B-ronken-R-ing 159...

Cárcel did not want any kind of heroic tale tied to his name. While he had indeed intended to fabricate a story about his actions, it was purely to avoid the consequences that would sabotage his plans, nothing more.

"Once the church is fully restored and consecrated, we will engrave the tale of valiant efforts to protect this holy ground and the statues of the apostles on the Doors of Justice," the Archbishop continued. "Furthermore, I shall propose to His Holiness that you be made the Saint of Bilbao upon your passing

"I do not want any of those honors," Cárcel interrupted.

"Pardon?"

"I do not desire any form of commemoration. Please, refrain from doing anything of the sort."

"But-"

Cárcel raised one hand, silencing Archbishop Claudio with an air of authority that came as naturally to him as breathing. Before the destruction of the statue, he had been a devout man, treating even the youngest priests with an exceptional respect and consideration. However, he found it impossible to muster any respect for the archbishop.

Archbishop Claudio's spoiled, avaricious face involuntarily displayed a hint of fear.

Although it was preached that all men were equal before a servant of the Lord, the clerics tainted by worldly desires placed a great deal of value on noble bloodlines. These men used the name of the Lord to fulfill their base desires, despite their teachings that the human body was merely a vessel to be discarded after death.

"After all... I did not manage to protect all of the statues. One of them suffered total destruction, did it not?" Cárcel asked.

"That is true, and it was a grave sin... But ironically, the damaged statue was of Saint Anastasio, the Apostle of Resurrection. When my Brothers and I laid our eyes upon the ruin, we all felt it was a sign. The Lord must have intended to convey a message by allowing the indomitable apostle to crumble...I believe He was telling us, 'Behold! Even Anastasio can suffer such a defeat. Remember always to rise again even after being struck down."

Cárcel nearly scoffed at how the archbishop imposed profound meaning on the meaningless act of destruction. It must have taken that silver tongue of his to climb to the rank of archbishop as the son of a simple merchant, especially when one's lineage is always taken into account among high priests.

"I see... It appears the Lord manifested His will through those heretics, then," Cárcel remarked nonchalantly.

"What do you mean?"

"I understand that you seek a majestic tale worthy of this ancient holy ground being restored under your auspices. However, I do not deserve to be the hero of such a tale."

"Why would you say that, my lord? The tale is not a fabrication!"

Cárcel shook his head silently. "There was never any noble intent behind my actions. I implore you to leave my name out of your records... unless you feel compelled to make use of my family name."

The underlying message was obvious: I know that you're exploiting this situation to form a connection with House Escalante.

Claudio looked intensely conflicted, his eyelids trembling. Any further insistence would only expose his selfish interests.

Deciding there was no merit in continuing the conversation, Cárcel fixed the archbishop with a steady gaze and said, "Please summon the painter from yesterday. There is something I wish to give him before I make my departure."

***

"How are you feeling, my lord?" Emiliano asked with a gentle tone.

"Take a guess," Cárcel drawled without much emotion.

Emiliano cast a knowing glance over Cárcel's face, as if to confirm his suspicions. Then he said, "I am very thankful that you were able to receive treatment, albeit a little late. I was worried about you all night."

"I noticed that you crafted a rather fanciful tale about my deeds... which is curious, considering how you acted like I was committing the gravest sin known to mankind."

"Yes, I would say it was one of the worst sins," Emiliano said as if he was simply making a statement of fact.

Ignoring his response, Cárcel gestured at the chair across from him with his chin. "Take a seat."

Emiliano gingerly lowered himself into the chair. "You still appear quite pale, my lord. Are you feeling a bit more... awake?"

Cárcel realized that Emiliano was still staring at him with cautious gaze, as if anticipating another outburst. Since it was clear that Cárcel was "awake", the painter seemed to be asking if he had regained some of his senses. I suppose it makes sense that he's not some innocent sheep, Cárcel thought to himself. How else would he have done such a ludicrous thing with Inés?

"Yes, but barely. The archbishop tried to make me the Saint of Bilbao, all thanks to you. I nearly fell unconscious from the sheer absurdity of it."

"Saint Cárcel... It has a nice ring to it. Why did you turn down the offer?"

"I am the evil heretic who destroyed the apostle's statue. Do you truly want me to receive a reward by lying about how I defeated the fictitious heretics? Perhaps you simply wish to add to my tally of sins I will be punished for after my death."

Emiliano shrugged. "In a manner of speaking, you did defeat the heretics. You punished yourself for your sins." He gestured respectfully to the bandages wrapped around Cárcel's head. "Also, you stopped yourself from causing further harm to the holy statues, even though you could have done so if you wished."

"It is hard to believe that you are the devout believer from yesterday."

"I only committed these terrible sins to protect you, my lord."

"And why did you do that?"

"Because you are Her Ladyship's husband," Emiliano replied without hesitation, as if that simple fact justified all of his actions.

Cárcel paused for a moment, then asked, "Do you remember my last words to you?"

"Ah... Yes, but I dismissed them immediately because they were wildly unreasonable." Emiliano's tone and demeanor remained courteous even as he spoke such insolent words. His gaze never wavered.

Cárcel maintained an emotionless facade as he rested his chin on one hand. "If you do not wish to be with my wife, then feel free to walk away. However, it will change nothing about our impending divorce...which is what Inés desires. I merely sought to offer you an opportunity you had been denied in the past."

