Clare Ratrea was, by nature, stubborn and prideful.
She was the sort of child who could never admit she was wrong or offer a sincere apology.
Her mother — Meddi Ratrea,
This, one could say, was flawed parenting.
Clare was stubborn and incapable of admitting her own faults.
Had she never made a mistake, her stubbornness would have been no issue at all.
That was the intention, but going an entire life without making a single mistake was something no human could possibly achieve.
And yet, the education succeeded.
Clare became a strict person.
Not a righteous person — a strict one.
Strict with herself, and strict with others.
In the course of her upbringing, Clare had come to realize that a person could not live without ever making mistakes.
And so she resolved to become someone who disciplined herself harshly to avoid errors.
But perhaps that was a side effect.
She became someone who treated others strictly as well.
Strict with herself and with others.
That was the kind of person Clare Ratrea was.
However, even though the education had succeeded, her stubborn and prideful nature remained unchanged.
The strict Clare struggled and worked hard.
But the prideful Clare never let anyone see her suffering, no matter how difficult or painful it became.
The strict Clare demanded the same of others.
But the stubborn Clare, when confronted with her own mistakes, would never admit she was wrong.
A terrible person, by all accounts.
From the outside, she appeared to be someone who achieved success without effort, yet imposed those same standards on others, and berated anyone who showed weakness.
Even when her failures were pointed out, she never apologized.
Cold, sheltered, and completely lacking in empathy — or so she seemed.
Of course, there were those who saw through her facade.
There were those who recognized her quiet efforts behind the scenes.
But that was all.
Recognition was one thing, but it didn't move anyone to action.
"I may recognize you, but the rest won't," kind-hearted people told her.
But she never changed.
Her mother's teachings, her own way of doing things — neither was wrong, neither needed to change.
As a result, by the time she graduated from the noble academy of Millis Holy Country, she had become a notorious student, regarded with contempt by her peers.
Even as an adult, no suitor came for her hand.
As the eldest daughter of the Ratrea House, several marriage proposals had been discussed, but when the noble gentlemen actually met her in person and witnessed her severity and stubbornness, they fled as though running for their lives.
"If I can't get married, I'll just become a nun," Clare said when she was eighteen.
Rather than be labeled a leftover spinster and bring shame to the Ratrea House as a lady, that would be preferable.
It was the common thinking among women of Millis Holy Country at the time.
--- There was a young man named Carlyle Guillunts.
Carlyle was a newly inducted Temple Knight, serving directly under Clare's father, Larken Ratrea, who was a company commander in the Temple Knights' "Sword Group."
One day, Clare's father came home drunk.
He was a strict man.
Strict with himself, of course, but always striving to maintain that strictness with Clare and with Clare's mother as well.
So coming home in such a state was a rare occurrence.
Not the first time, though.
When her father returned in this disheveled state, it was Clare's mother who took care of him.
She removed his armor, gave him water, offered him a shoulder to lean on so he at least appeared presentable, and carried him to bed.
In those moments, Clare's mother never scolded her father.
She knew that being a Temple Knight was a profession that bred stress.
As it happened, on that particular day, Clare's mother was away on family business.
For the first time, Clare saw her father's weakness.
And she scolded him.
How could someone who was the head of the Ratrea House behave this way — was everything he preached to himself just lip service?
Even while drunk, her father was struck silent by the shame of having his weakness exposed to his daughter.
It was then that Carlyle, who had carried Clare's father home, interjected.
"The reason the captain drank today is simple.
During a mission, one of our knights died.
It wasn't anyone's fault. But he drank in memory of the fallen.
The captain overindulged, but that was out of grief for the one who died.
Even if you're the captain's daughter, I will not allow you to insult that sentiment."
At those words, Clare fell silent.
Struck silent.
But she wasn't angry.
Without a word, she helped care for her father.
Gave him water, offered a shoulder to the apologizing father, but couldn't support him alone, so asked Carlyle for help carrying him to his room, changed his clothes, and put him to bed.
