Chapter 411: Episode 411

After crossing the border into the Holy Federation, their journey went smoothly. They moved in succession through a series of teleportation circles Israphel had prepared, arriving at last in a megacity reminiscent of Langstein.

The first place they visited was—

“Uh, how do I look?”

A high-end tailor shop. When the curtain of the fitting room was drawn back, Simon walked out with a slightly embarrassed smile, dressed in a neat white suit with a red necktie.

Israphel smiled with satisfaction. “It suits you well! My dear nephew…”

The shop assistant beside her nodded vigorously in agreement.

Simon, now in his new clothes, stood before a mirror and touched his white-dyed hair. It still felt awkward, but the more he looked, the more it grew on him.

“Don’t worry too much,” Israphel added quietly. “It’ll return to your original hair color in two days.”

After purchasing the suit, the two left the shop. As Israphel walked gracefully down the street, she snapped her fingers, and a transparent barrier spread around them.

“Here are a fake ID and profile. From now on, your name is Sean Harder, an eighteen-year-old priest from the Second Cathedral of Vizer in the Hafen region.”

Simon accepted the documents with a bewildered expression. A Saintess arranging a fake identity through a broker! He wondered if this was really okay.

“A-Are you sure this is alright?”

A priest’s divinity manifested from their blind and absolute faith in the Goddess Deva. If they betrayed that faith, they could become trapped by obsession and find themselves unable to use their power as before—a phenomenon known as a ‘divinity slump.’ Simon was worried about that very point, but Israphel just smiled gently.

“Everything is for the sake of stopping a greater evil! The Goddess will surely forgive me.”

One thing was for sure: this woman would never suffer from a divinity slump.

“By the way, Lady Israphel,” Simon said, glancing down at his perfectly arranged attire. “Is my current outfit related to this mission in some way?”

Israphel shook her head. “First, we need to pick up the guide. This outfit is for that purpose.”

“Ah. Are we going to meet her now?”

She smiled sweetly. “Yes! Let’s go rescue her together. That child.”

—

She had wanted to be a Saintess. It was the dream of every girl born in the Holy Federation. A being that shone like the stars in the night sky, praised and admired by all, a mortal who had risen to the rank of a demigod closest to the Goddess. Since her respected ‘Teacher Anna’ had also been a Saintess, and she herself had been called the ’second coming of Anna Cross’ at Efnel, the pressure was immense.

She naturally believed she had to become a Saintess, following in her teacher’s footsteps.

She had thought that when she finally achieved her lifelong dream, she would be as happy as if she owned the world.

So then, now…

’Am I happy?’

Lethe was smiling. But inside, she was not.

It was the Grand Cathedral’s Founding Anniversary. Countless people were flooding into the massive hall.

“There! She’s over there! The Saintess of the Stars.”

“…How can she be so noble.”

Lethe stood with a composed posture, presenting her well-crafted smile to the masses. Lethe Shardena was not here. There was only the Saintess.

“Saintess.”

The Paladin in charge of her escort approached and knelt before her. “I will escort you.”

Lethe replied with the smile that had become permanently fixed to her face. “Yes.”

When she extended her white hand, the Paladin kissed its back and stood. The young man’s body was tense with the glory of serving the Saintess, his face flushed with excitement.

’…My legs hurt.’

Of course, Lethe felt nothing. Her only concern was when this tedious ordeal would finally end.

—

Being a Saintess was a ridiculously busy job. It was no exaggeration to say the Saintess was involved in every major event in the Federation. In a culture where her participation was considered the Goddess’s blessing, it was common for important ceremonies to be postponed to fit her schedule.

Duty and obligation. Custom and responsibility. For all the power and authority she gained, there were just as many chains that bound her. The rebellious streak she had shown as an Efnel student was no longer tolerated. Archbishops, other Saintesses, and even the Pope himself came to bind her with lessons in etiquette and doctrine.

’”This is difficult for us if you act this way.”’

’”Please, maintain your dignity as a Saintess.”’

When Lethe made a mistake, it burdened those around her. Weighed down by the mental pressure, she carried out her arduous daily tasks. Her smile, her voice, the twitch of her facial muscles, her manners, her speech, even her thoughts and values—everything she was had been ‘corrected’ to be more ‘Saintess-like.’

’”The Saintess is a representative of the Goddess Deva. You must look down upon all people, pity them, and never lose your smile…”’

As time went on, at the hands of Efnel’s greedy old men and stubborn adults, Lethe Shardena was disappearing, replaced by a well-processed, sculpted doll.

Yes, now she understood. They didn’t need ’her’. They just needed a doll that would smile at important events. The fact that she was a powerful warrior who could fight and die on the front lines in a war was just a bonus.

The hardest part was that Israphel, the one she had trusted, no longer treated her with warmth.

’”Lethe. Now that you have become a Saintess equal to me, I will no longer tolerate any more childish behavior.”’

Israphel, who had volunteered to be her mentor, taught her etiquette so harshly it brought her to tears. The only silver lining was the rule that a teenage girl who awakened as a Saintess had to complete Efnel’s three-year course. At least she wouldn’t have to part with her roommate, Ririnet, or her other friends. Of course, with the addition of Saintess lessons and the requirement to maintain top grades, the burden increased severalfold.

Then, when vacation started and she left school, hell began. Her schedule was so murderous she lost track of how many places she visited in a single day.

“I am honored to meet the daughter closest to the Goddess.”

Some bishop or other. She couldn’t remember his name. ’Let’s just get this over with.’ She offered the back of her hand with a doll-like smile. He knelt, kissed it, and shed tears in awe of the Goddess’s grace.

“Ho ho! I am honored to meet the daughter closest to the Goddess.”

A senile old man. A bishop from some wealthy region, who had recently started using teleportation circles to follow her to every event.

