After Yulianna finished touring the temple, she stumbled upon a secluded garden behind it. The sight was far too beautiful to ignore. She sat by the pond, leaning over the crystal-clear water where magnificent fish swam freely. Their scales shimmered with a soft azure glow, and their tails flowed like ribbons of silk. One look was enough to know these weren't ordinary creatures.
What a sight. I wonder how these guys would taste if cooked and seasoned perfectly.
'What a barbaric thing to say!'
As if on cue, the fish scattered out of sight, vanishing beneath the rippling surface. Yulianna froze, startled by the voice that echoed in her head—faint but unmistakable.
Huh?
"Indeed. What a barbaric thing to say," another voice remarked from behind her. "Those fish aren't ordinary. They're called Solisfin, a divine creature that dwells only in this temple."
With hair as white as moonlight, he stood there in a golden robe that marked him as a priest. The temple's soft glow only made him look more ethereal—his eyes calm yet piercing, glimmering with a hint of mischief, as though he took quiet pleasure in watching others struggle to stay composed around him. In short, he looked far too perfect to be entirely human.
"And who are you?" Yulianna asked, turning to face him.
The white-haired man didn't answer right away. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought before the corner of his lips curved upward. "You must be the chosen bearer," he said instead. "Far more unpredictable than I imagined."
Yulianna frowned. "That wasn't an answer to my question."
Though he was smiling, there was an edge of authority in his voice. "You don't get to decide how I should answer your question, my lady. That's rather out of line, I'd say."
Ah, another good-looking asshole, I see.
Sighing, Yulianna nodded. "Alright, then," she said, flashing him a deliberately irritating smile. "Have it your way."
With that, she brushed past him and left. But she hadn't gotten far from the garden when his voice followed.
"Your wound," he called out, making her stop in her tracks. "How long have you had it?"
Instinctively, Yulianna's hand went to her arm, teeth gritting. How did he know about it?
Now that he'd mentioned it, the dull pain in her wound flared again, demanding her full attention. She'd been ignoring it since morning, distracting herself with wandering and sightseeing. But being caught off guard like that brought the ache roaring back, along with the strange sense that something inside her was slowly being drained.
"It's none of your business," she snapped, turning to leave.
Yet before she could take another step, a flick of his finger sent her world spinning. In the next blink, Yulianna found herself back by the pond—standing right in front of him again. She barely had time to process what happened, but one thing was certain.
That was magic.
"Of course it's my business," he said lightly, though his tone hardened at the end. "You're under the temple's watch now. As a priest, it's my duty to look into anything that reeks of dark sorcery."
Dark sorcery? How the hell would I know such a thing even existed?
"They exist," he replied as if reading her thoughts. "As there is light, there must also be darkness, to keep the cosmos in balance." His expression turned grave, the playful gleam in his eyes fading away. "Now tell me, how long have you had that wound and where did you get it?"
Yulianna paused, forcing herself to stay composed. "I'll answer if you stop reading my mind. That's out of line and a breach of privacy."
He chuckled, his gaze lingering on her face as if studying every flicker of emotion. "I could read minds if I wished, yes. But the fact that I can't see past the roots of your wound means I can't read yours either."
Skeptically, she met his sky-blue eyes. "Oh? Then did you just guess what I said to the fish earlier?"
"The Solisfin are divine creatures," he replied, unbothered. "I can hear them speak."
"I don't know any dark sorcery you're talking about," Yulianna said finally. "But I got this wound on Mountain Morath. Some crazy bastard tried to kill me but failed."
"And what business does a noble lady have in that place?" he asked, a faint crease appearing between his brows.
"The hunting was fun, so I joined. Happy?" Yulianna shot back, her tone sharp enough to cut through the still air. She didn't want to remember what happened there—didn't want to face it once this ceremony ended.
All she could think about now was surviving, no matter what it took.
I just need time. And a pain reliever. This damn wound is ruining everything—I can't even think straight.
"The object that caused this wound was chanted with dark sorcery," he said, his tone low and grave. Before Yulianna could react, he gently took her arm and began unwrapping the bandage. A foul stench escaped, making her flinch. Her eyes widened as she saw the skin around the wound, blackened and seeping, far worse than she remembered.
"I admire your endurance for carrying this curse for so long," he murmured, studying the mark intently. "Most who are struck by such a chant barely last a few minutes before it consumes them." His voice was steady, but there was a shadow in it. "Tell me, how did you make it out alive? You shouldn't have survived this on your own."
"Well, I was lucky and I survived. That's what matters," she said curtly, her tone dismissive. There was no way she'd mention the duke who had saved her.
