After being forced to step down, the once-annoying nun eloped with me.

Even worse, because the royal family had previously disbanded the royal army, they are now unable to demonstrate their authority, and have even discovered that the recently disbanded royal soldiers have become the private armies of nobles, the religious leaders' protectors, or even the servants of landowners...

The Roman royal family had pulled out their own sharp teeth, and now they could only swallow their blood. Thus, the Roman Empire was superficially unified, but in reality, internally divided.

However, what truly plunged the Roman Empire into a period of internal crisis was the drought that struck in the spring, a year after the end of the Tranquility Incident.

During the drought, the Roman Empire was fragmented, and the farmers suffered losses, pleading for divine intervention. But their cries went unanswered.

The farmers remembered their insurance, only to find that they had recently pressed their fingerprints on official documents canceling agricultural insurance.

They remembered the mechanical constructs buried in the ground that would one day come in handy, only to find that the pipes had burst and were unusable due to long-term neglect. Even the few that were still usable were of no use in the face of the drought that was spreading across almost the entire empire.

A visible era of famine is approaching, and along the coast, ships from another continent are eyeing this crumbling empire with predatory intent.

In this time of crisis, the interest groups that reunited remembered the man they had driven out—the man who had single-handedly integrated the fragmented human nations into an empire, and who also had the ability to reintegrate the now fragmented Roman Empire into a whole.

...The more I wished the former regent was dead, the more I wish he were still alive now.

But for the man who was now dramatically entrusted with the hope of "living," none of this mattered.

After a year of hiking, he finally returned to where it all began. He was filthy, his black hair and beard had grown wildly, and his eyes were lifeless. He stared blankly at the deserted village in front of him.

It seems that after hearing the news of their expulsion, everyone in the village of Shkur moved away, just to avoid contact with this plague god.

Whether it was the villagers he had helped in the past, or the village chief whose life he had saved and who said he would wait for him to come back no matter what... everyone had left.

He stood in front of a dilapidated wooden house and noticed a sign that read "For Sale" hanging on it.

Not because of war and chaos, not because of sudden disaster, but because I was driven out and had nowhere else to go but back here...

...Just because of this? They wouldn't even accept me as a farmer tilling the fields to live out the rest of my life in failure?

What have I been working so hard for all these years? My lover never spoke up for me, my friends have remained silent, and the students I mentored didn't offer any help when I was down and out.

I gave my life for them and for this country, and this is how I ended up?

What have I been striving for all this time? What has it all been for?

Men aren't immune to tears, they just haven't reached the point of heartbreak. Right now, thinking about all the sacrifices he'd made only to end up like this, even though he'd cried his eyes out during his year-long journey, he couldn't help but feel tears welling up. Two streams of tears slid down his thin cheeks, finally dripping onto the weed-covered ground.

tick.

The insincere crosstalk sounds like tears falling to the ground.

pat.

I heard light footsteps behind me.

Yang Hao slowly raised his head and turned to look at a white-haired nun carrying a basket, dressed in a white nun's habit and with a white veil covering her head.

The nun's face was full of surprise, but after a slight hesitation, that surprise turned into amusement:

"I thought it was someone who came back looking dejected and crying, but it's you? Former Regent Prince Yang Hao?"

She exaggeratedly made a cross shape with her hands on her ample chest, and her mocking remark provoked Yang Hao to let out a cold laugh:

"Did you come here specifically to mock me?"

He recognized the nun, Mother Teresa... an obnoxious woman, a strange woman even in the most heretical religions.

Was she here on purpose to mock my current miserable state? Was she here to humiliate me, and then hypocritically say that if I had listened to her and not left the village back then, things wouldn't be like this now?

Thinking of this, Yang Hao clenched his fist.

But surprisingly, the nun seemed to have known about his condition all along.

She simply flashed Yang Hao the mischievous smile he remembered, then stepped forward. As Yang Hao instinctively took two hasty steps back in resistance, she used her sleeve to wipe away the tears on his face and clean the dust from his face.

"While it is indeed quite amusing to see you in such a wretched state, and well, while I may laugh at you, I, Mother Teresa, would also feel uneasy leaving a homeless little dog out there all alone."

"...I am not a dog."

"Yes, little puppy."

Mother Teresa gently wiped Yang Hao's nose with her fingers, then, to his astonishment, took his hand and pulled him toward the edge of the deserted village.

"...Where are you taking me?"

Yang Hao tried to pull away and stand still, but found that, for some reason, even the strength to resist had been drained away along with the warmth transmitted through his hands.

His nose stung, and the tears he had wiped away seemed to be welling up again. He quickly asked a question, using the opportunity to gather his thoughts.

But to his surprise, Mother Teresa, when questioned, simply turned around and said, puzzled:

"What did you say? Are you planning to freeze to death in the village if you don't go home and just stand there like an idiot? Are you out of your mind? Just because your body can withstand the cold doesn't mean that I, a delicate nun, can—so don't just stand there like an idiot. Whatever it is, we'll talk about it when we get home."

Going home—do I even have a home?

Yang Hao silently turned around and looked back. The shadow of the deserted village was gradually fading into the distance; it was no longer his home.

Chapter Two: The Nun's Warmth, and the Pursuit of the Regent (Part 1)

Led by Mother Teresa and guided by the warmth of her hand, Yang Hao finally arrived at a dilapidated, drafty monastery located deep in the mountains not far from the village of Shkur.

Yang Hao had forgotten the name of the monastery. He only knew that when he first came to this world and to this village, the monastery had no name. Now, when he stood before the monastery again, he found that the entire building, apart from being more dilapidated, had hardly changed.

Before he could even squint and observe the building where Mother Teresa lived alone, she kicked open the rickety door and, without any semblance of nunhood, brazenly dragged Yang Hao inside.

