The Archbishop fell silent for a moment.
His expression emptied, then he turned toward the door and issued an order to the Holy Knight standing guard outside.
"Summon the Commander of the Holy Knights. Now."
The knight bowed briefly and hurried off without asking a single question.
Moments later, the Commander arrived.
His expression was flat, posture rigid—as always.
"Greetings, Your Eminence, Archbishop Matthias Corwin," he said firmly.
"What are your orders?"
The Archbishop glanced at him.
"Is the prophet woman still alive?"
The Commander nodded.
"She is, Your Eminence."
"Bring her here," the Archbishop ordered, his tone pressing.
"There is something I wish to discuss with her. You can do that, yes?"
Without a word, the Commander nodded again and turned to leave.
Watching the exchange, Seo-jun lifted an eyebrow slightly.
"Impressive," he remarked lightly.
"He's very obedient."
The Archbishop smiled broadly and rested his chin on his right hand.
"Of course," he replied casually.
"As long as we hold their weakness, obedience is guaranteed."
His voice was calm—yet the words made the skin crawl.
"As superiors, it's necessary to keep our subordinates' vulnerabilities close. That way, they won't rebel. Or betray us."
Seo-jun raised his brow, then let a crooked smile form—a smile entirely out of place.
Not because he agreed.
But because he was disgusted.
In his mind, one conclusion settled clearly:
This was a man who wouldn't hesitate to kidnap a subordinate's family if it kept them loyal.
Not long after, the Commander returned.
Behind him, a young woman was dragged into the room.
She looked no older than Rowan.
Her face was filthy, her body bound in chains—yet her eyes were calm. Too calm.
The moment she saw the Archbishop, she spat directly into his face.
Splack!
The Commander struck her without mercy.
Seo-jun had to suppress a laugh—especially when the Archbishop panicked, frantically searching for a handkerchief while shouting for the Commander to lend him his.
The woman burst into laughter.
"Enjoy it, you damned Archbishop!" she shouted.
"You traitor to the crown! Don't pretend you're holy—you're nothing but a hypocrite!"
Seo-jun's interest deepened.
He extended a hand toward the Archbishop, whose face had flushed red with barely restrained rage.
That venomous gaze snapped to Seo-jun.
"Well?" Seo-jun said casually.
"Shall we begin the deal now? I find this woman's temperament quite appealing."
Without hesitation, the Archbishop seized his hand and shook it hard.
Too hard.
"Haha," Seo-jun laughed at last.
"You're awfully enthusiastic, Your Eminence, Archbishop Matthias Corwin."
The Archbishop did not respond.
He merely gestured to the Commander.
"Give him the key to her chains."
The Commander complied.
"So," the Archbishop asked flatly,
"when will the three thousand five hundred gold coins arrive?"
His voice was calm—but his eyes gleamed, far too honest about his desire.
Seo-jun sat down in the Archbishop's chair without permission.
Relaxed. Dominant. As if declaring who now held control.
"Tomorrow, at the earliest," he replied.
"I'll need to return home to prepare the payment."
He met the Archbishop's gaze directly.
"Until then, I want this woman guarded carefully. No injuries. Not a scratch."
A thin smile curved his lips.
"I prefer my assets pleasing to the eye. I'm sure you understand my tastes."
His voice hardened at the end.
"Make sure she stays alive—and in the same place—until I return."
Not long after, Seo-jun hurried back to his estate with a small entourage.
His personal guard—who had, in fact, been at his side the entire time—returned with him, still disguised as a monastery novice.
Throughout the journey, Seo-jun played his role flawlessly.
He returned alongside the "novice" personally assigned by the Archbishop—without the old man ever realizing that the one he had commanded was actually Adrian Hanwick's own elite bodyguard, expertly trained in disguise.
Still, they couldn't reveal themselves recklessly.
Aside from his covert guard planted as a spy, the accursed Archbishop had assigned another shadow: a senior holy knight to keep watch over them.
The problem?
The knight was laughably easy to tempt.
As a man infamous throughout the kingdom for his indulgent reputation, Adrian Hanwick knew exactly how to exploit that weakness.
Without hesitation, Seo-jun led the holy knight straight into a bawdy house.
A bawdy house—nothing more than a brothel, a place of nightly indulgence.
His personal guard, staying firmly in character, immediately protested.
He refused to enter, terrified his disguise would unravel too quickly.
Seo-jun, already standing in the doorway, kept pushing—until he finally dragged both of them inside.
He ordered drinks nonstop.
His guard, taking his role far too seriously, lifted the cup with trembling hands, took a single sip—and promptly vomited on the spot.
Seo-jun burst out laughing, pretending to be drunk and unruly, openly mocking his own subordinate.
The holy knight, who had resisted at first, soon crumbled.
Women in revealing clothes, flirtatious laughter, and shamelessly displayed curves shattered his resolve with ease.
In this era, even a glimpse of a woman's ankle could ignite a man's desire.
Alcohol and lust dulled his senses completely.
Before long, he no longer knew where he was—let alone noticed where Seo-jun went.
That was when Seo-jun approached the establishment's steward.
Yornia.
The first woman he had met after awakening in this world.
A master informant. A living database—Google incarnate, dropped into the wrong century.
"Keep an eye on that man," Seo-jun said casually, slipping five gold coins into her hand.
"Make sure he doesn't leave until I come for him tomorrow morning."
A thin grin crossed his lips.
"And make sure he doesn't die of exhaustion entertaining your ladies."
Yornia nodded quickly, then boldly brushed her fingers along Seo-jun's chin.
"Understood, sir. If you need someone to watch over you as well, I wouldn't mind."
Seo-jun smirked, briefly squeezing her chest in return.
"Not tonight, sweetheart. Just do your job well."
With that, he continued on his way home.
When he arrived, his mother was already standing at the front gate.
Margaret Hanwick was waiting.
The moment Adrian Hanwick's horse came into view, Margaret ran forward—abandoning all the grace she usually maintained.
"My love… my precious child," she said, her voice trembling.
"Where have you been? I missed you so much I haven't slept for two days."
Seo-jun immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
She felt smaller than he remembered.
"Mother… you look thinner," he said softly.
"Have you been dieting again?"
The head butler, arriving with a cloak, finally spoke.
"My lady has barely eaten while you were gone, sir," he said with a respectful bow.
"She often sat in the garden late into the night, worried about you."
Seo-jun's chest tightened.
Guilt crept in, slow and heavy.
His impulsive decision—made without considering anyone else's feelings—had hurt the person he cherished most.
He tightened his grip on his mother's hand.
"I'm sorry, Mom," he murmured.
And I won't ever do that again.