CH :01
“I send you my representative—serve him.”
There is a Priestess in Escliff.
“One with black hair and black eyes shall connect you and me, and bring prosperity to Escliff.”
The Priestess was famous for her black hair and black eyes—traits unusual among the golden-haired people of the Empire. But her fame wasn’t simply due to her exotic appearance.
“Is it true that she really doesn’t age?”
“Not at all. I saw her ten years ago, and again just a few days back—she looked exactly the same.”
The Priestess did not age. For two hundred years, she had looked the same.
“Come on, you probably don’t even remember what she looked like ten years ago.”
“Look at Rixon.”
“Oh, Rixon… right.”
Even someone who had spent nearly thirty years trying to prove otherwise eventually gave up. No matter how much time passed, she always appeared at the temple’s yearly rituals, looking unchanged.
“Her skin is always smooth and tight, like a baby’s. How is it so soft and flawless?”
Ordinarily, such a person would have been branded a witch. But she was the Priestess. That title alone justified everything.
“Honestly, after 200 years, shouldn’t people be starting to believe it?”
The faction most at odds with the Priestess was the Imperial family of Escliff. The temple, always citing divine revelation, would boldly oppose the Imperial House under the Priestess’s authority. But even the Emperor dared not challenge her existence.
The very attitude of the Imperial family only strengthened the people’s belief in the Priestess.
“Black eyes, black hair. Just screams outsider.”
“Well, that’s true.”
Public opinion was shifting—perhaps it was excessive to doubt her for two centuries.
“……”
So that’s where we are now.
A man who had been listening in behind them pulled the hood of his robe over his head. Beneath it, his eyes—green as clear emerald—glinted with sharp insight.
“Rodan.”
The man rose from his seat and stepped out of the noisy tavern.
“Yes, my lord.”
A figure hidden in the shadows stepped into the light and gazed at his master.
“You don’t seem in a good mood.”
“……”
“Don’t follow me.”
The man, revealing a trace of displeasure, turned gracefully and left Rodan behind. Despite the shabby robe, it could not hide the man’s noble air.
His name was Ivan Wade Escliff, the 15th Emperor of Escliff.
“I said no!”
A shrill voice pierced the air. Like any small creature, she bristled exaggeratedly when threatened or cornered.
“I’m not wearing that.”
It was always a struggle just to get her changed. Her handmaiden sighed deeply. She couldn’t speak, making it even harder to soothe her.
“Priestess.”
Just then, Louis Skiffer, a maid, appeared. Her voice was soft and gentle.
“It’s time for prayer. You must go.”
Of course, it was just a tone meant to persuade the woman in front of her. There wasn’t much time left.
“My name isn’t ‘Priestess.’ I told you to call me by my name.”
“I refused last time too. If I do, the High Priest will punish me.”
Louis politely but firmly rejected the request. Her family’s status depended on her service to the Priestess. She couldn’t risk being flogged just for saying a name.
“How can it be a sin to call someone by their name?”
But the noble lady showed no intent to understand her situation. The maid was about to instruct the handmaiden to force the clothes onto her when—
“I’ve come to escort you. Are you fighting with your servant again, Priestess?”
They hadn’t heard any footsteps, but the door was open. Both women froze in shock.
“You may leave now.”
High Priest Aaron Skiffer. Though he had spent decades as a priest, he carried the air of a warrior. Even now, he had entered so quietly.
“Yes, High Priest.”
Louis and the handmaiden ignored the pleading gaze from the Priestess and hurried away. They feared they’d be dragged into it.
“Still insisting on being called by your name?”
Aaron asked with a smiling face. Her face flushed with shame, then anger.
“My name isn’t ‘Priestess.’ I only asked to be called by my real name. Why is that wrong?”
Once the door was closed, Aaron’s eyes curved into a soft smile. It seemed warm, but it was clearly a warning. His smiles always carried threats.
“……”
Knowing this, her body tensed like a cornered mouse.
“I believe you already know why it’s wrong.”
Aaron’s smile vanished in an instant. His cold gaze delivered a clear warning.
“I’m not the Priestess.”
Looking at that smug face, her anger boiled. She couldn’t shout, but she could use the words Aaron hated most.
“How can you say you’re not the Priestess?”
