A priest entered the bookstore, casually glanced around, then smiled at the shopkeeper, pulling a beautifully bound book from his robe.

“I’ve returned the book.”

The shopkeeper took the book, briefly examined it, confirming that it was undamaged except for some signs of reading, and put it under the counter.

“I like doing business with people like you. Those big shots from the Adventurer’s Guild don’t treat books with as much respect. You wouldn’t believe how many books I lend out never get returned. The ones that do are usually damaged,”

The priest immediately frowned.

“Is that so? The Lord has taught us that we cannot take others’ possessions, and we cannot break contracts. Who are they? I’ll help you report them.”

“Wait a minute,” the shopkeeper quickly stopped the devout priest. “I charge the adventurers according to the prices listed in the book. I’m not losing any money.”

The priest was surprised.

“But the Lord has also taught us that we cannot profit from deception…”

The shopkeeper wiped his sweat, truly wondering why this human priest was even more rigid than the beastmen priests from his hometown. He quickly explained,

“I tell those who return the damaged books that there’s a sale going on, so I give them a refund. I only charge for any damage, according to the situation. Don’t worry. I’m not violating the Lord of Glory’s teachings…”

Putting aside his thoughts of spreading the Lord’s teachings to the adventurers, the priest asked about something that had been bothering him.

“How did you get that treant to guard your shop? I saw a few customers leave because of it.”

The shopkeeper winked conspiratorially, looking pleased.

“I’m about to make a huge profit,” he pointed towards Selene and Richter, then lowered his voice, “That treant belongs to those two. It’s a high-level treant. Don’t provoke it. And those two are from Mittal. Their family is probably some high-ranking noble…”

“There are no nobles in Mittal,” the priest corrected him. “The Empress, after her ascension, made sweeping reforms to Mittal’s system. Officials have replaced nobles…”

The shopkeeper waved his hand dismissively.

“Same thing.”

The priest shook his head, saying nothing more. He finally asked,

“Are you sure those two are from Mittal?”

“Definitely. They paid with a bag full of Mittal gold coins, looking like they’d just come from the mint,” the shopkeeper said, shaking his money bag.

The priest nodded and went to Selene and Richter. Noticing that they had noticed him, he asked gently,

“I hear you two are from Mittal. I’d like to ask a few questions.”

Selene and Richter had noticed him since he came in. Richter, because of his suspicions about Selene’s identity, had been paying attention to the clerics of the Divine Miracle Church. Selene was simply curious.

Richter nodded in response to the priest’s question. Selene hesitated, not giving a direct answer.

The priest nodded, then introduced himself politely.

“I’m a priest from the Holy Blood Cathedral in Alorn. I hear you two are from Mittal and wanted to ask a few questions.”

“Richter, a magic apprentice. And this one…” Richter hesitated, not mentioning Selene’s name, “…is my junior.”

The priest didn’t seem to mind Richter’s obvious evasion, since he hadn’t revealed his own name, either. He quickly explained his purpose, his words simple yet careful, clearly well-educated, but Selene noticed obvious stitching on his robe. This didn’t seem like the behavior of someone from a well-off background.

Selene was curious about him, and he didn’t resist sharing his past. Under her questioning, he readily shared his story.

It was a simple story.

He was born into a peasant family, the eldest son. His parents were honest and hardworking farmers, bound to their small plot of land their entire lives, struggling to make ends meet. He should have lived the same life, but his parents, inexplicably, sold almost everything they owned, and borrowed money from people in the village to send him to a church school—the school was free, but they had to cover food and lodging themselves, and pay tolls when crossing noble lands.

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He went to a school run by a devout cleric of the Divine Miracle Church. Life at the school was difficult. The cleric taught them obscure and complex scriptures. Several of his classmates quickly left, unable to tolerate the cleric’s endless sermons and the meager meals. He stayed for six years and received a certification to serve as an apprentice priest.

He solemnly bid farewell to his master and walked back to his hometown, only to find that his parents were gone. In the third year after his departure, a severe drought struck. There was almost no harvest. His family was already in debt and hadn’t fulfilled the village chief’s orders, so his father was whipped in front of everyone by the village chief, and he didn’t survive the winter. In the second year, more and more creditors came. His father had died, and his mother, who had been supporting herself and her children, couldn’t take it anymore. She died one early morning, in a thin layer of fog.

After returning, he built a small church, making a living by crafting holy water and treating people. He occasionally managed to save a little money, all of which he used to repay his debts—his creditors were also peasants, just like his parents.

He pondered for a long time in his simple wooden church, believing that his parents hadn’t survived the winter because they had sold almost everything they owned to send him to school. They had died because they were too poor. He didn’t yearn for wealth, but he understood something important.

