Try Crying Prettier - Chapter 135

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Damia’s earnest gaze looked up at Lessid as if she was desperately hanging on. Then, as if his heart was aching, his delicate eyebrows sadly lowered in response.

“To be honest, it’s impossible for me. In the first place, the ‘Forbidden Stigma’ is a very difficult technique. To be able to engrave it, one must be at least a high-ranking priest or even higher.”

And to erase the stigma that had already been engraved, a higher power was required. Upon hearing this, Damia was stunned.

“No, it can’t be… … .”

Despair loosened her legs, her vision narrowed, and she became dizzy. She stumbled and fell. No, she almost did.

“Damia!”

Startled, Akkard hastily caught her. Even though he had had a violent argument with Damia just before, he couldn’t ignore her when she was shocked into a collapse.

Unaware, Damia had no idea where and who she was leaning on, and her limbs stretched helplessly. Her legs had no strength, and she could not control her body.

“Really— is there any way to save my father?”

Damia asked, gasping for breath. But the answer to that question came from the wrong place.

“There is.”

It was Akkard who answered instead of Lessid.

Damia looked at him for the first time when a rich, heavy voice came from her side. Confused by her shock and fear, her eyes seemed to have barely recognized and registered Akkard’s existence.

There was so much pain in her gaze that they squeezed his chest. But, what Damia needed now was not comfort but a strong sense of purpose.

“After all, there’s a primary obstacle, Damia. If you want to save your father, you must cut off the ambition of the High Temple. We must destroy their roots and make them useless.”

“… … .”

“That’s all I can do now. So help me, the royal family. I will somehow free Count Primula.”

I swear on my name.

Hearing Akkard’s solemn oath, Damia’s eyes trembled.

She resented him, but he was right. The higher the rank, the greater the loyalty one would have to the High Temple. There was no way someone with more holy power than a high priest would turn his back on the temple and help me.

So there was only one thing she could do now. Destroying the High Temple, the root of all these problems.

“… … very well.”

Damia responded as she wiped the tears with her elegant fingers. Her eyes were still red, but within her wet eyes was firm willpower.

“I will do anything. If only I can save my father.”

There was a moment of silence at the determination she had revealed. Eventually, Lessid sensing the atmosphere that had become too heavy, grinned.

“It’s good that you’ve come to a decision. Congratulations on joining those who have turned their backs on God.”

When Lessid, who had just been fired from the priesthood, said so, Damia felt relieved.

As a northern aristocrat, it was no different than a crime against the divine to be hostile to the High Temple. In particular, Damia’s family had a business that relied heavily on them.

Hence, Damia felt guilty for just stealing appropriate information to strike a deal with Akkard.

But the moment he saw the seal on her father’s neck, everything changed. She valued her one and only father far more than her family’s name and business.

“Don’t worry. Even the High Temple won’t be able to touch Count Primula recklessly.”

Akkard, who was concerned by Damia’s pensive grimace, hinted.

This wasn’t an empty consolation; it was a fact. It was not yet known what kind of goods the High Temple was secretly sending to the South. But it was clear that they needed Count Primula for the plan.

‘Originally, they failed to recruit Cecil Evergreen.’

So, they would try to take advantage of Damia’s father without harming him for the time being. Meanwhile, they would try to find a way.

‘I need a way to destroy the temple instead and save my father.’

Damia took hold of her heart. Now was not the time for her to be frightened and intimidated. Instead, it was time for her to find the best she could aid.

As she thought about it, her mind calmed down. Damia finally regained her composure and took out the paper she had prepared in advance. And she carefully handed it to Lessid.

“Uh, Lessid-nim. This is … .”

“Hmm? What’s this?”

Lessid asked with a raised eyebrow as he unexpectedly accepted the letter she handed him. Finally, Damia regained her composure and youthful appearance.

“It’s a love letter from me.”

“I see. Love… … What?!”

Lessid, who was about to nod at Damia’s prank, was startled. When he was surprised, he who always had an arrogant air about him, he looked like a cat with his hair upright.

Damia saw this and waved her hand with a smile.

“I’m jesting.”

“… … oh is that so? Haha.”

It would be alright if it were a real love letter. No, it would have been great. Lessid, who could now have a romantic relationship, pursed his lips in regret.

Then he suddenly saw it: Akkard’s eyes grew as large as his in great anxiety and then sighed in relief.

Damia was calm, not knowing how her own joke had affected the two men. As she looked at Lessid, she suddenly remembered something she had forgotten.

‘Come to think of it… … My father had received a letter from Kael.’

Indeed. When Owen had traveled to the High Temple on a business trip, he had received a letter on her behalf from Kael, who had become a paladin.

But Damia had not read the letter. She had pretended it was because she had been busy, but really she hadn’t had mustered the courage yet.

‘Kael Roysten.’