Where is he going?

He also doesn't know.

Rye kept walking through the patch of woods that the castle kept within its walls. He barely saw anything in the dark, but he let his legs bring where his heart was directing. He couldn't check his surroundings and the ground he steps, yet he didn't trip or bump into anything. Not a tree, not a rock, not even a twig.

It was a strangely…exciting experience.

It was as if someone was guiding him in the darkness through his heart.

He needed to trust his heart and this foreign feeling inside him completely or else he would definitely get lost or hurt himself. It should be a difficult thing to do, but somehow, he easily surrendered himself to the guidance.

When he finally reached the end of the woods, he found a rundown chapel standing desolately between two wooden patches. The path toward the chapel was full of overgrown weeds, dried leaves, and wild thorns. It was clear that the chapel had been abandoned for a very long time.

Rye tried pushing the door and discovered that it wasn't locked. The 2 sides of the door creaked pitifully as Rye pushed them to open wider.

The situation inside was no different. Whoever decided to abandon it didn't even bother to cover the wooden seats with sheets or put the carpet away. As a result, they suffered from molds, dust, and termites. The walls and ceilings were on the verge of collapsing with how fragile they became.

This was the worst condition he ever found a chapel in.

The only thing that was in good condition was Solistus's statue.

Did the castle build a new chapel at some point in time and abandoned this one? Still, regardless of their reason, they couldn't just leave a chapel to rot like this.

Entering such an uncared-for chapel filled him with…sadness. He never felt so upset as what he was feeling right now. Chapels were his sanctuary and home. Seeing one in such a condition made him feel like his own house was ruined.

The one who called him…

Could it be the spirit?

Rye took off his robe and stored it away despite the temperature. He didn't want to dirty it as much as he could.

He rolled his sleeves up.

First thing first, he took out all the furniture. He'd clean them one by one after fixing and cleaning the chapel itself. His mana has replenished enough to use restoration spell. To clean the dust he could use a wind spell. To exterminate the molds and termites he could modify a fire spell to specifically target them or he could formulate an insecticide. After all that was done, he would then wash everything with a water spell.

Unknown to Rye, the moonlight shifted its angle to the chapel and brightened upon his location. The cold air of the night steadily warmed up.

Rye progressed neither in hurry nor in a relaxed manner. He made sure everything was done flawlessly, genuinely trying his best to restore it back to new.

Without caring much about the time, midnight passed without his awareness. When he finally finished, it was already the wee hours of the morning.

But looking at the result of his effort, it was worth it.

He sat on the spotless seat inside the chapel in satisfaction. A familiar breeze passed by, but instead of cooling him, it warmed his body.

"It must be frustrating not being able to do anything all this time." Rye talked to empty air.

He closed his eyes to take a short rest, but just in a matter of minutes, he fell asleep. Now that everything was finished and his body relaxed, he couldn't help but feel tired.

His body slowly floated up from the seat and moved towards the altar. The robe that he put inside his storage reappeared on his body and covered him from the cold. A pure white sheet fell down to the altar with the softest angel feathers following above it.

Rye was carefully laid down on the altar before sprinkles of small sunflowers rained down to his body and the side of his face.

At the break of dawn, he was awakened by that same voice who called him to the chapel.

"Rye."

Rye's eyes fluttered open. He realized that he was once again at the altar. Seeing all the things laid down underneath him, he found out why he slept very comfortably.

Where did the spirit get all these feathers though?

He looked out the door that was opened ajar. He heard the spirit calling him again in his dream. Was it trying to show him something?

He wore his glasses and slid down to his feet. Opening the door, it no longer gave out any creaking sound like last night and smoothly swung open.

Across the horizon, half of the sun has peeked out. The sky was in a magnificent golden state, one that was impossible to be replicated by even the most skillful painter.

Once Rye looked down, his heart stopped a beat before it returned with louder and faster thumping.

A man stood several steps away from the chapel, his back facing him. He was wearing a white and gold robe covering his whole body, not a curve could be made out except for where his shoulder was at.

But for some inexplicable reason, Rye knew it was a man.

When the man turned around, Rye felt his whole body filled with some indescribable emotion. He could hear the beating of his own heart and rapid breathing.

On the man's angular face was a sharp pair of eyes with that of brilliant gold and long fluttering eyelashes. His thin lips were smiling in a natural state and his sharp nose was beyond faultless. Every bit and detail of his features were perfectly placed and symmetrical with a beautifully calculated ratio.

The man reached out his hand. Without needing any command from his brain, Rye's feet moved to answer the man's call.

With each of Rye's steps touching the ground, the weeds on his path were swept away and turned into lush green grass glimmering with dew. Sunflowers sprouted on his sides, swaying from the breeze of wind playing with the robe of the blessed.

The man moved his own hand and pressed their palms together. Instantly, the wind danced in rejoice and the wild path behind the man transformed into a path of sunflowers and evergreen grass in half a breath.

No words of exchange were said between the two. Everything stilled in time as they focused on each other's figure. Their warmth entangled one another from the palms of their hands until their body heat became one.

Rye didn't even notice the tears sliding down his cheeks.

The man caught the tears from falling down with his other hand. He closed his hand briefly and once he opened it, the tears turned into the purest pearls that reflected interchanging colors from the sun.

The man kept it for himself.

"Today, you passed the threshold of 20. You hold yourself true despite the trials the world has given to you."

Suddenly hearing the man's voice, Rye forgot to breathe for a few seconds. His voice was not too high, yet not too deep. His words flowed in a light, soothing manner which pulled the heartstring of anyone who was blessed enough to hear them.

Seeing Rye's dazed face, the man softly chuckled in endearment and brushed Rye's bangs aside to get a clearer look at his sweetheart.

"As promised, I shall claim your heritage you reserved for me."

The man moved his palm away and gently held Rye's wrist. He pulled the sleeve up and revealed the mark he planted from his impatience.

He softly pressed his lips onto it. The mark glowed and vanished. Replacing it, three new marks appeared on Rye's body and seeped into his skin.

Rye's whole body was basked with a comfortable, gentle warmth. From the flow of his blood into the tip of his fingers. He could keenly feel the changes happening within his soul. The empty void that has haunted him since his birth was being filled to the very brim.

"I shall make you suffer no longer," the man entwined their fingers, "Once your soul is ready, you may come live with me."

Hearing his words, Rye was both elated and disappointed.

Once his soul is ready? Why not now?

"Your soul will not able to handle the pressure yet," the man chuckled again, "I am not a mere spirit. You may call me beyond the chapel every time your heart misses me."

"How…should I call you?"

The man bent slightly to whisper intimately, "Call me Octavian, my dearest sun."