"Although my humble abode looks dilapidated and has many drafty parts, compared to that dilapidated house in the deserted village that leaks air and water and could collapse at any moment, I think my monastery, while not a mansion, can be considered a very ordinary house."

"..."

"Hey? Why are you looking at me like that? Look at yourself! You're a mess, even horse manure is cleaner than you... Hmm, did you learn some magic while you were out there, Mom?"

"...No." Yang Hao shook his head blankly: Why is this woman asking me if I've studied magic? "You should also know...with Priscilla around, I don't need to worry about magic at all."

"Did that little black-haired bitch ever speak up for you? She became the court mage of the Roman royal family, and what has she done for you? I mean, besides occasionally casting spells for you in the beginning?"

Upon hearing the name "Priscilla," Mother Teresa's face contorted with disgust. Her lips instantly transformed from a sharp sword into venomous fangs; what had been a fleeting, piercing pain now escalated into a lingering agony that lasted for days.

“I’ve heard that no one has spoken up for you. Even if they can’t speak up for various reasons, it still seems like such a beast in my eyes. Even a dog knows to protect the person who brings it food, so why are some people so beastly that they’re even worse than a dog?”

"..."

"Sigh, I shouldn't have relied on you—alright, alright, sit down here in the lobby first. It's not drafty here, rest here for a while, and we'll talk after I've sorted things out."

With a look of disgust, Mother Teresa lit the candles in the convent's main hall. She pulled Yang Hao to a bench where the night wind couldn't reach him to sit down and rest for a while before leaving and going through a door into the depths of the convent.

Yang Hao sat on the bench, reminiscing about the things related to the name "Priscilla".

A genius mage, renowned as the "Night Witch," and skilled in large-scale battlefield support magic, she is Yang Hao's lover. His ex-lover.

When he was wrongly accused and forced to step down to stand trial, Priscilla, because of her status as a royal court sorcerer, did not speak up for him.

Rather, it's more accurate to say that most of the people he helped in the past were like that. Either because of her status as a saintess, or because she belonged to a certain noble alliance, those who were willing to speak out were either exiled or executed because of their foreign race.

...He was now completely alone in the Roman Empire. The thought sent chills down his spine.

"Ugh..."

Yang Hao sighed heavily. He thought to himself that he would have been better off dead; at least if he had died then, he would have had something to remember him by.

Just as he was feeling disheartened, Mother Teresa came out from inside, and without even glancing at Yang Hao, grabbed his fingers with her burning palm.

"Come in—hiss, looks like I'll have to help you find the other key to this shabby monastery later. And you stink so badly, you need to give me a bath before you eat."

"...?"

bath?

Yang Hao paused for a moment, then looked back at the monastery, which was dimly illuminated by the yellow candlelight: It was already night, and although the early spring night wind outside was not cold, it could still blow someone into a daze if they had just crawled out of the icy river.

In this situation, you want me to go out and take a shower before coming back?

No... if you were planning to let me take a shower, why did you pull me inside?

Yang Hao, looking bewildered, was dragged into the inner sanctuary of the convent by Mother Teresa, and then into a room near the well in the back courtyard.

Mother Teresa pushed Yang Hao directly into the steaming room. Before he could even realize where he was in the steam, she threw in a set of linen clothes, a razor for shaving, a wool towel, and a bucket for holding water.

"I'm just a small woman with little strength. Fetching two buckets of water is tiring enough. Just use the hot water to wipe yourself down. I'm not expecting you to wash yourself properly."

"you..."

"Also, if you really don't know how to shave, then don't shave. I'll help you after we eat. And don't ask any questions, don't ask anything."

"but--"

Mother Teresa burst in, quickly ripped off the dirty rags from Yang Hao's body, then put her finger to his lips and coldly said:

“I told you, don’t ask. If you insist on asking today, I’ll shove the whole tile brush into your rectum right now and pull all your confusion out of the shit door.”

Faced with a threat that was completely unlike what a nun would make, Yang Hao could only swallow his words, "Why are you helping me like this?"

He didn't understand why Mother Teresa did this, nor did he think he was of any use to the nun at this point.

But—he had to admit it, he absolutely had to admit it...

This was the first time in a year that he had felt warmth from others.

............

Meanwhile, in the capital of the Roman Empire.

When the roundtable meeting that had previously ended in discord was reconvened, everyone could see the embarrassment and frustration on the faces of the others.

This early spring drought has dealt a severe blow to the Roman Empire.

According to the magician's divination, this drought will last for more than half a year in the central agricultural region of the Roman Empire.

For six months, the agricultural areas, which were almost completely devoid of water, were unable to produce any food at all... It could even be said that the greatest disaster and famine since the founding of the Roman Empire would emerge no later than this winter.

Even the dumbest person knows the importance of food to a country.

But it was precisely because no one knew how to solve this worst drought and famine that they sat around the round table in silence.

A long time passed.

"...Now we must admit...that the former regent's reforms were indeed very useful."

General Dreschka, representing the warlords, spoke expressionlessly. His words elicited expressions of extreme disgust yet utter helplessness from everyone, including the cult leader.

"But we simply lack the capacity to understand those reforms. To get those machines running again, we need him back..."

"Let him come back? No, that's impossible! Do you know how much effort we put into driving him out? Do you want him to monopolize power again, take all the benefits that belong to us, and then distribute them to the ignorant masses?!"

"Then, Master Peter, tell us how we are going to solve this pressing drought? The grain produced on the border is simply not enough to fill the gap that the Roman Empire will face. The Elven Kingdom has already blocked trade with us due to border frictions, and even if we wanted to use sea transport, we don't have the money to buy it—"