"Does she truly despise you that much?"

"No," Cárcel responded instinctively, then huffed out a small frustrated breath. "I know she harbors some affection for me. Perhaps she does not love me as passionately as she once loved you... but it is still an honor to know that she does not dislike me. Truly, I wish I did not have to let her go. I wish I could ignore her longing for you and hold her in my arms forever..."

"Then why do you seek to do something that would hurt you so?"

Cárcel's lips pinched in a bitter smile. "Because that would be incredibly selfish of me. Inés does not deserve to have her husband die so early... again."

Emiliano gazed at Cárcel wordlessly.

"She will not be able to formulate any plan when faced with my sudden death. Moreover, Inés is young enough that Valeztena will be able to marry her off to another man. It doesn't help that she never gave birth to an Escalante, which means she has no solid connection to any other family."

Emiliano simply stared at him with an unreadable look in his eyes.

"The affection she holds for me will make it hard for her to recover immediately after my death. When she realizes how much her own situation has deteriorated, she will be at her father's mercy," Cárcel said nonchalantly, as if his own death was of little consequence. "With all of these things considered, it would be best if I simply followed her plan. I can bear with the idea of her marrying another man after my death, but I want it to be somebody she holds dear."

After a moment, Emiliano finally responded, "Do you truly believe that she still wants a divorce, my lord?"

"I don't know, but a part of me hopes that she does. I hope she lied to me about her feelings for me, and that she despises every single day that she spends with me. I wish her memory faded so that she could forget all of the terrible things that ever happened to her, even if that means she will forget me too..." Cárcel sighed. "However, my wishes may not be realistic at this point. In that case, I will ensure her divorce goes smoothly. After that, I will disappear without a trace... and I will take Oscar with me."

Emiliano hesitated, then said, "Are you saying that you are planning to sever all ties with her?"

"It will not happen overnight. There are things I must do to ensure my plan succeeds... I must fight in a few more battles, and I must gain control over the naval forces of Calztela. I will have to completely separate myself from Inés and my family's line of succession." He shook his head with an amused smile. "As for you... I simply want you to stay by her side and bring her joy, instead of trying to turn me into the Saint of Bilbao."

"My lord..." Emiliano's face was stiff as a statue. "I would gladly fabricate any story if it meant you wouldn't be taken away to Del Fuego."

"Do you not wish to meet her?"

Emiliano fell silent.

"You prayed to the apostle for the ability to remember everything so that you could use those memories to stay away from Inés forever, did you not? Then you returned to the city where you had last seen her and entrusted the necklace to the jeweler-something that you knew she would recognize. You did all of this in the year of your death."

Emiliano did not say a single word as he stiffly lowered his gaze to the table.

Cárcel continued, staring at the painter's forehead, "To me, it seemed like you were begging Inés to find you again... asking if she also remembered, urging her to seek you out and be with you again...which is strange, given your prayer to the apostle." He smirked, as if he couldn't believe his own stupidity. "That's all I could think of after I somehow managed to remember your face."

Emiliano remained silent, his expression hardening into an unreadable mask.

"I suppose you were fine with the idea of her seeking you out, but not the other way around." Still, Emiliano did not say a single word. Cárcel leveled a cold gaze at him. "I will be departing from Bilbao soon, so you must speak."

"I do not wish to see her again," Emiliano said, his voice carrying firm resolve. "It's true that I tried to find her... But I never wanted to see her."

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"A blessed marriage..." Emiliano chuckled softly, as if amused by the absurdity of what he had just said. His eyes clouded for a second, then suddenly shone with a newfound light. "My lord, I assure you, Her Ladyship will not be able to endure my presence for even a day."

"That cannot be true-"

"In truth," Emiliano interrupted gently, "neither of us will be able to tolerate each other's presence."

Cárcel frowned in annoyance. How dare he? Has he forgotten the financial support she provided him? What of the love and protection that she gifted him throughout their lives...?

"My life was quite peaceful when I turned eighteen again for the first time after my death. Her Ladyship was no longer betrothed to the crown prince, and I was no longer the assistant of the painter who once traveled to Perez to paint her portrait. Instead, I was already in Oligarchia, supported by a generous patron. Everything seemed falling into place for once... until I realized that I was the only one granted such a blessing."

Cárcel stared at him wordlessly, waiting for him to say more.

"My lord... I, too, received an act of mercy some time ago," Emiliano said, clenching his hands so hard that his knuckles turned white. 

"Are you referring to the time when you were able to forget?"

"No. This happened during a time that I had never thought would come to pass... I believe it was the year she turned twenty once again. Although I tried my best to forget about my past, memories flooded back as the day of my death approached. I had no right, yet I couldn't help but wonder if she was happy... if she had finally married you... if she laughed every once in a while." Emiliano gave an empty chuckle and buried his face in his hands for a moment. "At first, I thought I was being punished by the Lord for daring to think of her."

"Punished..." Cárcel muttered under his breath. He noted that Emiliano's face was even paler than his hands. It seemed terror had drained all color from the painter's face.

"I felt like I was trapped in an absurd nightmare. I told myself that it couldn't be true, that she couldn't have done such a thing..." Emiliano swallowed with difficulty, then continued, "I couldn't believe that she had killed that child."