She vehemently protested her innocence.
_It wasn't just water—it was expensive holy water!_ How could anyone possibly be harmed by it? On the contrary, any wounds should have healed instantly! So it absolutely, categorically, was *not* her fault that he fainted!
Only after Michel collapsed did the Temple servants finally notice the commotion and come rushing over. They assessed the situation with practiced efficiency—their gazes shifting from the charred remains of the painting to the soaking wet and unconscious Michel, and finally settling on Evangeline.
After listening to Rafaella's explanation, the priests bowed their heads in thanks.
The oldest among them—a man with a kind, serious face weathered by years of service—took charge of restoring order. Then he approached her.
"Lady Lohanson, we are sincerely grateful to you for saving one of our Temple knights. We will, of course, reimburse you for the cost of the holy water used to extinguish the fire."
"I will accept it with gratitude."
_Phew, that was a lucky break!_
She'd been convinced she'd thrown her money away. Of course, it wasn't *exactly* a waste since she'd saved someone's life... but it was still reassuring to know her supplies would be replenished. Apparently, they really did say that good deeds were returned with good deeds.
"The rest of the parishioners appear to be in shock," the elderly priest continued. "We'll escort them to the resting chambers."
_Shock?_ They'd been standing there like statues, staring at a burning man and doing absolutely nothing to help! Swallowing her irritation, Evangeline simply nodded.
Having finished with her, the kindly old man approached Rafaella and began whispering something in his ear. So quietly that she couldn't hear a single word.
_And why does it seem like he keeps glancing in my direction? Are they gossiping about me?_
No, that couldn't be... She stared at them with undisguised suspicion. She was standing *right next to them*—how could they whisper in front of her like this?
Her intense gaze apparently had some effect. Rafaella cleared his throat and smoothly changed the subject.
"Bishop, I beg your pardon, but may we take our leave? Michel needs to lie down as soon as possible. And Sir Yuriel must be exhausted."
_So this isn't just some elder—he's a bishop! A high-ranking official!_
No wonder he had so readily agreed to reimburse her for the holy water. She found herself wondering exactly how much it cost.
"Oh, yes, of course—how thoughtless of me not to consider that," the bishop replied warmly. "Leave everything here; I'll handle it myself. Go on. Lady Lohanson needs to collect some holy water, so she'll accompany me..."
"No, the lady must come with us as well." Rafaella's refusal was swift and decisive. "The Commander wishes to speak with her. I'll ensure she receives the holy water later. The bishop needn't concern himself with such trifles—simply tell us where to send someone to retrieve it."
_Right, I need to get back to Hena and Kanna._
Evangeline nodded in agreement. The girls had already been waiting far too long.
But wouldn't it be wiser to take the holy water now? What if she returned for it later and they mistook her for a thief? The bishop might conveniently forget his promise. Hmm...
Lost in thought, she turned to look at Jelly.
"...Me?" he asked warily.
"Go collect the holy water and take it to the carriage."
"Ah, so you brought me along specifically to make me run errands?!"
_What nonsense!_ Who did he think she was? Besides, it was *because of him* that she'd run out of holy water at home in the first place! She'd used it all treating his wounds!
"Stop whining and do as you're told."
"Fine..." Jelly grumbled, his posture deflating like a scolded puppy tucking its tail between its legs.
"I'll send my attendant with your bodyguard," the bishop said, though something in his tone suggested obvious reluctance.
"Then it's settled? Shall we go?" Rafaella asked.
Yuriel bent down and scooped Michel into his arms with surprising ease. Evangeline couldn't help but admire how this slender, almost fragile-looking knight lifted the much larger man as though he weighed nothing at all.
At that moment, Rafaella approached her.
_Why is he suddenly being so nice?_ Just moments ago, he'd been staring at her like she was beneath notice!
"...I apologize for not thanking you immediately." Rafaella's voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. He tugged nervously at the hem of his tunic before squeezing out the words. "Thank you for saving Michel. He may be unconscious, but thanks to the holy water, he doesn't have a scratch on him. We are... very grateful."
His voice was so unexpectedly humble that Evangeline felt a twinge of shame for her earlier rudeness. Fine—she'd admit it. She was a little touched.
"Thank you, my lady," Yuriel added. Even with Michel draped across his back, he managed a graceful bow. Holy water dripped from Michel's long golden hair onto Yuriel's shoulder, soaking into the white fabric of his uniform.
_Has he gotten his back completely wet?_
She didn't know why this detail bothered her so much.
"Are you certain Jelly can manage on his own?" Yuriel asked.
_What—is he worried it'll be too difficult for Jelly?_ Here Yuriel was, hauling around an unconscious man, and he was concerned about *Jelly*!
"Jelly will be fine."
