Joen fell silent.
This was the first time someone had used the word “laughable” to describe him.
He felt neither anger—believing everything he had gained came from his own efforts—nor shame, thinking he should first understand whether the other person enjoyed the same comfortable life before blaming them.
He only felt a weary, sorrowful disappointment that surged like a tide, piled like a mountain, and scattered chaotically in his chest, crushing his heart until it could barely breathe.
Why had the world become like this?
How had the world become like this?
Countless tangled questions swirled in his mind, like the moss in the corner or the candle lamp on the wall—flickering, uncertain, seeking no answer.
The young man’s broad, strong hands gently turned the pages of the files.
“I’m a lucky person,” Joen said.
“My greatest luck… is that I’ve met one group of good people after another. They taught me what the right thing to do is, and they also taught me what the world ought to look like.”
Joen continued, “Actually, we have a lot in common. We’re both gluttons, we both love horses and armor, and we both sneak extra glances whenever a pretty, cute girl walks by. I don’t want to give a dry lecture or scolding, and I can’t persuade you to turn back. The only thing I can do is wish you well. I wish you success in everything. I wish you a bright future.”
Lebron still fixed his bloodshot, hate-filled eyes on Joen.
These words, meant to soothe anger, only added kindling to the fire in his heart.
His rage grew fiercer instead, and Joen’s figure twisted and distorted in his eyes.
The wish felt like a mockery, the calm like arrogance.
That hypocritical attitude of offering “blessings” even after being attacked was more ironic than any jeer in the world.
“What stupid nonsense are you talking?” Lebron demanded.
“You wish me well? On what grounds? You should hate me properly, you bastard! I’m isolating you! I’m stepping on you to rise! Do you think this makes you seem magnanimous and noble? Just react like a normal person, you smug, selfish jerk!”
Lebron’s accusations came like a machine gun.
He himself couldn’t understand where this unprovoked hostility and anger came from.
When he finished venting, he panted heavily, and a faint bitterness and regret rose inexplicably in his heart.
But the next second, Joen smiled at him.
“I forgive you.”
Lebron lowered his head and let out two hoarse, incredulous laughs.
Suddenly he understood—this feeling was jealousy.
Jealous from the start, jealous still, and now even more jealous.
He looked up and, with a full, vigorous voice, defended the last shred of dignity of this jealous little man.
“I don’t accept it.”
The sky was a misty blue, waiting for rain.
Autumn rain fell like silk.
Lebron fled out of the Underground Tribunal as if escaping, walked into the sunlight, trod the Glowing Fluorite Path, and finally stopped by a pond.
He cupped a handful of water and washed his face with rainwater that had drifted past fallen leaves.
The clear water could clean the dust off his face, but it couldn’t wash away the bloodshot in his eyes.
Lebron stared blankly at the water’s surface.
Only now did he realize how messy and desperate he looked.
He couldn’t win in force—the illusion of being his enemy evaporated in an instant.
He couldn’t win in thought either.
In that moment, he even felt he wasn’t worthy to stand before Joen.
But beyond winning, he didn’t know what else to pursue in life.
Was he supposed to serve the Goddess? Ha, they clergy knew better than anyone—the Goddess didn’t need their service.
They needed the Goddess, not the other way around.
Finally, he finished washing his face.
Lebron went to the Bishop’s Office to report to Icot.
At that time, Icot was leisurely eating a meal—delicacies from land and sea, the utmost extravagance.
The fragrant aroma constantly teased Lebron’s sense of smell, and he couldn’t help swallowing.
“That guy… still won’t budge at all?”
Icot put down his cutlery, wiped his mouth with a silk napkin, sighed, and wore an extremely ugly expression.
“He doesn’t care about fame, doesn’t care about wealth, doesn’t care about power. What the hell does he care about? Could it be… he really doesn’t care about anything except getting to the bottom of the truth and overturning a dead man’s case?”
