“So boring…”

Flat on his back, Felix stared out the window at the same old scene—white walls, blue sky. He felt like he was coming down with a bad case of ennui.

Maybe when the last leaf outside finally fell, his story would end here too.

“You’re that bored, even with me here?”

A red-haired girl leaned against the bed, pouting.

“Lemuel, I never said that.”

“I know it’s boring.” Lemuel’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Because all you can do is lie here every day, right? …My sister and the others are still over at the Notarial Hall giving, um, statements. They should be back soon.”

“Thanks for visiting me, Lemuel.”

Her boyish face flushed a little at that.

Before Muelsyse left, she had actually apologized to Lemuel—turns out she had mistaken her for Felix’s girlfriend, peppering her with endless questions. She admitted it was a misunderstanding and asked if they could still be friends.

Lemuel had been stunned. His girlfriend? Since when? But after the truth came out, she didn’t hold a grudge. She had already thought of Muelsyse as a reliable big sister, and in fact, the mix-up only drew them closer as friends.

Yet, when she heard she wasn’t Felix’s girlfriend, a strange twinge of disappointment slipped in alongside the relief.

Lemuel wasn’t a clueless kid. She had just one more year before graduating from the church school, and though romance wasn’t forbidden there, she preferred blasting things to bits over daydreaming. Still, she saw plenty of couples around her every day. That misunderstanding—and the clearing of it—left her with a guilty, awkward feeling whenever she faced Felix again.

She had managed to avoid him while he was busy with missions and she was back at school, but when word came that he’d been hurt—hurt while saving her sister—she pushed all hesitation aside and came running.

As Lemuel drifted off in thought, Felix’s gaze shifted back out the window, toward the Stevonus district. The traces of winter were fading. In other countries the land might still be locked in snow, but in Laterano spring had already begun to show itself.

After Andoain’s betrayal, it had taken about two weeks to return. By then Felix’s wounds had mostly healed, but the squad still marched him into a hospital to make sure he hadn’t been left with lasting damage.

Andoain was gone.

Felix could still see his face in that moment before he leapt away—a man watching the world collapse before his eyes. What truth had he seen that could drive someone so rational into madness?

The weapons—Lock and Key—had been what unhinged him. Felix kept them safe only until their return, then as captain surrendered them to Laterano’s Papal Curia for study. He knew he had neither the right nor the power to keep relics of that level.

The only real change from the “story” he remembered was this: Lemuen wasn’t crushed and left in a wheelchair for years, and Mostima hadn’t shot down Andoain in his fall. Quietly, uneventfully, safely.

Now the squad was in pieces. After giving their statements at the Notarial Hall, a wanted order had already been issued for Andoain. He was officially a fugitive. Within the squad, Federico and Plume were under hospital observation, while Patia and Spuria were tied up with written testimony.

As for Felix, he was currently lying in the intensive care ward.

They were treating him like he might not make it through the night. He yawned. He could see his own status panel, after all—no debuffs, no infection, HP full. Still, it was his squad’s way of showing care and concern. Lying around for a few days wasn’t the worst thing. Call it a short vacation.

Just as he was about to drift off, a knock came at the door.

“I’ll get it!”

Lemuel trotted over and pulled the door open—only to jump back with a startled cry.

“Wah!”

Standing there were several strangers. Felix’s drowsiness vanished. He sat up at once. He didn’t recognize them personally, but their robes told him all he needed to know—they were from the Papal Curia.

Elders, every one of them. The one in front, an old man with a full beard, wore a kindly smile.

Felix glanced at Lemuel. “Lemuel, suddenly I’m craving some hot cocoa from the café downstairs. Would you mind grabbing a cup for me?”

“Mhm… sure!”

She lit up, happy to have been asked a favor. The elderly visitors carried no trace of malice, so she left without hesitation.

“Only cocoa? Nothing sweet to go with it?”

The bearded elder chuckled as the cardinals behind him set gifts by the bedside.

“I just had breakfast. Not really hungry.”

“Is that so? Well, I hope you’ll at least enjoy the pastries I brought.”

The old man sat down in the chair Lemuel had just vacated. “How’s your body? Any lingering problems?”

“None. In fact, my wounds had already healed on the way back to Laterano.”

Felix couldn’t guess the true purpose of this visit, though he had already recognized the elder’s identity. Perhaps they had come because of Lock and Key?

“I can sense your doubt, Felix Lanshem,” the elder said gently. “But in truth, we came only to visit you. As captain, when faced with Andoain’s betrayal, you showed composure. In the critical moment, you saved your teammates. Without you, who knows how this mission might have ended? Lemuel and Mostima could have been gravely wounded, perhaps even killed.”

He gave a soft laugh. “As captain of a Notarial Hall squad, allow me to thank you on behalf of the Papal Curia.”

“Laterano truly has no shortage of promising youth.”

The cardinals behind him nodded in agreement. It was clear this was the Curia’s collective stance.

Felix had underestimated the weight of his actions. To him, it had only been saving Mostima, Lemuel, Federico, and the others. But to the Curia, these were not just squad members—they were the future. Lemuel and Mostima both destined for seats in the Curia, Plume and Patia pillars of the Guard, Spuria on the path to becoming a cardinal researcher, and Federico brimming with raw potential.

The people he had saved were far too important.

With a wave of the old man’s hand, the cardinals gave Felix nods, smiles, or solemn bows, then filed out one by one until the room was empty.

“Do you have any other questions… Your Holiness?”

