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At his question, which revealed his impatience, Callistea kept her mouth shut.

“… … Sorry, I am a little tired now.”

As soon as she asked her personal question, her barely visible smile disappeared like a lie. Like a mirage in the desert that didn’t exist from the beginning, all in vain.

“I should probably rest. I’ll talk to you later if that’s okay with you, Sir Kael.”

It was a coded dismissal. Callistea’s attitude of always avoiding conversations with him made Kael feel helpless.

He was very disappointed, but it was true that her complexion was pale after using a lot of her energy. Once he became a paladin, he first had to prioritize the safety of the Saint.

“Ah.”

Kael, about to get up, suddenly remembered a purpose he had forgotten. It was a request from poor Dami, who he couldn’t turn away from because of the guilt.

“I’m sorry, Callistea-nim but I have one more thing to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“There is one person who wants to meet Callistea-nim… … .”

Kael said hesitatingly. Even though he brought it up because he had promised, he regretted it as soon as he spotted the Saint’s reluctant expression.

“I’m sorry, If it’s an audience for private business, I’d like to turn it down.”

Callistea rested one hand on her forehead and exhaled quietly. To this, Kael added as an excuse.

“I’m sorry, the person said that Callistea-nim would certainly respond—”

“Who is it?”

“As you may remember, Damia of the Primula County in the North. You had met her in the garden the other day.”

At those words, Callistea’s breathing suddenly stopped. Kael raised her head at her unusual reaction.

“… … .”

For a brief moment, Callistea seemed to be very agitated. Kael could see an array of complex emotions flashing across her face.

“Callistea-nim?”

Kael’s startled voice awakened Callistea. And biting her lip, she pondered for a moment and unexpectedly nodded.

“Alright. Let’s meet.”

Kael was taken aback by her unexpected answer.

Callistea was faithful to her sainthood, and she did not meet people one on one. Instead, she, who was devoted only to the goddess, was willing to meet Damia whom she did not know well.

‘I’m sure the Saint won’t hate meeting me either.’

He had thought Damia was just saying it, but unexpectedly it was true.

Kael wondered why Callistea had agreed to meet his childhood friend. He was bursting and the seams hoping for an explanation, but he knew—

Callistea won’t give me any answers.

“… … I see. As soon as the date and place are decided, I will inform Dami.”

“Thank you.”

After finishing her words, Callistea turned away. It meant she didn’t want to talk anymore.

Was it because of the atmosphere? Especially today, her face, which was ignoring him, looked older. Indeed, it made sense to him as there were so many burdens on those skinny shoulders.

“Then, I hope you relax and rest well,”

Kael sighed and said in a sincere tone. And he quietly stood up and left her room.

A click was heard, and the door closed. At that moment, Callistea stretched out her shrunken shoulders and exhaled deeply.

“Haaa… … .”

She felt very sorry, but she was very burdened by Kael. His straight eyes seemed to choke her every time he looked up at her as if worshiping her.

For she knew she didn’t deserve his respect.

Callistea, collapsing on her sofa, tilted her head back. When she covered her eyes with the back of her hand, a beauty with red hair like a rose came to mind.

‘Damia Primula.’

She knew very well that her choice to meet her was wrong. If the High Temple ever found out, they would never let it go.

But if she was careful, she wouldn’t be caught. Kael, her escort and knight, was loyal to her and not the High Temple at the very least.

‘So just a little bit.’

Callistea longed for it. She was already crumbling little by little from the long, hopeless wait.

She only had something to protect, so she barely managed to hold out, although she was about to collapse at any moment. So, her little greed, this level… … may be allowed

Callistea glanced at the secret inner room, where Cesare was recovering now. And licking her parched lips, she lamented sadly.

“Ah, Cesare… … .”

My poor son.