Veric took a deep breath and combed over Acacius’ words.

He said that he’d rather destroy something than let someone else have it. And he was making himself out as a threat.

To Nastaran, he was saying that if the Farzans took over the Dragon Shrine, the Duvals wouldn’t stand still. But to Veric, he seemed to be saying…

That it was okay to use him as an excuse. That she had another choice.

“Do the Duvals want in on the Shrine, too?” Nastaran sighed, raising her eyes to the sky. “It’s not impossible to share a piece of the pie, but what’s with this overbearing attitude?”

Acacius gave her a faintly contemptuous look. “Do you think you have the right to take the Shrine?”

“The way you speak, Acacius, it’s as if you think you do. Aren’t you afraid of making enemies that way?”

Acacius chuckled. “I’ve had enemies my whole life. What do you think became of them?” He leaned in close to Veric with a sly smile. “Go on, Veric. Tell her what happened to everything that got in my way in KP-04.”

Veric mostly remembered hauling his injured and failing body around, and his weak grasp when Luka had torn his throat out. But judging by Nastaran’s tight smile, that wasn’t what she was imagining at all.

Acacius was a bit too good at play-acting the villain. Had he done this before? No, more importantly, should she act along with it? If he became the Farzan’s enemy, could he really handle it? She bit her lip.

“…Acacius, there’s no need to make this complicated,” she muttered, lowering her gaze. “Our Shrine has received too much grace from you recently. I’m afraid we can’t bear it any more.”

“Really?” said Acacius lightly. “But I can’t bear to see something of mine taken away, either.”

Why wasn’t he taking the hint!

Nastaran laughed sharply. “What kind of arrogance is this? Do you think the Shrine is really yours? Just try laying claim to it! The other five families couldn’t possibly tolerate something like that!”

“Oh. But they could tolerate you?”

“You are a Duval!”

Acacius’s eyelids drooped languidly. “And if I was, so what?”

“Don’t you know exactly why the Duvals have been accepted by Iyiria?” Nastaran’s eyes flashed. “Even if you’re used to falsifying your records, you should calculate the pricebook correctly this time and sit this struggle out.”

Acacius lowered his head. His shoulders shook with laughter before he looked up, teeth bared in a smile.

“The golden dagger was brought out by me. The disaster was solved by me. The two precious Saintess candidates and the rest of your pathetic lives were saved by me. Why shouldn’t it be mine?”

He let go of Veric and stalked slowly towards Nastaran, casting a crooked shadow as he loomed.

“No, let me rephrase. You are only alive because of my grace. How dare you claim anything before me?

Nastaran took one step back, and then another.

“If I say it’s mine, it’s mine,” Acacius said softly. “And if it’s mine, no one else is allowed to touch it. I don’t care how long it takes to get my revenge. I’m a patient person, and I don’t forget.”

His eyes gleamed cold and wild, a mad dog getting ready to bite.

“So before you calculate any other gains or losses, first you should calculate if it’s possible to guard against me for a lifetime.”

It was all an act, Veric reminded herself. Just an act.

But Acacius was too good at it. He felt — unstable. Violent. Dangerous.

When Nastaran spoke again, her voice cracked, and she had to clear her throat and try again to steady her words.

“You Duvals are too used to getting your way. But you’re talking to another member of the Six Families. You need to remember there are lines you can’t cross… Or else you won’t be able to handle the consequences.”

Acacius’ smile turned gentle.

“But I think you’d be the one in trouble first.”

If he kept escalating like this, no matter what Veric chose, there was no way he’d come away from the Farzans unscathed.

Veric cleared her throat and stepped away at an angle, putting herself at an equal distance between both Acacius and Nastaran. They looked at her like they’d forgotten she was there.

“My apologies, Nastaran,” she said, “but I’ve seen what Acacius is capable of, and I am unwilling to bet the Shrine’s future against him.”

At this, Acacius’ eyes glimmered in faint satisfaction. But Veric wasn’t willing to let him play the villain and bear everything alone. She squared her shoulders and met Nastaran’s eyes.

