TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 36

After a dinner filled with unspoken tension, Albin returned to doing his homework.

He had slept straight until noon that day. Though the rest had been comfortable, he felt like he’d lost a significant portion of usable time. He hadn’t even done much before it was already evening.

Padma, just like the day before, stayed by his side, watching him copy vocabulary from memory and reminding Jade to restrain his magical energy.

Meanwhile, Zeman left the room and opened the intelligence report he had received from the Honeysuckle Trading Guild.

The handwriting within detailed the appearance range of the monster known as the “rat,” as well as its observed abilities.

Some of this information came from priests, but the majority came from monsters scattered across distant lands.

Only Gold, whose informants spanned both the human and monster realms, could gather such a vast trove of intel.

This was also why Zeman had let Gold go in the first place.

Zeman studied the information with a grave expression.

The mastermind behind the scenes could not only control rats but also use them to manipulate human corpses.

Some monsters possessed special abilities, and the rat’s seemed to be [Control].

Its motives were unknown. Its true form, unknown. However, Gold had discovered traces of rats in numerous temples. The temple attendants controlled by rats were always those serving newly chosen saints, and in their name, they had borrowed many ancient texts related to the gods and history.

Gold was able to detect this pattern because every such corpse bore bite marks on the back of the neck—consistent with those found on corpses controlled by rats.

It could tentatively be inferred that the rat’s goal had something to do with the gods. It, too, was searching for information about the divine.

Could it be that the rat also wanted to break the curse?

Zeman fell into thought, recalling the details from his dreams.

Assuming that everything in the dream could be used as a reference, then the rat hadn’t stopped even after obtaining Albin. That suggested his objective wasn’t just to lift the curse.

Zeman had also keenly noticed something off.

The rat hiding beside the new Holy Son and Holy Maiden—was that just a cover? Just a pretense?

Surely there were other identities that could get him close to the library without arousing suspicion.

Zeman continued reading the intel.

The information showed that the rat was last seen at the border between the Tulip Kingdom and Thorn City.

The Tulip Kingdom—that was the next nation on their journey.

Zeman’s eyes turned cold as he burned the report.

He glanced at the faint light coming through the door crack and stepped outside.

Even though Albin hadn’t shown any divine markings, the Solar Temple definitely wouldn’t let things go. They would try everything to bring Albin into the temple—and prevent them from leaving the city before that happened.

Even earlier on the street, Zeman had faintly sensed watchful eyes on them.

But Zeman didn’t want Albin to join the temple just yet.

For him, this wasn’t a troublesome issue.

He donned his cloak and headed for the grand temple at the city’s center.

As night fell, the spacious and lavish Solar Temple became especially cold and gloomy. The golden relics that sparkled during the day now appeared dim in the faint candlelight, and the stone corridors looked solemn and heavy in the twilight.

When he appeared before the old priest and lifted his hood to reveal his face, the priest was overwhelmed with joy.

The old priest wasn’t of noble blood. He had risen to high priest of this temple purely by merit—because he had discovered Zeman and sent him to the Solar Temple to become the Holy Son.

It was the greatest achievement of his life.

“Your Holiness the Holy Son—no, I should call you His Holiness the Pope now. Praise the Sun Lord, you look safe and well.”

The former Pope had died, and both in terms of identity and ability, Zeman was the undisputed new Pope. The entire theocracy and all followers of the Sun God awaited his return.

The old priest was excited. “I’ll arrange for an escort right away! The succession ceremony can be held at any moment—you’ll be the greatest Pope we’ve ever had!”

He immediately became busy, not even asking how the previous Pope had died or why Zeman had gone missing—he was just thrilled about the upcoming ceremony, chattering excitedly without giving Zeman a chance to speak.

“And that child!” he exclaimed, eyes bright with a fanatic gleam. “There’s a boy with the same divine gifts as you! He’s the new Holy Son chosen by the Sun Lord! We must bring him too.”

“Your Holiness, rest assured—I’ll handle everything. I’ll make sure he’s bathed in the Sun God’s radiance like you were. I’ll pay his family handsomely—no one would refuse such an honor! No one!”

He spoke with certainty, already viewing Albin as his next great achievement, determined and unwilling to be stopped.

In stark contrast to his fanaticism, Zeman said coldly:

“I am his father.”

The next morning, Albin took advantage of the sunny weather to practice controlling the light element by the window. A glowing orb, like a tiny star, hovered in his hand. He beamed as he showed it to Zeman.

“Dad, look at this!”

Now that he knew he had all elemental affinities, he had started practicing other elements too.

He made the light orb float, created a few more, and had them orbit around his handsome father—creating sparkly effects, like a bunch of fireflies.

The soft glow made Zeman’s aura seem gentler and even holy.

“You look like a god right now, Dad!”

“Gods aren’t that simple,” Zeman said, helpless but indulgent as he played along.

“I’ve never seen a real god, after all,” Albin replied confidently.

Zeman thought of Moon, then of Padma. His expression became complicated.

No, son—you’ve probably seen more gods than anyone else alive.

While Albin was playing—no, training—he suddenly heard hoofbeats. He looked out and saw two majestic white horses pulling an ornate carriage toward the inn.

The carriage was made from premium wood, decorated with gold accents, carved with delicate patterns and the emblem of the Solar Temple. It radiated luxury and elegance.

The coachman asked, “Is Mister Albin here?”

Everyone in the inn looked toward the carriage, curiosity swelling like a tide. They echoed, “Where’s Mister Albin?”

Albin poked his head out and waved. “You’re looking for me?”

The coachman replied, “This carriage is a gift from His Holiness the Pope, prepared for your journey. May the Sun Lord bless your path.”

Albin was stunned and rushed out with Zeman to ask why.