Clare didn't say a single word through any of it.
She knew she had been wrong, but she couldn't bring herself to apologize — not to her father, nor to Carlyle.
Her stubborn pride wouldn't allow it.
But Carlyle — he saw right through it.
He noticed her pouting expression and understood that she recognized her mistake.
"You're a kind person," Carlyle said as he was leaving.
At the time, Clare didn't understand what he meant.
But she knew that this young man — probably one or two years younger than her — had noticed something about her that others missed.
After that, Carlyle was invited to the Ratrea House on increasingly frequent occasions, and eventually, he was welcomed as Clare's husband.
--- The couple had five children.
One son.
Four daughters.
Clare raised them with strict discipline.
Just as she had been raised, she imposed rigorous education upon them.
The eldest son became a Temple Knight.
The eldest daughter was taken in as a bride for a marquis's house.
Both turned out exactly as Clare had wished.
In the nation of Millis, they had grown into the kind of gentleman and lady that no one could find fault with.
Clare had placed her greatest expectations on the second daughter, who was born slightly later than the other two.
She was more talented than her elder siblings.
Beautiful by anyone's standard, pure, something to be proud of — a flawless work of art.
Zenis Ratrea.
She eloped.
She betrayed Clare's expectations, ran away from home to become an adventurer, and dropped off the map entirely.
Clare called her "a stupid girl."
She declared that Zenis had made the most foolish choice possible, and in front of her other children, spat and raged.
It was the first time in her life that Clare had displayed such raw emotion.
The daughter she had invested the most in had ended in the worst possible way.
That, more than anything, had devastated her.
The third daughter, Saura, also met an undesirable fate.
She married a baron.
However, the baron lost in a power struggle, and Saura was caught up in the conflict and killed.
Such a thing was rare in Millis, a land known for its healing magic, but it could happen.
In the name of the Ratrea House's honor, Clare had the perpetrators of Saura's death dealt with accordingly.
But Saura was not coming back.
Clare grieved.
She grieved like anyone else would.
And while Clare was mourning, the fourth daughter, Therese, also moved in a direction Clare did not desire.
She joined the Temple Knights — a woman, no less.
Clare berated her for this as well.
A little girl like you could never make it in the Temple Knights.
If you had listened to me and been raised as a proper lady, I could have found you a fine marriage match and made you happy, she said.
Therese scoffed, asking, "Would being caught up in a power struggle and killed be happiness?" and a massive argument erupted.
Clare told Therese to "never cross the threshold of this house again" and cast her out.
At this point, Clare did not believe — not even for a moment — that she was in the wrong.
Zenis, Therese — both would eventually fail on their own.
They would come crawling back, she was certain.
--- Ten years passed.
Zenis remained out of contact, as always, but Therese had, by then, achieved the extraordinary promotion of Captain of the Holy Child's personal guard.
It was simply because the Holy Child happened to be female, and there was a need for an elite female knight of exceptional caliber.
That was what Clare told herself, and it was, in fact, true.
Therese herself had high administrative and commanding abilities, but her combat prowess as a knight was average at best.
Still, whenever Clare accompanied her husband to parties, she frequently heard remarks like, "The Ratrea family truly shines in every field."
No matter how stubborn Clare was, she was equally strict with herself.
If she realized she had been wrong, she might not have apologized, but she could correct her thinking.
All the more so when a daughter she had believed to be in error was now producing results.
Clare forgave Therese and reconciled with her.
Though, of course, the words that came out of Clare upon meeting Therese were not an apology but rather the condescending declaration, "I shall forgive you."
If Therese hadn't been accustomed to dealing with difficult personalities as a company commander of the Temple Knights on a daily basis, or if their siblings, who knew their mother's temperament, hadn't intervened, they would have ended up fighting again.
Even at this point, Clare had not yet forgiven Zenis.
But if Zenis showed her face — Or at least demonstrated a willingness to talk — Clare thought she could accept that.
