The Reversed Hierophant

Rage.

Indifference.

Suspicion.

Murderous intent.

The moment Julius found the last emotion in Rafael’s pale, lavender eyes, he felt a chilling calm wash over him, extinguishing the fiery inferno of anger that had consumed him.

He scrutinized the beautiful face before him as if seeing Rafael for the first time.

Indisputably, Rafael was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, bar none.

When they first met, Rafael was only twelve, a scrawny, feral cat with a crippled leg, baring his teeth and wary of his every move, daring to brandish his half-grown claws at him. Once he’d been cleaned up, even though the cat was still thin, his beauty was evident, like an angel carefully painted on a fresco.

As he grew older, his beauty that could illuminate Florence gradually emerged. What a beautiful child! Everyone who saw him could not help but sigh in admiration.

More vibrant than a rose, more pure than an angel, a beauty beyond comprehension. The fatal beauty of Helen of Troy, the beauty of Solla that brought about the Great Flood, these terrifyingly beautiful beings from stories suddenly had a tangible form. Sometimes, Julius felt a sense of dread, a dread that turned into anxiety as he spent more time with Rafael.

Rafael was clever, cunning, and even ruthless, but no matter how he and Pope Vitalian III educated him, the child always carried a bit of innocent tenderness in his heart. He would use schemes following their teachings, and would murder Vitalian III’s enemies without hesitation, yet he still had the tenderness and persistence to not harm the innocent.

When Julius first discovered this, he could hardly believe it.

It wasn’t that he expected Rafael to grow into a devil who killed indiscriminately without distinguishing between good and evil, but he thought Rafael should have known by now that necessary sacrifices and bloodshed were inevitable on the road to success.

Did those who waged war not know that the soldiers who died were innocent?

Were the only people who died in political struggles the main culprits?

Julius thought Rafael should understand this simplest truth better than anyone else, but the child still secretly retained this bit of kindness.

This would kill him.

Julius looked at Rafael countless times and thought.

He would certainly die for it.

Florence would not accept someone like him in power.

But what could he do? Julius had accepted the promise to protect Rafael from his own cousin’s blood-stained hands. He could only hold this precious bird with its magnificent feathers in his palm and enclose the rose in his garden to protect it from the wind and rain.

Then, suddenly one day, everything changed.

The bird with magnificent feathers broke free from his palm, the rose grew thorns, and for the first time, Rafael’s eyes, which had always held only trust, showed him killing intent.

It was the look of a monarch.

He seemed to see again the untamed, natural hunter he had first met many years ago. No, this hunter was even deeper, colder, and more relentless than before.

Julius was certain that at this moment Rafael truly wanted to kill him.

The monarch of Florence, the king of all kings, the thing he had so longed to see had finally grown in this thin, frail body.

The Secretary General of the Papal Palace lowered his eyes and bowed his head slightly, which was a gesture of tacit submission.

He took a step back.

The heat enveloped them, but for a moment, Julius felt a sense of sadness. He realized that something had changed—and it was an irreversible change. He would never be able to understand exactly what had happened, but from that look, he sensed a pain that transcended everything.

“Rafa.” Julius looked at him.

After a long silence, he said softly, “Your Holiness.”

Rafael, however, no longer looked at him. He suppressed the trace of killing intent that he hadn’t had time to hide after being provoked by Julius, and resumed a calm expression: “Sir, you came to see me so urgently. Is there something wrong? I think that unless there’s another siege of Florence, perhaps you shouldn’t be in this place.”

There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

After he finished speaking, he didn’t wait for Julius to reply and walked towards the pool on his own. The warm water reluctantly held him back. The iron-hearted pope walked up the steps with the sound of splashing water, pulled a robe hanging from a rack on one side, wrapped it around himself casually, and lazily sat down on the lounge chair.

His nonchalant tone brought Julius back to his senses. The previous loss of composure was a once-in-a-century event for the Secretary General of the Papal Palace. He certainly wouldn’t continue to lose composure. The golden long-haired cat laid on the recliner, and Julius didn’t rush to go over. He still stood in the pool at a certain distance: “I heard something – about you, you should know what I’m talking about.”

Rafael turned his head and glanced at him, with a half-smile on his face: “What should I know?”

Julius looked at him and his defensive expression, and suddenly felt extremely tired. He took a deep breath and untied his collar, which was tight after being soaked with water. Water droplets slid down his collarbone splashing on the surface of the pool. “Stop these meaningless evasions, Rafa.”