“My name is Amelia—”
“Amelia Escliff.”
Aaron cut her off without hesitation.
“That surname belongs to the royal family.”
Amelia Escliff. The woman revered as the Priestess bore a royal name, despite not being royalty herself.
“If you weren’t the Priestess, you wouldn’t even have that name.”
He wasn’t wrong. With her black eyes and hair, she would have been nothing but a foreigner here.
“If, as you say, you’re not the Priestess—”
“……”
“—then everything about you is a lie. You don’t even deserve the name Amelia.”
Aaron mocked her. No one would think this was the demeanor of a true servant of the divine.
“Isn’t that so?”
His scathing tone struck where it hurt most. Amelia hid her trembling hands within her sleeves.
“So who are you really?”
Aaron asked. Amelia said nothing, simply lowering her eyes.
“Feeling calmer now?”
Aaron noticed her spirit had wilted. He returned to a smiling face. That smirk sent chills down her spine.
“Change your clothes and proceed to the prayer room.”
Aaron ordered leisurely.
“No.”
But Amelia was just as stubborn.
“Shall I have her forcibly dressed?”
Aaron’s smile disappeared. His cold, expressionless face made Amelia’s eyes tremble.
“High Priest!”
A priest came rushing in.
“There’s a fire between the North and East Gates. It’s quite large…”
“Let’s go. Mobilize everyone nearby.”
Aaron turned hurriedly away from Amelia.
“I suppose that’s why you said prayer would be difficult today. Rest.”
But just before stepping out, he glanced back at Amelia.
As if she had been stubborn because she knew this would happen.
“Ah, the Priestess knew, didn’t she…?”
“The Priestess knows everything. Let’s go.”
Aaron smiled faintly. He was frighteningly good at swaying public opinion. The door shut with a click. Amelia clenched her trembling fists in fear and fury.
“What could I possibly know…”
It was laughable. If Amelia could really hear the voice of God and foresee the future, she’d want to know when Aaron would finally fall.
“Ah.”
Her eyes lit up. She quickly threw on a hooded robe and dashed outside.
“Mobilize everyone nearby.”
There was a fire between the North and East Gates. If they’d even dispatched guards, perhaps the guards near the North Gate—closest to her chamber—were thinned. That hope drove her forward.
“Haah…”
She couldn’t scale the tall walls, but if no guards were present, and the gate wasn’t locked… Even as she gasped for breath, a hopeful smile bloomed on her face.
“……”
But it didn’t last. The gate, though unguarded, was securely locked with chains. Moonlight shimmered on the metal links.
Amelia bit her lip and stared bitterly at the gate. Then she sensed something—someone—on the other side of the tall wall.
“…What?”
Just as she thought it strange, a head suddenly popped up over the wall. The stranger, perched atop the wall, froze when he spotted her staring at the gate.
“Who are you…?”
Faced with a difficult question, the man smiled awkwardly. Even beneath the hood, his arrogance was undeniable.
“The High Priest’s errand boy?”
Even his flippant lie couldn’t hide the authority in his tone.
“…Liar.”
Amelia hadn’t met many outsiders, but she could at least tell he was lying.
“And you are?”
The man asked shamelessly, despite having his lie exposed. Amelia was momentarily overwhelmed by confusion.
Who am I?
She had never had the chance to develop an identity. She was simply raised as the Priestess.
“Your entire existence is a lie.”
I’m not a lie.
“You don’t even deserve the name Amelia.”
That’s not true. Amelia struggled to push away the words swirling in her head. But she couldn’t deny the truth—that without her title, she had no name.
“I am…”
But still. No matter what anyone said, she was Amelia. She raised her chin defiantly and pushed her hood back.
“I am Amelia.”
“……”
“I’ve given you my name. Before I scream, remove your hood and show me who you are.”
The man smirked at her words. With a lazy flick, he pushed back his hood.
“……”
And then—eyes like star-flecked obsidian met eyes like lush, summer greenery.
“Ivan. Servant of the gods.”
Golden hair like sunbeams, emerald eyes clear as gemstones, a sharp nose, and soft red lips. The man was a perfect image of beauty.
The wind stirred, rustling the delicate petals of the flowers in the garden—as if the floral prison was welcoming its unexpected guest.