---
The Mana Disaster in the Kingdom of
The Fittoa Region Relocation Incident.
Paul appeared as the captain of a search party for the missing persons and requested the Ratrea House's assistance in the search.
When Clare heard that Zenis was among the missing, she agreed without hesitation.
She persuaded Carlyle, who contributed funds and personnel.
She wanted to find Zenis quickly and tell her, "See what happens when you defy me?"
But Zenis was not found.
One year passed. Two years passed. Still, nothing.
During that time, Paul, Zenis's husband, deteriorated steadily.
He made no effort to hide his pain, and despite having a daughter, he drowned himself in drink.
Clare concluded that she had to do something about
She thought to take the young girl into the household, separate her from her father, and give her a proper education as a lady.
That would be best, she believed.
However, with Carlyle's opposition, she could not forcibly take Norn away.
Clare watched Norn and spent her days in quiet frustration.
Meanwhile, Paul eventually recovered.
From what Therese told her, the eldest son, Rudeus, had punched Paul and set him straight.
At that point, Clare developed a slight interest in this Rudeus.
Though, given that he hadn't even come to pay his respects, she still looked down on him — Paul's son being Paul's son, after all.
Later, it came to light that Paul was in a bigamous relationship.
His concubine Lillia and her daughter
Clare was a follower of Millis.
Taking two wives — she could not condone such dishonesty.
But Paul was not a Millis follower, and Clare was wise enough not to impose the teachings of her faith on others.
She arranged for the two to visit several times a month, subjecting them to the Ratrea House's education.
Etiquette and manners. The study of intricate religious ceremonies.
For Clare, it was simply a matter of teaching them what should naturally be known.
Norn could never surpass Aisha and was perpetually sulky about it.
Clare despised that attitude.
What could be achieved with effort, Norn refused to even attempt.
She half-heartedly went through the motions, afraid of losing to Aisha.
Seeing this, Clare told Norn that there was no need to win.
She simply told Norn to acquire the abilities befitting a lady of the Ratrea House.
It was Clare's way of trying to motivate her.
But Norn never improved, no matter what she tried.
Aisha, the daughter of a concubine, mocked the struggling Norn, which enraged Clare.
The furious Clare became emotional and treated both Aisha and Lillia harshly.
In the end, neither Norn nor Aisha turned out as Clare had wanted, and they departed.
--- Several more years passed.
No report of Zenis's discovery came, and Clare found herself reminiscing about her days with the grandchildren.
Her eldest son's and eldest daughter's grandchildren were coming of age one by one.
All were fine, upstanding Millis nobles who would bring no shame anywhere.
By now, there were no children left around her — not even grandchildren.
Norn and Aisha.
The two of them should be close to adulthood by now.
How had they turned out?
Come to think of it, those two were the only ones who hadn't gone the way she hoped.
Was it because they were Zenis's daughters after all?
What kind of education had Zenis given them?
Then Clare stopped herself.
The truth was, Zenis had never even had the chance to educate her own children.
The relocation incident had occurred when they were newborns — barely one or two years old.
Zenis had been denied the opportunity to raise her children once they were old enough to learn.
Norn had been raised by a single father.
Aisha, perhaps due to the influence of the relocation incident as well, had not been raised with the value of respecting the legitimate wife's children.
Zenis, despite everything, had once been an excellent student.
She had once been called the model of Millis noble young ladies — a splendid, proper lady.
If only she had taught them properly once she became an adventurer...
Clare suddenly felt a deep longing for Zenis.
She wanted to see her.
Even if meeting her would surely produce nothing but scolding words, and Zenis would find her irritating — even so, she wanted to see her.
And it was at that moment that Rudeus's letter arrived with the news of Zenis's discovery.
The report said that while she had lost her memories and was essentially a husk of her former self, Zenis was still alive.
The letter was concise, written in a matter-of-fact style about where she had been found and what had happened.
It also stated, just as casually, that Paul had died.
