At that very moment, Callius was searching desperately for records related to curses in his mother Ilya's prayer room.
He was poring over a small notebook containing her personal notes—descriptions of whom she had prayed for and what she had prayed for.
Just everyday stories...
He sighed and closed his eyes tightly in frustration.
Sometimes people would come to his mother seeking to have curses lifted.
These were individuals who had been used by sorcerers or suffered their retaliation. The bodies of such people often bore traces of all kinds of terrible curses.
A curse that causes flesh to rot and die. A curse that prevents eating. A curse that steals sight forever. A curse that makes bearing children impossible.
Most of a sorcerer's power was used to harm others.
Conversely, most of Ilya's power had been used to bring peace to others.
Callius had often witnessed his mother nullify curses—no matter how powerful or vicious they were.
Most cures for curses and illnesses were achieved by borrowing the power of the Holy Grail during the main worship services.
However, when a patient appeared in critical condition, Callius had seen Ilya save their life with her own power alone—without resorting to the relic.
Of course, treatment performed without relics was only emergency aid. But right now, emergency aid was exactly what Callius desperately needed to find.
Even if I figure out the method, it's still unknown whether I can succeed with my own strength alone.
Although the blood of the Holy Saint flowed through Callius's veins, it was so diluted that he had never once thought of using it to help others.
But the desperate desire to grasp at any straw—no matter how thin—drove him forward.
Callius sat in his mother's chair, pressing his temples as he read through her records again.
He'd already gone through all the official records without finding anything about Chloe's specific curse. Now he was digging through even the private notes.
Then, suddenly, his gaze fell upon a small, low table placed in one corner of the prayer room.
"..."
He stared at the table for a long moment, then approached and stroked its corner.
There was an empty space on the table's surface—as if something precious had once been placed there.
It was the place where the Holy Grail had been kept.
If only we still had the Holy Grail, we could break Chloe's curse...
The Holy Grail—a precious relic said to have been bestowed upon Ronheim by the gods themselves.
It had kept the people of Ronheim safe when a terrible plague swept across the continent. It had cured the sick and given great strength to warriors, enabling them to win battles. It had protected Ronheim from all kinds of evil.
Ronheim had been protected by the power of the Holy Grail.
However, the existence of the Grail had been made known to the world by travelers who learned of it. From that moment on, Ronheim had been forced to fight constantly to protect the sacred relic.
"The Holy Grail that grants the power of immortality lies in Ronheim."
Those who believed this rumor continued to attack Ronheim relentlessly.
And in the end, Ronheim lost the Holy Grail.
Callius ran his hand over the stone slab on which the Holy Grail had once rested.
The circular marks left by the chalice's base still remained faintly visible on the stone.
"...Hmm?"
Callius suddenly felt a rough texture beneath his fingertips.
"What's this?"
At first glance, it wasn't easily visible—but there seemed to be letters engraved on the stone slab.
Callius lifted the slab carefully and blew away the dust that had accumulated on its surface.
The stone tablet was covered in a thick layer of dust—perhaps because no one had entered the prayer room in so long.
He wiped it clean with his sleeve and held it up to the sunlight streaming through the small window. Only then could he make out the faint letters.
Ancient script...
It was written in an old nomadic language that was no longer in use.
Ilya had taught the young Callius this language—one that almost no one learned anymore.
"This letter is pronounced reus. It means 'creator.' This one is phlyzium—it means 'prayer.' Interestingly, phlyzium also means 'sacrifice.' You see, prayer is sacrifice."
Callius remembered grumbling to his mother as she patiently taught him the meaning and pronunciation of each archaic letter.
"Why should I learn these old, useless characters that nobody uses anymore?"
What had his mother said in response?
"These letters will give you the strength to protect those you love in the future. When you wander lost, these words will guide you on the right path."
"But if I just hold Mother's hand tightly while walking, I won't get lost at all!"
"There may come a day when I can no longer hold your hand. Even when I'm gone, these words will be engraved in your heart—guiding you and Ronheim. Forever."
At the time, young Callius had no idea how those strange letters could possibly guide him.
Even now, his mother's words were difficult and incomprehensible. How much more confusing must they have been to a child?
But he had listened, watched, and memorized what his mother taught him.
