MSVL 10

A single carriage was moving slowly along the main road, its flag fluttering—a great tree emblazoned upon it.

Even without the emblem of nobility, its luxurious exterior alone was enough to intimidate passersby. The carriage was heading toward the temple.

Inside it, Milona, seated across from the owner of this carriage, the Glove Count, could not even properly enjoy the softness of the seat that was more comfortable than her own bed. Instead, she was praying with all her heart toward the divine.

‘God! My Lord! Light of all things! Please! Please don’t let me meet His Grace the Duke!’

Perhaps because she had died once and returned, or perhaps because she had received a divine mark, Milona had been calling upon God constantly since her regression.

Strangely enough, she was calling out more desperately and more frequently than most priests—but every time she did, things seemed to get even worse.

The problem was that the source of all these twisted situations could, in some way, be traced back to God himself. So she had nowhere else to rely on except Him.

“Don’t worry. You are certainly my daughter.”

The Glove Count tried to comfort her with a gentle voice, misinterpreting her anxiety.

Milona had lived her entire life without ever leaving the capital. If the power and intelligence network of the count’s household had truly searched for her, there was no way they could have failed to find her before the world’s end. That alone was proof, in Milona’s mind, that she could not possibly be his true daughter.

But only Milona knew that truth. And above all, this entire situation had been set up by God. The fake priest who suddenly appeared and declared her the count’s daughter was surely some agent sent to turn this absurd fraud into something real.

‘If You sent me back to save the world, I can’t exactly help—but at least don’t sabotage me!’

Becoming a count’s daughter would make her life easier than when she had been a mere “asset-transfer specialist,” but every time she met the count’s gaze, her conscience—only recently awakened—stabbed her with unbearable pain.

‘I’ve never even committed fraud before! I only robbed pockets honestly!’

The count across from her was a problem. The duke—who might or might not be at the temple—was also a problem. She just wanted to disappear, but she had never learned how to do that.

While Milona kept desperately praying for disappearance, the carriage came to a stop.

She had fled this very place just a few hours ago, and now she was returning like this… Of course, then she had jumped over the wall, and now she was entering through the front gate, but still.

Looking out the window at the white outer walls of the temple, Milona let out a long, suppressed sigh.

“Opening the door,” said Hallman, the captain of the count’s knights, as he knocked carefully before opening it.

Following his guidance, the Glove Count got out first, then reached back into the carriage.

“…Why are you like this? Are you hurt or uncomfortable—?”
“N-No! It’s just… my first time! Yes! That’s it! I’m totally fine!”

It was simply her first time being escorted like this. But she looked so pale, trembling as if the world was ending.

The count became even more flustered, and Milona quickly placed her hand over his and stepped down from the carriage.

“…My child…”

The count looked at their joined hands with emotion, tears welling up.

The Glove Count—known for being cold, sharp, and unshakably composed even in front of the Emperor—looked nothing like the rumors. Every small reaction he had toward Milona was overly intense.

‘God… You’re not planning to scam this kind of man, are You?’

If God was the one committing fraud, then why did her own conscience hurt?

Guided by a priest, Milona followed behind the count, stealing glances at him as he kept anxiously watching her, as if she might disappear at any moment.

She silently prayed again and again for God to come to His senses and end this absurd farce.

“May the blessing of Light be with you. We have been waiting.”

At the end of a long corridor, a man greeted them from within a room.

He wore white robes embroidered with elegant vines, unlike the ordinary priests who had guided them. It was clear he held a high position within the temple.

“I didn’t expect Priest Ganon himself to receive us.”
“The High Priest instructed us to treat the guests with utmost respect.”
“Thank you for your consideration at such a time of rest.”
“As servants of Light, it is only natural.”

The man—Ganon—then looked at Milona.

“Is she the one you came to verify?”
“Yes.”

The moment their eyes met, Milona stiffened.

She knew exactly who he was.

The Temple of the God of Light had a Supreme High Priest, and beneath him were nine Cardinal Priests, each serving under Light. Ganon was one of those nine—one of the most powerful candidates to become the next High Priest.

‘A cardinal priest… someone ordinary believers wouldn’t even glimpse, and he’s here?’

As Milona’s purple eyes trembled, Ganon maintained his gentle smile.

“Light will provide the answer.”

“…Pardon?”

“Shall we begin with what the Count urgently wishes to confirm?”

At his signal, two priests approached—each holding a shallow dish and a long, sharp needle.

“To confirm whether you two are truly father and daughter, we require a drop of blood.”

The count immediately offered his hand, and Milona followed suit.

For a brief moment she worried they might ask her to remove her gloves—but fortunately, they only pricked her fingertip.

Her stigmata on the back of her hand remained hidden.

“Please wait. We will return with the Light’s answer.”

After Ganon and the priests left, silence filled the room.

Milona and the Glove Count sat across from each other on opposing sofas, both speechless.

The count seemed to want to speak, his lips twitching, but Milona’s stiff expression kept him from saying anything.

“Don’t worry too mu—”

At that moment, before he could finish, the door opened again.

Had Ganon already returned?

Milona looked up—and froze.

“…I hope I’m not interrupting.”

It was Wade.

No—why on earth was he here?

“Your Highness, what brings you here?”
“I heard the Count finally found his lost child. I came to offer congratulations.”

“…The results haven’t even come out yet.”
“The Count wouldn’t come to the temple without certainty. Though, there were a few times that certainty turned out to be wrong, weren’t there?”

Wade sat casually on an empty seat, continuing with a teasing tone.

“Still, this time seems different… or maybe not. Either way, now that it’s known the Count has found his ‘true’ child, I thought I’d serve as a witness.”

Having an imperial witness alongside the temple’s official declaration would greatly help Milona’s integration into noble society.

The Count, seeing no reason to refuse such goodwill, was about to accept—

“Besides, I already have a connection with the Count’s daughter.”

“…Pardon?”
“Ah, not confirmed yet. Should I say ‘future Count’s daughter’ instead?”

At those words, frost seemed to settle over the Count’s face.

Is this bastard trying to flirt with my daughter?

He silently vowed that if that were true, he would not hesitate to defy even royalty.

And Milona—

‘God, this is getting out of hand.’

—was silently protesting to God with all her sincerity.

It was bad enough that Wade was still in the temple when she had wanted him gone. Now he was even sitting here, smiling faintly, talking about “connections.”

“Come to think of it,” Wade continued, “I have a question for the future Count’s daughter.”

“Y-Yes?”
“Why did you scream when you saw me? I’ve never had anyone scream just from seeing my face before. I’m genuinely curious.”

Everything was going downhill.

The Count stared at Wade without blinking, while Wade ignored the glare completely and kept his eyes on Milona.

So what could she do?

In a situation like this, there was only one option—be shameless.

“I just have a habit of screaming when I see handsome people.”