“Even if Acacius hadn’t intervened, though, my answer would not change. In my eyes, the Six Families all the same. Choosing who to align with is no different than choosing which wolf to gnaw on your bones. No matter how hopeless it is, it’s still better to fight than to offer your flesh to be eaten.”

At this, Acacius smiled slowly, amusement lighting his eyes.

“I must have intervened unnecessarily,” he said. “After all, if you want to win her over, Nastaran, you’ll first have to prove that you’re nothing like me!”

He laughed like he’d just made the funniest joke in the world.

Nastaran shot him a dark look before turning to face Veric.

“It seems you’ve already made a choice. But… I’m not heartless, you know? Anything I ask for will definitely be lighter than the price you’d pay otherwise. Take some time to think it over; I’ll send you a gift from the Farzans soon. If you understand our sincerity after that, then… come find me any time.”

With those parting words, Nastaran waved her hand in the air, dismissing the effects of her talisman, and retreated into the night.

Acacius watched her go with the indolent look of a snake that’d already eaten its fill.

Once she was sure Nastaran was gone, Veric walked back to Acacius’ side. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

He glanced at her and quirked his mouth up. “You sure I wasn’t just making a fool of myself? You stood up for yourself just fine.”

Veric shook her head. “You weren’t. Or, well, it did feel a little overdone, but…”

“Overdone?” He placed a hand over his heart, affecting a hurt look. “When I was being so honest?”

“Anyways, it’s true I could have dealt with it somehow, but I’m still thankful you came.”

She looked out at the dark night.

“Will you be okay, though? I think she might cause some trouble for your family in the near future…”

“I don’t care what happens to the Duval family,” said Acacius. “Why should you? Didn’t you say my father was pressuring you? If you play this right, maybe you can get the Farzans to keep the other vultures around the Shrine busy for a while.”

Veric had lost her talent for healing, but she was still a priestess blessed by the Hierarch of Sorrow. She could tell when others experienced a negative emotion, and she could sense pain and sorrow more specifically. If he felt pained or hurt by his family, if he attached sadness to the thought of them, she would have noticed.

But [Alleviator of Shared Sorrows] didn’t stir at all. At least, no more than it always did. It was like the Duvals were strangers to him.

That kind of indifference was chilling, but without understanding the situation, she didn’t want to judge.

“How did you notice Nastaran talking to me?”

He was momentarily silent, then shrugged. “Something just felt amiss.”

At this point, if Acacius said he felt like he should jump off a cliff, she’d consider following him down, too.

“I thought you weren’t coming to the awards ceremony,” she said.

“I wasn’t. I was on my way back from the library.”

“If you were on campus anyways, wouldn’t it have been better to attend?”

“I already got a reward from the principal,” Acacius said. “Having a ceremony on top of that makes me seem too heroic, don’t you think? Besides, do one good deed, and next thing you know, everyone expects you to do it again. I don’t want to deal with that.”

But he had been heroic.

She still remembered what he’d looked like, holding that burning knife up to his eye.

“I think it’d be nice if people got to know your good qualities,” she said.

Acacius laughed. “Like what?”

He had to know how different he’d been in KP-04.

He’d been more expressive, of course. Like an invisible wall between himself and the world had been broken. His semi-formal speech kept slipping into casual and vulgar patterns, more like the orphans and vagrants who sought the Shrine’s services than the highborn scion of a noble house.

He’d been bold, decisive, ruthless, and kind…

But he hadn’t been trusting.

She fiddled with the corsage pinned to her suit lapel. Hidden there, under her clothes, was the new title symbol that had tattooed itself over her heart.

Title: [Light of Guarded Hearts]

Symbol: Sun that pierces the chained heart

Description: Is there anyone in the world who was born with a hard heart? You, who have guarded their softness, are reason and proof that they may trust the goodness of the world again.

Title Skill: After winning the confidence of someone whose trust is notably difficult to earn, the title holder may imitate any title that they have informed the title holder of. A title can be imitated for no longer than one hour, no more than once every seven days.

• Currently, those whose titles you may imitate are the ones known as Blue Moon, Corisande, Roxana, and Acacius Duval.

She still didn’t know why her.

“Hey, Acacius?”

“Hm?”

“You’re someone who likes to hide what they really think. So in KP-04… and even afterwards, with me… Why did you start dropping the act?”

