The Secretary of the Northern Grand Duchess Has Run Away

Chapter 24:  The Lion and the Wolf (4)

The Istina Cathedral was so grand that it could block out even the sun.

Echina and I stood facing each other at the bottom of the endlessly stretching stairs.

“Been a while, here.”

The Northern Grand Duke’s daughter, with her hands behind her back, narrowed her eyes as she spoke.

Though she had cold, rational eyes far from piety, she used to come to the cathedral often when she was a child.

That was until her mother passed away from illness.

“Shall we go in together?”

I asked her politely.

However, Echina shook her head and declined.

“No, it’s fine. Head back on your own.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

With light steps, Echina turned and walked away.

If it had been any other woman, I would’ve worried about her walking around alone—but she was different.

In fact, she looked remarkably free in that moment.

Who would dare touch a fencing genius, one of the Academy’s best?

Any skilled opponent would first be overwhelmed by the powerful mana nestled in a corner of the Grand Duke’s daughter’s chest.

‘I suppose I should head inside now.’

The stone gate stood open.

From within, the scent of incense and the wooden aroma of the pews wafted out.

“……”

A cross was mounted on the massive outer wall behind the long rows of pews and the pulpit.

The faithful bowed their heads before that symbol, offering up their personal prayers.

Perhaps because it was a weekday afternoon, there weren’t many people.

Even so, most seemed like outsiders—Easterners, judging by their bronzed skin.

I took a seat in a secluded corner at the edge.

And then, I waited while observing them, until a high-ranking priest appeared.

Among them were several wealthy merchant lords.

‘They’re from the East.’

No matter how I looked at it, this didn’t feel like a simple pilgrimage.

They glanced around subtly, as though waiting for someone, as if they had another purpose entirely.

An Eastern woman in a fur coat and her husband in a luxurious fedora.

Across from them, a man and a woman in their early thirties wearing just short-sleeved shirts.

They all had bronzed skin and occasionally exchanged brief nods, as if they knew each other.

‘Wealthy Easterners have all gathered in this cathedral. But they don’t seem interested in praying.’

In other words, these people had come to meet someone.

And that someone was probably...

“They are my followers from the East.”

A gentle voice spoke into my ear.

As I turned my head, I caught sight of a woman who had somehow seated herself beside me.

‘The Saint of Istina…!’

A thin, black fabric wrapped around her hourglass-like figure.

Even so, her graceful beauty was impossible to hide.

“Judging by your gaze, you seem very interested in my followers.”

When our eyes met, her blue pupils shimmered beneath her silver hair.

The woman's face had something about it—like the surface of a deep blue sea—that stirred a strange sense of awe in the man.

"One is a newly independent merchant group, and the other is the largest in the East. Both of them are sponsors of our cathedral."

She spoke out the very thing I’d been wondering, as if to answer me directly.

It was a polite way of asking me to stop giving them such heavy stares.

"The largest one must be those younger men over there."

I responded to the Saint’s benevolent smile with lifeless eyes.

If her gaze was filled with faith and holiness, mine was stained with all the filth of the secular world.

"Why... do you think so?"

Saint Istina must have sensed that too, as she looked at me with interest.

Like a shepherd meeting a black sheep soaked in soot.

"Because those who’ve only recently become rich usually have nothing but money."

Her blue eyes stared intently at me, as if trying to peer into my inner thoughts.

But I didn’t flinch in the slightest.

"With that money, they buy honor. Through honor, they gain status. That’s why they wear fur coats in spring."

The woman in the fur coat yawned.

She looked over at her silent husband, giving him a sideways glance as if eager to go shopping downtown.

"Besides, no matter how cold the Empire’s north is, it’s spring now. A woman who’s lived her whole life in the East wouldn’t know that, and now she looks terribly hot."

This time, I pointed to the short-sleeved merchant lord sitting across from them.

The pair appeared plain and modest, especially compared to the middle-aged couple.

So much so, it was hard to believe they were wealthy.

"But someone who leads a large merchant group is used to trips like this. They know that spring in a northern city isn’t particularly cold."

Istina slowly closed her eyes halfway, as if my words were the correct answer.

"And while a nouveau riche has only money and rushes to make themselves known, a magnate has far too much to lose."

I gently brushed the tie Echina had fastened for me.

The black lion tie pin caught on my finger and swayed lightly.

"One wrong decision can mean hundreds, even thousands of lives, so they don’t decorate themselves. They always remain composed."

Saint Istina quietly listened to my words, then blinked her elegant silver eyelids.

Her pale skin glowed softly against the contrast of her black saint’s robes.

"Much like you, Saint."

"……."

The reason she hid her striking beauty behind black cloth.

She was a woman so capable that she didn’t need to show the allure of her appearance—her greatest asset as a woman.

She was the kind of woman powerful Eastern figures, filled with ambition, sought out on their own.

“You're quite an interesting follower.”

Was it because I’d deduced so much about them just from a distance?

Saint Istina let go of her benevolent smile.

“Yes. They’re all my followers, but there’s an overwhelming difference in their wealth.”

It was as if, in her eyes, she could see not halos above their heads, but the numerical value of their fortunes.

With her original, seductive gaze, she threw the question back at me.

“Still, each of them is worthy of being called wealthy. But what about you?”

Saint Istina quietly observed me and, much like I had, began her own rapid deductions.

“There’s the Luton family crest on your tie pin, but I’ve never seen your face before.”

Her gaze rose to my face.

She studied my narrow eyes with her blue ones, then parted her red lips.

“And if you walked all the way to the cathedral without a carriage, then you’re not a noble. You must be an attendant.”

As if responding to her guess, I looked toward the donation box.

