CHAPTER 04
While Everett was staring intently at Kyle’s face, he safely descended to the ground.
Kyle’s gaze shifted from Everett to the novice priests.
“It seems priests have a lot of free time. Wandering around in broad daylight doing nonsense like this.”
It was a low, pleasant voice that resonated clearly in the ears.
The novice priest, staring at Kyle, looked increasingly uneasy.
“W-Who are you?! D-Don’t interfere in the affairs of the priests, and g-get lost…!”
Their voices were still loud, but unlike earlier, they had begun to tremble.
“Judging by the look of you, you’re just a novice.”
“What? J-Just a novice priest? How dare you speak that way about those who serve the goddess Anishu…!”
Before the novice priest could finish shouting, a dull thud echoed.
“First, let’s start with the crime of not recognizing me.”
Kyle swiftly unsheathed his long scabbard and began striking the novice priests.
“Ugh! What the hell?!”
“That hurts!”
They tried to block the blows with their arms, but the more they resisted, the faster the strikes landed.
The novice priest, unable to withstand the pain, began to collapse, but Kyle showed no intention of stopping.
He didn’t even look tired, swinging the scabbard with cold precision and speed.
“Kyle!”
Just then, Yankeller’s voice rang out from a distance, and Kyle immediately stopped.
“Hey, Yan.”
Yankeller descended the stairs, waving at Kyle.
Kyle slid the scabbard back into his belt and briefly made eye contact with Everett.
“Kyle, I didn’t expect you to arrive so quickly.”
It had been a while since they last met, and Yankeller greeted Kyle with a warm hug.
Smiling brightly, he gave Kyle a once-over.
“So, where are you coming from this time? Are you hurt anywhere? Will you be staying in the capital for a while?”
Kyle only responded with a low chuckle to Yankeller’s barrage of questions.
Kyle Sou Bartman.
Ten years ago, after the sudden death of his father, his uncle became emperor.
A royal must be stronger than anyone.
By the new emperor’s command, Kyle began drifting among the border troops.
Though they called it education for his only nephew, everyone knew it was just an excuse.
No one in the Bartman Empire was unaware of the truth.
To the emperor, Kyle—his brother’s son—was a threat to the throne.
Every time Kyle was sent to the frontlines, the emperor prayed:
Let him return as a corpse, so I won’t have to dirty my own hands. Let me not go down in history as the heartless emperor who banished and killed his own nephew.
But Kyle always returned alive and stood before him.
So hated was he that there was no place in the palace where he could truly rest.
The place he stayed most often—more than the palace—was the temple where his long-time friend Yankeller resided.
“Of course I’d love to stay in this lovely capital for a long time. But since I came back alive against the emperor’s will again, I’ll probably be sent somewhere even farther and harsher.”
He spoke as if it didn’t concern him, but Yankeller understood his pain better than anyone.
Instead of offering clumsy comfort, he gripped Kyle’s shoulder firmly.
‘Ugh, I really need to go… but leaving suddenly in the middle of this atmosphere would be awkward…’
Standing beside them, Everett couldn’t help but feel awkward listening to their ongoing conversation.
‘I mean, I love seeing the male lead and second male lead together in person, but my position here is super awkward. What is this?’
She began backing away slowly, thinking she’d quietly slip away.
Just then, Kyle casually extended his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder.
Both Everett and Yankeller were startled by his sudden action.
“You nearly tumbled down the stairs just a moment ago—why act like this again?”
“What do you mean? What happened earlier?”
Kyle gestured with his chin toward the novice priests lying on the ground.
“And those guys?”
Yankeller’s expression twisted as he recognized their faces.
“What did these bastards do this time?”
“‘This time’—so it’s not the first time?”
The novice priests got up and fell to their knees.
“Please forgive us, Lord Yankeller.”
Not knowing Kyle was a Grand Duke, they had cursed at him—and now, the only person they could rely on was Yankeller.
“I believe I already gave you one chance. And yet, here you are making the same mistake again.”
Yankeller’s expression began to change.
‘As expected of Yankeller…’
The deep wrinkle between his brows smoothed out quickly, and his face shifted to its usual gentle expression.
Seeing this familiar look, the novice priests assumed they were forgiven.
But Kyle’s lips curled into a knowing smirk.
Everett knew the truth, too.
