Yuna shook her head in embarrassment.
She pointed at the densely listed expenditure items in the ledger, racking her brains to make Joen regain some trust in the Church.
Even she herself felt that this time, everyone had gone a bit too far.
Although this had always been the convention, but… this time it had hit them, and it was their turn to feel the pain.
“Joen… actually, you could also understand it as the Gold Kuron growing wings on the way and flying away by itself…”
“Huh?”
Joen had an unpleasant expression that said, “Do you even hear what you’re saying?”
“This is actually the necessary cost of maintaining charity itself.”
Yuna quickly added:
“Joen, think about it, the grassroots priests in charge of collecting money in various villages and towns have shouted themselves hoarse and done the most practical work. It’s only reasonable for them to take some, right?”
The local churches in charge of intermediate fund transfer, accounting, and safekeeping have so many people to feed and so many people to live.
Taking some as operating expenses is also customary.
“And there are publicity costs. To encourage more people to donate, the Church held multiple charity banquets and roadside promotional performances, hired bards to sing praises, and produced miracle props. That costs a lot too.”
Yuna’s finger traced over the ledger, and with each line, Joen’s heart grew heavier.
“The respected Cardinal Archbishop who led the overall fundraising project—if we don’t allocate more to him, who would be willing to spend their influence to lead fundraising for the disaster victims in the future?”
Rewarding the leader’s hard work is also necessary.
“Other supporters, various clergy, even the deacons in charge of stamping and signing—all kinds of people need a share. Otherwise, this matter would get stuck at some link and be impossible to move forward.”
Yuna closed the ledger with a heavy sigh.
“In the end, being able to leave this much is already the blessing of the Goddess, and everyone has kept their greed in check.”
“We have no choice. Large activities require large organizations to support them, but the existence of large organizations itself consumes the collected gold coins.”
Yuna gazed at Joen’s confused and dispirited eyes and said helplessly:
“I also find it absurd. It’s clearly a fundraiser for the disaster victims, so why is it that only a small portion ends up being spent on them?
“But there’s no helping it; it’s always been this way. Look on the bright side—this 8,000 Gold Kuron is an amount that an individual could never raise.”
Yuna said gently, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the hot sweat from Joen’s forehead.
Joen instinctively raised his hand to block.
Their eyes met.
Joen stared straight at Yuna, many emotions surging in both their eyes.
But in the end, Joen said nothing, and Yuna lowered her gaze, not daring to ask.
“I… I’ll think of a way to persuade the Cardinal Archbishops to hand this donation over to you. Don’t be angry.”
Yuna said quietly.
Joen suppressed the irritation and anger that kept bubbling up inside him and waved weakly at Yuna.
He realized for the first time: perhaps it wasn’t Yuna who was hypocritical, but the entire Church, and even… the set of “ethical principles” that had been teaching the people since the Goddess of Light’s time.
Was Yuna wrong? It seemed she wasn’t; she couldn’t stop it.
Were the others wrong? It seemed they weren’t either, because doing things really does require paying people.
But countless correct things piled together formed this absurd and wrong result.
For Joen, the impact was almost equivalent to the shock and amazement he felt when he first heard the shameless declaration, “Accepting goodwill does not equal being grateful for goodwill.”
On the way back, the night wind was cold, but still warmer than the temperature in Joen’s chest.
Maybe it was because Lily wasn’t there.
At that moment, he desperately wished that cute and adorable Lily could curl up on his chest, leaning on her father like a flower leaning on the spring breeze.
But unfortunately, that was just “hope.”
Now, his chest was empty, with only a trace of extinguished warmth left.
Joen felt like a fish trapped in a fishing net.
No matter how he struggled, he would be caught by countless tiny, dense barbs, sinking deeper and deeper.
Everyone smiled at him, everyone said they “supported justice.”
He had heart-to-heart talks and drank joyfully with those smooth and affable high nobles.
They were polite and knew how to talk; he couldn’t find any fault.
But in the end… things just couldn’t get done, and the money couldn’t reach the disaster victims.
Every side could list ten thousand of their own difficulties.
This resulted in no treacherous ministers, only loyal ones.
Was this the center of power?
Was this the Empire Capital?
“Brave One…”
Just as Joen was feeling disheartened, a familiar voice timidly called out to him.
Joen looked up and saw Fei Bi standing alone in the guard booth at the entrance of the White Wolf Duke’s Mansion.
She was wearing a very ridiculous outfit—the “security guard uniform” that Liya had specially chosen for her.
A blue coarse cloth top that was extremely wide, even with two silly epaulettes; the bottom was a pair of baggy pants, and a large-brimmed hat was tilted on her head.
The whole thing was loose and sloppy, giving a comedic absurdity.
Joen was stunned.
The corners of his mouth lifted for a moment, then quickly pressed back down.
Fei Bi was full of shame and anger.
From the Prince’s original body to all the Blood Puppets, she had never worn such ugly clothes!
But to get close to the Brave One, she endured it! So what if she was a security guard? She would be one!
Sooner or later, she would make that wretched Pupu understand that a real woman’s charm could never be matched by a little Pupu.
Fei Bi’s heart stirred again, and she made a decision.
Seeing Joen’s dejected appearance, and associating it with what Joen had done today and the Church’s usual behavior, she instantly guessed about sixty to seventy percent of the situation.
Heh… Likely out of 900,000 donated, only 9,000 remained.
The stock in trade of those hypocrites.
She had always emphasized that “the Church having money doesn’t mean the donation account has money; it’s that the entire Church has money,” but that money wasn’t easy to get; it required some swift and decisive ruthlessness.
They stood facing each other in silence for a long time.
Fei Bi quietly moved closer, her soft, boneless little hand skillfully resting on Joen’s arm, her fingertips unconsciously tracing his forearm.
Her voice was soft and sweet, with a just-right amount of admiration and consolation:
“Brave One, please don’t be too sad. Although I don’t understand your troubles, Fei Bi really feels for you.”
“The world is just like this—hard to tell black from white, and everything is difficult.”
“You alone have to fight the Demon Lord, fight the natural disaster, and now fight these hypocritical and cunning nobles… You’re too tired.”
She looked up, and her eyes shimmered with tears:
“I beg you, don’t push yourself. Let your body and mind rest for a while. Fei Bi will accompany you well in your recovery.”
Fei Bi was fully immersed in her role, as if she were truly a virtuous lady from a deep boudoir, worrying and caring for her beloved.
The word “gentleness” was fully displayed in her every glance and movement.
When being a man, Gibran knew best how to be indirect.
When being a “woman,” Fei Bi knew best how to act coy.
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