He wasn't some ordinary commoner, after all, but a genuine werewolf—and most likely a future romantic interest!
"My lady," Rafaella said, lowering his voice as they began walking, "you did the right thing by sending... your bodyguard. It's best for you not to get too close to the bishop. He only *appears* good-natured. In reality, he has quite a nasty temperament."
Looking back, Evangeline saw the bishop frowning after Rafaella, his expression distinctly sour.
_Where was that warmth from just a few minutes ago? What happened?_
There hadn't seemed to be anything offensive in their conversation... Although she did have one guess.
He was probably offended that Rafaella had left without properly asking his permission. High-ranking officials were notoriously sensitive about such matters. She hadn't expected the bishop to be quite so petty.
---
## — Rafaella's Observation —
When the commotion finally died down, people began flocking to the scene once more. Apparently, one of the priests had run to summon the bishop. Bishop Javaniya arrived accompanied by church servants carrying buckets of water—buckets that were now entirely unnecessary.
He usually ignored such "trivial matters" as someone's death or damage to Temple property. So what had drawn him here?
_Apparently, this old fox still hasn't lost his grip._
"Rafaella... What happened here?"
He feigned ignorance, though he'd undoubtedly already been told everything. Javaniya, who hid his cruel nature beneath a mask of benevolence, was an exceptionally selfish and ruthless man. His gentle, grandfatherly appearance was deliberately misleading—behind it lurked the instincts of a true predator.
Yuriel had once said that Rafaella hated himself for being similar to Javaniya. And he was partly correct. But still, comparing them would be profoundly unfair.
That fox would probably have arrived *much* later, after everything was over; he couldn't care less whether anyone had been hurt. He possessed no conscience, no capacity for guilt.
Unfortunately, the knight commander Gabriel—under whom Rafaella served—had fallen into Javaniya's clutches as a child and remained his puppet to this day.
The Commander claimed the bishop had once done him a favor, and that he was simply repaying the debt... But Rafaella saw clearly that Javaniya merely used the Commander as a pawn in his own elaborate games. And even that supposed "favor," judging by Gabriel's account, had been a mere trifle.
"The painting caught fire," Rafaella reported flatly. "Lady Lohanson extinguished the flames with holy water. Sir Michel nearly burned, but thanks to her intervention, he is safe and unharmed."
"Oh, praise Rael!" the bishop exclaimed.
_Praise Rael, indeed._
"We almost lost one of our finest knights. I am deeply ashamed that we arrived so late."
"No need to apologize, Bishop." Rafaella's voice remained carefully neutral. "You simply took some time collecting water."
_Old fox!_
The priests surrounding him gazed at the bishop with reverent awe, as though the very incarnation of the goddess Rael stood before them.
_"What? Did it take you long to collect water?"_
Rafaella would have sworn that Javaniya had deliberately stalled. She herself had wanted the painting to burn, so the bishop was likely guided by identical motives—arriving only when nothing remained of the canvas.
If Javaniya were *truly* merciful, he would have drawn water from the nearest holy water fountain, promising to pay for it afterward. Just as Evangeline Lohanson had done...
Rafaella was suddenly struck by the realization that she considered Evangeline's act *noble*.
Since Javaniya had gone to an ordinary fountain in the garden instead, it meant he'd never intended to arrive in time. And not a single person present even questioned his words! This was exactly where decades of hypocritical performance had led them all.
_Best not to tangle with such an enemy._
Fortunately, their opinions on Donau's painting coincided. The painting's greatest admirer had been a longtime rival of Javaniya.
"Well, since we arrived too late, let us assist with the cleanup," the bishop announced magnanimously.
"Yes, we obey, Bishop."
At Javaniya's command, the priests set down their now-useless buckets and began working. Some swept and mopped up the ashes; others approached the parishioners, speaking in soothing tones.
"Dear sirs, isn't it time you departed?"
"Indeed, quite right. It's dangerous to remain here after a fire."
"Are any of you injured?"
Of course, no one answered them. These nobles considered themselves far too important to converse with common clergy. The priests could only repeat their polite requests, growing increasingly frustrated.
"Just *go away*! Do you intend to loiter here for the rest of your days?!" one of the younger priests finally burst out.
He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified at his own outburst. Fortunately, none of the nobility seemed to have noticed.
"The painting burned," the priest groaned under his breath. "What else could you possibly want here?"
And then, at last, he received an answer.
One of the noblewomen, her cheeks flushing pink, pointed directly at Evangeline Lohanson.
"You mean they're looking at... *that* lady?"
The priest glanced around, truly observing the scene for the first time. He hadn't noticed before, but every single pair of eyes in the chamber was fixed upon the beautiful young woman in the snow-white dress.