Those ancient letters had been hidden throughout Ronheim Castle—behind the cornerstone of walls, carved into decorative stones in the chapel, tucked into alcoves and archways.
Ilya had taught the script not only to Callius but to others as well. However, most people didn't remember unused characters for very long. They forgot what she had told them.
But Ilya had persistently taught her son the ancient script. She had made him wander the castle once every day, reading the hidden letters aloud.
In the end, the old letters had been engraved so deeply in Callius's mind that he could never forget them.
So even now, he could read the worn letters carved on the stone tablet without difficulty.
The letters carved into the stone were so old and worn that they appeared extremely faint.
Callius squinted, trying to decipher the eroded text.
The translation wasn't complete—some parts had worn away entirely and were no longer legible.
He was still struggling to interpret the invisible portions of the text when—
—he heard someone running urgently outside. Footsteps pounded down the corridor, then stopped at the door of the prayer room.
"It's Mainz, Your Highness!"
The voice was frantic—so distressed that Mainz had reverted to using Callius's old royal title.
Before Callius could even ask what was wrong, Mainz shouted from outside.
"The lady has collapsed!"
"...!"
Fortunately, by the time Callius burst into Chloe's room, Granada and Lamia had already taken emergency measures.
Chloe was still breathing with difficulty—her breath frighteningly cold—but the warm water bottles placed on her arms and legs were keeping her temperature stable enough to maintain consciousness.
"Her hands and feet are still freezing. Let's add more wood to the fireplace."
When Lamia gave the instruction, Alex immediately threw more firewood into the flames without a word.
Granada was gently massaging Chloe's limbs to help her blood circulate.
"Chloe."
Callius approached the bed.
Granada and Lamia immediately stepped aside to give him space.
"I heard you collapsed. Are you in pain?"
Chloe took a slow, labored breath—her chest rising and falling with effort—and managed a faint smile.
"It was only for a moment. I think... I stayed out in the cold too long. I should have come home earlier. It's just... so many people were suffering because of me..."
Callius's heart ached as he watched Chloe apologize.
Because I know it's not your fault.
But once she learns the curse exists—once she begins to fear that she's dying—the curse will become even more powerful.
Callius kept his mouth shut about the curse and simply reached out to smooth her hair back from her face.
"It's difficult for someone from the South to endure Ronheim's cold. This happens often. Don't feel sorry."
"Is that... really all it is?"
Chloe shifted slightly beneath the covers, as if trying to sit up.
But she frowned—clearly, her body wasn't responding as she wanted it to.
Callius placed a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder, preventing her from rising.
"Lie down."
"I think I'm all right now—"
"I recommend you rest until you've recovered more fully."
Chloe's stubborn resistance crumbled beneath Callius's stern tone, and her body relaxed back into the pillows.
Then, as if something suddenly occurred to her, she opened her eyes wide and looked up at him.
"Wait—what happened to that old woman?"
"Old woman?"
Alex, who had carried Chloe to her room, finally explained the entire situation to Callius.
"...So the old woman is currently being held by the knights."
Chloe looked startled.
"Where is she now?"
"Still waiting in the square for your decision, my lady."
"What?!"
Chloe—who didn't even have the strength to sit up—shook her head weakly but urgently.
"That's not right. I collapsed on my own. She didn't do anything to me."
Then she forced herself to speak in a clearer, more commanding voice.
"Release the old woman immediately. If something happens to her while she's out in the cold with her frail body, it will be a disaster. Please—go now."
In the bedroom stood not only Alex, but Granada, Lamia, and several other knights.
They all froze—utterly dumbfounded—as Chloe, having barely regained consciousness, ordered the old woman's release.
None of us expected her to show such mercy...
The expressions of the knights—who had previously dismissed her every action as schemes and pretense—became complicated and conflicted.
It was never easy to think of others when you yourself were suffering.
The knights realized something in that moment: If you don't have sincerity, you simply can't do this.
"..."
Chloe looked at the knights standing there with blank, speechless expressions. Not understanding what they were thinking, she spoke again—this time with emphasis.
"What are you all doing just standing there? Go and release the old woman!"
"Y-yes! Yes, my lady!"
The knights answered hastily and hurried out of the bedroom.
Only then did Chloe relax, sinking back into the pillows as if relieved.
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