Cured at Last!

"Splat."

Mud-caked boots sank into the soft red carpet as Xia Lun entered the church.

Cold marble arches lined both sides of the carpet. Richly dressed courtiers whispered in the shadows, but the moment he stepped inside, they fell silent. They looked at him with curiosity and awe, and almost at the same instant, the bells rang again.

"Dong—dong, dong."

The solemn bells rang down from the high vaulted ceiling, their sound mingling with warm sunlight as it swept over the stone columns and the faces of the crowd. A young woman in an emerald silk dress adjusted the pearl-studded net over her hair, watching Xia Lun with curiosity and admiration. A short man in a red feathered hat, indigo boots, and a voluminous purple robe kept his expression composed, though he rose onto his toes. A guard knight in a red cloak wore a gleaming breastplate covered in medals and pendants. He tried to stare straight ahead, but his eyes kept drifting toward Xia Lun.

"Welcome, Xia Lun."

A clear, gentle male voice came from the far end of the carpet, seemingly untouched by worldly concerns.

Surprisingly, amid courtiers dressed in extravagant finery, the King wore plain white. He had not even put on a crown. The only color on him was the vivid blue of his eyes.

Xia Lun paused.

The King had silver hair, blue eyes, and an immaculate appearance. He was handsome to an almost impossible degree, so unlike everyone around him that he seemed to have stepped straight out of a painting into the Real World.

In a sense, the enormous oil painting The Death of the Queen had not flattered the King at all. It had made him look considerably worse. Paint could never have captured his presence.

"Even in the age of the