Money was important. Very important.

In the second year after he built the church, a merchant who had been injured in the forest came to him for treatment. He heard the name Alorn from the merchant. The merchant praised it as a city overflowing with wealth, with seemingly endless gold coins pouring from its magical machinery, satisfying even the greediest merchant.

The merchant said that the city was overflowing with gold.

He didn’t understand the complexities of commerce. He only knew that in such a city, everyone should have enough to eat, every child should be able to go to school, the lords wouldn’t be angry if their subjects didn’t pay taxes on time, and everyone would have coal to burn during winter. In that kind of place, things like what happened to him wouldn’t happen.

The merchant said it was all thanks to magical machinery.

He didn’t understand what magical machinery was. He didn’t know how those strange devices turned fibers into cloth. He didn’t understand how those shiny metals crushed rocks, or how they continuously dug out minerals from the mountains… He only knew that magical machinery allowed the people of Alorn to live good lives.

In the third year after he returned to his hometown, he finally paid off his debts, and received his certification—he had passed. He became an official priest.

Along with the certification came a letter from the Pope, a kind and respected figure who told him that the population of Alorn was growing rapidly, that they needed more priests to fill the positions in the churches, and that he was deemed worthy.

So, he closed his church, gave his savings to the villagers, and left his hometown. He was now a low-level cleric and no longer had to worry about money. Nobles wouldn’t dare to trouble him, seeing his white priest’s robe. He traveled smoothly to Alorn and, under the guidance of the Bishop, officially became a priest.

And his first task as a priest was to perform a funeral for a girl who had died in an accident.

She had died in an explosion of magical machinery from Mittal.

The priest quietly recounted his story, his expression unchanged.

“I didn’t know the girl. When her body was brought to the church, it was barely recognizable as human. Her parents were ordinary workers at a magical factory. But they were literate. Besides working at the factory, they also made money by writing letters and reading announcements. They were able to give their daughter a proper burial… That’s what should have happened.

“No one expected that the explosion of the magical machinery would cause her to be entangled with mana even after death, at risk of becoming undead. Her parents, though they could afford the coffin and the burial plot, couldn’t afford a priest for the calming ritual. I saw them crying inconsolably in the church, offering two months of their wages as payment. Finally, we buried her in the cemetery in the east of the city.

“Two months ago, another accident occurred at the factory in the north of the city. Some workers died in the incident. The church assigned the calming ritual to me. And among the bodies covered in white cloth, I recognized the girl’s parents.”

The priest’s story ended. Richter couldn’t help but ask,

“Do you think the magical machinery is causing accidents in Alorn?”

The priest looked at him and suddenly smiled.

“Of course—no. Magical machinery has allowed the people of Alorn to live comfortably. It’s something I initially considered unrealistic, but at least everyone here gets to eat meat every week,” the priest said with a gentle smile. “I did think that, but I don’t think that anymore. Magical machinery is just a tool. The people who use it are the real problem. Those explosions were just accidents…

“I don’t understand how magical machinery works, but I think those accidents could have been avoided. Maybe the workers didn’t understand the operating procedures. Maybe the factory owners forced them to work too hard. Or maybe there was a flaw in the machinery itself. But these are all solvable problems, aren’t they?”

“If the workers didn’t understand the procedures, I would explain them to them until they did. If the factory owners were forcing their workers to work too hard, I could use the authority of the church to put pressure on them. The Lord’s teachings would guide them back to the right path. If there’s a flaw in the machinery… I’ve read a lot of books about Mittal, but I still don’t understand how magical machinery works. That’s why I’m asking you two.”

The priest paused, then continued,

“I heard you two are from Mittal, and you’re mages. Though you’re young, you probably understand magical machinery better than I do. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Richter, moved by his words, still shook his head.

“I’m only a magic apprentice. My junior has only just started to learn magic…”

Selene abruptly interrupted him, pulling a book from the pile on the table. The book was worn from use, and the pages were yellowed.

“We might not understand, but this book might be helpful.”

Richter didn’t stop her.

The priest took the book, saw the title, 《Introduction to Magical Engineering》, thanked them, and immediately sat down to read.

A breeze blew in through the window, clearing the clouds above Alorn. The dazzling sunlight shone upon the city, and the white walls reflected the light. The passersby squinted their eyes, greeting the light from the Lord of Glory. Several birds soared into the sky, their white wings shining brightly.

Selene watched the priest become engrossed in the book. Sunlight streamed through the bookstore window, illuminating the room, falling onto his shoulders, which were covered in a patched-up robe, the stitching reflecting a faint golden glow. For a moment, it looked as if the robe were made of pure light.

She whispered softly,

“I really do like this world…”