Chapter 10: The Changed Flow from the Original
The crooked smile on the crown prince’s lips made the priest instinctively shrink back and glance around nervously.
“B-But… it’s tradition…”
“I don’t care,” the crown prince said coldly. “Unless you want me to turn this into a royal order, just give me some work. I train in swordsmanship every day, so physical labor is fine. Paperwork is okay too. I’ve never played with children before, but I can try.”
The idea of a crown prince playing cheerfully with dirty, noisy children? Unthinkable.
And the image of him taking off his uniform jacket to carry rocks for the garden?
That was even more absurd.
Yes, it was true that a good king should love and care for his people. But ever since the founding of the Trion Kingdom, not once had a member of the royal family volunteered at an orphanage.
Yet here was the crown prince, offering to do hard labor himself.
The priest stood there with his mouth hanging open, speechless. Was everyone visiting the temple today completely out of their minds?
But there was no time to figure that out.
“I-I’ll report this to the High Priest…”
With the crown prince’s silent pressure looming over him, the priest had no choice but to nod.
He ran back the way he had come, his face even paler than the time he failed the priesthood exam.
‘Oh Lord, O Great Renatria!’
Muttering prayers under his breath, the priest flung open the doors to the reception room, where the saintess and the High Priest were waiting.
“Th-The Crown Prince refused the meeting. I-I mean, he’s asking for a job instead…”
Even as he said it, he couldn’t believe the words himself. The dozens of stunned gazes directed at him only added to his panic.
“I’m serious!” he cried.
The room instantly exploded in murmurs and chatter.
The loudest voice among them was the High Priest, Jurt.
“The Crown Prince refused to meet us? What nonsense is that?!”
He jumped up in fury, his long white beard shaking in the air. His ceremonial hat sat askew, but he didn’t even notice as he shouted.
“Don’t tell me someone offended him! Even if royal power has weakened, if we lose the state’s funding, all we’ll have left are the noble’s occasional donations! Surely everyone knows that!”
Coming from a holy man, the words sounded rather selfish—but he wasn’t wrong.
The other priests bowed their heads, unable to say anything.
Except for one.
The so-called ‘Wild Saintess’, Anila, remained completely unfazed.
“Getting so worked up over just a crown prince,” she said lazily, blinking her sleepy eyes. “Not even the king. Isn’t it a bit pathetic?”
“How dare you!” Jurt shouted. “Even if you’re blessed by the gods, that’s no excuse to act so shamelessly!”
“Oh? It’s not?”
“…Ugh.”
Jurt’s rising anger instantly deflated when Anila smiled at him—so pure and radiant it was almost divine.
Despite her casual posture, her messy hair, and lazy attitude, she was undeniably beautiful and holy, chosen by the gods.
“It’s all your fault anyway!” Jurt blurted out. “You took too long changing, brushing your hair, and eating snacks, so he left!”
He struggled to stay angry despite her dazzling smile.
“Oh no, how terrible,” Anila replied playfully. “But please forgive me. A saintess must always maintain a clean appearance, a full stomach, and proper posture.”
“Full stomach?!”
Anila knew exactly how to handle this. She had been loved and praised all her life, both by people and the divine. Their reactions were so predictable, it was boring.
“Anyway, take responsibility,” Jurt snapped. “You should go to the crown prince and ask him why he refused the meeting. He won’t ignore you.”
“Eh? Ugh, do I have to?” she whined.
“Saintess Anila!”
With a dramatic pout, she got up from her seat.
So all she had to do was bring the crown prince back, and everyone would stop bothering her?
Fine.
She just wanted to get back to her bed and hug her soft pillow anyway.
“Fine, fine. I’ll go. If the temple goes broke, I’ll be in trouble too.”
Hope returned to the priests’ faces.
Everyone knew Anila wasn’t just the temple’s beauty—she was one of the kingdom’s most beautiful women.
Add her sacred aura on top of that? No way the crown prince could resist.
With all eyes on her, Anila walked out confidently.
‘So, the crown prince, huh? I heard he’s got a bit of a temper.’
She had never seen him before. Growing up in the temple, their paths had never crossed.
She thought she heard rumors that he was handsome, but she didn’t expect much.
After all, she’d already had her fill of handsome men through her secret weekend romances.
There weren’t many men in the world who could meet her high standards.
“…So, what do you want?”
“Oh my.”
But Feric—he wasn’t just handsome. He reset her standards.
His sharp features, tall figure, the way he wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and looked down at her with those cool eyes…
Anila stood there, speechless, mouth open.
‘No one said he was this good-looking!’
This was an unexpected jackpot.
She quickly composed herself. Her instincts as a flirt kicked in.
Forget bringing him back to the reception room. She had other plans now.
“Saintess Anila Media greets His Highness, the Crown Prince.”
She wore her most innocent smile as she bowed politely.
She was even planning to tilt her eyes cutely when their gazes met. No man had ever resisted it.
‘…Huh?’
But this time, something was different.
Even after waiting, there was no response.
When she looked up, she realized—he wasn’t even looking at her.
His gaze was fixed somewhere far behind her.
‘What’s he looking at if not me?’
It was the first time someone had ignored her like this.
Curious, she followed his gaze.
There, in the distance, was a woman with messy red hair and a dirty dress, playing with children in the dirt.
Anila didn’t recognize her at all.
With her face smudged and clothes a mess, she didn’t look like anyone important.
‘He’s looking at her instead of me?! Who even is she?’
Anila’s pride was bruised.
But she wasn’t worried. She had confidence in her charms.
All she needed was one more chance—a sweet greeting, and then lightly brush her soft hand against his. He wouldn’t be able to ignore her.
“You must be tired after the walk here—w-wait, where are you going?!”
“I should go. I’m a little worried.”
‘Wait, what?!’
“Saintess Anila, was it? We’ll talk later. Please pass along my regards to the High Priest.”
She didn’t even get the chance to touch him.
Feric moved away, brushing her hand aside like it was nothing.
Anila’s mouth fell open. She had never been treated like this before.
‘What just happened?’
She clenched her hand in frustration and stared at his retreating back.
His quick steps showed clear urgency.
She couldn’t believe it.
Everyone loved her. Even the gods adored her.
And yet, he was walking away—to that woman?
“Leriel!”
“Your Highness…?”
That woman’s side?
A shadow fell over Anila’s once-innocent, shining eyes.
‘Leriel…? Don’t tell me…’
