Count’s Youngest Son is a Warlock

Chapter 137: I want it

“Is that what you want?”

Hume asked.

“That’s right. Something that can’t be explained by words happened. People call this a ‘miracle’.”

[That’s right. It’s a miracle.]

Russell responded to Lucion’s words.

“People believe in God of Light. So, they think that God of Light would bring them back when they die.”

“Death is not the end. … Is there really such a thing as ‘God’?”

Hume got side-tracked for a moment.

He saw it a lot in books, so he’d been curious about it for a long time.

“Well, I don’t know. But the important thing is that people will praise me for the miracle given by the God of Light. That praise will soon be my strength.”

Lucion smiled slightly and looked at Hume.

“Do you understand now, Hume?”

“…Yes, but knowing with my head is one thing, and my question is another. Why do people follow the invisible?”

“That’s up to your heart. Anyway, Hume. I’ll use the light again. At least it’s better than dying.”

“I understand, but I would like you to let me use it next time. I don’t mind being exposed to the light.”

“Okay.”

Lucion’s eyes briefly turned to Russell.

[Use it, Lucion. As you say, it’s better than dying. But only when it’s really urgent. I want you to only use it when it’s urgent.]

“Yes. Thank you.”

To be honest, the situation where the warlocks rushed at him a moment ago was too sudden even for Lucion.

What actually happened was different from what he had expected.

As Hume said, it probably would be a good idea to leave it to him next time.

Hume took out another blanket and use it to ver Lucion, whose body temperature dropped, so that he wouldn’t be cold.

Ratta wriggled under the covers, then she pulled her face out and blinked.

―Now close your eyes, Lucion. Ratta can hear the darkness hurting.

“Okay. Let me get some sleep.”

Lucion wanted to escape the pain for a while.

His eyes crept shut.

* * *

“…Ha.”

Miella sighed.

Her brows were furrowed, and she walked with rough steps.

“No matter how much I think about it, this is annoying. What’s with the sudden postponement? Do you know how many hours I’ve waited?”

“They said warlocks appeared.”

Kran spoke quietly and glanced at Quate, who had briefly examined the inside of the auction house.

“That’s right. The Saint used light to defeat the warlocks. It wasn’t really a secret, but the voices of the staff were very loud. I think it will be properly announced soon.”

“…Light? I heard that the Saint is allergic to divine power, was that a lie?”

Miella slightly covered her mouth in surprise.

“It’s not a lie. He’s really allergic.”

When Kran denied this, Miella laughed.

“How come our Kran-nim knows so much about the Saint?”

“E-Ehem, I was interested, so I did some research.”

Kran tried to change the subject.

He would like to ask the Saint to bless and send off the people of his native Kingdom of Keortia that had disappeared before his eyes, but he knew it was impossible.

Feeling regretful, he only came across information about the Saint every once in a while.

“Lady.”

Reint pointed forward and called out to Miella.

At his word, Kran and Miella simultaneously closed their mouths.

“This way, Lady.”

As soon as he entered the auction house, Kran changed his expression and guided Miella.

“Yes.”

Miella was the same way.

She walked slowly, with a smile full of gaudiness, looking like a noblewoman.

Quate and Peter, who were unfamiliar with being an escort, seemed uncomfortable, and Reint was very relaxed because he was familiar with it.

Kran stopped following the numbers written on each seat and crumpled his face.

It was good they got an invitation, but what they got was a shabby seat at the back.

It had an atmosphere as though the auction house had no choice but give them a spot.

Heh.

The nobles that were passing by seemed to laugh at Miella.

‘…Bastard. I’m going to stamp your head with my heels.’

Miella walked over to Kran, holding back her rising anger.

Tap tap–

Miella rushed her steps.

“Not only do we have to sit in the back, the chair is so shabby.”

In a slightly sharp voice, Miella asked Kran.

“I’m sorry, Lady. I will look into it again.”

“Hold on.”

Miella was genuinely angry.

No matter how independent she was, she could see that their hospitality was indistinguishable.

“Whose seat is that?”

Obviously, compared to other seats, her seat was quite ordinary, but there was one seat that stood out.

The grandeur seat made her seat look more shabby.

It didn’t match the surroundings, and it looked unnatural as if it just had been taken out of the warehouse.

“…I don’t know.”

Kran replied with all his might.

When he also appeared bewildered, Miella sat down in her seat.

“Lady. I’ll ask them to change seats at once.”

“It’s fine.”

Miella waved her hands in a slightly irritated voice.

Her goal was her own item anyway, it was not the time to consider her position.

The seat next to her just bothered her a lot.

The nobles took their seats one by one, but no one sat next to Miella.

“It’s rather nice that there’s no one else here. To be honest, imitating a noblewoman was a bit difficult. My feet hurt, and my clothes are uncomfortable.”

Miella sighed and stretched out her legs.

“I’d rather be here, too.”

Peter replied in agreement.

The clothes that didn’t suit his appearance felt suffocating.

It would be nice if he could put a hood over it.

“Ah! I have something to make, so I want to go home and make it. My fingers are itchy, it’s hard to hold back.”

When Miella tried to take off her shoes, Reint panicked, and Kran hurriedly spoke out.

“No, please bear with me. One of the tacit rules here is to save ‘face’.”

“That’s really strict. This is why I hate aristocratic and aristocratic places.”

With frowns on her forehead, Miella slipped back to the right posture.

“Someone is coming this way.”

At Quate’s remarks, Miella quickly gave a subtle smile.

“Is it the seat next to me?”

As Miella whispered quietly, Kran shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

“From the direction, that seems true.”

Quate answered in a low voice, and Reint glanced sideways and was at a loss for words.

“…Huh.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Miella couldn’t resist her curiosity and urged Raint.

Even if it was a place where you could move like a banquet, it was against etiquette to turn your head around, so she desperately hold back.

“The owner of that chair, no matter how you see it… No, I think it’s definitely the Saint.”

Reint was slightly excited and tried to lower his voice.

If that person was not the Saint, then who else could he be?

Tap tap.

Nobility overflowed from the way he walked.

Kran, conflicted by Quate’s words, turned his head slightly.

Their eyes met.

He felt breathless at the familiarity he had seen somewhere and the smile of the person who might be the Saint.

Such a benevolent smile.

‘…It’s the Saint.’

It pierced his brain at once.

Lucion naturally sat down and greeted Miella with a nod.

Only then did Miella and Quate turn toward Lucion.

Quate gave a small smile.

He never thought that the man he saw before in the town with the gate to the south was indeed the Saint.

“…!”

Miella unconsciously swallowed her breath.

She could see why Reint was making such a fuss.

She felt what it meant to be overwhelmed by the atmosphere.

No matter what anyone said, he was the Saint.

‘…No way, Miella couldn’t possibly recognize me, right?’

Lucio was flustered by Miella’s gaze staring at him.

Because he was conscious of the members, he paid a little more attention to his clothes when he got changed again.

– Whoops. She must be surprised because Lucion is so shiny. Ratta knows how that feels.

Ratta spoke in an excited voice.

[You can relax, Lord Lucion. They don’t notice that Lord Lucion is Hamel.]

Bethel smiled lightly.

That reaction was as Ratta said.

Hadn’t he seen it with the maids and Naughton?

‘…Hmm.’

Even if Bethel said it was fine, Lucion was very concerned.

Just as Miella was about to apologize because she had stared too hard, Naughton stepped onto the podium.

“Good morning, I am Naughton Descia, who manages this auction house.”

Naughton bowed to the nobles.

“I am very sorry for the unavoidable postponement of the auction schedule today.”

Since it was a simple and sincere apology, the aristocrats’ eyes didn’t turn ferocious.

However, the atmosphere was cold because they still hadn’t heard the reason for the postponement.

“Only a few hours ago, warlocks appeared at the auction house.”

Buzz.

All the nobles were shaken by the fact that warlocks had appeared.

Snap–

Naughton flicked his finger and suddenly a subtle light came down toward Lucion.

“…?”

Lucion’s eyes widened.

When Naughton asked if he could tell the nobles what had happened, Lucion naturally allowed it.

But he’d never said he wanted this kind of show.

As all eyes focused on him at once, Lucion hid his trembling hands behind his back.

[Don’t be flustered, just look at Naughton.]

Russell came down to catch Lucion’s gaze and pointed his finger.

Lucion followed Russell’s fingers with a slight nod.

“The 8th Order of the Knights and Captain Heint Tria.”

The eyes of the nobles changed at the mention of Imperial Knights.

“The Saint, Lord Lucion Cronia.”

With Naughton’s words, it was confirmed that the person under the lights was Saint Lucion Cronia.

The corners of Miella’s mouth trembled.

As expected, he was the real Saint.

The Saint was right next to her.

Isn’t that amazing?

‘He’s the real Saint.’

Upon confirming that he was indeed the saint, Lucion, reflected in Kran’s eyes, even had a halo.

He wondered if it was possible for a person to suit such deep nobility.

“With the power of these people, we were able to defeat the warlocks.”

Naughton strengthened his voice as if to revive the emotion of that time.

“The Saint purified seven warlocks with light, even though he was allergic to divine power. The injury he suffered at that time inevitably led to the postponement of the auction.”

Purification.

In short, it meant that the warlocks were dead.

How?

The doubts among the nobles increased one by one.

They knew well that a person with a divine allergy suffered from terrible pain when exposed to light due to the rebound.

But if the warlocks died of light, shouldn’t Lucion also die?

How could Lucion still sit in good shape?

Strange distrust arose in the eyes of the nobles.

“I swear on all my honor, this auction house, and the name of Descia, that this is true!”

Naughton drove the nail to the murmuring nobles.

At the fact that he bet almost all of his everything, the nobles were shaken.

If it turned out to be a lie, he would have to fight against the numerous nobles sitting here.

“It’s true!”

Heint opened his lips.

“I, Heint Tria, swear on the honor of the Imperial Knights!”

Following Heint, the knights who were helped by Lucion spoke similar words in unison.

With the swear of the noble and the Imperial Knight, they couldn’t deny that it was indeed true.

“…Is it a miracle?”

A noble murmured in a low voice.

A miracle.

The word that came out of someone’s mouth quickly spread because it couldn’t be explained by any other words.

In the first place, who is Lucion?

The Saint.

The person blessed by the Divine Beast.

His existence itself was already a miracle.

‘Yes. That’s right.’

Lucion strengthened his trembling hands and recognized the changing eyes of the nobles one by one.

There was a mixture of beliefs, not eyes filled with greed, but eyes that looked as though they had really witnessed a miracle.

‘Continue praising me. What happened today, all the rumors that spread through those nobles, they will come back to me and give me strength.’

Without saying anything, Lucion lowered his head to the nobles with an apologetic look.

The soft lighting and silence surrounding Lucion, and the fact that all the warlocks were dead, but only Lucion was alive. It was something that could only be called a miracle, and even the apologetic expression seemed sacred.

Saint Lucion Cronia.

The aristocrats really began to see him as a saint, who was just like a beautiful painting.

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