Grant Me Your Grace

Miftah walked for a while, letting his feet guide him. Suddenly, a temple came into his view. 

Among the many places he had visited in the Kingdom of Baran, that temple had left the deepest impression on him.

‘To be precise, it was the divine gift located there.’

A man with red eyes who had appeared out of nowhere overnight. 

His appearance matched exactly the description in a few lines of prophecy, and he was revered as a divine gift.

Hayad was a relatively religiously free nation, and as an atheist, Miftah found the blind faith of the people toward the divine gift merely amusing.

He had also heard about several miracles that had occurred in the Kingdom of Baran after the appearance of the divine gift, but even those failed to stir much interest in him.

‘Even if the priests had conspired to fabricate it, who would know?’

Snickering, Miftah entered the temple, intending to observe from a distance.

Inside the temple, it was packed with people who had come to receive prayers from the divine gift. 

Some held plump chickens, others carried rare books, and some simply held invisible, earnest hearts, waiting their turn to stand before Hissin.

Miftah leisurely made his way through the crowd towards the divine gift.

“May the grace of the goddess Nuit be with you.”

“Manra. Receive the blessing, O divine gift.”

A young woman holding a newborn baby bowed deeply. The divine gift, Hissin, stood before her, smiling softly as he gently stroked the baby.

Even as he watched this scene, Miftah felt no excitement. 

The fiery red eyes were still fascinating to see again, but beyond that, he felt nothing particularly remarkable.

Perhaps it was a waste of time. Just as he was about to turn away, regretting the time spent.

“Hey, we were here first in line. If you want to receive a prayer, you should get in line.”

A middle-aged man, clearly not from the upper class, blocked his path with an arm, apparently thinking Miftah was trying to cut in line to receive a prayer from the divine gift.

Miftah frowned at the arm daring to block him. His attendant, Sepak, quickly pushed the man aside and shouted.

“How dare you lay hands on him! This is the prince of the Kingdom of Hayad, betrothed to Her Highness, the Princess of Baran!”

The commotion caused by the attendant’s loud shouting began to stir the crowd. 

The uproar spread like wildfire, and soon everyone started gathering around to catch a glimpse of the prince of Hayad.  

With his patience already worn thin due to the emperor’s interference, Miftah was about to grab the dagger at his waist when—  

“You’ve come.”  

The divine gift, Hissin, approached him directly.  

“His Highness Miftah of Hayad.”  

Though, his gaze was not entirely friendly.  Miftah made a displeased expression as Hissin approached him with a smile.  

At most, they had only briefly exchanged greetings during the welcome ceremony. 

Yet, not only did Hissin remember his name, but he also pronounced it as if it had been carved into stone. 

Miftah found it utterly baffling.  

“That day, we didn’t have much time to properly greet each other. I’m delighted to see you here again.”  

To Miftah, who held no faith, it felt like the hypocrisy of a clergyman who had merely secured a position of power.  

‘This has become bothersome.’  

Quickly masking his expression, Miftah forced a polite smile and greeted him.  

“It’s an honor to see the divine gift once again.”  

Beneath his sly smile was a subtle hint of mockery. 

It was clear that, after the series of irritating events, he was determined to leave some mark of his displeasure.  

Though Hissin must have sensed it, he showed no outward reaction. Instead, he treated Miftah with an even gentler demeanor.  

“Why are you leaving so soon? Since you’re here, why not receive a blessing?”  

“Well, I’m not particularly interested in that.”  

Miftah glanced briefly at the interior of the temple before turning his gaze back to Hissin.  

“I was just wandering aimlessly and happened to step in here.”  

The disdain in his green eyes grew more pronounced. It was clear that he regarded Hissin as nothing more than a plaything, his arrogance evident.  

Yet, Hissin once again smiled innocently, like a child unaware of anything.  

“I’m glad to see you again. I’ve been curious about you, actually.”  

“About me?”  

“Yes. The devotees kept asking me to pray for you…”  

Miftah frowned as he watched Hissin’s lips curve into a gentle smile. 

‘Why would the people of Baran want to pray for me?’