But the coachman only gave vague answers—he was just delivering a message.

Zeman said, “Take it.”

With his father backing him up, Albin nodded and marveled, “The Pope is so kind.”

Then he remembered the Pope was supposed to be possessed by the Sun God, and he felt like a good person was being defiled.

Sun God—bad!

He seriously thought: If only I could stop the gods’ actions.

He added it to his mental to-do list.

Padma, arriving shortly after, glanced at Zeman and gave a light snort.

With the carriage, travel became much easier.

Before, they had to travel with merchants, whose cargo wagons were uncomfortable and had little space for luggage. Merchants were also bound by strict schedules and rarely stopped unless weather or emergencies forced them to.

But now, they could carry more, travel comfortably, and go at their own pace.

That morning, Albin excitedly went shopping for food and clothes with everyone. He even dragged his father to the temple to thank the Pope via the old priest.

The old priest fidgeted, clearly wanting to say something. He kept glancing at Zeman but, receiving no response, had to awkwardly agree and watch them leave.

After lunch, they set out.

The interior of the carriage was spacious and cozy. Velvet cushions and silk pillows offered enough room for four.

Zeman sat on Albin’s left. Padma sat opposite, while Emerald was curled up sleeping inside Albin’s warm coat pocket.

Besides learning basic languages and magic, Zeman and Padma taught Albin how to implement policy—from a clerical and noble perspective.

Issuing a decree wasn’t the end—it was just the beginning.

Only policies that could be enforced were truly successful.

Take the ban on hunting magical beasts, for instance. It brought no benefit to nobles and instead curtailed their favorite pastime.

True, some kind or minor nobles might support it—but those weren’t the ones causing the problems in the first place. They didn’t like being poisoned, so they were happy to comply.

Padma said, “To those opposing nobles, the issue isn’t the policy itself.”

Albin was confused. “Isn’t it just about hunting? Why wouldn’t that be the main issue?”

“It’s your attitude as the Holy Son—or rather, your attitude that matters most.”

He explained, “They’re greedy and opportunistic. When something threatens their interests, they’ll never obediently comply. Once they see how much you care about the commoners and how determined you are to pass such laws, they’ll identify your weakness and exploit it to make outrageous demands.”

“So sneaky!” Albin puffed up his cheeks in anger.

“When dealing with them,” Padma warned, “don’t reveal all your thoughts. Don’t appear too soft. You need to make them fear you—only then will they obey.”

Inspire fear…

Albin rubbed his face and looked at Zeman. If he could look as cold and stern as his dad, he’d definitely be scary.

He tried mimicking Zeman’s expression—tight lips, furrowed brows—then signaled everyone to give him feedback.

But with his soft face and expressive eyes, he looked more adorable than intimidating. It only made others want to tease him.

Padma, ignoring Zeman’s dangerous glare, pinched Albin’s cheek and grinned. “Normally, emissaries handle negotiations. You won’t need to meet them yourself.”

That was common. Most nobles sent professional stewards, and the temple had corresponding emissaries.

“I see!” Albin brightened up. “Padma, tell me more about how nobles think!”

Padma sighed. He didn’t really want Albin’s ears polluted by those corrupt nobles. Every one of them had been awful.

“But I need to understand them to know how to persuade them,” Albin said, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Padma looked into his eager eyes and remembered the white-haired youth in the dream, working just as hard to slay gods. So he relented.

“Let’s start with the first viscount I ever served…”

They traveled for several days, making stops along the way, eventually crossing the southern border into a new country—the Tulip Kingdom.

There, they first arrived at a city that resembled a fortress.

Compared to the cities they had seen before, this remote border city was heavily guarded and carried a heavy atmosphere.

“This place feels strange,” Albin muttered.

“It might be because it borders Thorn City,” Padma mused. “Or because of their new king.”

Ah, Thorn City again.

They’d traveled from Thorn City to the northernmost country—and now were looping back south.

“What about the new king?” Albin asked.

“I’ve heard a little. There was a succession dispute in the Tulip Kingdom. The previous king murdered his brother and usurped the throne. His brother’s child escaped, returned last year, and took revenge—reclaiming the crown.”

“Whoa…” Albin gasped. “That sounds like a really powerful new king!”

“But that new king is reportedly a brutal tyrant. There’s a lot of opposition in the kingdom. This city might be affected too.”

“Huh? What did he do?” Albin was curious.

Padma shook his head—they’d have to find out after entering the city.

They found an inn that provided only lodging, not food.

Padma disliked the smell of alcohol, especially wine, so they had avoided taverns along the way for his sake.

Once they settled their horses, they went out in search of food—but on the main street, they encountered a troop of soldiers clad in gleaming silver armor. People quickly cleared the way.

At the head of the cavalry was a tall, muscular man with honey-colored skin riding a powerful black horse. His saddle was inlaid with glittering ornaments. A crimson cloak billowed behind him. His short orange hair and razor-sharp eyes exuded cruelty and coldness.

Next to him rode a fat nobleman, sweating profusely and speaking nervously. He kept his distance, clearly terrified he might be cut down at any moment.

Padma recognized the tulip emblem on the man’s cloak and whispered to Albin, “That must be the new King of the Tulip Kingdom—Sutanlei. This city’s high alert is likely due to his presence.”

Ohh, so that’s the tyrant!

Albin’s eyes widened in fascination, watching the so-called tyrant with interest.

So muscular! So cool!

Sutanlei’s gaze swept over the crowd. When he saw Albin’s striking white hair and red eyes, he suddenly halted, pulling on the reins and locking eyes with him like a hawk.

Just then, from afar—several fire magic spells erupted, blazing flames tearing through the air straight toward Sutanlei.

Someone was attempting to assassinate the new king—right in the street!

“Die, tyrant!!”

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