He blinked, made a baffled face, and ran a hand through his hair. It was a far cry from the indifferent and expressionless demeanor he had when they first partnered up.

“An act is just an act, isn’t it? If it’s useful, use it, and if it’s not, then don’t. Some things can’t be communicated without a bit of sincerity.”

“Then what about acting sincerely? Is that not possible?”

She felt embarrassed as soon as she said it, especially after Acacius gave her another baffled look. She dropped her gaze down to her suddenly very fascinating shoes.

“You know I want to be the next Saintess,” she said. “But I’m not like one at all. I can’t stand wearing dresses or putting on makeup, I hate treating ill-intentioned people with patience and grace, and I like using my fists more than learning to heal. All my life, I’ve been trying to act as a Saintess should be. But…”

She sighed and sat back down on the fountain lip, looking up at the starry sky.

“…No matter how hard I try, I just feel like I’m deceiving others and myself.”

Acacius’ clothes rustled as he sat down next to her.

“No one can be the Saintess while being a pure saint, though, can they?”

Now Acacius was the one talking nonsense. “What is the Saintess if not a saint?”

“It sounds to me like the Saintess is supposed to be a pure, selfless being who puts others before herself. Isn’t that right? So just by having the ambition to be the Saintess, a Saintess candidate has already failed. But it’s impossible for anyone to truly be a saint; they can only act like one. Even Saintess Corisande must have preferences and hobbies that have nothing to do with her job.”

“She likes to drink in her room,” Veric admitted.

“See? Even if you are the Saintess, you are still a person first.”

Veric smiled half-heartedly. “But still…”

“And anyways,” said Acacius, “your precious Saintess couldn’t have run the Shrine on idealism and lofty symbolism alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that she can only uphold the Saintess’ principles because she’s powerful, and because she works to maintain that power. If she didn’t, she would already be nothing but a figurehead.”

“You make her sound so manipulative. The Saintess is powerful because the people believe in her and the Shrine. And she uses that power for a good cause.”

“But the Saintess shouldn’t desire power, right?” Acacius asked with a faint smile. “A Saintess should be humble, servile, and willing to abdicate power for the greater good. Look at all these restrictions on the Saintess. Are you sure this country isn’t trying to make her perform all her power away?”

Veric didn’t answer, but she felt that Acacius was right. Because the royal throne was cursed and elected positions had limited terms, the longest-lasting and most influential position in Iyiria was that of the Saintess. In any other country, the kings and lords in power would have long clipped her wings. As it was…

Sometimes, Veric felt that the dignitaries who visited the Shrine looked down on Iyiria for being so weak as to fall under a woman’s sway.

“If the Saintess can only become the Saintess by acting like one, then how can she gain more power?” Veric asked.

“I don’t know,” said Acacius. “But if you always give selflessly to others while hiding your own desires, then you might become invisible to others.”

But with all the ways she failed to embody the Saintess’ image, she felt more visible and exposed than ever.

Veric spoke with Acacius a while longer. He listened to her talk about the Shrine’s situation, quietly and without judgment. It was rather nice.

It also made it quite obvious that he had the social skills to get along with others, so any time he acted like a jerk was definitely on purpose. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than what Luka tended to do.

Their conversation came to a close when Luka arrived. When Acacius saw him, his face went — not expressionless, but definitely flat. He rose to his feet.

Luka came to a stop and observed him the way he did when trying to calculate the right thing to say.

“You didn’t come to the award ceremony,” he said.

One look at Acacius’ slow smile, and Veric knew that Luka had calculated wrong. “Why would I when we already have a self-sacrificing hero right here?”

Luka paused, recalculated, and looked at Veric.

Veric could only guess what was going through Acacius’ mind. She shrugged and mouthed, Apologize?

“I’m sorry for trying to kill you,” Luka said. “I didn’t mean to.”

Acacius’ lip curled. “Who cares about that? You really don’t understand a thing.”

Luka thought about it some more.

“Are you still upset about my plan?”

“Oh, so you do understand.”

“I don’t. You went through with it, the plan worked, and everyone survived. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes, the plan worked,” Acacius echoed. “So you would do it again, wouldn’t you?”