Perhaps sensing his confusion, Hissin smiled faintly as he looked into Miftah’s green eyes.  

“They were praying to bless the marriage between Her Highness the Princess and you.”  

At that moment, Miftah, who had been feigning indifference, felt a chilling sensation crawl up his spine and spread sharply through his entire body. He knew this feeling all too well.  

Murderous intent. This was the killing intent of someone who had resolved to kill. 

The very same intent he had felt countless times from his brothers.  

‘Who is it?’  

Miftah quickly glanced around with the corner of his eye. 

Among the many devotees surrounding them, he saw no one with a gaze that betrayed such intent.  

Though there were signs of irritation from those who had been waiting since dawn for their turn to receive a blessing, no one dared to openly display hostility toward a prince of a nation.  

Miftah turned his gaze forward again. The divine gift was still looking at him with that pale smile.  

Even as he stared into those red eyes, he felt nothing. Instead, Hissin simply continued to smile like a fool.  

There was no way someone like this could have emitted such a cold, murderous intent.  

‘Was I being too sensitive?’  

Miftah brushed the back of his neck, which had grown cold, and spoke.  

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I must decline. I believe only in myself.”  

“If you are to marry Her Highness the Princess, you must swear an oath of faith before the goddess Nuit.”  

“What’s so hard about a ritual? I’ll just grit my teeth and endure it for that one day.”  

Miftah chuckled and spoke without hesitation. 

He openly declared before the divine gift that he would ‘pretend to believe in the gods as needed’. 

It was blatant blasphemy, but his twisted mood made him speak recklessly.  

“To gain the Princess, what wouldn’t I do?”  

Miftah twisted his lips into a smirk.  

“If I take that woman as my wife, I’ll be able to touch that tantalizing body of hers whenever and however I please.”  

His moss-covered, damp eyes glistened with a lecherous desire. 

It was clear from his gaze that he regarded the Princess as nothing more than a possession, his arrogance unmistakable.  

It was then that Hissin’s lips, which had been curved into a gentle smile as delicate as a finely crafted mask, straightened into a thin line.  

“The scriptures of Baran have a passage,” he murmured in a voice so soft it was barely audible to Miftah.  

“Those with eyes can distinguish heaven and earth.”  

“…”  

“Those who know what is high and what is low shall avoid calamity.”

But at that moment, Miftah once again felt the murderous intent that had brushed past him earlier, this time more vividly than ever.  

It was as sharp and meticulous as a blade slowly, ever so slowly, peeling away at his skin. It felt as though the slightest movement would immediately direct it straight toward his heart.  

A chilling fear that made his hair stand on end. As the instinctive desire for survival surged within him, Miftah let out a faint, bitter laugh.  

‘Well, well.’  

The source of the murderous intent was the man right in front of him. 

Those fiery, sun-like eyes, beautiful yet piercing, were now filled with unmistakable malice as they stared directly at him.  

“The goddess Nuit is watching over you even at this very moment,” Hissin said, his smile widening as he revealed the hostility that only Miftah could fully perceive.  

“In the presence of the goddess, I hope you will act wisely.”  

If those words sounded like a warning to not act recklessly, was it simply his imagination?  

“Please, make yourself comfortable during your stay. Farewell.”  

Hissin bowed politely and then turned away. The devotees of Baran swarmed after him, and Miftah was naturally pushed back.  

As he watched Hissin’s retreating figure, Miftah couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh. 

Soon, even that laugh faded, and his teeth clenched in frustration.  

“…It seems I’m not the one who doesn’t believe in the gods,” he muttered, his voice dripping with menace.  

Though it was only a brief moment, Miftah couldn’t shake the strange feeling that had lingered throughout his encounter with Hissin. 

It was as if he had glimpsed a ferocious expression on the face of a saint who embraced hungry, pitiful children. 

There was an inexplicable sense of dissonance that emanated from Hissin, something he couldn’t quite put into words.  

Was this entire nation under some kind of collective hypnosis, or was it his twisted mind distorting everything?  

“My mood’s ruined,” Miftah muttered.  

After casting a disdainful glance at the crowd surrounding the divine gift, he finally left the te mple.