The priest, as he'd introduced himself—released her arm, but his expression darkened. "Surviving isn't what matters," he said coldly. "What you should fear is the price of that survival. Even if your body heals, the curse remains and so does its hunger."
His gaze locked onto hers, sharp and unyielding, as though he was waiting for her to realize what he truly meant.
"What? What do you want me to do?"
"You have two choices," he replied evenly. "End your suffering or live with the consequences."
The calmness in his tone made Yulianna's blood boil. A sharp, sarcastic laugh escaped her lips, echoing through the quiet garden. "You speak as if my life is something you can just toss away whenever you please. And you call yourself a priest?"
Her golden eyes blazed with fury, sarcasm lacing every word. Rage surged through her veins like wildfire. She hadn't endured this much just to be told to die or suffer at someone else's command.
Who the hell does he think he is to decide how I should live?
"I'm not telling you to die in my stead, young lady," He said at last, his voice low but steady. "I'm simply telling you the truth. This wound—this curse—won't give you a future worth keeping, even if it heals."
He paused, his gaze softening just slightly. "The choice is still yours, not mine."
Despite her trembling nerves, Yulianna managed to keep her composure. "I'll tell you what I'll do, priest—I'm going to survive, even if it means living in hell."
"Alright then," He said, his tone shifting into something lighter. "Do whatever you must. Though I suggest spending more time in the Holy Pool. The water's sacred—might help cleanse the wound and ease its pain."
Yulianna stared at him, half in disbelief, though calmer than before. "Now you're worried about my wound? You just told me to die a while ago."
He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "That was the quickest way to deal with it. But I figured you're too stubborn to fall that easily."
"So you did jump to conclusions without mentioning another way to handle it?" she asked, rubbing her temples in exasperation. "Unbelievable. Are you sure you're even a priest?"
"Well, I'll tell you the truth—if you answer my question first."
"Forget it. I don't want to hear anything from you anymore," she said dismissively.
He let out a short laugh as she turned away. Yulianna started walking, intent on heading back to her room to prepare for the bath. But then his voice followed her again—smooth, almost provoking.
"Are you sure you don't want to know why you've survived this long?"
She stopped dead in her tracks. Turning around, her expression darkened, eyes sharp as gold. "You better not be playing with me this time, priest. I might be wounded, but that doesn't mean I can't punch someone."
"Alright, I'm a man of my word," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Just tell me—do you remember the face of the one who wounded you? Better yet, if you could paint his likeness, I'd like to see it myself."
"I do remember his face," she replied, watching his curious expression. "But I can't paint. And even if someone did, you wouldn't be seeing him anymore."
"And why is that?"
Yulianna paused, scratching her nape. "Well, the shotgun I used was more capable of knocking him dead than I expected."
"Oh…" He blinked, momentarily taken aback. "What a shame. His existence might've helped piece together the puzzle. But it seems your ladyship's survival instincts, and bravery, got the best of him."
"You're rather amused than disappointed," Yulianna said flatly.
He smiled, the kind that seemed to brighten the air around him. "I can't help it. I've never met someone so unpredictable before, let alone from a noble household."
"Cut the crap," Yulianna shot back. "You said you'd tell me why I survived this long."
"I'd really appreciate it," he began, still calm, "if your ladyship would tell me who saved you that day. It would make things much clearer."
"I have a feeling you already know," she said flatly. "So let's stop wasting time."
The priest chuckled again, clearly entertained. "You truly are something, my lady."
Then his expression shifted, his eyes turning sharp and steady. Yulianna almost preferred his teasing tone.
"You're right," he said finally. "There are only a few grand mages I know capable of creating the kind of seal embedded in your wound. That is the very reason you've survived this long. And among them…" He paused, his gaze holding hers. "…I know only one who could forge a chant that strong."
A brief, heavy silence fell over the garden. Even the wind seemed to stop, as though the world itself held its breath.
"You met Duke Caspien that day."
Yulianna yawned, exhaustion creeping into her limbs. "Yeah, what about him? He's the reason I'm about to starve myself for three days."
But the air didn't lighten. The priest's expression turned grave, his gaze fixed on hers. "The kind of protective seal he created… it means something far more dangerous than it appears." His tone dropped lower. "I'm afraid I need to take my leave. There are urgent matters I must attend to."
Yulianna only nodded, turning away. She hadn't given much thought to his words, deciding instead to rest before the ceremony.
Then his voice came again, calm, yet it struck her like lightning.
"Also, your fate with the Duke was sealed for eternity within that mark. You might want to start changing the way you see him. After all…" He paused. "He sold his freedom with yours just to close that wound."