“Ah, this old man does not know what to do with himself in the face of your noble beauty.”

His mouth spouted nonsense about nobility, but his eyes were scanning her chest and legs. Did he think she wouldn’t notice? Filthy, lecherous old man.

’Ah, for fuck’s sake.’

A rage welled up from deep within her.

’Smash his teeth in, soccer-kick his jaw, and while the bastard’s still seeing stars, knee him in the face three times.’

She only imagined it, all while smiling like a doll. In this place, I am a doll. A doll, a doll. Not a person.

It was easier to think of it that way. She just wanted this time to be over quickly.

When a voice began, “The daughter closest to the Goddess—” her mind retorted, ’Fuck off.’

Another started, “The one closest to the Goddess—”

’Are you asking to die?’

“Her radiant smile leaves me so overwhelmed—”

’Then you can find a place for yourself in hell.’

Her patience was reaching its limit, but her body, etiquette ingrained to its very bones, moved on autopilot.

“Thank you. May the Goddess’s blessing be with you.”

She no longer knew what she was saying. She was in a trance.

“Yes. The Goddess will surely watch over you.”

Taking a step back, it was a comedy unlike any other. Her, peddling the Goddess while impersonating Lady Israphel, and the people bursting into tears at her grace and mercy. The Holy Federation was truly something else.

As time passed, she met with all the high-ranking officials and became completely exhausted. Her paladin escort spoke.

“Saintess of the Stars. We will now proceed to the next location.”

’Again?’

“Are we leaving right now?” she asked, a sharp edge to her voice.

But this fanatical paladin had no idea she was angry. He was a madman who firmly believed that the Saintess’s greatest joy was bestowing blessings upon the Goddess’s servants.

Annoyance surging, Lethe turned her back and spoke.

“…I shall be right back,” Lethe announced.

“Then I shall escort you,” a paladin immediately offered.

“I’m not running away. Just stay here.”

“Wherever you go, it is my duty to protect you, Saintess—”

In that instant, Lethe spun around. Her leg whipped forward in a fierce gust of wind, the heel of her shoe stopping just inches from the paladin’s face. The force of the gale rippled across his cheek, peeling his lip back to expose his teeth and gums.

“…Hey,” she said, her voice low.

“H-Huh?” he stammered.

“Are you fucking deaf? Who else is here besides you, you bastard?”

The paladin’s mouth fell open in disbelief, a cliché expression that screamed, ’Our holy Saintess would never use such vulgar language!’

“I-I was merely trying to escort you…!”

“So you’re going to follow me into the bathroom, you son of a bitch?!” she snarled.

’Smack!’

Having finally smacked him across the head, Lethe stalked away, the heels of her shoes clicking sharply on the floor. The paladin, now sprawled on the ground, wore a look that said, ’Our holy Saintess is going to the bathroom!’

’Ugh, seriously.’

It was utterly contemptible. She wanted to kill them all.

Lethe pressed a hand to her forehead as she walked, slipping out the back of the room into an empty hallway. As she moved, she began to shed the trappings of her role—the ornament in her hair, the Saintess’s robe draped over her shoulders, and even her high-heeled shoes. Beneath it all, she wore her Efnel school uniform. Since she was still technically a student, wearing the robe over her uniform was standard for official functions.

’I don’t care what kind of crap I get for this later. I’m taking a break from the rest of my schedule,’ she vowed. She desperately needed some fresh air. And…

’Miss Anna, I miss you.’ She missed her so much. How on earth had Miss Anna and Lady Israphel endured times like these? She had a newfound respect for the senior saintesses. ’Lirinet, I never thought I’d actually miss you.’

The faces of her friends from Efnel also came to mind. Still, it was a massive relief that they hadn’t seen her like this. If they saw her now, pretending to bestow blessings upon old men with the refined tone of a Saintess—so different from how she was at school—they would have howled with laughter…

’Heh.’

A laugh? A small chuckle echoed from the nearly deserted hallway. Lethe flinched and turned her head. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed was a man with white hair in a white suit, stifling a laugh.

’This bastard. What’s he grinning at… Huh?’

Her eyes widened. The man uncrossed his arms and slowly approached her. As his white hair swayed, his face and eyes came into view. Lethe’s lips parted, her expression dazed. Her body and mind froze.

Of all the people in the world, he was the last one she wanted to see her like this—even less than Lirinet or her other friends. But it was impossible for him to be here. Had she finally lost her mind? Was she going crazy? She rubbed her eyes and looked again, but his image only grew clearer.

“It’s been a while.”

A familiar voice. A familiar face. A slightly mischievous smile. And above all else…

“Lethe.”

Not ’Saintess,’ not ’the Goddess’s closest daughter.’ A man who confidently called her by her name.

“…What,” she breathed, her face flushing crimson. “Wh-What are you doing here?! No! More importantly… did you see?”

“See what?”

She rushed over, grabbed his tie, and yanked it hard. “Did you see what I was doing in the banquet hall?!” she shouted, the tips of her ears burning bright red.

With his tie in her grip, Simon held up both palms as if to calm her down. “Lethe, I can’t breathe.”

“Forget it! Forget everything! Erase it all from your mind, you bastard!”

“How am I supposed to do that? Besides, you really did seem like a Saintess…”

Her face reached its absolute limit of redness. Letting out a strangled cry, Lethe clenched her fists. “Forget iiiiiiiit!”

Just then, a hand shot out and caught her fist mid-air. Lethe’s eyes widened at the sight of another unexpected person appearing from behind Simon.

“Honestly, I told you to fix that habit of letting your fists fly first, didn’t I, Lethe?”

“L-Lady Israphel…?”

Israphel smiled faintly. “Follow me. I have something to discuss with both of you.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep