Cerys stood there in silence for a moment, her eyes still fixed on the woman before her, yet the shock that first appeared in her expression slowly faded away. Her breathing steadied, her posture relaxed, and the confusion in her gaze turned into something calmer, something far more composed.
"So," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for herself to hear, "it was her that the young master did not want to marry."
Her eyes moved from Frazanna to Clay, then back again, as if confirming the connection between them. The pieces began to fall into place inside her mind. The Absolute Ice Body. The arranged marriage. The avoidance. The irritation in his thoughts whenever the topic appeared. Everything aligned too perfectly to ignore.
Behind Frazanna, the young man froze as if struck by lightning.
His eyes widened, his mouth slightly open, and for a moment, he could not even find the words to speak. The name Clay Valmont echoed in his head again and again, each repetition making his disbelief grow stronger.
"You… you are that guy?" he finally said, his voice rising in disbelief. "The one who became famous for running away from his fiancée because he thought he was too high for someone as perfect as her?"
Clay's brows immediately knitted together.
"Why would I be famous for that?" he asked, his tone carrying clear confusion rather than denial.
Before the young man could respond, Cerys stepped forward slightly, her expression turning confident as she looked at him.
"Why not?" she said calmly. "My young master is indeed far above her."
Her voice carried no hesitation.
"In fact," she continued, her chin lifting slightly, "earlier, my young master stood before the Holy King himself and threatened to destroy the Holy Kingdom right in front of him."
She paused for a brief moment, letting her words settle.
"And the Holy King did not even dare to oppose him. He agreed to grant my young master's request."
Silence.
The air turned heavy.
Frazanna's eyes widened, her expression finally cracking for the first time.
The young man behind her stood completely still, as if his mind could not process what he had just heard.
To them, those words were not just shocking.
They were dangerous.
Blasphemous.
The kind of words that could lead to execution without question.
The young man's expression slowly hardened, disbelief turning into anger.
"Do you even hear yourself?" he said, his voice dropping into a cold tone. "Do you understand what you are saying?"
His hand moved to the hilt of his sword.
"To speak of the Holy King in such a way… to claim that he bowed to another… to suggest that someone could threaten the Holy Kingdom itself…"
His grip tightened.
"These are not just foolish words. These are crimes."
He took a step forward, his gaze sharp and filled with judgment.
"If you do not repent for what you have said, then I will judge you myself."
With a swift motion, he drew his sword and pointed it directly at Clay and Cerys.
The blade gleamed under the light, reflecting the tension in the air.
Frazanna immediately raised her hand.
"Wait," she said quickly, stepping slightly in front of him.
Her voice was calm, but there was urgency beneath it.
"They did not mean it," she added. "We did not hear anything. Let us just leave this matter as it is."
She turned slightly toward Clay, her gaze softening just a little.
"You have already helped me. There is no need for conflict."
But the young man shook his head firmly.
"Lady Frazanna," he said, his tone unwavering, "it is precisely because they saved you that I am giving them a chance."
He raised his sword slightly, his expression resolute.
"But what they said cannot be ignored."
He straightened his posture, his voice rising as he began to speak with a strange kind of reverence.
"The Holy King is the chosen of the Holy Light," he declared. "He stands at the peak of our kingdom, a symbol of purity and strength."
His eyes burned with conviction.
"To speak against him is to speak against the Holy Light itself."
He took another step forward.
"The Holy Scriptures clearly state, in the third chapter of the Book of Radiance, that those who insult the chosen of the Light shall face judgment, for their words are not mere insults, but defiance against the will of the divine."
His voice grew stronger, each word filled with pride and belief.
"It is written that the Light watches all, and those who stray from its path must be corrected, whether by guidance or by force."
He pointed his sword more firmly at them.
"You have chosen your path with your words."
The air grew tense again.
Clay rubbed his forehead slightly.
He could already feel a headache forming.
This was exactly the kind of situation he wanted to avoid.
Trouble. Noise. People who would not stop talking.
He let out a quiet sigh.
Before he could say anything, Cerys stepped forward again.
"Young master," she said softly, "let me take care of this."
Inside her mind, her thoughts moved quickly.
If everything you said in your dream about me is true… then it means we are tied together by fate.
Her eyes flickered slightly.
It means we are meant to walk the same path.
A faint warmth spread through her chest.
This is only a small act of repayment… for being the only one who understood me.
Clay looked at her with a slight frown.
"Huh? Take care of this?"
But before he could question further, Cerys turned her attention back to the young man.
Her expression became calm.
Then, she spoke.
"The Holy Book also says something else," she began, her voice steady.
The young man frowned.
"What?"
Cerys lifted her chin slightly.
"It says that those who are truly loved by the Holy Light do not need to prove themselves to those who shine less brightly than them."
Her tone remained composed, yet there was a quiet confidence in it.
"They do not need to bow. They do not need to explain."
She took a small step forward.
"For their existence alone is already proof of their worth."
The young man's expression darkened.
"Are you saying…" he began slowly, his voice filled with disbelief, "that your master is stronger than the Holy King?"
Cerys did not hesitate.
"Yes," she said.
The answer came without pause, without doubt.
"That is the truth."
The young man's grip on his sword tightened.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at her, then at Clay, then back at her again.
"Very well," he said, his voice cold.
"If that is what you believe…"
He raised his sword slightly, his stance changing as his body prepared for action.
"Then let me see it."
Cerys's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Go ahead."