Then I spoke, my expression indicating that I was no mere servant.

“I am an attendant, but I wasn’t sent here on anyone’s orders.”

Beneath the sacred cathedral, the world’s most secular man and a saint sat side by side.

I introduced myself in our own discreet way.

“Yesterday, a hundred gold worth of ingots and a tailored suit should have arrived at the cathedral. I’m the owner of those items.”

“Ah… So you're the son of the Julius family.”

Thankfully, my father seemed to have returned the gold ingots he’d received from Helena.

Because of that, I could now steer this conversation with Istina smoothly.

“No wonder. You do resemble your father quite a bit. That narrow gaze, for example.”

“It’s not exactly a striking face.”

As I gave a small chuckle and shook my head, Istina gently touched the rosary resting on her graceful curves.

“But that’s odd. Baron Robin didn’t seem like someone who believed in God.”

Her gaze, carrying the blessing of the divine, stared straight into my pitch-black eyes.

She instinctively sensed that I came from a place steeped in the darkest corners of the secular world.

“And you’re no different.”

Her eyes were saying: It’s time to speak honestly.

At that, I chuckled softly and shook my head.

“Looks like I can’t lie in front of God.”

I turned my body toward Istina.

And, surrounded by the subtle scent of her soap, I spoke plainly.

“I want to do business here in Nord.”

In a very serious voice.

“……”

Business.

It was a word completely out of place in a cathedral, and Istina tilted her head slightly.

“Then you should go to the city hall. Why would you need my permission?”

“You know why. If you want to make big deals in Nord, you need to be either a noble or someone with solid credibility.”

When I got to the point, Saint Istina let out a shallow sigh, clearly displeased.

Of course, I’d expected that—but her answer was more bland than I anticipated, and that, oddly enough, made me a little disappointed.

But—

I didn’t falter at her reaction and boldly continued speaking.

“As you saw with the donated gold ingots, I have more than enough financial strength. If you’d write me a letter of recommendation, you won’t regret it.”

Did she think it was just the audacity of someone barely twenty?

Istina’s signature benevolent smile vanished completely.

What followed was a face so cold, it was hard to believe she was a saint.

She looked at me like a royal who held the keys to the Empire’s treasury.

“I’m sorry, but where exactly did the Julius family acquire such wealth?”

Her image was that of a holy saint, but to reach this position, she had employed countless strategies and manipulations.

Someone like her would never hand over access to the vaults of the Silver Truth Church so easily.

“Until I learn the proper source and revenue stream, I cannot help you.”

With that, Istina clasped her hands together.

Then, regaining her sacred expression, she turned her head toward the cross.

As if she were just a pure 24-year-old woman, knowing nothing at all.

“……”

If not a saint, she could have been an extraordinary businesswoman.

With her hands folded, her signature graceful curves were accentuated.

“I can prove it.”

I, too, silently looked up at the cross.

But my chin was held high—not with reverence, but with unshaken resolve.

“If you don’t trust me, then permit me to purchase a low-risk, low-cost property.”

A secretary should never rely on others.

“For example—‘Old Luton.’”

Old Luton.

At the mention of that name, the saint gently lifted her soft silver eyelids.

But this was only the beginning.

What I said next made her eyes widen like a silver wolf.

“If you allow just that, I’ll return twenty times the value within two months.”

Twenty times.

He was proposing to revive a place so abandoned, it had been deemed unworthy of development.

“Old Luton is a ghost town. You’re saying you can bring it back to life… within two months?”

At the mention of restoring a ruined city even the gods had given up on, Istina finally showed genuine interest.

I responded with a faint smile, my narrow eyes glinting slightly.

“Surely I have to prove at least that much if I want God to recognize me.”

At my dry joke, Istina’s red lips moved just slightly.

Yet true to her deep piety, she kept her gentle expression composed.

“You’re amusing, Roger.”

Having finished her prayer, Istina glanced at me.

Then, like someone willing to indulge the antics of a lost lamb, she decided to wait and see what I’d do.

“From where I stand, no matter what kind of magic you pull, two months won’t be enough.”

Her serene gaze sharpened, narrowing like a blade.

In that instant, her image shifted—from merciful angel to fierce predator.

“Do you intend to make a deal with the devil?”

Between strands of silver hair, her blue eyes flashed coldly.

I met her glare with the deep, black pupils of someone unreadable.

Wearing an expression shaped by experiences far darker and more despicable than anything demonic.

“The people I’ve dealt with so far have been worse than demons.”

At least demons don’t feed poison to their own subordinates and force them to commit suicide.

Having served beings far more twisted than that my entire life, I had nothing left to fear.

“So don’t worry.”

I rose lightly from the pew.

Then, passing the rows of empty seats in silence, I headed out of the cathedral.

On my way out—

One of the Eastern tycoons, having heard my footsteps, paused his prayer and glanced over.

But when he saw my plain suit, he returned his focus to the altar without a second thought.

“He’s dealt with worse than devils…”

Left alone, Istina gently touched her rosary, repeating my words to herself.

Then, bringing her soft lips to the cross, she murmured,

“It’s been a while since someone interesting came along.”

The saint rose from her pew.

She lightly brushed down the wrinkles that had formed in her clothes while sitting, letting her robe fall back into its graceful drape.

Istina fixed her gaze on my retreating figure as I descended the cathedral steps.

Then, once I had fully disappeared below—

She returned to the office where the letters of credit were kept.

“To think someone would dare propose a wager inside a cathedral.”

As she walked back, her expression was no longer that of a merciful saint.

Instead, she wore the mature smile of a mischievous devil hiding behind a saint’s veil.

“I do hope he’s worth keeping…”

Not in God’s embrace, but in her own.