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* * *

After sending the elderly man to a quiet place, Kirke completed the remaining audience schedule. The commotion caused by the sudden news of the former emperor’s illness soon subsided. However, Kirke was well aware that all those who bowed their heads before him would soon spread the rumors they heard here in the streets.

“They say the son ignored his sick father so much that a monk had to come in person! And that son turns out to be the emperor, and the father is the former emperor!”

For the nobles who had been biding their time, waiting for a chance to bring Kirke down while defending the former emperor, this was a golden opportunity. Some might wonder how they could rejoice when the focal point of their power, the former emperor, was gravely ill. But the truth was, their true goal was not the former emperor’s restoration. The former emperor had been a monarch who cooperated with the nobility’s interests, securing his own position by granting them many privileges. 

Thus, when Kirke ascended the throne, many nobles were concerned. Would the new emperor infringe upon their privileges? Their concerns became reality. Kirke, hailed as the hero who slew the Mad Dragon, ascended to the throne with overwhelming public support. His policies repeatedly encroached upon and reduced the nobles’ interests. The nobles did not desire the return of the former emperor; they simply needed a ruler who would protect their interests, regardless of who it was.

“But is Father really sick?” Kirke had his doubts the moment he heard the news. It was suspicious that the news of the illness was deliberately shared in a chamber filled with so many ears. Kirke had planted people near the monastery where the former emperor resided. If there had been any issue with the former emperor’s health or actions, he would have heard about it from them first.

Suppressing his suspicions, Kirke donned the mask of a concerned son and entered the drawing room where the elderly man was waiting. The old man, dressed as a monk, was conversing with the emperor’s aide.

“What has happened? They say my father’s illness is severe.” The emperor asked as he entered. The aide, who had been sitting across from the old man, quickly stood up and made way for him. Pretending to pull out a chair for Kirke, the aide whispered to him, “He insisted on speaking directly to Your Majesty and did not say a word to me.”

Kirke frowned slightly. What kind of cryptic message was this old man planning to deliver? Turning his gaze to the elderly man, Kirke’s face was filled with the sorrowful concern of a son thinking about his ailing father. When he first became emperor, managing such expressions had been difficult and had led to many troublesome situations. But now, he had become quite adept at political maneuvering, befitting an emperor.

“My comrades would be appalled,” he thought. They would surely shake their heads, wondering how he had become so adept at such insincerity.

Suppressing a smile, Kirke asked the old man, “How bad is the situation?”

“At first, we thought it was just a mild cold, but his coughing and fever worsened, and now he is completely bedridden.”

“What illness has he contracted?” Kirke asked, and the old man bowed his head apologetically.

“It seems to be an endemic disease. I regret to inform you, but it appears to be an incurable illness, resistant to both medical treatment and divine power…”

“An incurable disease? Are you saying there’s no way to treat it at all?” Kirke’s eyes widened in surprise. The old man, who had been bowing his head, lifted it to meet Kirke’s gaze and spoke.

“Yes. In my experience, I have never seen anyone survive this illness.”

Although he understated it as “his experience,” the weight of the old man’s words carried significant authority, given the many decades he had endured.

“And so…” The old man’s eyes gleamed with the same intensity Kirke had noticed earlier in the audience chamber. “It may be irreverent to say, but I believe it would be best for His Majesty to pass away in his homeland. I humbly ask for your mercy in granting this.”

“!”

So this is the true purpose. The former emperor’s return to the capital! He had remained quiet in the monastery for so long that Kirke had begun to believe he had truly retired.

Kirke felt the complex emotions he had about whether his father was truly ill dissipate entirely. The former emperor wasn’t sick at all.

“…When did my father become so ill?” Kirke asked.

“His condition worsened rapidly less than a month ago.”

“Less than a month? The road from the monastery to the capital is quite long and arduous. For an elderly monk to make it here in under a month…” Kirke’s observation, spoken almost as if to himself, caused the old man’s shoulders to visibly flinch—a stark contrast to the calm manner in which he had answered every question so far.

