The royal palace’s corridors were suffocatingly quiet, but beneath the surface, the air vibrated with the frantic energy of an active imperial investigation. Guards stood at rigid attention at every intersecting hallway, their heavy silver armor gleaming beneath the sunlight, while servants hurried past in hushed whispers.
Walking through the heart of this tension was Philia.
To any passing noble or guard, he looked the picture of calm, a beacon of pure comfort in the wake of a horrific royal tragedy.
Inside, however, Philia was entirely consumed by a rage.
He was deeply displeased. He had just come from Iryna’s chamber, hoping to gather a shred of useful information, but he had walked away entirely empty-handed. The Northern faction was still walking around freely, and Iryna was inexplicably alive and recovering.
But what infuriated Philia the most was Yerel’s behavior.
Ever since their incredibly brief, jarring encounter the night before, the prince had been completely dazed. When Philia had tried to approach him earlier to offer his soothing presence and comfort him through the stress of the investigation, Yerel had barely even looked at him.
His eyes had taken on that faraway look again, before he had coldly dismissed Philia from the room altogether. To be pushed away so abruptly by his own fiancé, especially when Philia was supposed to be his ultimate source of solace, felt like a sharp slap to the face.
Philia’s fingers clenched into a tight fist. He simply could not tolerate being ignored, least of all by the man who was supposed to secure his place at the very heart of the empire.
Lost in his thoughts, Philia rounded a wide marble corner, his eyes sweeping the hallway ahead. The central gallery’s door came into view, and stepping out from them was an elder man dressed in elaborate, flowing ceremonial robes adorned with the highest insignia of the divine order.
It was the High Priest.
Philia’s sharp eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before his mask instantly locked back into place. He slowed his pace, inclining his head gracefully as he closed the distance between them.
"May the light bless your path, Your Holiness," Philia greeted him, his voice dropping into a melodious, perfectly polite register that radiated utmost respect.
The High Priest stopped, turning his face toward the young man. Despite the immense exhaustion clearly weighing on his old shoulders from the previous night’s chaotic events, a warm, genuine smile lit up his eyes the moment he recognized Philia.
"Ah, Lord Philia," the High Priest voiced gently, offering a polite, paternal nod of his head. "It is a pleasure to finally cross paths with you. You must be the Crown Prince’s fiancé, correct?"
Philia nodded modestly, keeping his hands folded neatly within his sleeves. "I am, Your Holiness. It is a true honor to meet the pillar of our holy order."
The High Priest let out a soft, melancholic sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly as he looked down the quiet corridor. "The honor is mine, dear child. Though, it is truly a shame that our very first meeting must take place under such dire, tragic circumstances. The palace is in a state of deep unrest."
"Indeed, it is a heavy time for the empire," Philia responded, his face melting into an expression of deep, sorrowful sympathy. "The crown prince has been entirely beside himself with worry over Princess Iryna’s condition. Which is why I must extend my deepest, most profound gratitude to you on behalf of the royal family." Philia took a half-step closer, his eyes searching the old man’s face with an intense, calculated curiosity. "The rumors of your miraculous healing last night have filled the palace. To completely purge such a horrific poison... your divine ability is truly unmatched, Your Holiness."
The High Priest blinked, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he lowered his gaze. He gently shook his head, raising a frail hand to wave off the grand praise.
"Oh, you flatter this old servant far too much, Lord Philia," the High Priest replied, his tone entirely devoid of arrogance or deceit. "I merely did what any servant of the divine must do when a life is hanging in the balance. It was entirely God’s will that the princess woke up. As a servant, one simply does what they need to do to help people in their darkest hours. The glory belongs solely to the heavens, not to my fragile hands."
Philia’s smile remained perfectly fixed on his face, but internally, his mind was racing. He searched the High Priest’s expressions, looking for any sign of a lie, any tremor of guilt or hidden pride. But there was absolutely nothing.
The old man was entirely sincere. He genuinely believed it was a miracle from the heavens.
Desperate to find any information, Philia pressed further, keeping his tone light and inquisitively humble. "You are far too modest, Your Holiness. I must confess, I heard brief fragments about the nature of the poison from Prince Yerel earlier, but I just couldn’t quite understand. Did anything stand out to you during the purification?"
The High Priest gave a slow nod, his thoughts drifting back to the chaos of the night before.
"Ah, the Crown Prince has right to be deeply concerned," the High Priest voiced, his expression turning grave. "To be completely honest with you, Lord Philia, I have never encountered anything quite like it. The poison itself is unlike any ordinary poison. It has been infused with dark mana so thoroughly that the two have become inseparable. That corruption has rooted itself within Lady Iryna’s life force, clinging to it as though it has always belonged there."
The High Priest patted Philia’s shoulder with a warm, comforting hand. "But there’s no need to worry about it, Lord Philia. Everything is fine now. Lady Iryna is safe, and the imperial guards are doing everything they can to uncover the truth. I must return to the sanctuary to offer prayers for her continued recovery. May the light watch over you."
"And over you, Your Holiness," Philia murmured, bowing deeply from the waist with absolute grace.
He stood perfectly still, watching with a serene smile as the High Priest’s robed figure slowly walked down the long corridor, his footsteps fading into the distance.
The moment the old man was entirely out of sight, the silence returned.
Slowly, the gentle, saintly mask on Philia’s face completely shattered. The warm smile dropped instantly. His dark eyes narrowed as he stared down the empty corridor.
"Inseparable, huh?"