CHAPTER 47……………………………………..
‘What is that now?’
I doubted my own eyes.
Aris’s tattoo was warping.
I had met quite a few priests, but I had never seen a tattoo change like that before.
The perfectly smooth, gem-like water droplet shape was twisting, its edges stretching outward in sharp spikes in every direction—like a weapon.
Shaaaaah—!
The unceasing roar of heavy rain sent a chill down my spine.
The rain continued to fall day after day. By now, the downpour should have weakened, yet it showed no sign of letting up.
What made it even stranger was that the rain fell only around the Lorenst estate—where the rain ritual had been held—and the surrounding districts. It was clearly unnatural.
It didn’t take long for people to realize something was wrong.
Water pooled in the capital’s main roads, where drainage failed, until it finally overflowed, and the situation became dire.
Rain began leaking from ceilings, and water rose to ankle height.
Citizens who spent sleepless nights bailing out water saw their frustration mount.
A theologian, his face buried in a mountain of books, suddenly jerked his head up and shouted,
“It’s a rampage! This is a priest’s rampage!”
The Lorenst estate, now the center of the torrential rain.
Shaaaaah—!
Every window in the house had been shut tight, but the sound of rain could not be fully blocked out.
Because of the lowered temperature and heavy humidity, the fire in the hearth kept sputtering out, casting only a dim glow.
In the darkened interior, the faint but constant sound of rain pressed down heavily on the atmosphere.
“My son.”
Viscount Bakenin placed a thick stack of letters onto the desk. The top letter, likely soaked by rain, was wrinkled and warped.
“They’re from acquaintances. They’re all asking if we’ve incurred the god’s wrath.”
“……”
“We need to resolve this situation quickly.”
The man who usually spent his days reciting poetry and drinking in leisurely comfort was, for once, visibly anxious.
“There have been many families that collapsed after rumors spread that they had angered the gods.”
This was a crisis of a lifetime. Even when his failed ventures had endangered the family’s finances, the sense of danger hadn’t been this severe. Back then, there had been other options—now there were none.
If the rain didn’t stop, the name Lorenst would vanish into history.
Just then, Madam Emern came in, shuddering.
“Everywhere in this house is damp. It’s unbearable.”
She dropped onto the sofa and scowled deeply.
“Can’t something be done about this? My skin feels sticky—I’m going mad.”
An anxious former count and an irritated Madam Emern.
Deep lines formed between Hubert’s brows.
It was a headache-inducing situation.
As he pressed a hand to his throbbing head, Madam Emern asked bluntly,
“Is something wrong with Aris? I went into her room earlier, and she was just trembling.”
“You went into her room?”
At Hubert’s sharp gaze, Madam Emern flinched.
“Well, she wasn’t moving at all, so I wondered what she was doing.”
“I believe I told you not to enter Aris’s room.”
“I was frustrated. Do you think I’d do it for no reason?”
Madam Emern didn’t bother hiding her displeasure as she opened her fan and covered her face.
But frustration wasn’t limited to her. Everyone in the household—even the servants—couldn’t hide their anxiety.
A dark mood hung over the entire estate. Hubert’s expression remained rigid.
The rain that showed no sign of stopping after the ritual was threatening his throat—his family’s reputation.
A priest’s rampage.
Recalling what that meant, Hubert spoke stiffly.
“Aris has lost control of her power.”
Madam Emern swallowed hard.
“A priest’s power is a blessing from the gods. Are you saying she failed to use it properly?”
Hubert nodded.
“Then that means Aris really has incurred the god’s wrath!”
Madam Emern shrieked, and Hubert’s eyes sharpened.
“This is not the god’s wrath!”
“…….”
“She has simply lost control. Do not say such ignorant things elsewhere.”
Ignorant things.
Yet most people in the kingdom equated a priest’s rampage with divine wrath.
Even if the problem were resolved, the family’s reputation would never return to what it once was.
The thought made Hubert feel as if his head might burst.
“The temple will send someone. Until then, do everything you can to help Aris regain stability.”
“Oh—the temple, yes, the temple will help.”
Thinking that the temple would naturally help Aris, Madam Emern quickly calmed down.
But Hubert’s dark expression did not change.
He knew it.
Even if someone from the temple came, things wouldn’t improve. If anything, the situation was more likely to worsen.
Only the Central Temple could resolve a priest’s rampage.
Naturally so—they understood priests better than anyone.
Of course, the temple would take every possible measure to solve the problem. But if those failed—
‘The only option left is the execution of the rampaging priest.’