There was a line about treating her going forward, but not a single word about bringing her back.
Clare immediately wrote back.
She had to see Zenis — no matter what.
--- Several more years passed.
During that time, Clare researched methods of treating Zenis.
She consulted every doctor and healer across Millis, and made repeated visits to the library held by the Millis faith.
In the course of her research, she also reviewed documents left behind by the demon race.
It was something that should not have been permitted, but she believed that in the long sweep of history, there must have been similar cases.
And she found one.
A dubious method of questionable legitimacy.
Something that was difficult to trust and made her nauseous just reading about it.
But there was indeed one precedent — one treatment case.
It was not a demon-race treatment.
It involved a similar condition among the long-eared race.
A woman had appeared in a state of complete mental void, and through intimate relations with numerous men, she had recovered her mind.
It was unbelievable.
Such a method — there was no need to even consider it.
But when she investigated further to verify the account, she found that the person in question appeared to have actually existed.
And was reportedly still engaging in intimate relations with men to this day.
Clare agonized.
Could she really subject Zenis to such a treatment?
Wouldn't Zenis refuse?
But still — If there truly was no other way...
It was just as she was thinking this that Rudeus returned with Zenis.
Zenis had been brought by her son Rudeus and the concubine's daughter Aisha.
Just the three of them.
It had been roughly three years since Clare had sent her letter. Not accustomed to writing to distant places, Clare nonetheless understood that Rudeus had rushed back as quickly as he could.
First, words of gratitude and greeting.
Then, confirmation of the treatment's progress and future plans.
If there was time, news of Norn and Aisha.
But the moment Clare laid eyes on Zenis, all those plans evaporated.
The moment Clare entered the room, she saw Zenis's face. She approached, then hesitated, her gaze unsteady, her heart wrenched with a feeling as though someone were clawing at it inside. With a sigh, she entrusted Zenis to her attending physician, Ander.
Ander was the doctor who had been managing Clare's declining health in recent times and had also consulted with her on various aspects of Zenis's treatment.
Having seen Zenis for the first time in ages, Clare felt a twinge of guilt for having ignored Rudeus, and turned back.
That was when she noticed a woman in a maid's uniform sitting huddled at the edge of the sofa.
The woman with dark brown hair.
It was impossible to forget her.
But what immediately caught Clare's attention was the outfit.
A maid's uniform.
"Aisha, it's been a while. What... capacity are you here in today?"
"Wha—? Um... well, I came along to... take care of Lady Zenis."
At that response, Clare's voice rose involuntarily.
Take care of her.
In other words, she had come as a maid.
If that were the case, there was no reason for Aisha to be sitting while her mistress Zenis and Rudeus were both standing.
Clare intended it as a perfectly natural rebuke.
But Rudeus stepped in.
Of course he would.
Clare had gotten her priorities wrong.
The Rudeus she was meeting for the first time was a young man who bore a strong resemblance to Paul.
His face inevitably called to mind Paul's in Clare's memory.
That good-for-nothing Paul, not a shred of dignity about him.
That Paul.
If not for him, Zenis might never have ended up like this.
Such thoughts even surfaced in Clare's mind.
Perhaps because of that, Clare's worst traits came out in her subsequent interactions with Rudeus.
Her stubborn and prideful nature, concealing her own failure behind an arrogant demeanor.
To be fair, Rudeus was sincere.
When Clare made snide remarks, he countered with straightforward reason and truth.
His open and dignified attitude caused Clare to revise her assessment of Rudeus upward.
The rest of the conversation proceeded as Clare had expected.
Confirmation of the treatment's progress, and news of Norn.
As for Aisha, Clare remained silent — still stinging from the earlier rebuke.
Rudeus seemed somewhat unfamiliar with Millis customs, but he apparently possessed the self-awareness of a head of household, as he declared firmly that he would take proper care of Norn.
Clare revised her assessment again.
A fine young man, still young, but possessed of a proper sense of responsibility as a house head.