Kirke sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. “If the former emperor wishes to return to the capital, I have no grounds to prevent it. There’s no need for excuses about illness or impending death.”

“…Excuses? His Majesty is truly gravely ill.”

“Very well, let’s leave it at that. Just as you are a ‘simple monk,’ we’ll assume that the former emperor is also gravely ill.” Kirke’s gaze fell upon the necklace the monk was wearing. The emblem of the Regennetasia Order was clearly engraved on it.

Only monks affiliated with the order could possess such an emblem. Unlike priests who lived in temples and interacted with the faithful, monks were deeply devoted individuals who spent their lives in rigorous self-discipline, dedicating everything to the divine. They took great pride in this, and would never allow an outsider to possess such a symbol. 

So, this old man was not just anyone; he truly was a monk. 

‘What kind of order is the Regennetasia that they have such monks?’ Kirke wondered. Was it not just an ordinary order? And why were they aiding the former emperor?

Despite the whirlwind of questions in his mind, Kirke’s voice remained soft and composed. “Tell the former emperor that, according to the royal protocols, he cannot enter the capital. However, he retains the right to use the villa on the outskirts, so I won’t stop him from going there.”

The old man still said nothing, and Kirke allowed a slight smile to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“What are you waiting for? Go and deliver the message. And if you want to deceive the public effectively, next time, make sure you calculate the dates correctly before sending someone.”

* * *

“Regennetasia Order,” Bael muttered, rubbing his chin in thought.

“The only place that carries all the symbols mentioned by Axel and Sir Eugene is the Regennetasia Order.”

Recognizing the familiar name, I quickly raised my hand. “The former emperor is staying at a monastery affiliated with that order!”

“A monastery associated with the former emperor? That doesn’t sound promising.”

Axel furrowed his brow and tilted his head in confusion, prompting Eugene, who had been quietly listening, to speak up cautiously.

“Um… I actually know a bit about that order.”

All three of us—Bael, Axel, and I—turned to him simultaneously. Eugene, now the focus of our attention, furrowed his brow slightly as if trying to recall something from the past.

“The Duke of Kreutz used to send donations to that order every year. In return, the monastery would send back items like soap and candles, all bearing the order’s emblem.”

It wasn’t unusual for nobles to donate to temples or orders. Receiving items made by the clergy or monks as a token of gratitude was also common. But the fact that both the former emperor and Duke Kreutz were connected to this order felt particularly suspicious.

“Was there anything strange about the items they sent? Any unusual aura or something like that?” I asked.

“Something strange…” Eugene tilted his head thoughtfully. “Well, the thing is, those soaps and candles from the monastery were never actually used at Kreutz.”

“Never used them at all?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes. The servants would say that the Duke was so accustomed to using only the finest things that he wouldn’t even touch items made by the order. So, the servants would keep everything for themselves. At least, that’s what I overheard them saying. I can’t say for sure.”

“Hmm… If they weren’t going to use them, it would’ve made more sense to just refuse the items in the first place. They could’ve asked the order to stop sending them, which would have saved the monastery some trouble as well.”

As I frowned, trying to make sense of this odd situation, a message window suddenly popped up in front of me, catching me off guard.

**[Message from Heaven]**  

(Resent) No questions asked!

The ‘Goddess of Love’ wishes for this world to be bathed in a beautiful pink hue.  

In accordance with your contract with the ‘Goddess of Love’ in Heaven, you must complete the quest without question.

Just as I had momentarily forgotten about it, the quest notification reappeared, as if it couldn’t wait any longer.

‘And this time…’ The message window was flashing brightly!

The intense light was almost blinding, as if the system was threatening me to hurry up and complete the task. I quickly clicked the X to close the window and looked up at the sky.

‘Alright, alright! I’ll do it!’ I thought to myself.

‘Sitting face to face with someone of the opposite sex for more than 30 minutes, holding hands tightly.’ I’ll do it now!