44.
Edwin subtly avoided Ri-Na’s gaze.
He felt a flicker of guilt, knowing full well he hadn’t attended to his duties as he should have.
‘If only that raccoon-like High Priest hadn’t rescheduled the Great Prayer Service.’
Edwin’s disdain for the Temple deepened. Since the war began, the institution had kept a calculated distance, claiming neutrality as they waited to see which way the wind would blow. They knew the alliance of kingdoms also clung to Minosism, and they wanted to be on the winning side.
‘Once it became clear the Empire would emerge victorious, they started clawing at our heels.’
They had offered to dispatch priests to heal the wounded or hold services to pray for victory. Edwin, however, was not generous enough to accommodate such opportunistic posturing. He had swatted away every performative gesture they extended.
‘Not that they offered anything particularly impressive, anyway.’
Yet, he could not reject the proposal for a memorial service for the fallen soldiers and citizens. The Empire’s population was steeped in Minosism; severing ties with the Temple was a political impossibility. But the moment Edwin agreed, the High Priest acted as if he had been lying in wait, grandly expanding the event’s scope. The Temple had lost public favor by ignoring the civilian wounded throughout the war, and this Great Prayer Service was their desperate attempt to bury that resentment.
Demanding the sacred flame be lit at the long-defunct Old Temple was merely a part of that scheme.
‘It’s probably a ploy to humble me while they’re at it.’
Their intentions were transparent. Still, since the service was for the war’s victims, he had intended to let it slide just this once. Walking for three or four hours was no grueling task for him, and he genuinely wished to honor the lives lost in the Empire’s early, devastating defeats.
‘If only they hadn’t moved the schedule to a day I had set aside to meet Miss Diaz.’
Because of the Temple’s fickleness, only Everett Rohas had suffered. Well, the real Everett Rohas, that is.
The unilateral change was beyond Edwin’s limit of tolerance. He had intended to skip the ceremony entirely after reading their cold, formal notification, but Kyle had stopped him. Kyle argued that since the Emperor’s attendance had been announced, backing out now would play directly into the Temple’s trap—allowing them to paint the Emperor as one who disregarded the gods.
Even if the Temple’s reputation had waned, faith in the God Minos remained a pillar of the imperial identity. Edwin wasn’t particularly devout, but as generations of emperors had claimed to be the favorites of Minos, he couldn’t simply turn his back.
In the end, Edwin had no choice but to follow Kyle’s counsel. He decided to go through the motions, but he had no intention of participating in their power play. He performed the lighting of the sacred flame only because of Kyle’s incessant nagging, then slipped away at the first opportunity—after trading places with Everett Rohas.
‘A flame that would ignite no matter who lit it.’
The legend that only a rightful Emperor could kindle the sacred fire was a superstition for the fanatics. Neither Edwin nor Kyle were men of faith, though Kyle, surprisingly, still clung to such myths. Because the path from the Old Temple to the Great Temple was restricted and strictly guarded, the switch went unnoticed.
Only the High Priest, who stood ready to receive the flame in person, would see Everett’s face.
‘It’s a bit of a shame I won’t get to see that raccoon’s face when he realizes he’s been duped.’
While his situation differed slightly from Ri-Na’s misunderstanding, it was true he had neglected his duties. Edwin was a man who would nonchalantly commit acts that left the nobility aghast, but for some reason, he felt a sting of conscience under the weight of Ri-Na’s violet eyes.
‘Since it was the Temple that added an unnecessary procedure, it wouldn’t be a problem even if I didn’t do it.’
He defended himself internally, feeling justified in choosing the most peaceful method to handle the institution that dared to challenge his authority. Still, it wasn’t exactly something he could say to Ri-Na, a woman who showed compassion even toward the assailants who had threatened her own life.
Hoping his words would sound plausible, he opened his mouth.
“I only came here first because I had business at the Imperial Palace.”
Meeting Ri-Na was his true priority; she was far more important to him than any Temple function. Since he was speaking the truth, his tone remained steady.
“Did you finish your work at the Imperial Palace well?”
At the confirmation that he hadn’t been slacking off, the chill in Ri-Na’s eyes thawed. It seemed, however, that she had interpreted his ‘work at the Imperial Palace’ as something separate from their appointment. Edwin didn’t correct her. He only smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
He nodded, gently taking her hand.
“You were lucky. If I hadn’t had business at the Imperial Palace, Lord Rohas would have been stuck walking all the way to the Temple.”
Ri-Na smiled, lifting her thumb.
“Shall we go, then?”
Unlike Edwin, who grew taut with nerves every time they touched, Ri-Na seemed to have grown accustomed to his presence. She began to stroll, pulling his hand along without a second thought.
‘The only sound I can hear right now is my own heartbeat.’
Edwin felt a flicker of disappointment, but he hid it. He refused to show her his clumsy, yearning side.
Hand in hand, they walked through the section of the Summer Rose Garden they had missed the last time due to the encroaching dark. Thanks to the addition of several magic stone streetlamps, the path was bright and welcoming.
They walked in silence. The enchanted light gave the garden a fairy-tale quality, and Ri-Na’s gaze remained fixed on the roses. Watching her, Edwin’s sour mood began to lift. Ri-Na was the type to fall quiet when her interest was captured, and Edwin found the silence peaceful.
He walked half a step behind her, keeping her entirely within his line of sight. He had already thought a dozen times how cute her lips looked, parted slightly as she drifted into deep thought.
At some point, her gaze shifted from the flowers back to him.
Edwin felt a jolt of confusion. Those mysterious violet eyes, so difficult to read, met his and then drifted away, over and over again.
‘Wasn’t she enjoying the flowers? What is she thinking about?’
Contrary to his expectations, she didn’t seem immersed in the garden at all. Her expression was far too stiff. The summer roses were at their peak, yet neither of them was truly seeing the blooms.
The intuition that had saved him and his men on the battlefield flared to life. The peace of the garden felt like a calm before a storm. Each time Ri-Na’s wandering gaze landed on him, his anxiety sharpened.
‘Did I make a mistake?’
He scrutinized her, searching for his own faults, reflecting on every moment they had spent together. From their very first meeting, there were more than a few points of concern.
Ri-Na possessed a firm core; she wasn’t the type to brood. If she disliked something, she would have said it honestly.
‘Could it be something too difficult to voice?’
If she was troubled by something she couldn’t easily bring up… only one thought occurred to him. To be more precise, that one possibility was so immense that it crowded out all others.
Was it that?