That was how he appeared in Clare's eyes.
She didn't know what it meant to be a subordinate of the Dragon God
Clare had little knowledge of martial matters.
But if he had a close relationship with the King of the Asura Kingdom, that would make him a member of a rising yet distinguished house.
With high standing comes high responsibility and high achievement.
Clare concluded that the young man before her was, in all likelihood, a more formidable figure than she had imagined.
That Zenis's son.
Thinking about it, she felt a complicated mix of frustration and pride.
But that very complication was the problem.
The treatment she was about to attempt was the sort that would invite scorn.
Having a woman intimate with numerous men — that was not something that could be forgiven.
Would Rudeus accept that treatment?
When she tested the waters, he erupted in fury.
Even in this state, he still loved Zenis.
Of course he did.
And Clare assumed he had never heard of the treatment, let alone tried it.
Should she tell him?
About the treatment.
It was of dubious credibility, but a method appeared to exist.
Perhaps if she explained the treatment in detail, she might win his support.
But then Clare considered.
This young man had a future ahead of him.
From what she had heard through the grapevine, he was on good terms with a Pope-faction priest.
At the same time, there were rumors that the Pope's grandchild had returned to Millis.
It was a long journey, so it wouldn't be strange for them to have come together.
Honestly, Clare couldn't care less about those power struggles.
But if Rudeus were to align himself with the Pope faction — Not as the Ratrea House, but as the
If word got out that he had subjected his own mother to such a treatment, it would be a scandal.
Everyone in this country would point fingers.
He would be unable to live in this country.
Should she tell him about the treatment?
Should she drag him into it?
No.
Clare reached her conclusion.
He was better off not knowing.
A mother who had been intimate with numerous men — it was better he didn't know.
It was better for him to have no involvement.
It would be Clare's own doing.
Something that had nothing to do with Rudeus, who had no connection to the Ratrea House.
That would be best.
There was no option of not trying the treatment.
After all, she had waited nearly twenty years for this.
To see Zenis, to exchange words with her.
And so Clare set her plan in motion.
She would shoulder the blame herself.
She deliberately provoked Rudeus into anger and severed ties with the Ratrea House.
She used her household's people to have Zenis taken.
But that was where her momentum stalled.
Zenis, brought to the house.
Zenis, grown and beginning to age.
Her own daughter — still beautiful, still a woman of worth.
Was it really acceptable to subject her to intimate relations with an unknown multitude of men?
It wasn't.
It couldn't be.
But surely Zenis, in this state, couldn't consider it acceptable to continue relying on her son's care.
If she could speak, she would surely ask to be cured.
She even came up with such an excuse.
Clare herself felt sick at the excuse.
She wished someone would stop her.
What she was about to do was something she should not do.
She could no longer stop herself.
She agonized.
She suffered.
She spent an entire day in the room with Zenis, clutching her head in despair.
Zenis, sitting blankly without doing anything, occasionally showed a flicker of human response, and Clare agonized further.
The one who stopped her was Carlyle.
Carlyle had heard the full account from Therese, and then heard everything from Ander, the attending physician.
About the treatment, and about his wife who was suffering as she contemplated trying it.
His wife, about to do something unforgivable.
To her, he said gently: "...Before we try that treatment, let's have the Holy Child take a look at her."
If they could see Zenis's memories, they might understand something.
Perhaps it would help them make a decision.
Or perhaps they might be able to give up on the treatment entirely.
Carlyle filed a request to have the Holy Child examine Zenis's memories.
Using the full authority of his rank as battalion commander of the Temple Knights, concealing Zenis's identity and without letting Rudeus catch wind of his actions, he arranged an audience with the Holy Child.
An audience with the Holy Child, who would normally never examine an individual's memories.
That was what was scheduled for today.
The day Clare and Carlyle snuck Zenis to the faith's headquarters.
And then the kidnapping occurred.
--- — Rudeus's Perspective — "That is how we came to be here now."