Taking the priest’s life would be the simplest solution.
Once the body was gone, the priest could no longer enjoy the god’s blessing.
Even Hubert himself believed that, if Riorza was to avoid being submerged, there was no other way.
Bearing responsibility for the flood damage or losing Aris—both were the worst possible outcomes.
Suddenly, Hubert noticed an empty seat and frowned.
“Where is Igrein?”
“Hmph. Why look for such a fool who doesn’t even know what matters?”
Madam Emern scoffed.
Not understanding, Hubert narrowed one eye.
“What happened?”
Three hours earlier.
Bang, bang, bang!
An elderly woman, caked in mud, pounded on the front gate of the Lorenst estate.
She didn’t stop until someone came out.
Creeeak.
The iron gate slowly opened, and a servant holding an umbrella peeked out.
“What is it?”
“Is the count inside?”
The servant looked her up and down. The old woman, lips purple from the cold, trembling violently from how soaked she was, looked like a drowned rat.
Suspicion crept into the servant’s eyes.
“What is this about?”
“Please, call the count for me.”
“Listen. No matter how generous our count may be, he’s not someone you can see just because you want to. It’s cold—go home!”
As the servant tried to shut the gate, he cried out in shock.
“What are you doing?!”
The old woman had desperately shoved her hand into the gap.
“Ugh!”
She swallowed her cry of pain as her hand was crushed, tears streaming down her face. But her desperate tears were quickly washed away by the heavy rain, and her pleas only irritated the servant further.
“Please help me, sir. Call the count. The house I’ve lived in all my life is about to be washed away! Inside, my son can barely move. I couldn’t do anything on my own, so I came here. I’ll repay this kindness however I can—please…”
Softened, the servant relayed the old woman’s story to Madam Emern, who was drinking warm cocoa in the first-floor hall.
The response was nothing but cold dismissal.
“Do you think I have the time to care about that? I already have a headache because of Aris! Just say something and send her away!”
“Yes, yes. Understood.”
Thinking he’d done something unnecessary, the servant bowed repeatedly.
Despite his apology, Madam Emern continued to scold him, saying he was only adding to her irritation.
Her voice carried all the way to the stairs.
“Just say something and send her away!”
I stopped on the staircase leading downstairs. Once I halted, I found I didn’t want to move at all.
From below came Madam Emern’s irritated voice.
“Talking nonsense.”
‘If I go down now, she’ll snap at me.’
Since the rain ritual, Madam Emern had treated me as if she wanted to tear me apart whenever she saw me.
I’d wanted a glass of warm milk. I’d have to send a maid instead. Turning away, I clicked my tongue—directed at the servant who had been scolded.
‘He should’ve pitched it as a heartwarming story.’
The count’s family was obsessed with reputation. If he’d said helping the woman would earn public admiration, Madam Emern might have thought twice.
‘Or maybe not. With the king about to scold them, she probably doesn’t care that far.’
Wasn’t this the same family that only performed charity when everything was already going well?
With their own necks on the line, there was no way they’d help others.
I was the same. All I felt was mockery toward Madam Emern and the Lorenst family.
I gave no thought to the old woman the servant had mentioned—until I looked outside.
As I started up the stairs again, my gaze drifted to the window. Raindrops slammed against the glass and streamed down.
Through the falling rain, I saw the old woman kneeling and crying.
Wrinkled skin. A face twisted in grief.
The sight stirred an old memory.
My father, leaving me behind at this estate as he approached death.
Ten-year-old me—awkward to say myself—wasn’t exactly childlike, having been through too much.
Naturally, I had no intention of abandoning my home and staying with the count’s family.
I stormed out, ready to ask my father if he’d lost his mind—then stopped.
A mournful sob pierced my ears.
My father, hiding behind the wall, unable to bring himself to step forward, was crying.
‘Why are you crying?’
I’d been full of reproach, yet somehow I ended up returning inside the cold iron gates of the estate.
It had been his best decision, in his own way. For me.
So I wanted to go along with it.
The old woman’s sobs for her son overlapped with my father’s crying in my ears.
‘Come to think of it, the reason that mother and son ended up like that… is Aris.’
The people of this estate were worrying about the family’s future. But that woman was struggling just to survive today.
That’s how the world works. Those who live well keep living well; those who don’t fall even further behind.
In times of disaster, that truth cuts even deeper.
I stopped and rested my hand on my waist.
‘Ha… this really brings back old memories.’