“The Two-Faced Angel, Yankeller.”
That was Yankeller Penaio’s nickname in the original novel.
He wore the kindest and most dazzling smile, but behind it lay a stern will.
Many who acted recklessly under his kind facade vanished in an instant.
‘That’s the face he makes when he’s truly angry.’
The clueless novice priests even smiled in relief.
“You’re smiling? After bringing disgrace to the temple?”
“N-No! We just…”
“Silence.”
Yankeller let out a short sigh.
“Listen carefully. From this moment on, you are dismissed.”
The novice priests’ eyes widened.
“W-What are you saying?! Even if you are the High Priest’s son, you can’t just fire us like this. Only the High Priest can make that decision!”
Yankeller smiled even more kindly.
“You seem to be misunderstanding something. You’re not full priests yet. So the High Priest’s permission isn’t needed. And like you said, I am his son.”
As soon as he finished, Kyle asked,
“Yan, that means they’re no longer part of the temple, right?”
“Yes. They’re no longer priests, but citizens of the Bartman Empire.”
Priests were governed solely by temple law.
Even if they did something wrong, they were exempt from the empire’s legal system.
To a degree, this applied to novice priests as well.
“So… we can apply imperial law now, huh?”
As he asked, Kyle turned to Alfred, his aide, who had come close.
“Alf, what are their charges?”
“Yes, assaulting a noblewoman and…”
“Attempted murder.”
At Kyle’s words, the novice priests frantically waved their arms.
“M-Murder?! Absolutely not! We never had such intentions!”
As they shouted in protest, Alfred replied even louder.
“Indeed. Had she fallen down those steep stairs, death would have been highly likely. Therefore, attempted murder applies.”
“Right? Then no need for a trial—we can throw them straight in prison. Let me know if you need a witness. I’ll testify myself.”
“Understood. I’ll hand them over right away.”
The novice priests wailed desperately as Alfred grabbed them by the collars and dragged them off.
‘Wait… Not only are they kicked out of the temple because of me, but now they’re going to prison for attempted murder? Why?!’
Everett was completely stunned by the sudden turn of events.
Kyle and Yankeller turned to look at her simultaneously.
“I’ve done this much for you, and still no thanks? You must not have learned proper manners, my lady. Do you still not know who I am?”
Though he scolded her, Kyle’s eyes were full of curiosity.
Just as Everett opened her mouth to thank him—
“Um… Kyle.”
Yankeller gently called out to him first.
“This young lady… she can’t speak. That’s why.”
“Oh, really? You could’ve said that earlier. Oh, wait. You can’t speak.”
A strange gleam flickered in Kyle’s eyes as he stared at her.
DANG—
Just then, the clock tower struck noon.
‘I have to see the fortune-teller… I’ve wasted too much time.’
Everett gave a small curtsy, holding her skirt, to express her thanks.
She turned to head down the stairs, but was suddenly pulled back.
She gasped, almost letting out a sound—Kyle had grabbed her.
He pulled her so close it looked as if she were in his arms.
‘What the—! Why did he grab me?!’
Everett frowned deeply and looked up at him.
His face remained blank, but his slightly curved lips revealed mischief.
“You’re going like that?”
‘Like what?’
Kyle gestured to her left shoulder.
The fabric had torn slightly from when the novice priest grabbed her, exposing her white skin underneath.
Startled, Everett quickly grabbed the ripped fabric with her hand.
‘Ugh… I guess I’ll have to visit the fortune-teller another time.’
Seeing her flustered state, Yankeller ran up the stairs, calling out.
“Please wait! I’ll bring something to cover you!”
‘I should be fine until I get home, right? It’s not like it’ll rip more.’
She was about to head off, clutching the fabric tightly.
“Wear this.”
Kyle had gone to the carriage and returned with a black cloth in hand.
Everett didn’t take it. She simply looked back and forth between Kyle and the cloth.
“You can’t go around like that, my lady. Just throw it over your shoulder.”
Kyle brought the cloth up to her face, urging her to take it.
But seeing her still standing still, he muttered—
“You really are high-maintenance, huh.”
Despite his grumbling tone, Kyle gently unfolded the cloth and draped it over her shoulder himself.
“No need to be touched or grateful for something like this. It was just a foot mat from the carriage, anyway.”
‘What? A foot mat?!’
