Chapter 195

As the long summer ended, the season of vividly colored maple leaves arrived.

Autumn, the pride of the South, had come.

It might seem strange to take pride in a season, but autumn was one of the longest seasons in Pendragon. Unlike winter, which lasted only a fortnight to a month at most, autumn often extended from three to over four months.

There was a theory that Lionel’s northern domain took winter away, but academia had yet to confirm it.

In any case, this made Pendragon’s autumn exceptionally long, with streets full of breathtaking scenery. Clear skies, red-dyed maple trees scattered everywhere, and well-maintained lakes and rivers—how could it not be magnificent?

It was also a time when maple syrup prices dropped, and its flavor was at its peak, leading to a surge in maple syrup-based desserts and dishes.

As a side note, in the South, every household had its own methods for making, aging, and storing maple syrup, which meant every shop offered a unique sweetness. This increase in sweet lovers often led to people gaining weight rapidly, a phenomenon that wasn’t uncommon during this season.

It seemed like the phrase "the season of abundance and appetite" fit perfectly.

Well, such indulgence was only possible because the South was peaceful for now—

“This pancake is delicious. No, wait, it’s not the pancake; the maple syrup is insane! What is this subtle sweetness...?”

He exclaimed in admiration, almost as if he had become a gourmet critic, while dining at the restaurant. He had ordered without much thought, but the dish exceeded his expectations.

Crispy bacon, three sunny-side-up eggs, two juicy sausages, and a five-layer pancake stack—each layer generously topped with nuts and maple syrup. The coffee was mediocre in taste but aromatic enough to complement the sweet maple syrup, making for a surprisingly good pairing.

It resembled a lumberjack-style breakfast, and he couldn’t be more satisfied. Eating unexpectedly delicious food felt like a stroke of luck, and it made him think today might be a fortunate day.

“Excuse me, three more plates, please.” “W-wait, you’ve already eaten over ten servings?” “I’m still a bit hungry.” “…Hold on. I’ll bring you a special menu as well!” “Huh? You really don’t have to do that.” “This is a matter of pride! Our restaurant has never let a customer leave hungry! Don’t worry about the cost!” “?”

He figured he just had a larger appetite than most people; was that really something to hurt someone’s pride? Still, Ihan chose not to argue.

After all, free food was always welcome.

‘Meatballs. And they’re bigger than my fist.’

The smell of juicy meatballs wafted from the kitchen. Pairing them with spaghetti in tomato sauce would definitely make this a special dish worthy of the name.

“Not bad.”

“…Aren’t you eating too much for breakfast?”

“The restaurants in the academy are all cheap and delicious. Once I start eating, I just can’t stop.”

“…Even so, eating over ten servings?”

“It’s just that time of life when I’m always hungry.”

“Hmm…”

Derek swallowed his words at Ihan’s unapologetic response.

*****

When Derek entered the restaurant, which also served as an inn, he ordered only a simple cup of coffee. Watching Ihan eat was enough to make him feel full.

On the other hand, Ihan enjoyed the meatball spaghetti so much that he ordered five more plates before finally stopping.

“Are you satisfied?” “I ate just enough. Overeating isn’t good.” “I... I see. I never realized eating twenty servings was considered ‘just enough.’” “My fuel efficiency is different, you know. Why do you eat so little?” “Hmm, I think it’s just a habit.”

Derek alternated his gaze between his skinny frame and Ihan’s muscular build, smiling bitterly. Comparing himself to Ihan didn’t feel fair.

Even so, he was slim for a student in the Swordsmanship Academy. While his skills allowed him to perform well in battle, in daily life, it seemed he might even lose in strength to a housewife.

“You should eat more. I’ll put together a meal plan for you.” “…Haha.”

Derek forced a laugh, trying to defuse the situation. Ihan didn’t insist on him bulking up, either. After all, Derek was strong in his own way. His skills and status window were certainly exceptional.

Before envy could get the better of him, Ihan changed the subject.

“So, did you find out what I asked?” “Yes, mostly.”

Derek nodded but wore a bitter expression, as if what he’d uncovered left a bad taste.

“Hmm, it seems like these people are trying to pull off a ‘national scam.’” “?” “They’re planning to fake an oracle, I think.” “An oracle?” “…Yes, an ‘oracle’ (神託).” “….” “You heard me right. Believe it.” “…Damn.”

Ihan fell silent for a moment.

Then,

“Excuse me! Another extra-large five-layer pancake, triple the maple syrup!”

He placed another order, as if suddenly craving a massive dose of sugar.

What Ihan had asked Derek to investigate was simple:

‘What is happening at the temple right now?’

To this, Derek had nodded without hesitation, an unusually quick agreement for someone like him.

I’m curious too.

Eager to uncover what schemes the temple was up to, Derek spent about a week infiltrating the temple to observe.

Armed with his thief skills, the world’s only game character could easily penetrate the temple.

Ihan had been confident Derek would bring back something substantial, and he was right.

“-So you’re saying, ‘To reclaim the temple’s former authority lost to the military god, they plan to issue a false oracle and announce their direct involvement in the search for the Saintess’?”

“Precisely summarized.”

Derek had unearthed monumental information.

“…Is that true?”

Ihan asked repeatedly. He had to.

It was just that hard to believe.

“I doubted it hundreds of times myself, but... it’s true.” “What the hell…”

To elaborate:

During the era when the military god ruled as king, the temple had been forced to submit to the royal family, groveling at their feet. At the time, the pope, who had founded the pseudo-crusade known as the [Blood Cross Army], had even knelt before the military god, crawling to the throne to beg for forgiveness.

