“You must be very worried.”

These were the words the high priest spoke upon seeing Vika Lamberst, whose brow was deeply furrowed as he gazed at Sikar Blake lying unconscious.

But Vika’s furrowed brow stemmed from anxiety—perhaps Sikar had lost consciousness before reading the high priest’s memories.

Before healing Sikar, the high priest had been preoccupied with placing iron spheres into the Chimera’s mouth.

During that time, though Sikar kept forcing his eyes wide open to cling to consciousness, his blood pressure continued to drop due to heavy bleeding.

By the time the high priest returned after resealing the Chimera, Sikar already appeared unconscious, his eyes shut.

Thus, Vika could not determine whether Sikar had read the high priest’s memories—or seen nothing at all due to losing consciousness.

‘Surely the Duke didn’t miss this golden opportunity?’

Yet, given the severity of his injuries, Vika could not be certain.

Unaware of this inner turmoil, the high priest merely looked at Vika with an apologetic expression.

“We are truly sorry. We are currently investigating how the demon’s seal in the basement was broken. We will inform you as soon as we uncover the full circumstances. Moreover, the high priest expressed his regret and intends to personally offer his apologies once His Grace the Duke has fully recovered.”

Vika, who secretly hoped they would never discover the cause, offered a friendly smile.

“It’s alright. Since His Grace is safe, that’s all we need.”

“No, the high priest is deeply remorseful as well.”

The breaking of a demon’s seal was a grave matter—it was only natural the temple had been thrown into chaos.

“Then, we ask for your continued cooperation. His Grace the Duke should rest now—could you please step aside?”

“Understood. I’ve already administered sufficient painkillers, but should he awaken and complain of pain, please call for me.”

“Very well.”

The moment Vika saw the high priest leave the room, he began slapping Sikar’s cheeks.

“Duke. Duke. Wake up. Hey? This isn’t the time for you to be unconscious!”

No matter how many times he slapped Sikar’s cheeks, there was no sign he would wake. After several more attempts, Vika himself grew exhausted and collapsed into a chair.

“Completely comatose, huh? Ah, whatever. I definitely woke you up, so whether your plan fails or not, it’s no longer my problem. I’ve done enough.”

Vika left Sikar alone as if washing his hands of the matter and leaned back against the chair.

But then, it suddenly became glaringly obvious—if the Duke had seen his memories, he would have woken Vika himself. So, grumbling, Vika stood back up and shook Sikar again.

“Duke. Wake up. Just wake up already.”

After shaking him several more times, clinging stubbornly, Sikar slowly began to open his eyes.

But soon after, he lost consciousness again. Now thoroughly exhausted himself, Vika leaned back against the chair once more.

“You saw that too, right? I definitely woke you, and I’ve done enough. So don’t say anything. Got it?”

Leaning against the chair, Vika drifted off to sleep from sheer exhaustion.

Some time later, while Vika was still half-asleep, Sikar woke up. Sensing Sikar stirring, Vika opened his eyes and checked his condition.

“Duke. Are you okay? You lost over half your blood—you nearly died. Apparently, you survived only because you took a healing potion beforehand, allowing the high priest to save you.”

Sikar frowned as if even speaking was a bother, and muttered:

“Water.”

Vika let out a dry, incredulous chuckle.

“Guess you’re not dying yet, if you’re asking for water.”

As he poured a glass of water, Vika asked:

“But what happened? Did you see the memories?”

Sikar tried to sit up to take the water Vika offered, but his waist injury was too severe, and he ultimately couldn’t rise.

“I still can’t put strength into my waist. Put another pillow behind my back.”

Suppressing the urge to smash the pillow into Sikar’s face, Vika shoved a pillow behind his back.

“Now talk. Did you see them? Huh?”

Sikar opened his mouth weakly.

“Your guess was completely wrong, Vika. The Resurrection Tome is in the high priest’s bedroom.”

“R-really? Isn’t that too obvious a place?”

“It’s obvious, but also secure. Not just anyone can enter that room. That’s likely why it’s stored there. Only one priest is allowed to enter when cleaning the high priest’s quarters.”

Sikar’s plan was this: only the priest assigned to clean the high priest’s room could enter—and only with a unique divine blessing permitting access for one month.

When the priest entered the room, Roen would summon him urgently; during the priest’s absence, Sikar would retrieve the Resurrection Tome.

“So what? We don’t need to worry about Roen and Jeremi Iker at all?”

“Exactly. In fact, we must act before they attend Hersia’s wedding.”

Since Sikar’s close ties with Roen meant his identity would be exposed, if the Resurrection Tome disappeared, Sikar couldn’t avoid suspicion.

