In Your Vulgar Paradise - Chapter 10
Shortly after, without any procedures, the gate swung open wide. The emblem of Antagon itself, mounted on the front of the magic carriage, served as identification.
Without pausing for even a moment, the magic carriage entered the Holy Empire, following the gestures of the priests who seemed to be guiding it.
Despite their gestures pointing towards the direction of the Papal Palace, their gazes were captivated by the vehicle that raced without making any noise—a sight they had only heard of. Some couldn’t hide their resentment against the apostate that brought about the decline of the Church.
The hateful glares directed at the apostates responsible for the Church’s downfall.
Amidst all this attention, Klaus smirked and took out his spectacles from his pocket. As he put on the metal-framed glasses, his enchanting beauty was partially concealed, adding an air of trustworthiness befitting a researcher.
‘So, I’ve come back like this…’
The man who descended in front of the Papal Palace adjusted his attire and looked up at the building before him. The exterior adorned with various statues everywhere suggested an opulent and beautiful grandeur.
‘…Was it this small?’
The man, with a confident smile that he didn’t bother to conceal, ascended the stairs leading to the entrance.
It was the first visit of Klaus Geshturn, the director of Antagon, God’s adversary.
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In front of the Pope’s office. Azniel stood before the door, dressed in the attire of a saint. She took a moment to catch her breath.
Since last night, she couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling. The sudden closure of the sanctuary, preventing the pilgrims from visiting, and the uncomfortable situation of having them sit in that dire place—all of it weighed on her. Above all…
‘Why on earth does that apostate want to marry me? Could it be…?’
After nearly spending the night in contemplation and deliberation, Azniel came to the conclusion that the director of Antagon had some other intentions. Or perhaps the Pope, no matter how shrewd he might be, couldn’t catch up with a worldly businessman.
Someone who, despite the obscurity of his origin and background, garnered popularity surpassing any royalty in the international alliance. An individual who developed something like the potion that advanced civilization and her, whose presence were fading away.
It was perplexing, full of uncertainties, but there was no room for choice.
“Your Holiness, Sister Azniel is here.”
As the door opened, a space boasting even more luxury than yesterday’s, which was already extravagant, appeared. The particularly high-ceilinged room had all its windows adorned with stained glass, creating a mysterious atmosphere with iridescent reflections on sunny days like today.
And there, in the center of it all, in front of the reception table. Azniel made every effort not to glance towards the guests, directing her greetings solely towards the throne where the Pope sat.
“Your Holiness, I greet you. Blessings to the staff of Dara.”
“Oh, Sister Azniel. Please come this way.”
As Azniel’s refined greeting concluded, the Pope chuckled heartily and gestured to the empty seat beside him.
…Did he just laugh?
‘Is he in a good mood…?’
Come to think of it, from the moment she waited outside, the delightful laughter of the Pope seemed to subtly echo.
While she doesn’t know about other inventions, he opposed the blessing of Dara with just the magic potion. The Pope would not be pleased with the one who invented something that outrageous. Moreover, trying to atone for it by repaying with money is rather base…
They said his beauty was extraordinary, as if even the Pope himself was enchanted by some extraordinary charm.
A strong aversion towards the person on the other side welled up in her. She pledged not to be swayed until the end. So with her gaze lowered, Azniel moved towards the seat indicated by the Pope.
“Nice to meet you, Saint.”
As she reached her place and stood, the moment she raised her eyes to the greetings of the person who got up with her…
‘…Oh.’
Azniel’s mind turned completely blank as soon as she confirmed the face of the man sitting across from her.
A straight nose and jawline, distinctive facial structure. Black eyes shining like onyx beyond the metal frame of the glasses. Brilliant golden hair shining as if melted by the midday sunlight.
He might be a handsome man, as the novice girls had been clamoring about for a while… but what captivated Azniel’s gaze was not that beauty.
‘Thank you, Saint….’
His roughened cheeks were now filled with flesh, and his hair, once dull and lifeless, now looked sleek and combed back with plenty of hair oil and he even wore glasses. Yet, Azniel could recognize him at a glance.
The boy who she occasionally healed in the temple’s garden.
‘Nice to….meet you? Is it really our first meeting? Did he lose his memory? Or…’
As if anticipating Azniel’s confusion, the man in front of her raised a corner of his mouth in a refined smile. His dimples appeared beside that side of his lips.
“It’s an honor to meet you. I am Klaus Geshturn, representing Antagon Company.”
“Kl, aus…”
The name of the boy she didn’t even know at that time rolled off her tongue with some difficulty.
“Well, let’s sit down and talk slowly.”
The Pope sat down, gesturing for the two young individuals in front of him to do the same.
Klaus Geshturn smiled and reached out, offering Azniel a seat. Azniel, still captivated by him, hesitated before finally taking her seat. In every gesture of Klaus Geshturn as he sat down alongside Azniel, there was grace and elegance overflowing.
