Chapter 6
They glanced at each other nervously, but Felix was the first to greet them with a gentle smile.
“Good day.”
“Haha… good day to you,” one replied awkwardly, the other quickly following suit.
Felix walked away with a calm expression, his footsteps unhurried.
“What do we do?” one whispered. “If Lord Abel hears of this…”
“Do you think he didn’t hear us? He smiled, didn’t he?”
“Maybe… Maybe he didn’t.”
They could only hope he hadn’t heard a thing as they watched his figure disappear beyond the corridor.
But what they couldn’t see, what they never saw, was the expression on Felix’s face once he turned away. Cold, and utterly void of warmth.
* * *
Where had it gone wrong? Abel recalled the exact moment: when Felix erased all expression from his face and fell into silence after answering.
Abel hadn’t pursued the conversation. He could tell Felix didn’t want to speak further. But that didn’t make it any easier to understand him.
‘Why would being spoken ill behind one’s back be a problem?’
People were always talking poorly about others. Even Abel, revered as a messenger of the divine, was not spared from slander behind his back.
But he simply didn’t care. Even saints, if such people existed, would be gossiped about eventually. Not that Abel was claiming to be one.
In any case, if you were going to be insulted no matter what, wasn’t it better to be insulted behind your back rather than to your face?
This was a conclusion Abel had reached during his time enduring the trials of the Father.
Verbal insults could be ignored. But people who waved swords in his face, poisoned his food, tore his clothes, dug pits for him to fall into, dumped filth over his head, or locked him in a cell — those could not be so easily dismissed.
Visible, tangible hostility degraded the quality of one’s life.
But whispered insults behind his back? From people who didn’t even have the courage to meet his eyes? Why should he be affected by such things?
“Well, I suppose when I fall from grace, the backlash of people’s harsh words will hit harder.”
But that wouldn’t happen.
In his past life, Abel had passed the trial of the Father. So in this life, he would not have to face it again.
Which meant that he would never lose his current power or position, and anyone under his protection, like Felix, could thrive as well.
So really, no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t understand why Felix had been so upset. He couldn’t understand why, in the end, Felix had simply shut his mouth as if he no longer wished to deal with him.
“Well, if I don’t know, I should ask.”
Abel, who had been lounging comfortably in his private prayer room, rose to his feet and opened the door.
“Lord Abel.”
The attendant priest and guards who had been waiting greeted him, but Abel called out to the one person who didn’t.
“Felix, come in.”
At Abel’s summons, the atmosphere immediately grew tense. But Abel wasn’t the sort to care about other people’s moods.
As the eyes of the group slowly turned toward him, Felix stepped forward with a picture-perfect smile.
He had been standing at the very back of the group, barely noticeable. But now, as he wove his way through the others to approach, Abel turned slightly to let him enter the prayer room.
Still, though Abel typically ignored the feelings of others, he did pay attention to the mood of the one he loved.
‘He’s even more upset.’
Watching Felix’s face carefully as he brushed past, Abel offered no explanation to the rest and quietly closed the door behind them.
Then, without preamble, he asked:
“Why are you so angry?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, my lord.”
Felix answered with a sweet, serene smile, eyes gently curved as if carved by sunlight.
Abel stared at his face.
He’d assumed the smile was for the others. But even now, with just the two of them, Felix continued to smile that polite, exquisite smile.
It was beautiful, but it was unfamiliar and wrong. Felix had always been honest with him.
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