"Ugh…"
A flood of sensations struck his chest. His eyes widened, and he bolted upright in confusion. His head throbbed as if struck by a heavy object.
"This place…"
The young woman, who had been dozing, suddenly stirred awake.
"Victor… you're alright, right?!"
Her worried expression came forward, trying to tend to him. Her soft hand brushed his forehead, her gaze gentle and full of sincere concern.
It was an earnest look, mingled with heartfelt care. Though they had not known each other long, Victor's actions had fostered a close bond between them.
He understood well how his straightforward conduct and proper handling of situations had built trust. It was no wonder Selith felt such deep attachment to him.
No one had ever paid her such attention before.
He recalled her words about the benefactor who had saved her from the flames, only to use the daughter she raised as a key tool within the organization…
…This man, however, still left his own sister in an old house, even though he lived in a luxury hotel. Additionally, Ophelia's mention of staying in a refugee center reflected Dengar's disregard.
Yet at this moment, none of that mattered compared to the previous events.
The cobalt figure had seemed to close off memories in that moment of thought, but Victor retained them all clearly.
'Perhaps it's because of the object in my chest.'
It had proven efficient and useful for him in this strange, alternate world.
Reflecting again on that moment, he realized the mysterious man's actions may have saved his life; otherwise, he wouldn't be here now.
'Even my own soul's vision…'
His dark gaze fell on the numbers on his palm. He tried to interpret them differently, but it was incomprehensible, as if he were seeking an answer in a sky divided into three sequences.
As Victor sat quietly, pondering, Selith noticed the numbers on his palm remained unchanged, prompting suspicion.
"Earlier… you killed participants in the Razentiven region?"
Victor smiled.
"Yes. I have already fixed my power. Remember, I had a single-digit number before I killed that man."
"Is that power related to something specific?"
"You wouldn't notice a difference; it's been different from the start."
Selith's face displayed momentary confusion before Victor laughed, lightening the mood.
"Ha ha, you can't find meaning in my nonsense. It must be dark around here anyway—let's reverse that, shall we?"
As Victor stood and stretched, Selith grabbed the hem of his shirt.
"Wait! Would you… um… like to go to a restaurant with me?"
"Of course."
It was not a bad idea to rest after everything they had endured.
Moreover, Victor had yet to use the money Ophelia had given him. But it seemed unnecessary, with Dengar providing everything: clothing, accommodations…
'Perfect, but almost untrustworthy.'
Selith stood calmly, her gaze fixed on Victor.
"You really are alright… aren't you?"
Only a smile appeared in response. He looked around again; though quiet, he noticed eyes observing from outside the window—inside the slightly open room, and from a priestess cleaning a statue.
'What do those eyes mean?'
As they left the Emerald Blood Church, they sat opposite each other on soft benches under dim light filtering from above.
Victor couldn't leave a question lingering in his mind.
"Can you tell me about this church?"
She nodded.
"The Emerald Blood Church is an ancient church dating back to the Dragon Hunters' era. It is scattered across the world and serves as a neutral ground, according to the intentions of the Emerald Blood ancestors, who sought to preserve life through their blood. It takes no sides, avoids political involvement, and does not support any organization. For the Venn Republic, the church holds no importance and is not regulated, because most people do not value miracles. This also includes the origin of the vials used for healing…"
She moved her hand to cover the lower part of her face, careful not to speak ill, out of fear and respect for truths better left unexplored.
Victor, recalling the actions of the priestesses, was not surprised. Their blood was precious; with great power, abducting a priestess to extract it would not be unrealistic.
After the conversation, their carriage stopped before a restaurant. Outside, the interior was visible: brightly lit, luxurious, adorned with red carpets in intricate patterns.
The patrons were dressed politely, wearing sparkling jewelry, their manners matching the elegance of the venue.
They were invited to a table by the window. Candles were lit, creating an atmosphere; a patterned tablecloth held a single appetizer plate.
Red wine was poured into a clear glass, held gracefully above Victor's hand. He swirled it lightly to enhance the aroma.
As he set it down, his gaze fell on Selith, who was ordering from the restaurant's popular dishes. A young waiter took notes, then asked Victor politely,
"I'll have the same as the lady, please."
His demeanor was noble and appropriate for the place; Selith was impressed by his courteous speech, her attention captured by his refined manners.
The meal arrived quickly, their smiles meeting over the plates. The aroma of perfectly seasoned lamb filled the air.
Red wine sauce covered onions and garlic, finished with a sprinkling of herbs. Steam wafted from the dish.
The faint sizzling of the fork against the hot meat preceded the careful slicing with the knife.
Bringing it to his mouth, he savored the flavor, enjoying a night that felt real, not a dream—reminiscent of dinners once hosted by the powerful in his past.
Perhaps because dining was a formality, he forgot to fully appreciate its taste.
The first flavor after everything that had happened.
'Not counting the bland bread.'
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a piece of paper fluttering outside the window. Observing more closely, he saw Selith's face on a wanted poster.
'So, those priestly gazes weren't really focused on me…'