“Why is that wrong?” When Acacius curled his lips, Luka added, “You’ve wanted to kill me for a long time.”

“I definitely want to kill you right now.”

This wasn’t going anywhere. “Okay, you two, take a step back,” said Veric. “Luka, you want to make amends with Acacius, right?”

Luka opened his mouth. Veric gave him a pointed look, cutting off the I’m not sure that was surely on the tip of his tongue. “Yes,” he said obediently.

“Then, Acacius—”

“Maybe I don’t want to make amends.”

Veric rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a baby. What exactly are you so unhappy about? If Luka doesn’t understand, he can’t apologize.”

Acacius clicked his tongue.

“Don’t tell me you were happy when you heard his brilliant idea for solving the Fantasm World. He has told you what his plan was by now, hasn’t he?”

“Well, yes,” said Veric. “And I know why I wasn’t happy. You, on the other hand…”

She wasn’t sure exactly what kind of history he and Luka had; Luka didn’t like talking about it. But through the past year’s escalating — and occasionally life-threatening — hostilities, it could be clearly seen that they were important in each other’s eyes. Equally clear was Acacius’ complete indifference towards inflicting bodily harm on him, perhaps knowing Luka’s inherent capabilities. So even if Luka’s plan hinged on his own temporary death, that couldn’t be what Acacius was upset about.

Veric thought about the bitterness in his voice during Sacha’s interrogation, when he’d said, “I bet Luka just thought, ‘Let’s ask Acacius, since he seems like he can do it.’” She remembered, in KP-04, how he’d called her a fool for believing in him.

“Are you upset because, even after everything, Luka trusted you?” Then she added, “That he was right to do so?”

Acacius looked at her like he wanted to tear her to pieces.

Luka said, “But why would that be so…”

“Do you think, just because you ask, I’ll answer?” Acacius said. “Since you love understanding others so much, you can keep asking ‘why’ forever.”

With that, he turned his back and strode away.

“Acacius,” Luka called.

But Acacius didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t turn back. His silhouette was swallowed by the shadows, and then he was gone in the dark of the night.

Veric thought to herself that even though Acacius’ feelings ran hot and deep, he could still be such a cold person.

Luka’s eyes lingered after Acacius. After a short silence, he said, “It makes sense that he has bonded with a spirit named [Keeper of Forgotten Wrongs].”

Despite everything, Veric laughed. Luka smiled faintly. He offered his arm, and she hooked hers with his. Wordlessly, they started walking towards the transit station, even though only Veric needed to take it and it was the opposite direction of his dorm.

“Acacius is such a dishonest guy,” Veric said after a while. “He’s only upset about being trusted because he cares about the person doing it, don’t you think?”

“Even if he knows that, it seems he won’t admit it.”

She sighed. “Wouldn’t things be simpler if he said what he felt?”

In fact, Acacius had just said the same thing to her.

If you always hide your desires…

Well, then she might end up like him.

That was enough impetus for her to make a decision, but it still took a few glances at Luka for her to work up the momentum to speak.

“Hey, Luka?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you partner with Nastaran for the special assignment instead of me?”

She felt petty just saying it, but Luka answered easily.

“I owe her a favor.”

“To her, or to the Farzans?”

“To her. But it could implicate her family.”

He glanced at her face.

“Are you… upset?”

He must have already known, if not by using his abilities then by the years they spent together. But maybe, even if everyone knew the mask was there, you still had to wait for the wearer to take it off first.

“I was, a little,” she mumbled, letting her eyes wander down to her worn-out boots. “I don’t mind if you have other friends or anything, you know? It’s just… sometimes I feel like you choose other people over me too easily. We’ve barely done anything together since the school year started.”

“Oh,” said Luka. “I’m sorry. I thought…”

“You thought?” she prompted, when he fell quiet again.

“Nastaran is very clear about contracts and agreements. I thought once I finished dealing with her, then I wouldn’t need to mind her anymore. And then I could spend more time with you.”

Just what had happened between them?

“When the Order attacked, and the cavern collapsed,” said Luka, “I regretted partnering with Nastaran. Because we were partners, her safety was my responsibility, but because I had been looking after her and not you, I was separated from you. It would have been better if we fell together.”

