Chapter 17

Chapter 17
## Chapter 17: Never Mind The Heir, I’ll Focus On Healing

“An introduction?”

“Indeed. Actually, there is a cleric I am acquainted with… and he is expected to arrive today to offer prayers for the youths.”

“Then why suggest a separate meeting?”

The head of the orphanage lowered her voice to a gentle murmur.

“I simply feel we cannot turn away individuals performing such virtuous acts. Perhaps you might join us after receiving the cleric’s benediction?”

Rikschel, having absorbed the director’s explanation, wore a quiet, triumphant smile.

‘My plan has succeeded.’

Everything unfolded precisely as he had mapped out in his mind.

‘This would never have been possible without my brother’s genuine acts of kindness.’

Had they restricted themselves to mere monetary or material donations, they would have been remembered as nothing more than distant patrons.

However, Lion’s heartfelt sincerity had permanently secured the orphanage director’s profound goodwill.

Even so, the fundamental limitation remained: the blessing would amount to nothing more than spoken words.

What Rikschel truly desired was for the cleric to directly manifest divine energy and perform actual physical restoration.

To achieve that objective…

While Rikschel was deep in his own tactical calculations.

‘I had no idea Rikschel held such a passionate dedication to community service.’

Lion himself felt a genuine sense of admiration.

It appeared that Rikschel had quietly accumulated considerable experience in charitable work during his time alongside Peter.

‘Establishing a personal connection with a man of the cloth is by no means a poor strategy!’

Lion harbored no particular ambition to meet the visiting cleric himself.

His pride stemmed purely from the fact that Peter, the final child, had relished the freshly baked bread to the very last crumb.

“Would you mind if we stepped aside to discuss this for a brief moment?”

“By all means. Please, go ahead.”

Granted permission by the director, Rikschel drew Lion toward a secluded corner and spoke in an urgent whisper.

“Brother… would it trouble you to postpone your meeting with the cleric for the time being?”

“Hmm? But wouldn’t it be considered discourteous to brush aside the director’s kind hospitality?”

“Today, I wish to see the cleric by myself.”

Rikschel’s sudden proposition lacked any immediate, apparent justification.

From a certain perspective, it could easily be misconstrued as selfish—a desire to hoard the blessing exclusively for himself.

‘Rikschel must have a compelling motive for such behavior.’

His facial expression was a complex mixture of grave seriousness, subtle tension, and restless anticipation.

Lion weighed the situation carefully before arriving at his own conclusion.

‘It is because our household is a lineage of sorcerers.’

Mages and clerics.

Although the Asteri family, representing the practitioners of arcane arts, and the Holy Order maintained an outwardly polite yet wary distance, much like natural predators observing one another from afar.

Their underlying relationship was notoriously strained due to fundamentally opposing philosophies regarding the pursuit of ultimate truth.

Under such delicate circumstances, what repercussions might follow if rumors began to circulate that the scions of Asteri were fraternizing with a member of the clergy?

Regardless of whether the public perception proved favorable or adverse, significant or trivial, some form of scandalous narrative was bound to materialize.

Particularly now, when they were maintaining disguises that extended only as far as altered hair and eye coloration, extreme caution was paramount.

And Rikschel, evidently terrified that the situation might backfire upon them, was formulating this guarded request.

‘That clever younger brother of mine…’

Naturally, Lion could have easily reassured Rikschel, telling him to cast aside his worries, or even insisted on meeting the cleric face-to-face.

However, Rikschel was the designated heir of Asteri and possessed a remarkably sharp intellect.

Displaying unnecessary interference by intruding upon his plans would only serve to burden the boy with needless anxiety.

“And so… would you object if I were to meet this cleric alone first?”

Rikschel posed the question with extreme hesitation, terrified of inadvertently offending his older sibling.

Yet Lion, having already deduced the underlying strategy, felt not the slightest touch of offense.

On the contrary, he experienced a profound sense of understanding!

In truth, watching Peter devour the bread with such unadulterated joy had ignited a desire within Lion to experiment with entirely new culinary creations.

Since he had already mastered the basics of baking, he felt a strong urge to return to the estate’s kitchen and test various innovative recipes.

