In Your Vulgar Paradise - Chapter 7
Above all, the identity of the other party was more bewildering.
What was Antagon Trading Company? About ten years ago, it had emerged like a comet, completely overturning life on the continent.
The director was a figure at the pinnacle. He had pioneered the magical engineering industry by researching the uses of luminescence and thermal functions in magic stones. Before that, magic tools were limited to little more than magic lamps. But he advanced the field and was hailed as a pioneer, elevating the continent’s civilization to a new dimension.
A man who advanced human progress beyond what God allowed, and a saint who barely represented God’s will.
It seemed unlikely for them to be associated in any way…
“That, Your Holiness…”
“Really, to think these heretical ideas would come from those apostates…”
The Pope’s smooth face twisted in anger. Once a youthful and radiant golden blonde, it had turned into the pale countenance of a middle-aged man. The irises, shining with the same brilliance as the divine power he used to possess, were filled with misery and torment.
“Sister, really… Since we are the only ones here, I’ll talk about such things. I wonder if God is testing us.”
“Your Holiness…”
“Why has such a thing happened in my reign…”
A face that might have belonged to a once handsome man contorted in despair. The wrinkles that followed his nose and gaze deepened even further.
“When you appeared in the Holy Empire, it truly felt like we were saved by Dara. Moreover, thanks to your abilities, our influence spread widely in the international alliance. How glorious it was.”
“…”
“But now, it seems we are receiving punishment for recklessly celebrating back then. Of all things…”
Azniel’s gathered hands tightened even more.
“Who could have known that the abilities of a saint like you were achieved so easily by humans?”
The Pope’s face, as if choking back sobs, carried only an appeal. A plea against a powerless saint, whose abilities were easily surpassed by human accomplishments.
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“How pathetic. To think a fool who ripped open the stomach of a goose laying golden eggs is holding the reins of power on the continent…”
Gilios’s vibrant capital, Lafein, the headquarters of Antagon Trading Company. At the summit of the most luxurious castle in the continent, where the capital of the international alliance is located, is the office of the director of Antagon Trading Company.
Chief Secretary Ian Garrison shook his head, presenting a letter received from the Holy Empire.
“If only it didn’t have their seal, I would have thought this was the response of a mad dog wagging its tail at anyone.”
At the secretary’s sharp words, the owner of the office turned towards him with a sly smile. The features of the man with golden hair, meticulously combed to remain undisturbed until late at night, were not overshadowed by the splendor of the night view.
Klaus Geshturn.
“You haven’t forgotten who that Pope is, right?”
“Ah, my apologies.”
“Well, I agree with the expression about ripping open the stomach of a goose laying golden eggs.”
The message starts with the message that he was happy to finally hear the news, and that he thought he would be a blessing….. There were also long words of unconditional goodwill. It even appears to be an appeal to the creditor who holds the leash.
‘Holding the purse strings makes quite a difference on this side.’
The man chuckled briefly and settled into the chair.
The Holy Empire. The Holy Empire…
‘It’s coming back to this.’
At the end of the long years, he found himself in a position to suppress the one who had suppressed him.
The only place to escape was there, it was annoying as it was full of very bad memories.
For example, the golden eyes that used to cry while probing his wounds…
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‘I’m truly sorry. Please consider that this is all for the temple and Dara, and think about it positively.’
As Azniel left the palace, she suddenly looked up at the sky. The sky, already dyed with night, was filled with twinkling stars.
‘Marriage…’
The conversation she had just had in the Pope’s office didn’t make much sense no matter how much she thought about it.
‘My will has nothing to do with it…’
Could a saint who had almost always obeyed the Church throughout her life really ever spoke out with disobedience? The Pope knew this well. His tearful plea was probably to alleviate Azniel’s own sense of debt.
Of course, such impure thoughts only briefly grazed Azniel’s mind. Nonetheless, when the Pope called Azniel, he had already completed his calculations.
Even Azniel herself, upon reflection, realized that this was a deal that made sense. Giving away the saint, whose usefulness had become uncertain, in exchange for alleviating future financial worries.
While she didn’t know the exact details of the deal, it was clear that the donation would be more than ample compared to the meager funds collected from the pilgrims.
She had dedicated her entire life to the Church. For nearly three years, she had sacrificed her daily life to sustain the Church without any personal time. But what she received in return was…
‘Perhaps it’s good for the Church as long as the finances stabilize. Whether I’m here or not…’
Somehow, she felt hungry. During the consecrations at the sanctuary, she didn’t even realize she was hungry despite fasting all day. Having a meal provided by the novices at the dormitory after finishing her duties was just to replenish energy for the next day.
