Chapter 65
The bishop couldn’t help but eye the young man warily, especially since he was offering the mansion for what seemed like a suspiciously low price. Though tucked away in a remote corner of Baltan, the place was impeccably maintained—larger than the de Bermore estate, with a beautifully landscaped garden.
Truth be told, the bishop liked almost everything about the property. Only the garden bothered him; the flower beds were a riot of clashing colors, and he’d already decided that, if he bought it, the first thing he’d do was dig up the whole thing.
As luck would have it, just then he heard about another estate for sale that suited his taste even better.
“If it’s in the affluent area just outside the old city, prices are only going to go up. Is there a particular reason you’re selling now?”
Even with the city’s top lawyer overseeing the deal, the bishop remained uneasy.
“I have debts. I need to sell quickly.”
“I see… Well, that makes sense.”
It was a reason he couldn’t really press further.
The bishop studied the young man’s face. He looked vaguely familiar, making the bishop narrow his eyes. Just then, the man finished signing the paperwork and looked up. His deep blue eyes held a faint smile, but his expression was generally cold.
Tapping his fingers against the glass tabletop, the man tilted his head slightly.
“How much does your diocese receive in annual donations?”
With most noble houses struggling financially these days, church donations had plummeted. The bishop replied with a specific number, giving a rueful smile.
“It’s unfortunate, isn’t it?”
“I hear you’ve been working hard to help the poor. I’d like to donate a year’s worth of offerings to support the children of Baltan. What do you think?”
But hadn’t he just said he needed to sell because of debt? The man’s words didn’t quite add up, and the bishop’s suspicions grew.
“For personal reasons, I want to marry as soon as possible. Would it be all right to sign the marriage contract at my house? It would be a great honor if you could come in person.”
In Baltan, a marriage was only officially recognized if the vows were signed in front of a priest.
“…Is this a business transaction?”
“No, it’s an offer.”
But, in truth, it was absolutely a transaction: he was proposing a donation in exchange for having the bishop witness the wedding at home, rather than at church.
As a servant of God, the bishop was wary of being swayed by wealth. And it was rare for a high-ranking clergyman to personally officiate an ordinary person’s wedding.
“You say you need to sell the house because of debts, but you can afford to make a large donation?”
Even with this pointed question, the man remained unfazed.
“I have a lot of debt—and a lot of money.”
“…Hmm.”
The bishop had met all sorts of people in his career, and prided himself on being able to judge character by first impressions. The man before him didn’t seem like a liar. The quality of his clothing alone suggested significant wealth.
Even so, the bishop’s doubts didn’t vanish until the man produced a promissory note, proof that he wasn’t trying to pull any tricks with the marriage contract. It felt, in a way, like a bridge between the bishop’s faith and the man’s substantial resources.
“This is all legal. I simply want to save myself the trouble of going to the church, since my fiance isn’t in good health.”
It was hardly a transgression, just for the bishop to witness the contract outside the church. And the thought of poor children going hungry weighed on his mind. If officiating this marriage meant those children could eat well for a year, the decision was clear.
The bishop shot a questioning look at the lawyer sitting beside the man, who nodded tiredly, signaling it was safe.
“Yes… As long as both parties agree in my presence, it can be done.”
Finally convinced, the bishop took up the pen to sign—and just as he glanced at the man’s signature, a chill ran down his spine.
* * *
“Lili, you’ll be alright by yourself for a while, won’t you?”
“Of course, go on, Chris.”
At the front entrance of the house, Lillien gave Christian a gentle push, encouraging him to leave.
“To think I still have to play doctor even after leaving Brsenyu… Sometimes I wonder if being a doctor isn’t a rather melancholy profession.”
“Melancholy? I wouldn’t say that at all. It’s a blessing to be able to help so many people. Now go, and do your duty with pride.”
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