“It is not as though I am intentionally excluding you from this, Brother. Rather, I simply wish to ensure we are fully prepared for any unforeseen variables. Once that is settled, I will most certainly introduce you…”

Rikschel continued his elaborate justification at length, but Lion merely offered a casual, approving nod.

“Ah, the timing could not be more ideal!”

“So until then… pardon? What did you say?”

“As it happens, I have suddenly recalled several matters requiring my attention back at the manor.”

“Matters… requiring your attention?”

“Indeed. I ought to try my hand at baking a few additional batches of bread. Therefore, it is far better for you to meet the cleric by yourself in the beginning.”

Rikschel looked momentarily stunned, wholly unprepared for his brother to grant permission with such effortless compliance.

Lion reached out and gave his younger brother’s shoulder a reassuring pat.

“Do not fret over my absence; simply go forth and accomplish what you set out to do. I shall make my way back to the estate first, so take all the time you need.”

“Ah… very well.”

…Was he truly letting him off this easily?

Rikschel had anticipated a far more arduous negotiation to resolve this delicate hurdle.

Regardless, the outcome was favorable.

‘This turns out exceptionally well.’

Ultimately, his primary objective was to introduce his brother to the cleric, but before that could happen, he needed to secure a direct application of divine restoration.

Furthermore, should any hostile factions harboring lingering animosity toward Asteri emerge, they needed to be identified and neutralized.

With Lion dispatched on his return journey, Rikschel stepped back inside to address the orphanage director.

“I shall meet the cleric alone. My brother mentioned that fatigue has overtaken him.”

“Oh, dear! Come to think of it, his complexion did appear rather pale. What a regrettable circumstance… but it cannot be helped. Please, step inside and wait comfortably.”

Rikschel followed the director deeper into the building.

Before departing, Lion exchanged a parting glance with Peter, who watched from a distance, signaling his intention to return soon.

‘Once I am back, I must request lessons in confectionery from the master chef.’

Lion discovered that his own schedule was surprisingly full.

—

That very night, deep into the midnight hour.

‘Exhaustion has truly settled into my bones.’

Rikschel exhaled a soft sigh within the private quarters assigned to him by the director.

The day had proven relentlessly frantic.

He had donned a disguise, baked countless loaves of bread, and engaged in grueling manual labor alongside the common populace.

The reality of the day stood in stark contrast to his initial, casual intention of dropping off a mere monetary contribution.

‘No, such a profound impact could never have been achieved through material charity alone.’

This marked the very first time he had ever partaken in such an unfiltered experience.

Naturally, as the heir apparent, Rikschel had perpetually deliberated upon and executed policies designed to elevate the living standards of the estate’s citizens.

Yet the events of today carried a weight far exceeding administrative duty…

How best to articulate the sensation?

‘Direct engagement.’

Indeed. Perhaps it could be defined as the raw impact of reality colliding directly against one’s skin.

The sensation was magnified exponentially because he had utilized his own physical form to enact the change.

It was an evening defined by sweeping epiphanies and swirling anxieties.

A quiet smile spontaneously touched Rikschel’s lips.

‘It was an invaluable experience.’

Should the opportunity ever arise again, he would gladly return here, simply moving about as an ordinary noble youth…

*Knock, knock*

“Ah.”

Has the appointed hour arrived?

Rikschel rose swiftly from his chair and pulled the wooden door open.

Waiting on the threshold was a youthful cleric who radiated an unmistakable aura of nobility and supreme sanctity.

He possessed a tall, solidly proportioned physique and an expression of profound benevolence.

The holy man appeared to be older than Rikschel by only a few short years at the absolute most.

‘…He is considerably younger than I had anticipated.’

Rikschel had previously been informed that junior clerics invariably spent their formative years confined within the inner sanctums of the grand temple.

Such isolation was supposedly enforced to cultivate an unshakeable foundation of faith.

Yet this particular cleric had ventured far beyond those sacred walls, traveling all the way to a desolate orphanage merely to bestow prayers upon the destitute.

‘He must be an individual of extraordinary capability.’

Had they crossed paths while Rikschel wore his natural face, he would have maintained an attitude of intense guardedness.

Yet under the present circumstances…

‘He possesses no knowledge of my true lineage.’

The magical artifacts purchased from the clandestine boutique guaranteed absolute perfection in their concealment.

Even the vast majority of high-ranking clerics would prove utterly incapable of piercing through the illusion.