Thus, Vika couldn’t agree with this plan.

“So you’ll be exposed as the culprit outright?! What will you do after that?!”

“In a situation where I may not even have a future, such things mean nothing.”

“If you pull off something like that, your grandmother might be expelled too!”

“They won’t expel a sick old woman just because she’s my grandmother.”

“But I might be branded as your accomplice! So leave me out of it!”

“I’ll ensure you suffer no consequences. But if the priest returns before I find the tome, just stall for time.”

“How can I get involved and not suffer consequences?!”

“The freedom you crave is right in front of you—help me this much. If the Grand Temple accuses you, confess you acted under my coercion, with no other choice.”

“Would you believe that if you were them? Really?”

Helping Sikar wasn’t the issue. The problem was that stealing an item from the Grand Temple meant he couldn’t escape being wanted by every Repher Temple across the continent.

Not even Kian Blake, King of Recador, could stop that.

“Don’t you care about the King? My biological father may live thanks to you, but my adoptive father will remain branded as a thief who stole from the Grand Temple!”

“Protecting the King’s honor is important, yes. But more important than that is the King’s happiness.”

Though Vika thought Sikar had completely lost his mind, he could understand wanting Kian to be happy.

After all, Vika himself sometimes found Kian endearing.

“Don’t worry too much, Vika. Since the Grand Temple has never publicly admitted to storing the ancient Resurrection Tome, they also keep many other precious items hidden. Thus, even if the tome is stolen, they won’t immediately report it to the King. I, however, won’t escape being wanted by the Grand Temple. But I’ll ensure you aren’t implicated—after all, if you’re dragged in too, it’ll be a headache for me as well.”

Refusal wasn’t an option when their fates were intertwined. Since the only path forward was to resolve this together, Vika had no choice but to support Sikar’s plan even more carefully—so it wouldn’t fail.

And, secretly, he wanted to help.

Yet, even on the eve of Hersia’s wedding, Sikar’s wounds had not fully healed. Since Roen and Jeremi Iker planned to leave the temple the next day and stay in Recador for a while, today was their last chance.

“Today is the perfect timing.”

“I don’t think this body can manage it. Let’s just give up.”

“Even if I have to crawl out with the Resurrection Tome, giving up is out of the question.”

Sikar resolved to raid the high priest’s room, dragging his half-healed wounds.

Thanks to Vika confirming the exact time when the priest cleaned the high priest’s room, Sikar was able to arrive precisely then.

“Priest. Lady Roen urgently requests your presence.”

“Lady Roen?”

Knowing Roen was close to the Duke, the priest stood without suspicion. But he paused upon seeing Sikar still inside.

All priests knew Sikar had donated half his entire fortune to the Grand Temple. Thus, they always regarded him with goodwill.

So, though they saw Sikar in the room, they harbored no serious suspicion. Still, they wouldn’t deliberately leave the Duke alone inside.

“Your Grace. Would you please come out? I must close the door.”

It would have been nice if he’d obediently left, but the priest stood firm. If the priest stubbornly refused to move, Sikar would have no choice but to harm him and steal the tome.

But harming a priest within the temple was an unforgivable sin—entirely different from stealing an unacknowledged Resurrection Tome.

Just then, perhaps due to stress, pain surged in Sikar’s side. Blood gushed from his ribs as he collapsed to the floor. The priest immediately rushed over.

“Y-your Grace! Are you alright?! Let me tend to your wound!”

But Sikar’s injury was beyond the junior priest’s ability to treat. Sikar knew this too.

“A-ah, no, Priest. Rather… I’m having trouble moving right now… Could you let me rest here for just a moment…?”

The priest looked slightly uncomfortable but nodded.

“Understood. I’ll fetch Lady Roen immediately—please rest for now.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Once the priest left, Sikar clutched his side and searched under the bed.

Though various items were stored beneath it, having seen the high priest’s memories, Sikar quickly found the Resurrection Tome and walked out holding it.

But blood dripped steadily along his path.

‘It’s done. Now I can save Valije!’

Even as his wounds reopened and bled, Sikar thought of nothing else.

Per Sikar’s request, Vika had been waiting outside, holding the horses. Seeing Sikar emerge, bleeding from his waist, Vika rushed forward.

“You crazy idiot! I told you to be careful—your wounds aren’t healed yet!”

Sikar’s lips were parched as he struggled to speak.

“To… the snowy mountains. Hurry… hurry…”

Vika frowned, seeing the trail of blood behind Sikar—each step left a perfect crimson footprint.

“Hah. Truly insane.”

Cursing under his breath, Vika hoisted Sikar onto the horse and seized the reins.