Odalisque - Chapter 97

Dimus was in a foul mood from the moment he woke up.

The main reason was the scheduled attendance at the Blessing Prayer. Normally, he would have refused without a second thought, but there was no better occasion to naturally meet the Cardinal. Even for Marquis Dietrion, who usually skipped most events, this was one where people would expect him to make an appearance. It was something everyone would understand.

From Cardinal Calliope’s perspective, busy with public matters, there was no more fitting place to meet privately with Dimus.

The Blessing Prayer was the grandest event during Cardinal Calliope’s stay in Buerno, causing an uproar throughout the city. There were more people out and about than usual. Despite the limited number of attendees allowed inside the chapel, the area outside was crowded with throngs of people. The atmosphere only made Dimus more irritable.

Fortunately, his meeting with Cardinal Calliope was set in a separate space inside the chapel that had been specially allocated to him.

Upon seeing Calliope again, Dimus found him slightly more aged than he remembered, though he still possessed an elegant appearance. His lake-like blue eyes sparkled as he gazed at Dimus.

“It’s been a while, Dimus.”

Dimus, instead of replying, simply took a seat opposite Calliope. He rested his cane within arm’s reach, and Calliope’s gaze lingered on it.

“Have you recovered?”

Dimus twisted his lips involuntarily.

Recovered, he said. It was far too late for such an inquiry, considering the injuries occurred years ago.

“I recovered a long time ago.”

“Yet you still carry a cane.”

“It has its uses.”

“Is that all?”

The question was laden with meaning. After a brief silence, Dimus responded indifferently.

“Are you asking if I can return to active duty?”

The cane wasn’t just an accessory. Though Dimus’s leg posed no hindrance in daily life, it was far from ideal for the battlefield—it was in a compromised state.

When he was discharged against his will, his leg had been in a terrible condition, severely damaged in his last battle. At his rank, he should never have been on the front lines, but due to Stephan, he had found himself rolling through the trenches, and after that final battle, he could no longer withstand the pain.

Staying in the military might have led to his discharge as a cripple in front of everyone. Naturally, Dimus had no intention of publicly revealing his state, so he had his medical records erased from his dishonorable discharge.

Only a few people knew the true extent of his condition at the time. Calliope was one of them.

“I have no intention of returning.”

His leg had been treated. If he remained in command rather than on the battlefield, it wouldn’t be an issue, so he could potentially return if he wanted to…

Dimus frowned. A sensation long dormant seemed to be reawakening. It was an unpleasant, grotesque feeling, like scars crawling across his entire body. It was something he never felt while Liv was by his side.

“Lady Malte approached first, saying she wanted to speak with you personally. Have you met her?”

“Did Luzia not tell you?”

Dimus murmured with a faint, cynical smile, “She proposed without even a rose, so I kicked her away.”

Of course, if she had brought a rose, he would have thrown it in her smarmy face before kicking her away.

Calliope swallowed uncomfortably, pressing his lips tightly together before speaking in a low voice, “The Malte family is a useful one. If you want to establish a proper position…”

Dimus cut him off abruptly. “I don’t mind life here. It’s not bad, considering I picked it on a whim.”

He lifted the teacup in front of him, the fresh scent of the tea tickling his nose. For someone who favored strong tobacco and liquor, he couldn’t understand why anyone would drink such tea. To him, it was nothing more than slightly bitter herbal water.

“God gives each of us our rightful place, and eventually, we all return to that place. So you must return to yours as well.”

“God doesn’t care what I do.”

It was a blasphemous statement. Calliope frowned, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. After calming himself with a sip of his tea, he spoke again, his voice now composed.

“Would you listen if I said I wanted to return what was taken from you?”

“All value changes with time. The past holds no value for me now.”

Dimus set the barely-touched teacup back down and leaned back into the sofa. Compared to the ones in his own mansion, the sofa’s quality was lacking.

It wasn’t just the sofa; the entire room, supposedly prepared for the Cardinal, was modest. Cardinal Calliope disliked opulence, so wherever he stayed, simplicity reigned. No doubt, the clergy here had kept that in mind when arranging the space.

The room was entirely ill-suited to Dimus’s taste. He couldn’t wait to leave.

“Do you still resent me?”

Dimus’s uninterested gaze shifted from the sitting room to the Cardinal.

“My mission cannot be limited to one person. God guides me to aim higher.”

Why did he always have to wrap his hunger for power in such convoluted words?

Dimus mused, listening to the Cardinal’s earnest tone. Perhaps it was because he was a man of the cloth, unable to speak without invoking God.

Whether or not Calliope realized Dimus’s lack of attention, he continued speaking solemnly.

“Your mother understood that.”

It was an unwelcome subject. Dimus’s otherwise detached expression twisted slightly.

“She understood that I had a duty to watch over many more people. But I think she also believed there was a reason she left you with me.”

A most convenient interpretation.

Dimus curled his lips involuntarily.

“Oh, you didn’t know. My mother bore me because she didn’t understand your mission.”

Her death was long in the past, and he had outgrown the age for grieving. Dimus pitied his mother, but he didn’t cling to her memory like a neglected child.

However, if anyone had the right to speak about her, it was him alone. He didn’t know what memories Calliope shared with her, but regardless of their past, it was Dimus who witnessed her end—not this lofty clergyman lost in his own world.

“She simply gambled to become your one and only.”

He was the one who had watched her visit the chapel every day, who saw her settle in a village where Calliope might notice her. It was a deliberate life.

“She achieved her goal, and now, because of my existence, you’ve been tied to her for the rest of your life. Not a bad wager, wouldn’t you say?”

Though she hadn’t lived to reunite with him, even in death, she had bound him to her memory. To Cardinal Calliope, Dimus represented his past—a past filled with guilt.

How satisfied she must be. She had bound the man she yearned for, even if only in death.

And as for the old man in front of him? Claiming he had abandoned her to tend to more followers, yet clearly unable to let her go—what a pitiful sight.

Did Cardinal Calliope even realize that he had spent his life obsessed with one woman?

“Everyone keeps talking about what I lost, like I’m some child unable to keep his own toys. Should I thank them for treating me so naively?”

Dimus pulled out a cigar without asking for permission, mocking as he spoke, “Life won’t be easy from here on.”

“The Gratia election is approaching.”

Dimus, murmuring calmly with the cigar between his lips, smiled wryly, “Why, is someone planning to kidnap me and use me for leverage? Threaten to reveal the Cardinal’s ugly past?”

“…The Malte family is a good shield.”

The remark sounded as if it was meant to show concern for Dimus’s safety.

“Hiding behind a skirt won’t stop a bullet. Have you grown naive since we last met? Praying too much, perhaps.”

Dimus took a drag from his cigar. The thick smoke, harsh against his senses, seemed to ease his unsettled stomach.

“Prayer alone won’t keep the peace.”

What a laughable contradiction. The Cardinal who publicly lamented the sorrow of war and extolled the need for peace, meanwhile worked behind the scenes to plant his people in the military ranks.

He even justified his actions with grand, lofty ideals—ones that Dimus would never accept.