Chapter 6 Side Story: Victor, Lord of the Holy Light Temple

Early morning. The first ray of sunlight slipped through the gap in the carriage curtains and landed on Shirley’s face.

Victor had actually been awake for a while.

To be precise, he hadn’t slept at all.

He just lay on his side, propping his head up with one hand, staring at her face for a long, long time.

His mind was full of last night.

The wind by the lake.

Shirley’s tears.

That clumsy kiss of hers.

The holy robe scattered everywhere.

And finally, the way she curled up in his arms, too exhausted to speak, but her fingers still clung tightly to his clothes, refusing to let go.

He reached out, wanting to touch her face.

His fingertips hovered in the air, pausing for a long time, but in the end, he didn’t dare to lower them.

‘Is this even real?’

He still couldn’t believe it.

This girl chosen by the holy light, this girl about to become the Sheng Nu, had hugged him with all her strength last night, again and again telling him she liked Victor.

Him. Victor.

A bastard born to a nun who ran off with someone, raised in the garbage dumps of Ashstone Town.

That’s what he thought.

But she must have had her head burned out by the holy light.

Still, the corner of his mouth curled.

Just then, Shirley’s eyelashes fluttered.

She groggily opened her eyes and met Victor’s face, which was far too close.

The air froze for about two seconds.

Then last night’s memories came flooding back.

The grass.

The holy robe.

His golden hair brushing against her neck as it hung down.

She bit his shoulder and didn’t dare make a sound, while he kept saying sorry, over and over.

Shirley’s face turned bright red.

She covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled through her fingers.

“V-Victor!”

“Wh-when did you wake up?”

“Just now.”

Victor said.

The tips of his ears were red enough to bleed.

Shirley peeked at him through her fingers, watching his face try to stay calm but failing miserably—the redness was impossible to hide. Her heart pounded even faster.

“L-last night…”

She said quietly.

Victor’s body stiffened.

He sat up, lowered his head, letting his golden hair fall to cover his face.

It was quiet for several seconds.

Then suddenly he raised his right hand and clenched it into a fist.

“My fault. My bad. Sorry, Shirley.”

“I’ll hit myself once. Don’t be mad.”

His fist swung toward his own face with the force of the wind.

“Don’t!”

Shirley lunged forward and grabbed his arm with both hands.

The fist stopped right in front of his nose, less than an inch away.

The momentum was so strong that she was pulled along with it.

“Victor!”

“What are you doing!”

“Idiot, idiot, idiot!”

She pushed his hand down, her eyes reddening.

“Didn’t you hear a single thing I said yesterday!”

“I told you I like you!”

“Not the friend kind!”

“The kind that wants to be together forever!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Don’t hit yourself!”

She sniffled, her voice gradually softening.

“It’s just…”

“A little embarrassing.”

“Next time…”

“If you want to do something like that, give me a heads-up first, okay…”

Victor stared at her.

For a long time.

Then he nodded hard.

“Yeah, for sure.”

As if he had received some grand decree.

“I’ll definitely tell you in advance.”

“Pfft…”

Shirley couldn’t help laughing and punched him.

He didn’t dodge.

Looking at her eyes still glistening with tears, Victor felt a surge of tenderness he had never known before, soft beyond measure.

He reached out too, slowly pulling her into his arms.

Not like last night.

Very light.

Very slow.

As if holding something too fragile.

Shirley tilted her head and rested it in the hollow of his shoulder.

The carriage rattled on.

Neither of them said anything more.

At the Temple gates.

“Wow…”

Shirley looked up, her mouth forming a small O.

The Temple of the Holy Kingdom was ten times more extravagant than she had imagined.

The white stone pillars were terrifyingly tall, every one carved with runes she couldn’t understand.

A massive holy light cross hung from the dome, its radiance falling down, making it hard to even breathe loudly.

People in white robes came and went across the square, their steps slow and steady, as if even the rhythm of walking was dictated by the holy light.

Shirley stood before the main entrance, her fingers unconsciously gripping her skirt.

“So… impressive!”

Just then, a voice came from the top of the steps.

A tone neither warm nor cold.

“Miss Shirley.”

A tall, thin man stood there, his silver-white holy robe spotless, a Temple emblem pinned to his collar.

The Initiator.

He glanced at the scar on Shirley’s face.

Then he saw Victor behind Shirley.

To be precise, Victor’s clothes.

The Initiator’s gaze paused for a second on that dark blue coarse cloth outfit.

Then he curled his lip.

“The attendant waits outside.”

His tone was cold.

He didn’t even look at Victor a second time.

Shirley’s face reddened instantly.

“He’s not an attendant!”

“He’s my—”

Victor reached out and pressed a hand on her shoulder.

“Shirley.”

His voice was very soft, meant only for her.

“Just got here, don’t start a fight.”

“But!”

“You go in. I’ll wait for you here.”

“But…”

“If something comes up, tell me.”

He looked into her eyes.

“No matter what, okay?”

Shirley bit her lip and stared at him for several seconds.

Victor stood at the bottom of the steps, wearing that dark blue outfit she had picked out for so long, his golden hair ruffled by the wind.

He waved at her, smiling easily.

Shirley followed the Initiator through the door.

After a few steps, she turned back.

Victor was still standing there.

She nodded firmly.

Then she strode inside.

‘When I get back, I have to tell Victor not to stop me again.’

‘Whoever dares to look at you like that again, I’ll…’

The square outside the Temple was crowded with people.

Victor found an out-of-the-way corner, leaned against a stone pillar, and kept his eyes fixed on the door Shirley had entered.

The door was so tall.

Easily three people stacked on top of each other, carved with a relief of the God of holy light’s descent.

He stood outside, like a speck of dust blown onto the steps.

Nobles passed by, glancing at him twice.

Men looked at him with undisguised contempt in their eyes.

Not at him as a person.

At his clothes.

He was all too familiar with that look.

The nuns of Ashstone Town looked at him like that.

The Dean of the Monastery looked at him like that.

They weren’t looking at him.

They were looking at the mother who ran off with someone.

The father who drank himself to death in a ditch.

Victor turned his head away, refusing to meet their eyes.

He was used to it.

But a few young noblewomen passing by paused.

“Hey, look over there!”

“The one with the golden hair?”

“He’s really good-looking!”

“Too bad—those clothes make it obvious he’s lowborn.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

They huddled together, whispering behind their fans, sneaking a few more glances before finally walking off.

Victor didn’t notice them at all.

He only watched that door.

The sun moved from directly overhead to the west, casting long shadows.

He just stood there.

Didn’t sit.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even change his posture.

His mind was full of Shirley.

What had she encountered in there?

Was anyone giving her a hard time?

Was anyone laughing at the scar on her face?

Was anyone looking at her with those disgusting eyes?

His fist clenched in his sleeve.

Then loosened.

‘Wait for her to come out.’

He said to himself.

‘Ask her when she does.’

‘If she’s been wronged even a little…’

He looked up at that huge door.

‘I’ll take her away.’

‘Sheng Nu, Temple—none of it matters.’

He didn’t say it out loud.

But it settled in his heart.

No one is allowed to touch her.

She was the only light in his world.