If that held true, the advantage lay entirely with him.

Should he succeed in forging a genuine rapport with this holy man, he would secure a far superior channel for his brother’s restoration than he had ever dared to hope for.

“May the divine grace accompany your steps. I am Licht.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am…”

Just as Rikschel intentionally let his introduction trail off.

“I was fully briefed by the orphanage director. You expressed a desire to remain an anonymous benefactor, did you not?”

Priest Licht interrupted with a warm smile, his tone implying complete awareness of the situation.

“I shall simply address you as the anonymous man of righteousness.”

“You flatter me excessively. I have accomplished nothing of note. Please, take a seat here.”

As the two men settled into their chairs, the orphanage director, who slipped back into the room a moment later, beamed brightly.

“You both cut such a striking figure standing side by side. Oh, it is nothing grand, but please partake in some warm water and converse at your leisure.”

The director, having deposited two weathered ceramic cups steaming with hot water onto the tabletop, offered Rikschel a knowing wink.

Though she remained entirely ignorant of Rikschel’s hidden agenda, the gesture stemmed from the sheer rarity of an ordinary citizen sharing an intimate audience with a holy priest.

*Click-*

Accompanied by the dry groan of ancient hinges, the door clicked shut, leaving the two young men entirely alone within the quiet chamber.

Rikschel wasted no time in executing his carefully rehearsed strategy.

“In truth, I have done very little to deserve such praise.”

“That is a severe distortion of the truth. You inspired others to embrace voluntary service simply by mirroring your brother’s virtuous devotion.”

“My initial thoughts were restricted entirely to providing material assistance. It was my brother who poured his actual soul into the endeavor.”

“Your brother… are you speaking of the companion who departed earlier because a sudden illness overcame him?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Rikschel was fundamentally unaccustomed to weaving falsehoods.

Nevertheless, as a young nobleman groomed to inherit a powerful domain, he possessed a formidable mastery of diplomatic discourse.

“The truth is…”

Rikschel emitted a soft, mournful sigh and buried his face within his trembling hands.

“I did not journey to this place driven by pure benevolence or a selfless urge to serve.”

“…”

Priest Licht observed the visibly tormented youth with a steady, compassionate smile.

“Your confidence is safe with me; please speak of whatever weighs upon your spirit without restraint.”

A subtle glance.

Rikschel peeked out from between his fingers to gauge the cleric’s reaction before letting his head drop completely, resuming his confession in a fractured tone.

He explained that due to insurmountable familial constraints, summoning an official cleric to their estate was strictly forbidden, while his brother’s physical condition deteriorated by the day.

“Therefore, I came here harboring the dark thought that perhaps his ailments stemmed from a life failing to benefit others. Yet, I discovered that my assumption was entirely false when it came to my brother.”

“…”

Rikschel withdrew his hands from his face and released a heavy, resonant sigh, far deeper than his previous breaths.

From this juncture onward, every word he uttered was absolute truth.

“My brother, despite suffering immensely within his own flesh, labored to bake bread for the children and dedicated his entire being to their happiness.”

“Ah, the director mentioned as much. She told me that a young boy named Peter managed to open his closed heart because of him.”

“Had I been in his position, I lack the strength to accomplish such a feat. Nor would I ever have been granted the honor of meeting you, Father. Therefore…”

“Man of righteousness. Might I trouble you for your hand?”

Licht interrupted the monologue gently, reaching across the table to clasp Rikschel’s fingers.

“Your brother is undeniably a noble soul. It goes against my very nature to ignore the suffering of such a righteous man. However… I, too, made my journey here in strict secrecy, managing to evade the watchful eyes of the temple hierarchy.”

“…”

Was this a polite rejection?

‘This cleric is an enigma. His thoughts are entirely unreadable.’

While his features radiated boundless warmth, he was patently absorbing every single detail of the narrative.

If his intent were pure refusal, he would scarcely maintain such an attentive demeanor.

Rikschel fought desperately to suppress any outward flicker of disappointment across his features.

“Tell me, would it be possible for you to return to this very room in three days, accompanied by your brother?”

“…!”

The gamble had yielded absolute success.

“…I accept your offer, despite possessing no right to ask such a favor.”

“Very well. I shall await your arrival in three days’ time.”