The man who always appeared to be at ease sighed as if showing weakness, “I’m just worried about you. You can seek my help. You know that as long as you ask, I will help you solve these problems, and there’s no need for you to take such an approach.”

Rafael looked at him, his smile unchanged.

“You don’t trust me anymore. Why?”

It was the first time that Julius pointed out this problem so bluntly. He easily exposed the problem between them. The powerful head of Portia was confused and seemed a little desperate.

“Did I disappoint you? Or did I do something wrong? I don’t understand, Rafa. It seems like just one day, you’ve suddenly withdrawn all your trust in me.”

Julius was never honest. His education taught him that those in power are always lonely and one should not expect to gain pity and sympathy from others – these are poisons and sharp weapons that will lead people to a miserable death.

But he had to try, because it was Rafael, and they had once been so close.

The smile on Rafael’s lips flattened. After a long time, under Julius’s anxious gaze, he softly asked, “Do I no longer trust you?”

The moment the question left his lips, he had already found a definitive answer in his heart.

How could I trust you?

After I died so silently in the dead of night?

Life, death and blood is a chasm between us, and this is a conversation that can never be truly honest.

“Maybe it’s because I’m tired of your help and it makes me feel stupid.”

Countless questions and cries swept through his mind, the lingering smell of blood enveloped him, including those long sleepless nights, the cold cabinets, and the nightmares, but in the end, he gave only such a light answer.

Julius could hear his evasion.

The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds. During these few seconds, neither of them realized that perhaps this might be their only chance to confess everything. Stripping away family, power, conspiracy and all calculations. For the first time, Julius had opened himself up, and Rafael could have reached out and grasped that beating heart. However, this opportunity was easily missed.

In just a few seconds, Julius quickly gathered his emotions. His exposed thoughts were tightly locked under a hard mask. The impeccable demeanor wrapped around the man like armor, making everything that had just happened seem like a dreamlike illusion.

He came out of the water and once again became the great and powerful Portia patriarch known to others.

“You are the Pope, the supreme ruler of Florence. I taught you not to put yourself in danger,” said Julius.

Rafael knew that his actions could not be hidden from this man who had practically watched him grow up, and he didn’t intend on resisting stubbornly, “You also forgot to say one thing. You also told me that when the rewards are sufficient, all sacrifices are worth it.”

Julius sneered: “Sacrifice? For what? Surely not for those poor people in the Francois mansion? You sacrificed for them?! Can your value be equal to theirs?!”

Julius thought that he felt sorry for them and decided to save them on a whim. Rafael wouldn’t correct his misunderstanding. He simply said lightly, “They are also the people of Florence.”

“Ha.” Julius raised his head and sneered.

He unbuttoned and took off his wet shirt, wiping the water off his body with a cotton cloth on the rack. He made no attempt to avoid Rafael from beginning to end, and the Pope tacitly acquiesced to his almost casual behaviour. In fact, for this teacher and student – or rather uncle and nephew – they were already accustomed to this level of intimacy. Even Julius, who had always hated being in close contact with people, didn’t seem to realize anything was wrong.

“Citizens of Florence?” Julius threw away the damp cotton cloth. His body was well-proportioned and slender, with undulating muscles like spring mountains. His long iron-gray hair was dripping wet and draped over his back. Water droplets were still rolling down his cheeks to his chest.

“You are still as kind as ever.” The words were dripping with irony.

“You once asked me why your father initiated the Church reforms. I told you it was for the better survival of more people. You questioned me, saying you couldn’t understand how taking the papal authority back to the Holy See would allow anyone to live better. The kings and noble lords tried to start a war against the reforms, soldiers died on the battlefield, everything went wrong,” Julius said slowly in a low voice.

Rafael listened quietly. This happened more than two years after he returned to Vitalian III. The Pope tried to carry out a religious reform, taking the papal authority back to the Holy See, suppressing the power of the great nobles, and taking back the power to set taxes. At that time, the entire Papal States were in turmoil, and people were in panic. News of the death of a certain noble, bishop, or priest would appear from time to time. The sky over Florence seemed to be always overcast. Rafael was in the vortex and witnessed everything that happened. He even participated in the formulation of the laws, but he couldn’t understand the meaning of all this.

Julius rolled his eyes, his deep purple eyes fixed on Rafael, as if trying to see through the beautiful face to the handsome and pure angelic boy a few years ago: “I told you something.”

—Don’t love anyone, but rather everyone.

“Don’t love anyone, but rather everyone.”

