re about to do. Don’t waste your time.”
He had been muttering about “suitable men” the entire time—she suspected he really might start arranging meetings.
The Count hurried into the carriage. Olentia watched it depart, then looked back up at the tall spire of the main church. She planned to explore the grounds and try to recall whether she had truly been here before.
If she could do that, she might learn whether her dream had been a premonition.
Not wanting anyone to see her wandering around like this, Olentia started from the outer edges. Moving slowly, she eventually reached the church’s backyard.
The yard was covered in gravel, with a small rest area furnished with white tables and chairs.
Then—
Step, step, step!
Hearing hurried footsteps approaching the backyard, Olentia’s heart jumped. Before she realized it, she hid behind a tree.
