Pregnancy Is Too Much For The Villain-Chapter 162

Unable to contain his tears, Valentin buried his face in the handkerchief.

“I still haven’t forgiven the person who put us through this. All I’ve ever done is run away, avoid, and suppress everything...”

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If Valentin had truly been a person deserving of such grace, he would have forgiven the third prince long ago. But he hadn’t. Instead, he had merely endured, pushed the pain deep into his chest, and fled.

“But you *endured*,” came the archbishop’s firm voice, causing Valentin to lift his head abruptly.

“There is a saying by Solomon: 'He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty.'”

The archbishop gestured toward the grand ceiling above them, adorned with gilded pomegranates, as if reminding Valentin of the wisdom imparted by the one who had built this majestic cathedral.

“It’s easy to lash out in anger, to defy, to retaliate, or to seek revenge. But the hardest thing of all is to endure and hold back, isn’t it?”

“…”

“Anyone who has tried to endure knows how difficult it is. And you, my dear, have already done the hardest thing. That makes your accomplishment greater than that of anyone else.”

Valentin’s sobs echoed through the vast cathedral as he wept into the handkerchief.

---

After they finished their prayers and stepped out of the cathedral, Archbishop Johan asked if Valentin wanted to accompany him, sensing that the young man, dressed as he was, might be in some trouble. But true to his character, the archbishop didn’t pry too deeply into Valentin’s circumstances.

“I plan to return to Eldon as soon as possible, Archbishop Johan.”

“Is that so? Then please, take this with you.”

The archbishop signaled a modestly dressed priest at his side, who handed over a pouch with a jingling sound. The opened cloth bundle contained coins that could be easily used anywhere.

“I can’t accept this... I should be the one making an offering to you, Archbishop!” Valentin exclaimed, waving his hands in refusal.

But the archbishop laughed and tucked the pouch into Valentin’s bag, ignoring his protests.

“This is the will of the saints. Our meeting here, and the heart that prompted me to help you, are all part of His plan.”

Valentin bowed his head repeatedly, promising that as soon as he reached the capital, he would make a donation worth many times the amount given. But the archbishop merely patted Valentin’s back, telling him to follow his heart.

“Honestly, I was unsure about returning to my husband, but your words have given me courage.”

The realization that they were still legally married had brought Valentin a sense of comfort he hadn’t expected.

No matter how things had ended between them, if they were still legally husband and wife, then Valentin had every right to seek out Reynard. There was no reason to feel insecure. Moreover, Valentin was confident that Reynard, having not yet completed the divorce, wouldn’t have entered into any relationship with another omega. Thinking of this eased the worry that had been weighing on Valentin’s mind.

However, the archbishop’s final words did more than just ease Valentin’s anxiety — they filled him with renewed courage.

“The Marquis has been waiting for you.”

“Waiting? What do you mean?”

Had Reynard really waited for him all this time?

“Haven’t you heard the news?”

“…What news? I’ve been away from the empire for quite some time,” Valentin replied, pointing to the turban on his head, his eyes widening.

“The Marquis of Valkares built a charity hospital.”

“What?”

Valentin’s eyes widened in disbelief. Reynard wasn’t the type of person to do something like that. He wasn’t one to boast about, but surely his alpha wasn’t that selfless…? What on earth was this about?

“With the help of the church, the hospital was established, and I personally approved it,” the archbishop explained, his gentle smile deepening. “It’s a hospital dedicated to helping those suffering from the effects of New Pophin. The Marquis funds it out of his own pocket, with a few donations to help.”

Valentin was speechless. Reynard had done something so noble?

Valentin’s heart ached as he recalled the people who had suffered in the streets of Grey Chapel, victims of the third prince’s reckless schemes. Had Reynard done this to atone for those innocents? Valentin’s nose tingled with emotion once again.

The archbishop sealed the moment with a final, surprising revelation.

“Do you know what the name of this charity hospital is?”

“What is it called?”

The archbishop smiled warmly as he answered with just a single phrase:

“The Good Valentin Hospital.”

At this, Valentin burst into laughter, tears streaming down his face once more. No matter what hidden surprises or troubles life might throw at him, this was too much.

---

After parting ways with the archbishop and his party, Valentin set off again.

With the extra funds he had been given, he was able to buy more provisions and water for the long journey ahead, and even afford to stay in humble inns that shielded him from the cold and dew of the night. All of it was thanks to the archbishop’s timely help. To conserve the remaining silver coins, Valentin continued drawing portraits for the people he met on his journey. Those who received his sketches were so pleased that they generously lowered the price of stew and provided feed for his horse.

Finally, Valentin managed to reach the port city where ships bound for the empire were docked. After securing passage with the last of his savings, he found himself not just impoverished, but a full-blown beggar.

It was in this wretched state that someone finally recognized him. He had just disembarked from a fast clipper, having finally set foot in the empire after several days of travel.

“Your Grace!”

A man called out in shock, his voice filled with disbelief as he caught sight of Valentin, who was laden with an art bag, supplies, and a bundle of blankets.

A beggar? Valentin’s head snapped up in surprise.

The man had brown hair and was a stranger to Valentin. Who was he? As Valentin tilted his head in confusion, the turban slipped over one eye, making his already disheveled appearance even more ridiculous.

“What in the world are you wearing?!”

“…Who are you?” Valentin asked.

The man hurriedly bowed, almost tripping over his exaggerated gesture, before introducing himself.

“I am Felix, Marquis Valkares’ closest confidant. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

He discreetly rolled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo on the inside of his arm—a geometric diamond pattern with a coiled sea dragon biting a number. It was exactly as Reynard had once described to Valentin.

[Those who bear this mark are my most trusted. They carry nicknames based on numbers. Memorize this in case of an emergency.]

Though these individuals worked primarily in the shadows, Reynard had insisted Valentin learn to recognize them. As an artist, Valentin had a sharp eye for visual details, and he’d committed the mark to memory right away.

“…Number one?”

Valentin whispered, recognizing the ‘1’ etched into Felix’s skin. Felix nodded.

“Yes, that’s correct. I am Felix, known as Number One.”

After a quick assessment of Valentin’s ragged, ridiculous attire, Felix leaned in and whispered discreetly.

“I’m about to put on a bit of a show. Please don’t be alarmed.”

“…What?”

Before Valentin could fully grasp what was happening, something extraordinary unfolded.