And with that, the story ended.
Clare's eyes were crimson red, and Carlyle wore an expression of deep anguish.
The reactions around the room were varied.
Some grimaced, others folded their arms with troubled expressions.
Therese covered her mouth with a look of shock.
The Holy Child smiled as if to say, "I already knew."
Could he have heard parts of this story somewhere before?
But having heard it all, the story was understandable.
What Clare had been about to do was unforgivable.
Even as an attempted act, merely having entertained the notion of doing that to her own daughter was something that could not be forgiven.
I wouldn't forgive it, and neither would society.
From the standpoint of Millis doctrine, it was equally unacceptable.
Whether it constituted a crime under this country's laws, she didn't know, but judging from everyone's reactions, it would certainly be an act that brought shame upon the family.
And if I were implicated in it, my activities in this town would be utterly doomed.
That was why she had cut ties with me.
She had tried to handle it alone.
She had agonized alone and prepared to bear the punishment alone.
But unfortunately, Clare was mistaken.
"That... treatment — it's something from about two hundred years ago, right?"
When I asked that, Clare looked up in surprise.
"Y-Yes! There was a woman with the same symptoms about two hundred years ago..."
"And that woman was expelled from her village because of what she did."
"...You know about it? Could it be that you've tried it?"
"Hardly."
That case.
It was about
Of course, the truth was different.
She had spent decades recovering from the same state Zenis was in now, eventually regaining her sanity.
Becoming a promiscuous woman came after that.
But legends were prone to being distorted as they were passed down.
It wouldn't be surprising if they had been warped in strange ways.
"I haven't tried it, but I did meet the woman in question and hear her story firsthand."
I might not have written about Elinalise in the letter.
At the time, there had been far too many things to keep secret.
"I... see."
Clare's shoulders dropped as though the strength had drained from her.
But her expression also seemed somewhat relieved.
"Then everything I did was... completely meaningless..."
"I'm afraid so."
"...I... see."
If I had heard about the treatment on the first day, I probably wouldn't have been nearly as angry.
No, no, no — I actually met the woman and heard her story, and it's nothing like that.
There's no way that could cure anyone.
I could have just laughed it off.
Yeah. Probably.
"You should have told me."
"...Even if you hadn't known about the treatment, could you have refrained from trying it?"
"..."
I couldn't answer.
I couldn't say no with certainty.
If I had heard from Elinalise that "I was cured by sleeping around," would I have tried it?
At first, I wouldn't. I'd look for another method.
But years had passed since then.
If there truly turned out to be no other option, what would I have done?
What conclusion would I have reached after all that agonizing?
"But if you had known... I... what a fool I've been..."
Clare said that and began to cry again.
Was she thinking that she could never face her daughter again, having almost subjected her to a senseless atrocity?
Was there still a grudge lingering in her heart?
Was she carrying that murky weight inside?
I felt relieved.
Now, I could understand everything she had done until now.
For her daughter, for her family.
There was not a shred of dishonesty in Clare's actions.
And now, in the current situation — This situation where the incident had been exploited in a power struggle — She had, at the very least, tried to keep what she had planned from being exposed.
She had tried to shoulder the blame alone.
That was her way of trying to protect the Ratrea House.
Therese and the uncles and aunts I had never met.
Of course, her methods were wrong.
I had to admit that.
There were better ways.
There must have been plenty of them.
But that, too, was for Zenis's sake. For my sake.
For her daughter. For the family.
The reason Carlyle and I had been hit by Zenis — that was what it was about.
"Sigh..."
A sigh escaped me.
And then there was Cliff.
The way he had suddenly stepped in to defend Clare.
"Cliff-senpai, when did you hear about this? About what she just said."
"This morning. I ran into them by chance when they arrived at the faith's headquarters."
"...Why didn't you stop them at that point? You know about Elinalise too, Cliff-senpai."
"I was only told that it was something that violated basic human decency. Not the details of the treatment."
Ah, right.