“So, you recognized me after all.”

Yvangelista XI chuckled, not the least disturbed by being exposed. “Your journey across Terra has not only broadened your vision, it has given you a stronger sense of responsibility.”

“Felix, what do you intend for your future?”

“I will return to that land someday.”

“I see.”

The pope wasn’t surprised. He only smiled. “To grow, we Sankta must eventually leave the Holy City. Empathy may grant us convenience, but it also walls us off from the other races.”

“For now, rest well. I look forward to your future, Felix… and I hope you enjoy the cactus tart I brought.”

“Thank you.”

When the pope finally departed, Felix let out a long breath and sank back into bed.

Before the current pontiff, Laterano’s popes had always been iron-blooded hardliners. Their stance toward the Sarkaz and Kazdel could be summed up in a single word: war.

Kazdel’s endless conflicts and civil strife were tangled together, and Laterano never missed the chance to press the advantage, striking while the Sarkaz were down.

Andoain’s squad alone had slaughtered Sarkaz mercenaries well into the triple digits. In his past life as a player, Felix hadn’t exactly been a saint either—his favorite farming ground had always been Kazdel. Mercenaries there dropped plenty of useful gear… but that was a digression.

Yvangelista XI was an outlier—or so thought many senior cardinals of the Curia, as well as the whispers of Laterano’s streets. Unlike his predecessor, he had eased Laterano’s campaigns against Kazdel, and in his words and conduct, showed none of the same iron-fisted ruthlessness.

If it had been any other pope who discovered Felix once secretly funded Babel… he would already be branded a traitor and burned at the stake.

“Eh? Those grandpas already left?”

Lemuel returned with the hot cocoa, surprised to find the room empty. She had only been gone a short while, and already the visitors had vanished.

“Thanks, Lemuel.”

Felix accepted the cup from her with a smile. “Could you check what gifts they left for me?”

“Okay~”

Carefully, Lemuel inspected the bags of “get-well presents.” She handled them with exaggerated gentleness, as though afraid of damaging what lay inside.

“Hmm… fruit, some sweets, and… huh? Why’s this one so heavy?”

She prodded at a block of dark material, only to wince as her finger stung. “Feels like… metal?”

“Not bad.”

Metal as a gift—clearly, they knew he was a mechanic and gunsmith. Thoughtful indeed.

Inside, there were plenty of high-grade metals. Felix gave a quick glance and recognized most as valuable stock. With this, he could start hammering away again once his rest was over. More importantly, among the pile were rare materials fit for crafting Magi-lings. That was treasure to him.

…Wait. Could those cardinals have known he’d spend recovery time smithing, so they brought the ore straight to him?

—

Not long after, Lemuen and Mostima arrived with more gifts. The moment Lemuel spotted her sister, she threw herself into her arms, rubbing her head against Lemuen’s shoulder like a spoiled child.

“Honestly… still clinging at your age?”

Lemuen sighed, half helpless, half fond, as she poked her sister’s cheek.

Mostima laughed, moving to the window. She pulled the curtains wide, letting sunlight flood the ward. “Lemuel, have you been taking good care of Felix?”

“Of course! I even bought him hot cocoa!”

She puffed her cheeks in mock indignation.

Felix added at the right moment, “Lemuel’s kept the whole room cheerful.”

Lemuen’s smile softened as she glanced at her sister, who now looked a little embarrassed. “Good. That’s what matters.”

After some small talk, Lemuen and Mostima settled by the bed. Taking the hint, Lemuel slipped out into the corridor, leaving the three of them alone.

“How’s the situation?” Felix asked.

“The report’s finished. Andoain’s betrayal is official. The real question is… why.”

Lemuen fixed him with a steady look. “On that point, neither Mostima nor I gave an answer. Saying it aloud… might cause trouble for more than just us.”

“What about Plume? How did she take it?”

Mostima shook her head. “No strong reaction. She thinks Andoain must’ve seen something terrible that drove him mad… Actually, she’s already filed a request with the Notarial Hall to become your personal guard.”

“Personal guard? For what reason?”

“To protect you from Andoain, she said.”

Mostima crossed her legs, idly playing with Felix’s hand, tracing his palm with her fingertips. “But the real reason? You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

“…And Federico? What’s his view?”

Lemuen coughed lightly. “His response was the most straightforward. He said he couldn’t understand what Andoain meant… so he simply wouldn’t try.”

“…”

Federico, you’re terrifyingly strong-willed.

“So… it’s all over, then.”

“Of course. They also asked whether we’d seen any illusions.”

Mostima and Lemuen exchanged a glance, then shook their heads in unison. “In truth, Andoain was the only one who experienced hallucinations. We have no way of knowing the answer.”

The topic ended there. Mostima remained by Felix’s bedside, guiding his fingers through rehabilitation exercises, while Lemuen sat nearby, quietly peeling the fruit brought by the cardinals.

“What about Fiammetta? Wasn’t she supposed to be with you?”

“She… probably feels too guilty to face you.”

Lemuen slipped a slice of fruit into her own mouth, then speared another piece with a toothpick and held it to Felix’s lips.

He took a bite. As expected of a cardinal’s gift—the juice burst with sweetness.

“Why would Fiammetta think that way?”

“Because at that time, Andoain sent her elsewhere. So she believes that if she’d been in the ruins with us, you wouldn’t have been hurt protecting me.”

A gentle, almost wistful smile touched Lemuen’s face.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep