The World Is Mine For The Taking

Leon's POV

Our journey stretched on as we pushed forward toward the Holy City, and after what felt like an endless stream of roads and ever-changing landscapes, the silhouette of towering spires finally appeared in the distance. The tension in the air subtly shifted. It wasn't just the end of a long trip—it felt like we were entering an entirely different world.

Even before setting foot in the city proper, the atmosphere changed. The very air around the Holy City seemed thicker with solemnity, like the wind itself whispered prayers. The roads were cleaner, the people more orderly, and the sheer aura of the place radiated sanctity. This wasn't like any city I'd ever seen within the kingdom's borders. It was... divine, in a way that made your skin prickle without understanding why.

The first thing that caught the eye was the people. Every man and woman walking its cobbled paths wore flowing habits and the distinct robes of clergy. Their eyes held a serene devotion, and they moved with purpose, like they were constantly in silent service to something greater than themselves. Nuns and priests—devotees of the Goddess of War and Wisdom, Jeanne.

The tale of Jeanne was one every citizen knew. A revered figure who had once taken up arms in a time of despair—leading humanity in a war that had ravaged the continent centuries ago. Her strategic mind and iron will had turned the tide, pulling people from the brink of annihilation to triumphant survival. For that, she wasn't just remembered. She was worshipped. Her legacy forged a religion, and from that, an entire culture bloomed here in the Holy City.

Buildings stood tall and proud, shaped with the reverence of cathedral-like architecture. Arched windows of stained glass caught sunlight and fractured it into kaleidoscopic beams across the stone-paved streets. Bell towers pierced the sky, casting long shadows like watchful guardians.

Among the grandeur, one structure stood out—a sprawling academy, clearly designated for those training in priesthood and nunhood.

I recalled Alice saying she was enrolled in one of these academies. She always said she wanted to become a priestess.

Luckily for her, and for me, it was summer vacation now. No academy sessions to attend and no rigid schedules schedules. Just a brief moment of freedom from the weight of expectations.

Eventually, after passing the heart of the Holy City, we arrived at the edge of the Holy Kingdom itself—a location familiar to me. Flui Village, my hometown, lay just nearby. The closer we got, the more nostalgia crept up on me. It was strange, almost bittersweet.

But before I could lose myself in thoughts of the past, an unpleasant sound brought me back to the present.

"Hrrk—!"

Yr suddenly swung the car door open and stumbled out, falling to her knees as she violently threw up onto the grassy roadside. The acidic stench hit us moments later, followed by the wet retching sound that echoed a little too vividly.

Titania's eyes widened in alarm. "W-What's happening? Is she sick?" Her tone held a mixture of worry and unfamiliarity.

I sighed softly and stepped out. "She's alright. It's just motion sickness. The journey was long, and her stomach couldn't take it."

The people here weren't too familiar with the concept. Most were used to traveling in carriages. Sure, those could cause discomfort, but it rarely reached the intensity that modern travel sometimes induced.

Honestly, Yr didn't even seem that nauseous when she was inside. What surprised me more was the fact that she'd been asleep most of the ride—and still ended up hurling.

"Well then," I said, glancing around. "Might as well take a break. We're close to a Leonamon branch here. Let's stop there and rest up for a bit."

"That sounds like a good idea," Rose replied, her hands releasing the steering wheel like she'd been holding on for dear life. Her shoulders sagged noticeably, and she looked downright exhausted. "I don't think I can keep this up much longer."

"I did say I could drive, didn't I?" I raised an eyebrow at her.

She gave me a firm look. "I'm not exactly the type to let just anyone—lover or not—take control of my car."

I chuckled under my breath. "You've really become a car aficionado, huh?"

It was... adorable, in a weird way. I never pictured her as the type to geek out over cars. But now that I thought about it, it made perfect sense. Her strong, independent personality fit the mold. The idea of her spending hours admiring car models or meticulously maintaining them in her garage? It was oddly fitting.

Without further delay, we made our way to the local Leonamon branch.

The branch here, though still bearing the familiar branding and layout, was clearly scaled down in comparison to the bustling main branch we were used to.

Leonamon products lined the shelves—same uniforms, gadgets, and tools—but one thing was missing, and it was the cars.

The reason was clear. The Holy City hadn't embraced modernity like the rest of the kingdom.

Why? The answer lay in the hands of the high priests, who acted as rulers under the King's authority. Their philosophy was strict. Modernization was seen as a stain and a violation of the sacredness of the land. They didn't want the city's holy soil to be tainted by machines or technology.

And so, the Holy City remained suspended in time, resisting the forward march of progress to preserve the divinity of its roots.

To be honest, I always found it to be an incredibly odd and rigid way of thinking—archaic, even. It was as if the city had wrapped itself in a blanket of the past, refusing to emerge into the light of the present. This antiquated mindset was the primary reason why Leonamon's business ventures here had barely made any headway. Among all the cities within the vast expanse of the Kingdom of Milham, the Holy City consistently brought in the lowest profit margins, something I was reminded of every month.

The core of the problem lay in their absolute refusal to embrace anything remotely associated with modern technology. They clung to the old ways as if progress itself were some blasphemous sin. And because of that stubborn devotion to tradition, the Holy City continued to fall further behind—outpaced and overshadowed by cities that had long since stepped into a new era. While the rest of the kingdom marched forward with innovation, the Holy City stood still, paralyzed by its own self-imposed limitations.

I should speak with one of the high priests about this. There had to be room for compromise—some way to introduce change without disrespecting their values. But if that didn't work… if the high priest refused to budge no matter how much I reasoned with him, then perhaps it would be time to pull some strings. I'd ask Princess Myrcella for a favor.

"Leon," Titania called out softly, her voice cutting through my thoughts. "Do you have any money with you? Just one gold coin will do. I didn't bring any along."

At first, I blinked, puzzled. But when I followed her gaze, I saw what she meant.

Two children stood nearby—frail, filthy, and visibly starving. Their clothes clung to their small bodies in a way that made it impossible to ignore how malnourished they were. The fabric was torn and stained with layers of grime that spoke of long, unkind days. Their eyes, however, said even more—wide, hollow, and tired beyond their years.

It all made sense now. Titania had seen them and, with that tender heart of hers, wanted to help. But she hadn't brought any money herself. That part caught me off guard. A princess—royalty by birth and name—not carrying even a coin? It seemed strange. But then again, she was human before she was anything else. Titles didn't change the heart.

"You don't need to worry about it," I told her with a gentle smile. "I'll handle it. I can give them something else instead."

Her reaction was instant. Titania's face lit up with pure joy, her smile shining brighter than the sun piercing through storm clouds. "Thank you! You're the best boyfriend ever!"

Without warning, she flung herself into my arms, hugging me tightly. She nuzzled her cheek against mine, her skin warm and soft against mine. It was the kind of gesture that made everything else feel distant and unimportant. In that moment, she felt like my personal sunbeam—bright, affectionate, and full of life.

I called the children over gently and asked a few staff members at this branch to prepare some meals for them. They didn't hesitate, immediately moving with quiet understanding.

As we waited, the silence was broken by the unmistakable sound of their stomachs growling—long, aching rumbles that echoed with hunger. It was painful to hear.

"W-We're sorry for bothering you, big brother…" the older one said, bowing her head. She looked barely older than a teenager, while the other child stayed close behind her, silent and timid.

"It's fine. You're not a bother," I said calmly, kneeling slightly to meet them at eye level. "Can I ask you something? Do you have any parents or guardians looking after you?"

I already had my suspicions just from seeing them, but I needed to be sure. Sometimes guardians would force their children into work or begging to survive. As unfortunate as it was, I had seen it before.

The two of them simply shook their heads—slowly, solemnly, eyes cast downward.

So they were truly alone.

"Then… would the two of you be willing to live in an orphanage?" I asked, keeping my tone gentle and reassuring. "It would be much better for both of you than living like this."