That was Shel and Catherine’s first meeting.

Back then, Catherine hadn’t regained her senses yet. She remained vacant and dull-witted.

Shel was startled by the encounter—but mostly surprised that Monroe had a daughter, and that His Holiness the Pope would personally stoop to care for her.

He wondered who Monroe’s wife was, and what kind of bond they’d shared.

But Catherine herself barely registered in his thoughts.

He didn’t dwell on the magical patterns etched into her skin, nor question the origin of her strange abilities. He simply dismissed them as some curse, never probing deeper.

He certainly never imagined he’d marry her one day.

On the walk back home, Monroe thanked Shel:

"Sorry to trouble you so late… I may need your help again in the future."

"No trouble at all," Shel replied. "Ever since Hilna and I arrived in the City of Glory, you’ve looked after us. Small favors like this are the least I can do. I just never expected a man like you to have a child."

"Catherine’s mother…" Monroe’s voice grew distant. "She was the neglected daughter of a minor lord. When her family fell into ruin, I happened to pass through their lands. We met. After that, she idolized me. She worked her way to the City of Glory, enrolled at the Divine Academy as my student… and we married."

He clearly didn’t wish to elaborate. "But I’d been cursed fighting Fiends long ago. My bloodline was tainted. All the children she bore me died. She passed soon after. Only Catherine survived."

It was a sorrowful tale, yet Monroe spoke without grief—his tone flat, almost numb.

Shel also noted the timeline: Monroe must have been nearly 270 when he met his wife. The age gap was staggering.

But Shel knew better than to pry.

The two men walked home in silence.

Back at the mansion, Hilna stood waiting at the gate, puffed up with anger.

She’d been furious when Shel vanished without warning. She’d planned to share midnight snacks with him after her studies, enjoying the autumn breeze while deepening their bond. Instead, he’d been gone until the dead of night.

Though the maids explained Monroe had summoned him for urgent matters, she remained displeased.

"Teacher. And Lord Monroe—it’s two in the morning." She jabbed a finger toward the clock tower piercing the city center. "What could possibly be so urgent it couldn’t wait until dawn?"

Before Shel could speak, Monroe smoothly delivered his rehearsed lie:

"Nothing serious. I’d taken Shel to the cathedral to view the armory collection of past Papal Swordmasters—to deepen his swordsmanship insights. We happened to meet His Holiness there. She was in a leisurely mood, strolling the halls. We ended up chatting… and lost track of time."

"His Holiness?"

Invoking Pope Saint An IV’s name worked. Hilna’s protest died on her lips.

But doubt lingered: "…What on earth could you discuss until past midnight?"

Monroe maintained a deadpan expression. "Hilna, His Holiness holds Shel in high regard. Those illustrated storybooks he creates? They’ve spread far beyond Ipoli. Her Holiness has personally reviewed them. She may summon him again—to craft more for her private library."

"Storybooks? They reached the City of Glory?" Hilna sighed reluctantly. "Well… if His Holiness approves…"

"Shel," Monroe prompted, "show Hilna the treasure His Holiness gifted you."

Shel instantly understood. He produced the sapphire-blue gem Catherine had given him and handed it to Hilna.

The moment the blue-haired girl held it, the gem’s opulent weight silenced her. Monroe’s testimony sealed her doubts.

"My apologies for keeping you both up so late," Monroe said finally. "Rest well. If you’re too tired for the Divine Academy tomorrow, I’ll arrange an excuse."

He raised a hand in farewell. "Goodnight."

Then he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Hilna clutched the gem. Though pleased Shel had earned the Pope’s favor, unease prickled beneath her skin.

Yet Monroe’s words soon proved true.

Papal Guards in dazzling gold armor visited Shel personally. They delivered precious mineral pigments, fine cardstock for binding sacred texts, and crystal-tipped brushes.

The pigments shimmered in glass vials like captured rainbows—materials reserved for cathedral frescoes, handled only by master artisans with reverent hands.

Shel worked tirelessly in his bedroom, crafting new storybooks just like those he’d made for Hilna and Lofna: pop-up castles that sprang from pages, pull-tabs releasing bursts of colored paper, hidden jigsaw puzzles tucked between sheets…

Watching him, Hilna was swept by nostalgia for her childhood in Ipoli.

But these books weren’t hers to keep.

Their intricate craftsmanship made replication impossible. They’d become sacred relics in the Pope’s collection—locked away in vaults after Her Holiness returned to the Heavenly Father’s embrace, never to be seen again.

A pang of regret struck her.

"Don’t worry," Shel said gently. "You can read them all before I send them to the Pope. Just remember the stories."

So Hilna opened the books.

The tales followed familiar patterns—all happy endings. One story captivated her: a nameless golden-haired girl, crippled and mute from birth, answered by the Heavenly Father. He granted her health and dreamlike visions blurring reality and fantasy.

In the end, the Nameless girl found love, friendship, and became a hero.

It echoed *Lofna the Witch’s Magical Adventure*, but shorter, crafted with finer materials.

*If only her hair were blue… and her name Hilna…*

"Teacher, let me help you?" Hilna offered, watching Shel painstakingly paint cardstock and assemble pop-up mechanisms. He looked exhausted—juggling Divine Academy classes by day and these commissions by night, busier than in Ipoli.

"Focus on your studies," he insisted. "I lack magical talent. This craft is my only path to favor. His Holiness hasn’t rewarded me richly—just praise and trinkets. But if I keep pleasing Her Holiness…" He paused, eyes sharp with calculation. "With her endorsement, I might secure special admissions to the Divine Academy. Enough to bring your sister Lofna here. Even without magic, she’d earn a degree. You’d reunite, build futures…"

His voice dropped. "We might even secure funds to rebuild your hometown church in Ipoli. Cultivating connections matters most."

"Oh. So that’s your plan…" Hilna fell silent, then murmured, "…Thank you, Teacher. For thinking of me and Lofna."

"It’s my duty," he replied simply. "Just study hard."