Not a Confession, but a Declaration - Chapter 16

Felix’s mere presence made even this tedious event fairly bearable.

Then again, what was the point if only Abel enjoyed it?

Unexpectedly, Abel was not the only one enjoying himself.

At first, as always, Felix had been stressed by the attention of those watching him. But after about an hour, he had begun standing at his post quite contentedly.

Why?

‘Because I’m suffering.’

Abel did not need to ask Felix to know that.

It was the same principle as before.

It was the same thing Felix had said before: that he hated being criticized because of someone he disliked.

From Felix’s point of view, watching someone he hated suffer was probably quite amusing.

Which was why he smiled whenever their eyes met like this.

‘This one is a real smile.’

The reason behind it wasn’t exactly pleasant, admittedly.

Taking advantage of a brief lull in the stream of visitors coming to see him, Abel spoke to Felix.

“Felix. Are you enjoying yourself?”

Bowing slightly in proper etiquette, Felix met Abel’s eyes and replied with a smile.

“Yes, very much.”

It was an exceptionally honest answer. Abel nodded as though it were only natural, his own expression devoid of amusement.

“I thought so. You’re happy to be at my side, after all.”

“…Of course.”

Felix was a beat slow, but he managed to preserve his smile nonetheless. He could curse Abel all he wanted with his eyes; only Abel, standing directly in front of him, would notice.

“It was worth bringing you along. You’ve put a smile on my face.”

The words were utterly sincere, but paired with the way Abel slowly swept his gaze over Felix from head to toe as though evaluating him, they seemed to carry an entirely different meaning.

Naturally, that was intentional.

Did one have any idea how many eyes were watching the two of them? The Pope’s eyes and ears were everywhere.

So Abel had to act in accordance with the rumors that had already spread.

The problem was Felix. Even though he knew why Abel was behaving this way, the look in his eyes turned cold.

It did not seem to be an act. Felix would never humor Abel by playing along in the first place. He appeared to be genuinely displeased.

As Felix started to straighten up, Abel lightly caught the end of his sleeve and whispered so that no one else could hear.

“I mean it. You’ve made this much more bearable.”

Abel looked into those blue eyes, more brilliant than jewels, to see whether his meaning had gotten across.

The next moment, the back of the hand clutching Felix’s sleeve was painfully swatted away.

Abel swallowed the cry that nearly escaped him. If he made a sound here, people might hear.

‘He must not have liked being touched.’

Then again, Felix had always hated being touched without warning.

Fortunately, the sound of Abel’s hand being struck was drowned out by the arrival of another noble.

As though surprised by his own lapse in composure before others, Felix’s eyes shook violently.

Abel gave him a small nod, as if to say it was fine, then hid his reddened hand beneath his long sleeve and turned to greet the noble.

“Lord Abel.”

The noble who had come this time was a devout believer who regularly visited the temple.

Ignoring whether anyone was watching, Abel placed a hand atop the head of the noble, who had readily prostrated himself before him and kissed the back of his foot.

“It pleases me to see one so faithful.”

As he spoke, he channeled divine power.

The most well-known property of divine power was its ability to heal injuries, but it could also drive away evil and bestow blessings.

Pretending to bless the man, Abel healed the injury on the back of his own hand.

Since he possessed the power to heal injuries, there was no reason to keep hiding the redness on his hand.

More importantly, the excuse was perfect.

Unlike those who had forced themselves to visit the temple in order to keep watch over it, probe Abel’s intentions, or criticize him, the noble kneeling before him truly believed in the Father.

To outsiders, Abel’s decision to bless the man with divine power would likely look like a rebuke aimed at those nobles who lusted after power but possessed no faith.

And, as expected, satisfaction spread across the faces of the surrounding clergy.

The faces of the Imperial nobles, on the other hand, soured as though they had just swallowed filthy water.

“L-Lord Abel!”