As they chatted, the conversation naturally drifted to the elders who had raised them. Davist twitched his ears happily as he listened to anecdotes about the Pope of the Church of Light and the First Cardinal, while Kurle squinted his eyes, imagining how adorable the soft, tiny elven child must have been in his youth.
Later, Kurle casually mentioned how his adoptive father had taught him that if he ever found someone he loved, he should be sincere and honest with them to avoid accidentally ruining what could have been a precious relationship. Apparently, there had been a tragic precedent for this.
Nowadays, the continent of Lusalmon is one of racial equality and religious freedom. Naturally, besides the Church of Light, which worships the God of Light, there is also the Church of Darkness, which venerates the God of Darkness.
Oh, don’t misunderstand—so-called dark magic merely involves the use of dark elemental energy and has nothing to do with sociopathic killers. These days, dark mages are hardly fewer in number than light mages.
Because of this, the relationship between the Pope of Light and the Pope of Darkness, though unknown to outsiders, is actually quite amicable. They could even be considered friends who share drinks and conversations. And that tragic precedent? It happened to the Pope of Darkness.
Back then, the Pope of Darkness wasn’t yet the Pope—he was just a Saint, a free-spirited one at that, who loved traveling far and wide, enjoying life outside, and had little interest in inheriting the papal throne.
Later, that Saint met many like-minded friends and eventually found his beloved. Slowly, the two grew close and pledged their lives to each other. The Saint even planned to introduce his lover to his elders upon returning, so they could be together openly and properly.
However, there was a female swordsman at the time who had fallen for the Saint after he saved her life. She never revealed her feelings but happened to suffer from delusions. Though no one but herself knew of her fantasies about the Saint, she convinced herself they were already a happy couple—even husband and wife—and that everyone around them offered their sincerest blessings.
Until the Saint met his true love and ended up with a dwarf.
No one else knew about the swordsman’s delusions, so to them, the Saint had always been single. Now that he’d found someone he liked, pursuing them and building a relationship seemed perfectly normal. Of course, his friends celebrated him finally finding love.
But this shattered the swordsman’s fragile heart. A storm of misunderstandings, grudges, and drama erupted between the Saint and his lover, escalating into quite the spectacle.
What happened afterward, Kurle didn’t know in detail—he’d only heard fragments from his adoptive father. All he knew was that the swordswoman certainly met a grim fate.
In the end, the Saint’s lover vanished without a trace—neither alive nor dead. The Saint returned to the Church of Darkness, dutifully resumed his role as the Saint, and eventually became the current Pope of Darkness. But he watched the world with cold detachment, performing his papal duties with a lifeless air, devoid of vitality.
With a sigh, Kurle concluded, “That uncle probably lost all his vitality and vigor the moment his lover’s fate became unknown. So, Davi, I hope we never reach that point.”
Understanding Kurle’s meaning, Davist grasped his hand firmly and said earnestly, “I’ll remember that, Kurle. If I’m ever unhappy or face any troubles in the future, I won’t hide it from you. I’ll tell you right away.”
Between us, there will never be misunderstandings or deceit. We won’t let accidents drive us apart.
Satisfied with this promise, Kurle nodded and gave Davist a deep, lingering kiss.
Meanwhile, surrounded by piles of books in the library, Kurle and Davist chatted, flirted, and studied. As top-tier scholars, even romance couldn’t distract them from their academic duties.
Elsewhere, Ya’angluona and Siaose were having so much fun they nearly forgot who they were.
As a wealthy young man, Ya’angluona had always been a playful sort. Siaose, though not as well-off, had grown up pampered, and as a beastfolk, he loved running wild—naturally, he was just as lively and unrestrained.
Now that the two had collided—one versed in high-society amusements, the other skilled in simple, fun pastimes—their meeting sparked a massive “chemical reaction.”
Had Davist and Kurle been around to rein them in, they might’ve shown some restraint. But with those two off on their romantic date, Ya’angluona and Siaose were left to their own devices—gallivanting through the city like unleashed huskies.
After another round of fun, the two looked at each other’s sweaty foreheads, first chuckling softly, then laughing louder, until they were clutching their stomachs in full-blown hilarity.
Next, they bought snacks and portable food, munching as they strolled, chatting and laughing all the while.
As they walked, they noticed a commotion up ahead, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. Both brimming with curiosity, they quickly finished their food, stored the rest in their spatial rings, and hand in hand, went to investigate.
(Why hand in hand? Well… with so many people around, they were friends, after all, and didn’t want to risk getting separated and causing trouble!)
(Kurle: *Heh, what a convincing reason!*
Ya’angluona: *… ←_←*
Kurle: *Hahaha! Karma’s a bitch! Now it’s my turn to expose you!*
Ya’angluona: *Image, image, Kurle—mind your image!*)
Too engrossed in the spectacle, neither noticed how close they’d gotten. The “drama” unfolding before them had fully captured their attention.
One of the main players in this “drama” was someone they recognized—Ostianro, one of Lumian Academy’s most notorious figures.
Alongside Ostianro were several handsome men and stunning women—some elegant and wealthy, others sweet and innocent. The clash between these beauties and the ensuing scandal was more than enough to draw a crowd.
Ostianro stood tall, chin slightly raised, his posture, appearance, and aura all meticulously crafted through countless trials to showcase his perfection. He glared at the men opposite him, accusing them of bullying the women with their influence.
The spoiled young masters rolled their eyes at the sight of Ostianro’s annoyingly familiar face. “Seriously, Lexi, not you again. Can’t you give it a rest?”
Ostianro Lexi, Orvia Lexi—those were the brothers’ full names.
Ostianro sneered. “No matter how many times it takes, if I see you doing something vile, I’ll step forward to defend those who need justice—those lovely, precious girls who deserve protection! Standing up for the weak and oppressed is my duty, my calling!”
The others didn’t even bother with sarcastic smiles. After all these years, they knew him too well. They clapped mockingly. “Bravo, Lexi. No wonder you’ve charmed so many beauties—such silver-tongued heroics! ‘Standing up for the weak’? Give me a break.”
“Hey, Lexi, remember those ragged, bloodied homeless men whipped by that noblewoman’s barbed lash? Where was your ‘justice’ then? Oh right—you sided with the lady!”
“Face it, Lexi, your ‘justice’ only applies to pretty women. Just admit it—we’re all men here. No need to pretend.”
Ya’angluona and Siaose frowned, shooting Ostianro disapproving looks. If what those young masters said was true, Ostianro wasn’t someone worth befriending.
As tensions mounted, a figure suddenly rushed forward, standing before Ostianro and addressing the young masters firmly. “This is my brother. If he’s done anything wrong, I apologize on his behalf. I hope—”
Orvia’s words were cut short as Ostianro shoved him aside roughly. “Orvia, remember—I’m the elder brother. I’ll speak when it’s time. Who said you could interrupt?”
Stung, Orvia hesitated but tried again. “Brother, I can’t just—”
“Orvia!” Ostianro’s sharp tone froze him in place. Defeated, Orvia stepped back, silent.
The young masters gave Orvia sympathetic looks. “Orv, having a brother like that must be… tsk.”
Ostianro drew his sword. “Enough talk! If you’ve got complaints, let’s settle it with a fight. Stop gossiping like cowards!”
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