TVSP 21🍂

Chapter 21

“Welcome, Believer Grace. It’s truly a pleasure to meet like this.”

“The pleasure is mine. I’m Grace Apferdita.”

I deliberately gave my full name with title, right in front of the Pope.

For the briefest moment, Pope Besque’s eyes trembled.

“Ah… so the old saying was right. The older you get, the sharper your eye for people becomes.”

Strictly speaking, I wasn’t old—just someone who had lived and died, and repeated life enough to accumulate far more experience than most.

But that tiny flicker in the Pope’s gaze… it was the reaction of a man whose expectation had been overturned.

He had only addressed me as “Believer Grace.” Clearly, he had already decided to bind me wholly to the temple.

“At last, you’ve been elevated to the rank of believer. I’m glad. These past eight years must have been a blessing for you.”

What followed was predictable, dull platitudes.

That past mistakes could be overcome with future devotion. That the temple welcomed me. That God’s grace had always been with me.

It was amusing—his desperate effort to praise me, to draw me closer to the temple. I almost laughed, but held back.

“Forgive me, but I can’t quite share the sentiment you speak of.”

With that, I erased the smile from his lips. His face stiffened, and I lifted mine in a faint, sharp smile.

“When I failed the verification at ten years old, I thought God had abandoned me. And now, after all this time, you tell me it was not so? Then why did I have to live for so long with that belief? Why did I have to suffer it?”

“Believer Grace—”

“And to think, back then I wasn’t even qualified to be called a believer. Yet eight years later, you finally add my name to the rolls. How laughable.”

I spoke calmly, but the meaning of my words was biting.

“So tell me—was it God’s mistake? Or was it the temple’s?”

Normally, no one dares demand re-verification of divine power.

The temple’s record was flawless—there had never once been a mistake. To attempt it was to invite ridicule.

I too would have accepted that fate—if not for the relic. With its power, I could shift the narrative. I could paint the temple itself as the one at fault.

And if the temple admitted fault, what would I gain?

“My position secured within the temple. Influence. Power.”

With power, I could shield Leandros.

I kept my smile steady. The Pope sighed.

“It was the priests’ error… which means it was also the temple’s.”

Of course he wouldn’t dare lay it at God’s feet. That much was obvious.

“Therefore, the temple will take responsibility. This contest shall be voided, and you shall be proclaimed Saintess at once.”

Naturally, I had foreseen this move.

“Oh, but that’s a problem. You see, I’ve no interest in the Saintess’ seat. I only try for the sake of those who placed me as a candidate. But as for myself… it doesn’t stir me.”

The Pope studied me, lips pressing thin. “Then you must want something else. But this old man is too dim to guess what.”

“Shall I give you a hint then?”

At that, his sigh escaped, unguarded.

“Very well. I’ll ask your favor.”

I had no fear in showing him this side of me. Pope Besque was no saint. Why else had Leandros been thwarted at every turn? Because this man guarded his power, sabotaging anyone who might dim his glory.

Even his ascension to Pope had been tainted by whispers of bribery.

So yes, showing him my teeth suited him better.

“I want a place in the temple.”

That was enough to make him frown in thought.

“…Difficult,” he murmured.

“Then tell me why, and I’ll see if I can be persuaded.”

“The high seats you covet are already filled.”

So, he had guessed. Of course.

‘He must think I’m aiming for the Cardinalate. He’s not a fool, at least.’

“Well then,” I said lightly, “if the seat opens, the problem is solved.”

His expression hardened.

“It’s not so simple. Those men have devoted their lives to God. They’ve studied doctrine, spread the Word, and cultivated divine power. To remove them merely because another has higher innate power—no, that cannot be done.”

“Perhaps. But sometimes…” I let my words drip like honey, “sin itself opens the seat.”

At that, his eyes flickered again.

“…Is there heresy within the temple?”

I only smiled.

The temple was far from pure. Bribes, power struggles, corruption—all these could be forgiven, so long as they were cloaked as “for the sake of God.”

But extorting the poor until they bled? Selling debtors into slavery?

And then daring to sit as Cardinal?

“That is not politics. That is heresy.”

“Do you know who it is?” he pressed.

I did not answer. Instead, I glanced at the clock and feigned a start.

“Oh my, look at the time. I must return, or Father will worry. He’s so terribly protective, you see—whenever I spend too long at the temple, it makes him fret.”

Though my manners were discourteous, the Pope did not rebuke me. He didn’t even try to stop me.

So patient, this man. Perhaps he thought it would win him favor.

As I reached the door, I gave him one last gift.

“I gave you your hint. Now, find the answer yourself.”

“…”

“And if you cannot… then simply watch. Whatever anyone says, do not hinder my path.”

The Pope’s eyes widened.

Surely, he recalled the recent discussions about “Grace Apferdita’s movements.”

Yes—someone had already whispered into his ear. Someone fearful of me.

Cardinal Jenom. The heretic. The parasite who lined his pockets with God’s name.

The same man who had once publicly tried to humiliate me. The same man whose downfall had made headlines:

• “The Cardinal’s Vile Mask”

• “A Heretic Who Exploited God’s Name”

• “Temple Protects Heretic—How Far Will They Fall?”

This time, I would see him undone again.

And with his seat empty, the temple would have no choice but to give it to me.

Leandros had wanted me to rise as Saintess. But that title was not enough.

I needed power equal to those who opposed him. And now, thanks to one man’s greed, the seat had opened.

Gathering my skirts, I curtsied like a perfect noble lady and left the Pope’s chamber.

“Looking rather pleased, aren’t you?”

“Oh my, you were still here?”

Leandros stood by the doorway, waiting. He had escorted me to the Pope’s chamber, and stayed silently until I emerged.

“Yes. I’m pleased. Because I’ve taken one step closer to a future where I can protect you.”

“… …”

“Embarrassed?” I teased.

The man who usually spoke far bolder words blushed at this? It tempted me to tease him further. But since he had waited so patiently, I let him be.

As he escorted me to the carriage, I recounted the “safe” parts of the meeting—how the Pope admitted the temple’s mistake, how he asked what I wanted, how I still pondered. And then, just at the end, I slipped in the truth.

“I did make him a small request.”

“A request?”

“Yes. Nothing difficult. Only that he not hinder what I do. Whether he’ll grant it or not… well, who can say?”

I put on a faintly forlorn face, then turned it into a smile.

“But I believe he will.”

Because by now, it was already too late for him to intervene.

And since the path ahead was already clear, I could finally smile with genuine joy.