Chapter 150: Fairy Cavern

“You said the Holy Throne is looking for me?”

Millis asked, frowning.

She hadn’t walked far before being called by Rosetta, who had followed her inside.

“That’s right.”

Millis, ever sharp, glanced around and then at Roman, sensing that something was off.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

Roman smiled, reassuringly patting the back of Millis’s hand.

“Then… be careful.”

As she spoke, Millis squeezed Roman’s hand and looked around.

“Those women are nothing good. Whatever they say, just listen and ignore it.”

As she said this, Millis suddenly raised her voice.

The sound of conversation in the room instantly quieted, and the gazes that had been directed at them shifted away.

After speaking, Millis left with Rosetta, leaving Roman standing alone.

It was clear Millis’s words held weight—Roman now felt at peace, free from troublesome socializing.

Looking around, Roman realized the Papal Palace’s architecture was steeped in Baroque style, with murals and statues everywhere.

The strong colors and elliptical spaces made every building feel like stepping into a story.

Staring at the endless murals, Roman became absorbed in the atmosphere.

One mural depicted the epic of a Knight, following the Goddess from the beginning of battle to the end, ultimately following the Goddess into the afterlife, fading away without a trace.

Roman looked up at the dome, where the scene of a Knight shattering the firmament was painted.

He couldn’t help but be captivated.

“Do you know the Blue Knight?”

A strange voice sounded from the side.

“Hm?”

Roman turned around, only then noticing a woman standing behind him.

He was stunned for a moment.

She was a silver-haired, purple-eyed woman, mature and stunning, holding a folding fan in her hand.

Every movement carried a seductive allure.

But it wasn’t her beauty that left him speechless.

No matter how beautiful a woman was, it was all the same to him.

He looked in the mirror every day, after all.

He was shocked because the woman wore a qipao with a distinctly Eastern flair—fitted and gorgeous, yet not gaudy.

How could there be Chinese-style clothing in this world?

Roman was baffled.

She was clearly skilled at using her advantages and was bold.

That was Roman’s first impression.

Compared to a typical evening dress, a qipao’s charm lay in how it accentuated a slender, beautiful leg—making it even more alluring.

That was using one’s advantages.

As for why she was bold, it was because she’d slashed the side slit of her qipao from calf to thigh.

Moreover…

Roman stared for a moment and realized she wasn’t wearing any underlayers inside—the tempting, snowy curve of her hip would flash in and out of view.

While his gaze was fixed there, a folding fan suddenly tapped lightly on his nose.

“Your Highness, what are you looking at?”

The woman asked, half-smiling.

“Sorry.”

Now thoroughly embarrassed, Roman began fidgeting with his hands, desperate to find an excuse to leave.

What Roman didn’t know was that the woman was already staring at him, entranced.

Similar. So similar…

She trembled slightly, gripping her fan.

Rosalind instinctively flicked her fan, fanning herself and suppressing her racing heart—especially the flower in her right eye.

She frowned in silence.

So this is Fara’s Curse?

Such blasphemous thoughts were best kept in her heart, lest she be unable to bear the consequences.

“Rosa, what are you saying to His Highness?”

A voice called from the side.

Roman and Rosalind looked over.

At once, Roman felt overwhelmed.

White shoulders, delicate swan necks, and even daring women in low-cut gowns, their chests and deep valleys in plain sight—everywhere he looked.

Roman didn’t know where to rest his eyes.

Anywhere he looked felt sinful.

“Greetings, Your Highness.”

A woman approached, smiling, and bowed respectfully to Roman.

Laughter and playful banter filled the air.

Someone teased, “What kind of act is this?”

“Can’t you see I’m paying respects to His Highness?”

The woman pouted.

“Paying respects? Tsk tsk…”

Anyone able to attend this banquet was at least a Bishop or higher in the church.

This particular woman was a well-known Cardinal, someone with voting rights equal to the Pope in church matters—a person of immense power.

Her deferential attitude seemed suspicious, no matter how you looked at it.

Roman felt like he’d fallen into a den of fairies, himself a Tang Monk smeared in honey, surrounded by eager female demons, each ready to claim a piece of him.

Those gazes on him were unsettling.

‘Swarm of bees and butterflies’ was the only apt description.

He remembered what Millis had said.

Were these women always so pure and ascetic, or had they overdone it?

Now, with a rare grand banquet and an attractive young man to feast their eyes on, they couldn’t help themselves.

Clearly, mere feasting their eyes wasn’t enough.

Some of the bolder women had already surrounded him and started chatting.

He recalled what Millis had told him—tonight was essentially a dance.

His head began to spin, and the faces around him blurred, turning into the women from his previous life—those who seemed gentle on the surface but were anything but.

Just like before—dazzling, graceful, yet the malice beneath their smiles could be felt from meters away.

“Get lost.”

He suddenly whispered uncontrollably.

“Ah…”

The laughter grew subdued.

The women looked bewildered, wondering why the boy suddenly seemed unwell.

Rosalind watched, hiding her face behind her fan, thinking he was adorable.

At the same time, she moved aside, annoyed.

These idiots really know how to ruin things.

Now even her favorability had dropped by association.

In her mind, she couldn’t help but curse these women—a bunch of **, truly flirtatious when they wanted to be, and even better at pretending than she was.

Now, with their masks off, this was their true face.

Suddenly, she smiled and stepped forward.

“Look at how angry you’ve made His Highness. Did you all forget what the Holy Throne said this morning, you Mother Foxes?”

With that, the playful mood evaporated.

What could have been harmless teasing turned cold, and the women had no choice but to disperse.

As the swarm of butterflies faded, Roman softly thanked Rosalind.

“You’re too kind.”

Rosalind bowed slightly.

Just like your mother—gentle yet strong, simple and easy to deceive.

She thought to herself.

For a boy, being too smart was a disadvantage.

A bit of foolishness was actually better.

Thinking this, Rosalind’s tongue slid over her lips beneath her folding fan.

Good night~ Four chapters done