Begging to be spared, pleading for mercy...

In the process, the temple had relinquished over 80% of its influence in the South to the royal family—or rather, the military god.

The pope had been demoted to the title of ‘archbishop,’ and the authority once wielded by the pope as the representative of light had been drastically reduced, turning him into little more than a puppet.

It was an event from about forty years ago, a humiliating and catastrophic chapter in the temple’s history.

Forty years.

To some, it might seem like an incredibly short time, but forty years was an unimaginably long period. If one were to use celebrities as an example, even the most popular ones could fade from public memory after just a year of inactivity. So, for a temple that had been suppressed for forty years, the sheer amount of power and privilege it had lost would be incalculable—impossible to measure even in monetary terms.

If society hadn’t still required religion, the temple might have already disappeared, much like any other noble house that lacked relevance or influence.

Even so, those forty years would have been a time of endless frustration for the temple—a century’s worth of tears shed in blood.

If not for the military god, they would still have been reigning above the nobility.

And now…

“So, the military god has finally disappeared.”

“That’s right. It’s already been 17 years…”

Seventeen years had passed since the death of the military god.

They say old habits die hard, and these tenacious individuals were now preparing for a grand [national scam] to stretch their wings again.

“They want to create a plausible ‘puppet’ to consolidate the temple’s power.”

“I saw the list of potential candidates for this puppet. Almost all of them were daughters of noble families or members of royal bloodlines.”

“A love call to the great nobles, then?”

“Exactly.”

Even if it was just a puppet (a saintess), the temple couldn’t choose just anyone. They needed a puppet with pedigree—one that would fit their narrative.

“…Are they drunk on power?”

“Or maybe they think this country was originally theirs to begin with?”

“….”

“Forty years. For forty years, they’ve probably been sharpening the blade of revenge. They’ll do anything to reclaim what they believe was ‘theirs.’ That’s probably why they’ve targeted Lady Irene as well.”

“…Why her?”

“If they establish Lady Irene as the saintess, the temple gains a powerful ally in Galahad.”

“Do they realize the Duke is the son of the military god?”

“There’s a saying in politics: There are no eternal allies, just as there are no eternal enemies. Politics is all about shaking hands or betraying others depending on the situation and their desires.”

“Hmm.”

Ihan nodded in understanding. It made sense.

However, there was a hint of unease in his gaze. The reason?

‘Why is this guy so angry today?’

Ihan noticed that Derek, usually a timid person, was speaking with an unshaken voice—cool and fast, like a bomb that could explode at any moment.

So he asked,

“Why are you so worked up?”

“…”

“Did something happen?”

Ihan’s question was direct. He wanted to know what had gotten Derek so riled up.

In response,

Grit!

Derek clenched his teeth.

It seemed Ihan’s question had ignited a fuse, causing Derek to finally reveal his true feelings.

“…Lady Karin’s name was on the list of puppet candidates.”

“…”

“It looks like they’re planning to kidnap or blackmail her….”

“…Damn it.”

Ihan let out a groan.

It seemed the temple had inadvertently triggered the reverse scale of Derek’s timid status window.

‘Quiet people can be terrifying when they snap….’

Ihan had learned this back in the military—messing with the meek or the weak too much was a bad idea.

Why?

‘…Because they might just shoot you.’

Ihan, fully aware of how dramatically quiet people could change when provoked, clicked his tongue.

…If this went south, the temple might find itself showered in Mancheonhwa-woo (Ten Thousand Blossoms of Destruction).

Ding.

Amid the table's heavy atmosphere, someone familiar appeared, breaking the tension and offering a chance to shift the mood.

“Master?”

“…Hm?”

“Did you come here to eat too? …Oh, looks like you already ate a lot.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, this place is my regular spot. It’s cheap and delicious.”

“…A marquess’ daughter, and yet…”

“Hehe, you know how hard it is to break old habits.”

The young woman approached, smiling bashfully.

Her presence seemed to brighten the air around them, as if a fragrant flower had bloomed nearby. Although she had once carried an air of melancholy, her curse—akin to a divine punishment—had been lifted. Ever since, her natural smile radiated a happiness that seemed to spread like a virus.

Perhaps it was the contrast to their dreary conversation, but just seeing her seemed to ease the mood, leaving Ihan feeling more relaxed.

“If you’re here to eat, I’ll treat you. Sit down.”

“Oh, that’s too much of an imposition—”

“It’s fine. But if you’d rather eat alone, you can sit somewhere else.”

“No, I’ll definitely sit here.”

“R-really?”

She firmly took the seat right next to Ihan, and he scratched his cheek awkwardly.

Wasn’t she sitting a bit too close?

‘Huh? Now that I think about it…’

Pausing mid-motion, Ihan was struck by a sudden thought.

Wasn’t she supposed to be, according to the original timeline…

‘A saintess?’

…An “unofficial saintess” not recognized by the temple?

Levi.

Had Ihan not intervened, she would have been known as the Mercenary Queen and the Saintess of the Battlefield.

‘…Well, that’s a future that won’t happen now.’

Ihan decided to let it go.

No need to dwell on pointless worries.

“Oh, right! There’s something I wanted to tell you first, Master. I finally have a new name.”

“What?”

“Jeanne d’Arc. [Levi Jeanne d’Arc]. That’s my new name, Master!”

“…Why?”

Ihan reflexively questioned, almost as if to pick a fight.

“Pardon?”

“No, I mean, why that name…?”

Why pick a name that sounds like it’s destined to go up in flames?

…Of course, Ihan couldn’t bring himself to say such rude thoughts out loud.