When the Female Lead Went Off-Script, the Main Male Lead Became the Tyrant's Empress - Chapter 9.2
“Do you intend to keep prattling on like that?”
Haster sneered with a smile as cold as a winter wind.
“If you wish to announce to the entire nation that, despite being the Crown Prince, you lacked even the ability to coax a child and let the opportunity slip away, you should speak more loudly.”
At the scathing attack, Arden’s reproach abruptly stopped.
‘He’s finally quiet.’
If Arden intended to refuse to believe him even if he told the truth, it was better to let him believe whatever he wanted and make him shut his mouth.
If someone asked Haster whether he had truly acted without expecting any benefit, he couldn’t answer, ‘Yes.’
Who would want a transaction that offered them nothing?
However, the deciding reason he had accepted Clary as his goddaughter had been pure goodwill.
She had been extraordinary from their very first meeting.
Her very existence had been a shock.
Not only was she the only child of his cousin who had died long ago, but every single thing Clary had endured was horrifying.
Unlike the distant misfortunes that flowed monotonously like plain water from someone else’s mouth, the tragedy his niece had suffered was vivid enough to possess texture.
Clary expressed her emotions without hesitation.
Her raw, unaffected nature was one thing, but because she possessed no shell with which to conceal it, she was equally vulnerable.
She was brave and confident, but just as easily broken.
Many people looked upon such a girl with sinister eyes.
A young, beautiful, unmarried noble orphan without any true protector.
That was Clary.
The Emperor was powerful.
But he was old.
The Crown Prince would care for his niece, but he wouldn’t give her the same degree of interest and affection as the Emperor did.
Everyone knew that.
There were many who wished for the fence surrounding her to collapse into dust as soon as possible.
Therefore, Haster, who was younger and stronger than the Emperor, had no choice but to become her protector.
The sermon began.
Watching the woman on the platform preach while quoting passages from scripture, Haster murmured as though speaking to himself.
“The court preacher has changed.”
As recently as the previous week, the person standing on the platform had been a graying middle-aged man.
‘Was his name Purgat?’
Throughout the imperial tour, the man had remained glued to the Emperor’s side and pompously droned on like a teacher giving a lesson, so Haster remembered him despite having no desire to.
He had even preached specifically to Haster, who came from a region where battles were frequent, saying that one’s sins would return to them, that divine wrath would descend in ways beyond human understanding, and that one should gain wisdom by turning away from evil.
Whenever Haster so much as glanced at him, he would clear his throat and hurriedly flee, but the man had still been exceptionally persistent.
“I heard he retired because of poor health and moved to the countryside.”
Whether his mood had quickly improved or had never been offended in the first place, Arden responded in his usual tone.
“The grief of losing the child he cherished must have been great. How pitiful.”
Despite the words, his voice contained not the slightest trace of sympathy.
The court preacher’s son had died at the hunting grounds.
Because of the afternoon shower, the road they had traveled without issue that morning had become muddy and slippery.
Morris Purgat had carelessly walked along the rain-weakened path and fallen from a cliff.
Unfortunately, the place where he fell was thick with bushes and trees, so his body wasn’t discovered until three days later.
It was said that the corpse was a gruesome sight, as crows had pecked out both of his eyes before it was found.
“He shouldn’t have let his eyes wander so carelessly.”
Haster found the deep contempt in Arden’s quiet voice strange, but he didn’t ask.
He merely assumed that something he didn’t know about had happened and let the matter pass.
When the court preacher’s sermon ended, the High Priest who had entered the sanctuary where the baptism would be performed recited a blessing.
Clary, dressed in white baptismal robes, looked like an angel descended upon the earth.
In reality, she was a Maltese who, when enraged, wouldn’t stop at tearing down the wallpaper and flooring, but would boldly reduce even the door itself to rags.
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