He lowered his eyes.

“And then I abandoned my responsibility to her because I wanted to find you. Now I owe her more than ever, but you’re my best friend. If you had died alone, I wouldn’t have ever forgiven Nastaran… Even if it had nothing to do with her.”

Veric ducked her head, trying to hold back the helpless smile creeping over her lips. It was unfair how he could say such devastating things so calmly.

Maybe this was the wrong reaction. But how could she not be happy?

“I didn’t know you came looking for me.”

“You’re my best friend,” Luka said, meeting her eyes. “As long as you’re okay, I don’t care what happens to anyone else.”

She laughed. “You should care at least a little. Haven’t you learned at all since we were kids?”

He really… hadn’t known anything about how to live with others, back then.

“I’ll help you pay back Nastaran,” she said, “so can we partner up for the make-up assignment?”

“Nastaran won’t ask for anything simple. It would be better not to be tangled with her.”

“It’s too late for that,” said Veric. “So let’s take care of this together, okay?”

Luka watched her for a moment longer, and a small smile crept over his lips. He squeezed her hand.

“Okay.”

Veric couldn’t help but laugh at herself. So things could be so simple just by asking.

“Why do you owe Nastaran, anyways? How come you never told me?”

“I saw something that shouldn’t be spread around.”

“Then shouldn’t she owe you for not speaking about it? The Farzans are merchants, they have more than enough to bribe you.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“No, but how can it be your fault for seeing something? It’s not like you accidentally peeped or something.”

“Um… Something like that.”

Veric’s brain and footsteps stuttered to a halt.

“…No. What?” She must have heard incorrectly. “What?”

“Something like that,” Luka emphasized. “I’m not explaining any further.”

Veric stared at him. Then she hooked an arm over his neck and ground her knuckles into his head.

“Our Luka’s growing up, huh? Peeking at things he shouldn’t and keeping secrets, huh? What would Sacha say if she knew?”

“I’m not.”

Deliberately misunderstanding, she said, “Not growing up? At this age?”

Luka jabbed her in the side, where she was ticklish. She jumped away with a shriek, but Luka, not one to miss an opening, dashed after her. After a short chase, they ended up roughhousing on a grassy lawn between campus buildings, rolling around until their corsages had fallen from their suits and there were stains on their knees.

Despite her newfound combat talent and [Braveheart]’s never-ending stamina, she ended up surrendering to Luka’s joint lock techniques. He let go of her and immediately laid down on the turf to catch his breath. Veric smugly rolled over next to him and flicked her ponytail to emphasize how she wasn’t sweaty at all, and he half-heartedly kicked her knee.

When he’d gotten his breath back, he said, “You’ve gotten a lot better at this.”

“Yeah?”

Luka reached into his coat and pulled out a small package, wrapped in cloth and tied with a blue ribbon. “I got this for you.”

“For me? You shouldn’t have.”

“We couldn’t have done it all without you.”

Veric smiled and pulled the ribbon loose.

The cloth fell away to reveal a pair of fingerless black gloves, made of a soft and supple leather and stitched with black silk runes. She gasped.

“I asked Tarascus to make it. It’s enchanted for toughness, flexibility, and durability. It can’t be cut by ordinary blades, and it absorbs impact well. There’s space to add metal spikes on the knuckles if you want those too.”

Veric ran her hands over the neat stitches. A secret thrill went down her spine.

The clergy of the Shrine were healers and peacemakers, not fighters. The more precarious her position, the more dangerous it was to stray away from the beaten path.

She pulled the gloves on. They fit perfectly.

“These are amazing, Luka.” She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight. “Thank you.”

His eyes softened in a rare smile as he returned her hug. “It’s been a long time since you trained with me. You should come.”

Veric mischievously held one gloved hand out. “Pinky promise?”

He solemnly hooked their fingers together. “It’s a promise.”

In many ways, Veric wasn’t suited to become the Saintess, and her once-clear path was shrouded in uncertainty.

But that was fine.

She’d already said it to Roxana, hadn’t she?

She’d just have to become the first Saintess who wasn’t Saintess-like at all.

Chapter 45 Back to Index