In the narrow confines of a tower, the former Duke of Ardeck, Ponce, sat on a bed, his face buried in his hands.

Since his confinement to the tower, this was how he spent much of his time—muttering to himself incessantly. He barely ate, had lost significant weight, and his thinning hair made him almost unrecognizable compared to just a month ago.

“Who would ever consider Life Magic as the blessing of the Creator God?”

It was Ponce who, upon hearing that Saijar had acquired the skill of lifestyle magic at the age of thirteen, dismissed it outright without further inquiry. From then on, he scorned Saijar as someone cursed with a useless skill.

The door opened, and the former Viscount Elden, who had succeeded the Ardeck Ducal house, entered the room. But Ponce didn’t even notice his presence.

“Ardeck’s finances are in ruins. What exactly have you been doing? How could you posture with pride in such a state?”

While inheriting the Ardeck Ducal house, the viscount had also inherited an enormous amount of debt. He hurled accusations at Ponce like curses.

But Ponce showed no reaction at all. His mind had already shattered, and he no longer responded to others' words.

“Even the former duke and duchess are proving troublesome.”

While Ponce’s mental state had collapsed, his wife—Saijar’s stepmother—was even worse, spending her days screaming incoherently. The new Duke of Ardeck felt burdened by his inheritance, wanting to shout that he was the one suffering daily under its weight.

Elsewhere, far removed from the chaos of the Ardeck house, another person was grappling with bewildering circumstances.

A figure lay bedridden, plagued by a fever caused by boils erupting all over their body.

“Your Holiness, here is some water.”

It was none other than the High Bishop himself.

Just before the king publicly declared that Saijar’s blessing was granted by the Creator God, the bishop had been struck with these boils and had taken to his bed. Despite the clergy’s best efforts, the boils refused to heal, and the bishop had remained bedridden for over a month.

“Should we perhaps request aid from the Sen’i…?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

Even while wracked with fever, the High Bishop vehemently refused treatment from Saijar.

Allowing Saijar, who had tarnished the temple’s authority, to heal him would completely destroy the temple’s standing and reputation.

“But these boils… it’s almost as if…”

The cleric stopped mid-sentence, hesitant to suggest that it was a curse.

If word spread that the High Bishop was suffering under a curse, the temple’s authority would be damaged regardless of Saijar’s involvement.

“My treatment will remain in the hands of the clergy. No outsiders are necessary.”

Three days later, the bishop’s condition deteriorated further, sending him into a coma. The clergy nursed him devotedly, and while he eventually emerged from the coma, his state remained critical.

Another ten days passed, and the bishop fell into a coma again. This time, recognizing the severity of his condition, the clergy decided to seek Saijar’s help.

However, Saijar had embarked on a journey and was not in the royal capital. As a result, the bishop remained comatose for three more days before regaining consciousness.

Unknown to most, the temple had used their secret treasure, the Sage Stone, to save the bishop. While the bishop’s body was restored, the stone’s power was expended entirely, and its loss was a significant blow to the temple.

Though the clergy kept the incident a tightly guarded secret, the bishop soon relapsed. Boils reappeared, and he was confined to bed again.

Many clergy members concluded that the bishop was suffering divine punishment. His body’s complete rejection of their healing efforts and the reappearance of the boils—despite the miraculous intervention of the Sage Stone—seemed like nothing less than divine wrath.

“Oh God… what have I done…?”

Collecting wealth under the guise of divine authority without offering aid to the people.

Bribing his way to the position of High Bishop.

Persecuting Saijar, who bore the Creator God’s blessing.

The list of his transgressions was endless.

As the days passed, the bishop’s condition worsened. After three months of relentless decline, he finally succumbed. His skeletal body bore a grotesque expression that seemed to embody the despair of the world itself.

With the matter of Pados and Monoglok settled, I decided it was time to embark on a journey.

The soap-making operation was running smoothly under Boronbo, her subordinates, and the orphans. Even the high-quality soaps for the royal family were being produced without issue.

The clinic had also been temporarily closed, as the number of patients had significantly decreased, making this a good time to step away.

I had already said my goodbyes to the guildmasters, who had been so helpful to me, as well as to the king, the chancellor, the queen, and Lucia.

Naturally, I also planned to bid farewell to my grandfather and grandmother before departing.

I’d said my goodbyes to Johnson, Bale, and the others. Was there anyone else I’d forgotten?

“Master, where will we be heading first?”

“I was thinking of going to the Empire.”

The guildmaster had gone to great lengths to discover that one of the former servants of the Maniears family was living in the Empire.

I intended to meet this person and learn more about the murder of the Maniears family.

“It’s been a long time since it was just you and me, Pal.”

“Our last journey together was 280 years ago.”

A pure two-person journey—it had been that long since my last one. That trip was certainly enjoyable.

“You were so prickly back then, Pal, but it was still fun.”

“What are you saying? Pal has always been a sweet and adorable girl.”

If you say so. Well, let’s set off.