The Pious Priest's Sinful Collection - Chapter 12
‘So these are the documents compiled since the novices first started arriving.’
Daphne swallowed a sigh, unsure if she’d be able to get through even half by the deadline. But she was not surprised. Over the past twenty years, the convent had been maintained on a shoestring budget.
‘No wonder Bishop Isabella was always clutching her head.’
Daphne recalled the late nights, the Bishop hunched over her ledgers, forehead creased in silent battle. Only now did she fully grasp the burden Isabella had borne — all to care for the young novices under her charge, stretching every coin to the breaking point.
‘How did she even manage with this paltry amount of money? There were eight of us in the inner sanctuary, and all we got was barely enough for a commoner family to scrape by…’
The thought slipped through Daphne’s mind as she flipped through the ledgers, her disbelief mounting.
It was a miracle they hadn’t starved.
Clicking her tongue in awe, Daphne continued scanning the pages until curiosity tugged at her. She wanted to know how the convent had been run before the prophecy of the Three Stars. She was almost certain she’d seen a relevant title in the bookshelf earlier.
She rose from her chair, careful not to disturb the papers. In the hush of the office, broken only by the scratch of a quill and the faint rustle of parchment, the scrape of her chair was thunderous.
Drk—
Daphne froze. She glanced sideways at Theodore, heart in her throat.
Thankfully, he hadn’t stirred. His attention remained fixed on his work, face composed in that unnervingly serene way of his.
‘Good grief… Sound really carries in here. I need to be more careful.’
She tiptoed to the shelves and began scanning the spines. It didn’t take long to find a couple of volumes she’d been looking for. Setting them aside, she began flipping through the pages until her gaze landed on a book wedged high up.《The Practice of Graceful Prayer (1)》
‘That one probably has the details I need.’
She was about to place the other books on the floor when she noticed the lack of a rug — just cold, bare stone. Not wanting to damage the spines, she kept them cradled in one arm and reached up with the other. The old volume was just barely within reach, its worn binding brushing her fingertips. A little more, and she might be able to—
‘Almost, just a little more…’
Her breath hitched. She rose onto her tiptoes, arm trembling, lips pressing into a tight line as her muscles strained.
“Ack…?!”
Pain knifed through her calf. A muscle seized violently, and a groan escaped before she could stop it. Her legs gave out.
“─Careful.”
An arm wrapped around her waist before she hit the floor, catching her with unnerving precision. The books stayed safely in her grasp, held steady only because of the strength anchoring her body — heat radiating from behind, firm and unyielding.
Theodore’s arm was around her waist, close and protective.
“…Th-thank you.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Theodore let go of Daphne’s waist. Yet instead of stepping back, he remained exactly where he was. A strange awareness crept up her spine. She could still feel him looming close.
Why hasn’t he moved away?
Daphne turned her shoulder, attempting to move away from the bookcase. That was when his body leaned forward.
“……!”
Her eyes widened in shock. Trapped between the bookshelf and his broad unyielding chest, she stiffened. Did the Cardinal just cage me in with his body?
She barely had time to register the absurdity of it when his arm rose past her shoulder — the same one that had caught her earlier — and reached toward the highest shelf.
Theodore pulled out a book she hadn’t even noticed.
“《The Practice of Graceful Prayer》is more about rituals, but this one might be more helpful.”
He held out 《The Ascetic’s Frugal Life》.
“Ah…”
Daphne’s face flushed crimson.
He was trying to help. That’s all. And I was standing here thinking he was trying to trap me, like some scandalous…
The embarrassment was unbearable. She bowed her head quickly, accepting the book with both hands as if it might cover her face.
“Thank you, Your Eminence. As you say, this one seems more…”
More appropriate, more relevant — she was about to finish the sentence when something stopped her breath cold.
Her eyes darted downward and froze.
‘What… what is that…?’
A thick, unmistakable shape pressed taut beneath the dark fabric of the Cardinal’s cassock, as thick as her forearm. The outline was bold enough to leave no room for misinterpretation.
‘He’s aroused? Right in front of me?’
Daphne was so stunned that she froze in place.