The same voice as in his memory sounded, Rafael raised his eyelids and looked at Julius quietly.

“Your love is precious and rare, and it should be given to a broader concept. You can’t love one person, but you should see all the people of Florence, nobles, commoners, soldiers, farmers…” Julius said slowly, as if he had returned to the classroom, teaching his only student wholeheartedly, “Falling in love with one person is a sin to you now. You can protect your people, of course, but it should be all the people—not just these few.”

“It is they who make up Florence, without these individuals, where is the all you speak of?” Rafael replied.

The young pope showed a look of weariness. He raised his hand and gestured to stop the discussion. “We have never reached a consensus on this issue. Let’s stop this philosophical debate, dear Yura.”

Julius was stunned by this intimate address.

Rafael brushed away the hair on his cheek that had gradually cooled after getting wet, and said lightly, “I can bear the consequences of my choices. What about you? What is your choice? Can you bear the consequences?”

His question was deep, as if it had some other meaning. Julius’s face suddenly tightened, and Rafael’s words hit the most anxious part of his heart.

Similar to the weak and turbulent Florence, the Portia family, which had reached its peak, also began to enter a period of turbulence. Julius was a tough-handed patriarch. In his hands, the Portia family at least maintained a superficial prosperity, but the undercurrents beneath could not be ignored. He felt like he was in control of a large ship in a storm, the ship was extremely heavy, and the rudder was not so obedient. He could only use more and more violent methods to suppress it— appeasement could no longer steer the ship out of this storm.

Like Florence, Portia needed a change.

And Julius is still waiting, searching for this opportunity.

Whether it’s fragmentation or further unity.

The pressing question is—who should the Portia family follow?

Julius had single-handedly pushed Rafael onto the throne of Saint Leah, paying a large amount of money and land for it, which made the elders of Portia extremely dissatisfied. There were different voices within the family, and Julius forcefully suppressed the opposition. Although deep down, he didn’t think their ideas were completely unreasonable.

The Portia family needed a strong patriarch, and Florence needed a powerful enough pope. An even better situation would be for a powerful monarch to control the lords headed by the Portia family, thereby pushing Florence to its peak.

Julius didn’t mind submitting, he was just strong enough and intelligent enough, so no one could control him. However, male creatures instinctively admire the strong, and if a strong monarch appeared, he wouldn’t mind offering his complete loyalty.

He looked at Rafael and saw his own small shadow reflected in those pale purple eyes. Suddenly, he realized—perhaps, this opportunity was right in front of him.

Would the monarch he wanted be Rafael?

The child who had irreconcilable conflicts with him and couldn’t even trust him, the child who was brought up by him and had a nearly gentle compassion, the child who had just given him a murderous look?

Rafael was asking him for a pledge of allegiance, and unlike the previous collaboration, this was a complete commitment.

There was a long silence in the bath.

The Secretary General of the Papal Palace sighed softly, put on a loose white robe, and bowed deeply to Rafael: “It’s already late, please allow me to retire, Your Holiness.”

He made no promises.

As Julius, he really wanted to try again, but as the patriarch of the huge Portia family, he couldn’t easily make a promise.

Let me see more, Rafa, Julius said with his eyes, let me see a qualified monarch, a monarch who can walk on the path he chooses, who can cut through all thorns and boulders, and firmly guard his crown and throne even without my protection.

Come on, defeat me, crush me, control me.

I await the day you command me to submit.

Author’s Note

Julius and Rafael have fundamental differences. Rafael will use all kinds of schemes and conspiracies, and he doesn’t mind killing, but he still has more pity for the weak. Julius is completely hard-hearted, hahahaha. They have quarreled many times because of this contradiction, and neither of them can convince the other.

Julius is a person who admires the strong by nature. His philosophy is that powerful people have the obligation to protect the weak (in a broad sense). He thinks Rafael is a weak person, so he has always protected Rafael very carefully. However, Rafael’s behavior today finally made him realize that this guy seemed to disdain his protection and even wanted to rebel, and has shown the corresponding ability. For the first time, Julius has taken Rafael seriously. This is a cause for celebration!

But there is always uncertainty between them because of Rafael’s death. Rafael can’t trust him completely, and he doesn’t know why he can’t gain Rafael’s trust. Damn, the abuse is coming. The only solution is that Rafael completely controls everything he has, and makes sure he cannot betray him, only then is there a possibility of a happy ending hahaha【if this is indeed a couple】The suspicion and temptation in this process, isn’t it sweet!

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