"Not to a silent object of faith or a rigid bureaucratic organization, but to an absolutely real existence capable of giving you clear responses, solid protection, and explicit guidance?"
Rover's words, like the light of creation cleaving through chaos, instantly obliterated all the remaining confusion, fear, and fragility in Phoebe's heart.
The god she believed in, the Convent she placed her faith in, had never given her such direct, powerful, and clear guidance and strength in her most desperate moments as the man before her had.
A brand-new, scorching, and near-fanatical faith violently exploded from the bottom of her heart.
It was an unreserved, absolute faith and devotion to a single individual.
All her grievance, fear, and self-doubt were washed away without a trace before this surging flood of emotion.
Her eyes radiated an unprecedented, resolute, and devout light, as if a lost lamb had finally found its one true shepherd.
Phoebe suddenly reached out, grabbing the hem of Rover's coat like a lifeline. Her fingertips turned slightly white from the force.
Struggling and using all the strength in her body, she bent down deeply in the most devout and humble posture of prostration, pressing her forehead tightly against the cold, rough stone floor.
Her body trembled uncontrollably from excitement and the violent release of her emotions. Her voice choked with sobs, yet it was filled with the ecstasy of conversion and absolute trust:
"Lord Rover... Oh, no," she called his name, but suddenly shook her head. Her violet eyes looked at him firmly, filled with incomparable, pure faith.
"My Lord..."
This supreme title, containing endless reverence and surrender, flowed out naturally. "My Lord... everything I am... my soul, my faith, my future... they have long belonged to You."
"Please... accept Your most humble, most useless servant... Please guide me..."
Rover silently gazed down at the trembling figure before his feet, shuddering from extreme emotion.
He slowly reached out his hand. He didn't immediately pull her up; instead, he gently placed his warm palm atop her slightly trembling head with unquestionable power.
This touch was like a signal of ultimate recognition and acceptance.
Phoebe shuddered all over, letting out a near-whimpering sigh of relief.
The only light source in the prayer room was the moonlight seeping in from the window. It bathed everything inside in a cold silver glow while casting heavy shadows in the corners.
The air smelled of old wood and candle wax, yet it seemed to be mixed with a brand-new, restless scent.
Phoebe's white round-brimmed hat had long since slipped off during her movements and rolled aside, revealing a cascade of long blonde hair as brilliant as sunlight.
Her fluffy hair spread out across the cold floor like a holy cloth unfurled upon an altar.
With her own trembling and urgent fingers, she clumsily unfastened the oversized robes of the Supreme Priest—the outer shell that symbolized her duties and constraints.
The silky fabric rustled as it rubbed against the stone slabs, like a snake shedding its old skin.
A moment later, the robes slipped down her smooth shoulders, gradually revealing the lustrous, jade-like skin beneath, glowing with a fragile yet holy luster under the moonlight.
The cold gave her a layer of goosebumps, but the stronger tremors came from the surging of her heart and the absolute resolve of her devotion.
Her actions were not flirtation; rather, they were an urgent desire to peel away her old self and present her truest, completely unguarded state before her new god.
Tears slid down her cheeks once more, but they were no longer tears of despair. They were tears full of relief, ecstasy, and supreme happiness.
From beginning to end, Rover accepted this devout sacrifice like a silent divine idol.
He leaned down. His cool fingertips traced down her smooth back like an anointing, bringing violent shivers and soft, suppressed gasps.
Phoebe murmured unconsciously, mixing fragmented prayers, his name, and indistinguishable, sleep-talking words filled with absolute trust.
"My Lord... My Lord..."
The statue of the Sentinel on the wall seemed to become the witness to this secret ritual. Pants, whimpers, and the rustling of clothes echoed in the prayer room, weaving with the sea breeze outside into a sacred movement of music.
The process seemed very long, full of a religious tremor and tears, pain and supreme happiness, as if her soul were being thoroughly washed and reshaped.
Who knows how long passed before the wind and waves gradually subsided. The fierce tide of emotion slowly receded, leaving behind a profound tranquility tinged with exhaustion.
Phoebe curled up beside Rover. Her pale, slender fingertips unconsciously twined around the cold holy emblem resting on his chest, as if it were the strongest token connecting her to her new god, the concrete anchor of her faith.
"You are... my Lord..."
"You are the Watcher... of Laguna..."
She murmured softly. Not a trace of fear or cowardice remained on her face. The fierce flush had not yet fully faded, yet it strangely presented a near-holy calm and the absolute peace that follows ecstasy.
In her violet eyes, the previous shattered confusion had been replaced by a devotion as deep as the sea and an absolute satisfaction. It was as if she had finally found the world's sole truth, her soul thoroughly cleansed and remolded.
She was no longer lost on how to do things, because she had found the ultimate answer as to why she did them—everything was for her Lord, for her unchanging, brand-new faith in this life.
The cold stone slabs, the scattered robes, the lingering atmosphere in the air intertwining intimacy with sanctity... all these constructed this night, which for her, meant absolute rebirth...
The morning sunlight once again filtered through the stained glass of the prayer room's high windows, casting colorful patches of light.
Phoebe slowly awoke. Her gaze was unlike its usual softness; it seemed to have been completely transformed.
Her past bewilderment, cowardice, and idealistic anxiety had been replaced by an unshakable, firm light hidden within a gentle exterior.
She gently sat up, her movements carrying a brand-new, calm strength.
Looking at Rover beside her, she called out softly and incredibly naturally once more:
"My Lord."
Rover opened his eyes, met her entirely refreshed gaze, and gave a slight nod.
He spoke no further words of comfort. He merely looked at her quietly with his golden eyes, his gaze brimming with encouragement and a trace of gratification.
And just like that, Phoebe felt an immense encouragement in her heart.
When Zanni came knocking with the latest investigation results, she was surprised to find Phoebe, neatly dressed in her Supreme Priest robes, together with Rover.
Although Phoebe's face was still a bit pale, her back was perfectly straight, and her eyes were as steady as still water.
It was as if yesterday's storm had never happened. Her past softness and frailty seemed to have vanished completely; at this moment, she had become much more unfathomable.
"Miss Zanni," Phoebe spoke. Her voice was calm but carried an unquestionable authority. It was no longer a discussion, but an order. "Please immediately summon all members of the Office of the Supreme Priest, the priests of the workshop's special audit team, and... the Grand Priest of the Preceptory."
"In twenty minutes, I want to see everyone in the Convent's council hall."
"Yes, Supreme Priest." Suppressing the shock in her heart, Zanni lowered her head and accepted the order. She cast a swift glance at Rover, who wore a calm expression beside them, and instantly understood everything.
_____
+50 advanced chapters monthly on my patreon, join now and read...
Patreon.com/IndifferentVillain
Ur support keeps me motivated thanks in advance.
Chapter 290 is out on my patreon!!!!!
________