Hearing those words spoken directly by the Archbishop—the very man who had been the loudest opponent of Seo-jun's products—made the air feel suffocating.
Especially after the vile rumors that had begun circulating about his bar soap. The Church had spread claims that solid soap would "harbor bacteria" and invite disease, arguing that nobles should only use liquid soap poured directly into bathwater, as tradition dictated.
"By the way," the Archbishop continued, his casual tone clearly forced,
"how is that calamity-bringing woman?"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Aren't you afraid at all? In my prayers, the vision was clear—she is an omen of plague for this kingdom."
Seo-jun took a long breath.
Not out of fear—but to restrain himself from reacting too sharply to this final-boss-level religious fanatic.
"She's doing well," Seo-jun replied calmly.
"And I believe labeling someone a harbinger of disaster without evidence is irresponsible."
He met the Archbishop's gaze head-on.
"Plagues are born from filth and poor habits—not from the existence of a single person."
The Archbishop's expression shifted. His faint smile hardened.
"It is difficult to speak with someone so distant from God," he said coldly.
"To people like you, such truths will always sound absurd."
His voice dropped, heavy with pressure.
"But remember this—defying the will of the Church is the same as defying the law of the kingdom. And the punishment… is not light."
A vein pulsed at Seo-jun's temple.
So the threat's finally out in the open, huh?
If this man weren't so influential, I'd have yanked that gray hair out ages ago.
Yet all that showed was a polite nod and a thin smile.
Stay calm, he reminded himself.
Long life. Heir to the family. Don't pick a fight with a lunatic in overpriced robes.
Seo-jun's gaze drifted unconsciously from the Archbishop's head to toe.
The robe was unmistakably high-end. The brooch on his chest gleamed conspicuously.
Wait… wasn't that a recent release from the Hanwick family's own boutique?
Interesting. A clergyman's salary, but a noble's taste.
Where exactly was that money coming from?
Before his internal monologue could continue, another religious fanatic stepped into view.
Alaric Hanwick.
Seo-jun's eyes shifted to his older brother.
Good grief… his robe looked worse than a stablehand's uniform.
At such a lavish event, Alaric appeared like a walking monument to suffering.
"Good afternoon, Your Eminence Archbishop Matthias Corwin," Alaric greeted solemnly.
"May God's light forever shine upon you—one so cherished in His eyes."
Then he glanced at Seo-jun.
"What were you discussing with my younger brother… one of the lost souls?"
Seo-jun nearly choked.
The Archbishop suddenly began to cry.
One tear. Two. Excessively dramatic.
"Just a light conversation," he said softly,
"about the greatness of God. I was merely trying to ease the heart of a young man overly attached to worldly things."
Seo-jun's fists clenched behind his back.
What a damn performance.
If there were an award for best actor, this man would've taken the trophy already.
As the Archbishop and Alaric sank deeper into their version of a holy discussion, Rowan approached Seo-jun and patted his shoulder.
"Hyung, let's go inside. A lot of nobles want to discuss business with you directly," Rowan whispered excitedly.
"Some are even interested in investing."
Seo-jun nodded. That was expected.
But Rowan—blessed with a dangerously loose tongue—started mentioning investment figures a bit too loudly.
The Archbishop's eyes lit up immediately.
He stepped closer to Rowan and spoke gently,
"Why not allow us to consecrate the product first? To cleanse it of any dark aura… that might originate from your brother."
Rowan stared at him flatly.
Then shook his head.
"No," he said firmly.
"I don't believe in things like that."
He leaned forward slightly—polite, but cold.
"Thank you for the offer. And please—stop slandering Adrian."
Seo-jun couldn't help feeling a little proud seeing Rowan stand his ground to defend him.
Though, to be honest, he knew his younger brother was also protecting his future boss—the one who'd already promised him an exclusive, one-of-a-kind yacht to make traveling the world easier.
Alaric, standing behind the Archbishop, immediately scolded Rowan, his face flushed red with anger. Rowan, however, couldn't care less. He grabbed Adrian by the arm and dragged him into the hall, leaving the two clergymen behind in their so-called righteous fury.
Once inside, Rowan suddenly stopped. He turned to his brother—Adrian Hanwick—with a deadly serious expression.
"Brother," he said firmly,
"don't you ever think about becoming a priest like Alaric. I will never allow that to happen."
Seo-jun burst out laughing at the look on his youngest brother's face.
"Relax," he said casually.
"I love this wealth, and I fully intend to fight tooth and nail to become the family's business heir."
He gently patted Rowan's head.
"Besides, I couldn't survive dressing as shabby as Alaric."
Rowan immediately raised both thumbs.
"That's my Brother Adrian! Just don't forget your promise—the one-of-a-kind yacht has to be named after me!"
"Yeah, yeah," Seo-jun replied as he walked away.
His attention shifted to the Crown Prince, who looked completely overwhelmed by a swarm of flattering nobles.
When Ernest Aurelion spotted Adrian approaching, he immediately stepped behind him.
That threw Seo-jun off a bit. According to the book, the Crown Prince was supposed to be stern and domineering—but in reality, it was Princess Victoria who handled silver-tongued nobles with far more tenacity.
Without a word, Ernest grabbed Seo-jun's hand and dragged him toward the balcony.
The moment they arrived, Ernest let out a deep sigh and collapsed into a chair like someone who'd just survived a social battlefield.
"Would you like a drink, Your Highness?" Seo-jun asked flatly.
"Wine, or something else?"
"Wine," Ernest answered tiredly.
"And something sweet. I need sugar just to stay alive."
Seo-jun went to arrange it.
But just as he was about to return, Lucien stopped him, nearly out of breath.
"Brother… please save me," Lucien pleaded.
"I can't take it anymore."
In the end, Seo-jun found himself sitting on the balcony with two top-tier introverts, watching the sunset.
The Crown Prince had passed out cold from too much wine, while Lucien—calm as ever—was painting Ernest's face using art supplies his personal attendant had just brought over.
When Seo-jun didn't show up for a while, Edmund finally came looking for him.
And just as expected, Seo-jun was the only one taken away—introduced as the future heir of the family business to acquaintances and investors alike.
Seo-jun smiled politely at nobles and members of royalty from across various regions.
In the middle of business conversations, Margaret appeared and immediately began "promoting" her son without hesitation.
The response was overwhelmingly positive—several nobles even asked for permission to let their daughters speak with Seo-jun privately.
Seo-jun simply smiled faintly.
It seemed… the real party was only just beginning.