Of course.
Clare had been keeping her mouth shut about everything up to now. There was no way she would have told Cliff the specifics.
"I was going to tell you today as well, but... I'm sorry."
It had gotten to the point where it was impossible, he meant.
Knowing Cliff, he must have confronted Clare and Carlyle at that moment.
What you are doing is wrong.
Return Zenis at once and apologize to Rudeus.
Something like that.
And when Carlyle broke under that intensity, he had explained the situation.
Hearing that it was something that violated human decency, Carlyle must have wrestled with his own conscience.
He had also been sworn to secrecy.
So instead of publicly stating the answer, Cliff had tried to guide me.
If he could just stop me here — If he could convey to me that Clare was genuinely acting out of concern for Zenis — Then a path to resolution might become visible.
His methods weren't exactly the most elegant, but...
He had acted in consideration of both Clare's and Carlyle's feelings.
That was very Cliff-like.
In any case.
I understood now.
I felt at peace.
"Well then, let me ask one more time."
Once my mind was made up, Cliff addressed the room, looking around at everyone.
"This incident was a mother's attempt to save her daughter.
To exploit that for political maneuvering and to gang up on her like this — Is that in keeping with the teachings of the Holy Goddess Millis?"
The Pope maintained his genial expression.
The Cardinal wore a scowl.
The Cathedral Knights and the Temple Knights looked somewhat relieved.
They were all watching Cliff.
"This incident was an accident.
A fortunate accident in which not a single life was lost.
A warm accident, born of a mother's love.
There may have been losses in terms of time and the disruption caused.
Some may have experienced discomfort, and some may have been injured.
But I ask you — should we not now let bygones be bygones, forgive her, and render a merciful judgment upon this matter?"
Cliff said this, then looked at me.
"Rudeus, the decision is yours. You, the greatest victim and the victor of this confrontation."
I had released the Holy Child's hand long ago.
But the Holy Child had remained seated beside me the entire time, smiling.
As if to say, "I knew this would happen."
What an impish look.
"...Very well."
I said, in a calm tone.
There was still a small lingering trace of unease.
But I could sit down with Clare later and talk things through at length.
With someone like her, a thorough conversation would dissolve any remaining resentment.
"However, I would like to propose three conditions."
I laid out the terms.
The conditions for releasing the Holy Child.
Three of them — shamelessly.
"First, I would like the Holy Child to examine my mother's memories and determine whether she can be cured."
"That is perfectly fine. It seems that was already on the schedule for today."
I had meant to direct that to the Cardinal, but it was the Holy Child who answered.
With an expression that said, "I already knew, of course."
Perhaps she had even known that Zenis would be examined today.
Perhaps she had let me bring her here and guided things to this point while knowing everything.
That was entirely plausible.
"However, I cannot restore memories, so I probably won't be able to cure her..."
"Even so, I would appreciate it. That's all right with Your Eminence as well?"
"Mm."
The Cardinal appeared to be in good spirits.
He had likely sensed that his faction, the Ratrea House, would emerge from this relatively unscathed.
"In exchange for dropping this matter, I request your full cooperation with the 'Dragon God' Orsted."
"Naturally, there is no objection."
"......No objection."
The Pope agreed, and the Cardinal nodded as well.
This was looking good — maybe even the sale of
As for the Cardinal, perhaps it would have been better to have pressed him harder, but the outcome was already a net positive, so I would let it go at that for now.
"And one more thing."
I looked at Clare and Carlyle.
The two of them stiffened and stared back at me.
"I would like you to accept my... reinstatement into the Ratrea House."
At those words, Therese was the first to let out a breath of relief.
Carlyle bowed his head apologetically.
Clare burst into tears.
Sobbing, her throat convulsing with each heave, she broke down crying.
Murmuring words that could have been "thank you" or "I'm sorry" — or perhaps both — she wept.
And Zenis gently placed her hand atop Clare's head.
And so, the affair in Millis drew to a close.