The more Icot thought, the more irritated he became.
Lebron said nothing, though he really wanted to say—that was probably exactly it.
As for why he felt that way, he didn’t know.
Maybe it came from some kind of empathy.
‘If I were a darling of God, lacking neither money nor power, what would I do?’
“You’ve done well. You’re close to Joen; I’ll count on you to put in more effort in the days ahead. The entire future prospects of our Old City District Church rest on your shoulders alone. Once the trouble is resolved, I’ll promote you another rank.”
Icot took out a Gift Box he had prepared long ago—inside was a precious bottle of Life Source Supplement Potion.
He patted Lebron on the shoulder and said amiably, “I heard your mother has been overworked and fallen seriously ill recently. Take this medicine back quickly to replenish her health. I hope she recovers soon.”
“Thank you… thank you, Lord Bishop…”
Lebron held the Gift Box, his expression slightly moved.
After a long while, he bowed deeply and thanked him with tears of gratitude.
Alchemy potions were not cheap, especially high-grade ones related to health that almost everyone might need.
On his own and a Holy Knight’s salary, it would take several years of not eating or drinking to afford one.
Following Haran and Joen, the road ahead only held rightness, patience, and poverty.
Bishop Icot was a bastard, but following him, he could obtain things he had never dared to dream of before.
Good people, bad people.
Righteousness, profit.
Lebron wandered the streets in a daze.
As always, he could smell the sweet aroma of baked bread and roasted apples.
The bustling crowd passed by his ears.
The lively market, the beautiful and prosperous Imperial Capital—it all felt separated from him by a thin veil.
A colleague was discussing the “new show” that the Succubus Shop was heavily promoting tonight.
A vendor selling baked mashed potatoes pushed his charcoal stove cart, hurrying along.
He remembered the shame of selling socks on the street with his mother.
Lebron stumbled into a brothel in a daze.
As always, he called for the service of the girl he had known for almost twenty years, his childhood friend.
The girl walked in generously, familiar as ever, and started to undress.
Lebron suddenly pressed her shoulder, stopping her dress halfway, preserving the last bit of decency.
“Are you crazy? What got into you again?”
The girl froze, then elbowed him in the ribs and laughed uncontrollably.
“Let’s get married,” he said dejectedly but seriously.
“I suddenly realized… I might be a bad person.”
“Ooh~ Congratulations, you’ve finally learned self-awareness.”
“But I want to rise above… no, I’ve already risen above!”
Lebron gripped her shoulders again, starting his rant.
“Let’s get married. No reason, I just suddenly want to.”
“Cut it out.”
The two wrestled on the bed.
Soon, both were exhausted and out of strength.
The girl lay on Lebron’s shoulder, sleeping peacefully.
Lebron ate the leftover pastries from her morning meal, tears welling in his eyes.
Outside the window, the autumn rain had started falling unnoticed.
A curtain of water hung in front of the luxury clothing store.
A little beggar crouched in the corner, her eyes gouged out and her ears cut off.
Old wounds had split open from the dampness, oozing blackish blood.
Clink.
Someone dropped half a box of milk cake into her bowl.
Lebron stumbled home in a daze.
As always, he stood by the window, quietly watching his mother in bed.
Sometimes, he actually hated her.
Hated her for starving herself to send him to the Church School, making him learn so many useless principles and see so many beautiful things he could never touch.
Hated her for loving him so much, burdening him with heavy love and sin.
How could he dare to be willful?
How could he dare?
Hated her for always being full of hope and expectations for him, this piece of trash, as if he, this ridiculous piece of trash, was the best boy in the world.
Clearly he was nothing, but under her tearful gaze, how could he dare not rise above?
He opened the Gift Box.
The potion lay quietly in the silk.
Lebron stood silently at the door for a long time before finally summoning a somewhat relaxed smile and pushing open the rented room’s door.
“Mom… I’m… I’m about to get promoted.”