In Your Vulgar Paradise - Chapter 11

Haha, the Pope’s laughter as he observed the meeting of the two, echoed.

“So, the reason this friend is visiting the Holy Empire, as I mentioned to Sister yesterday…..”

“Yes, Saint. I need you to marry me.”

The words were as arrogant and straightforward as a sharp blade that cut off the Pope’s words.

Surprised, Azniel unconsciously narrowed her eyes and scrutinized the man’s face. What caught her attention was his confident smile, seemingly expecting that the other party would not refuse.

‘Even a dimple in one cheek… quite sure.’

However, apart from hair and eye color, he looked completely different from the boy back then.

An aristocratic appearance that was excessively refined.

Broad shoulders accentuated by a double-buttoned suit. Even to Azniel, an outsider, the fabric seemed extraordinary, not to mention the cravat that was far from ordinary. Cufflinks, cravat pins, not a single one lacking in jewels, exuded an overwhelming aura of wealth.

However, despite the radiant noble appearance, he had a face so beautifully noble that it could surpass any angelic statue. The worldly glow seemed to be replaced by a kind of dignity.

“Um…”

“Yes.”

“Are you really sincere? To me…?”

“Yes. I am proposing to you, Azniel, the Saint of Dara.”

Following that, his hand extended towards Azniel, as if asking for a handshake. A hand much larger and firmer than when it was wet and trembling in the rain long ago.

“Ah, hahaha!”

A hearty laugh burst out from the observing Pope.

“As I mentioned, I only told her that I received a proposal from yesterday. That’s all there is to it.”

The Pope’s attitude toward Klaus Geshturn was somewhat informal, as if dealing with a well-known friend. Azniel, caught off guard by the Pope’s changed demeanor and the revelation of Antagon’s director’s identity, couldn’t help but be bewildered. She was unable to pay attention beyond that.

“That… Geshturn…”

“Baron Geshturn.”

“Yes, Baron, for what reason did you…?”

As a result, Azniel blurted out the question that had been circling in her mind hastily. Klaus Geshturn, who had seemed to be smiling wryly, quickly adopted a businesslike tone in response.

“You can think of it as a strategic marriage between the church and Barony Geshturn. Through this, I gain the following. First, shedding the image of Antagon as the adversary defying the divine providence and laws of God.”

“…”

As if her true intentions that she was going to confront the devil’s henchmen were exposed, Azniel’s eyes involuntarily lowered calmly.

“We are currently developing many new products. All of these may appear to someone as defying the laws of nature and God, and I no longer wish to disregard the controversy surrounding that. If the Saint is with me, who would dare to point fingers and accuse us of being apostates?”

Klaus’s smile drew a fine line. It was somewhat gentle, but Azniel couldn’t sense warmth in it.

“And the other thing is, well, for a self-made man like me, I believe having a wife is necessary. This is to publicly reject proposals that come my way.”

Whether it was the princess of Gilios proposing to him or various societies of the international alliance, everyone was racing to keep him settled in their countries… the content Azniel inferred from the girls’ chattering yesterday added credibility to his words.

“In return, I, under the name of Barony Geshturn, plan to provide financial sponsorship to the church every month.”

“That’s something Dara looked down on…”

“And, Saint, you…”

As if noticing Azniel’s weakened expression, Klaus Geshturn’s dark eyes turned toward her.

“You will become free.”

‘You will surely become free.’

Ah… A quiet sigh escaped Azniel’s lips.

Was the boy from back then comforting her for her sake, or did he just make some promise to himself? Or… did the situation just happen to align like this?

Azniel looked at the handsome man in front of her with trembling eyes. Klaus’s black eyes seemed to absorb all light, making it impossible to read the sincerity behind them.

Freedom, she had never imagined such a thing. Azniel had been content living her life, conveying Dara’s blessings.

‘That person is the new Saint?’

‘Ah, I never thought I would see those sacred golden eyes in my lifetime…’

‘Dara is still watching over us…’

Ever since the moment when the eyes that were once criticized as cat-like turned out to be the symbol of the Saint, and from the time when the hands that always shooed her away transformed into warmth, she decided to dedicate her life to the church.

‘But… am I only useful now to the church?’

It wasn’t that the Pope was deceived, nor was it a manipulation by the Antagon’s director. If it was indeed a conclusion to exchange the church’s stable finances with the church’s symbol. And if this calculation was made yesterday… The words afterwards would be nothing more than feeble resistance.

“If I leave, what will happen to the pilgrims of the sanctuary….”

“There is a solution for that too, so don’t worry.”

As if dismissing Azniel’s worries, the man clapped his hands firmly. The secretary, who had been there from who knows when, opened the briefcase he was holding and placed it on the table. Inside were small glass jars sealed with metal lids.