DADM 10

The aged high priest calmly sipped his tea under the morning sun.

His graying hair falling by his ears and his wrinkled skin revealed just how long he had lived.

Even for him, the current situation was far from ordinary.

In the temple’s reception room, three guests sat before teacups, each wearing a peculiar expression.

“Leaving so early this morning, and when I went out the temple front was in an uproar…”

The high priest waved the wide sleeves of his white robe with a hint of arrogance.

“A saint suddenly appearing, of all things.”

The first guest to catch the eye was the crown prince of the nation.

His blond hair framed a face with an ambiguous smile, and he elegantly enjoyed the tea before him. One could not read his thoughts at all.

From Haulanner’s lips came words as melodious as a music box.

“It seems the goddess of healing watches over our country. Likely thanks to noble people like our high priest here.”

“…A noble priest can freeze to death for all I care.”

The second guest muttered in a low, harsh voice.

Duke Arthur Bledel did not seem in the mood to touch a steaming teacup.

The high priest, too, did not wish to provoke the ill-tempered duke by offering tea unnecessarily. He was a royal relative and one of the temple’s financiers—someone not to be trifled with.

Above all, he was a man who feared nothing. If crossed, he would not hesitate to push the temple aside with the knights—a mad dog of the Empire.

“So, I’m not a saint, correct?”

And lastly, the problematic beggar… no, the saint, Siena.

Her attitude was strange.

‘She genuinely doesn’t seem to want to be a saint.’

Saints are born once, maybe twice, in a hundred years.

Becoming a saint in the Empire guaranteed wealth and status.

Contrary to popular belief, few saints spent their lives devoted to the poor and suffering. Most acted as mascots to attract donations, then secured favorable marriages and lived comfortably as their family’s prized asset.

‘And right now, the crown prince and Duke Bledel suffer under a curse.’

If she could become the saint to relieve the Empire’s highest powers, an incomparable life of luxury awaited her. If fortunate, she might even join the royal or ducal family.

‘And of all people, it had to be this girl.’

Several dozen saint candidates lived at the temple, mostly daughters of nobles, known as “royals,” distinguished from the commoner candidates.

‘Mostly lower nobility, but still far above a beggar girl in status.’

Candidates spent their childhood in the temple, undergoing the ritual called “Baptism of the Goddess” upon reaching adulthood. They stayed up at the altar overnight, and at dawn would wear the “Tears of Dawn,” a customary practice.

Most realized at this stage that they were not chosen and felt crushed.

‘Nice name for a gemstone, whoever came up with it.’

The high priest recalled the candidate whose hopes had collapsed at dawn, and also the familiar beggar girl, Siena.

He tried to calm the unease in his chest.

‘No way… a commoner has never become a saint in history. And this girl… it’s impossible.’

Reluctantly, he opened the velvet box on the table. Twice in a day he had to take out this bracelet—a rare occurrence.

“If the gem turns red, she is indeed a saint.”

The high priest lifted the bracelet with a troubled expression.

Hesitant, Siena extended her arm only after Arthur’s sharp command.

“Arm.”

Her slender wrist trembled as the bracelet clicked into place.

The gem on the golden chain remained a dark gray.

Siena twisted her wrist, checked the gem, and smiled in relief.

“So, I’m not a saint?”

Then…

The “Tears of Dawn” sparkled, a sudden urgent red, like the last light of sunset.

“…No, it seems you truly are a saint.”

The high priest did not look pleased.

Siena felt the same—she stared at the “Tears of Dawn” in resentment.

“High priest, please check again. There must be some mistake…”

Arthur interjected.

“No, you are definitely a saint. I’ve never felt this way before.”

He pressed his palm down like driving a stake into the truth.

Siena bit her lip—his constant intrusions were irritating.

‘Such a tactless fool…’

At that moment, the red glow on her wrist flickered faintly, then vanished completely. Siena’s eyes shone like stars as she lifted her arm for all to see.

“Look! It must be a mistake, right?”

Despite her pleading face, the high priest shook his head.

“This is not an error. It marks that your saintly power is depleted. If you were not a saint, the ‘Tears of Dawn’ would never have changed color in the first place.”

“…Ah…”

“Keep wearing the bracelet. When your saintly power returns, the ‘Tears of Dawn’ will let you know.”

“Yes.”

Siena’s disappointment was visible.

Haulanner, deep in thought, spoke.

“So, just now, it wasn’t that Siena’s power vanished, but that it was quickly drained from bearing both of their curses.”

Meanwhile, Arthur grew frustrated at the situation. Having already touched her hand, there was no doubt in his mind—Siena was a saint.

The problem was that her power was completely depleted.

“So, to restore her power, what must be done, noble high priest?”

The high priest stroked his white beard, sipping his tea slowly, deliberately teasing Arthur before answering.

“What is a saint?”

Arthur’s expression darkened at the seemingly vague answer.

Sensing the tension, the quick-witted high priest continued.

“A saint is a vessel chosen by the goddess. A vessel to hold her power. When the vessel is empty, what should one do?”

The answer came from Haulanner.

“One must perform a ritual and pray to the goddess to replenish the saintly power.”

“Correct. Your Highness, you understand well.”

“Then let us perform the ritual immediately.”

“Your Grace, by custom, the ritual is performed at dawn. You two may stay in the same room as last night.”

The thought of another painful night caused Arthur to furrow his brow. Haulanner likely shared the sentiment, though his expression remained neutral.

A long exhale escaped Arthur’s teeth.

“Phew…”

“We will bring water and holy water to your room. And as for the saint…”

The high priest glanced over Siena, his expression wrinkled and displeased.

“You should wash up a bit.”

Siena’s cheeks flushed red.

The high priest snapped his fingers, summoning a priest who had been waiting outside.

He entered with eyes lowered, but upon seeing the famed saint, his face went pale.

“Escort the saint to the bath and attend to her needs.”

“Yes, high priest. We will follow your orders. This way, saint.”

Unlike before, Siena quickly rose and followed without complaint, trailing the priest who pulled her long robe.

Arthur watched in confusion.

‘She was so reluctant before… why follow without protest now?’

There must be some ulterior motive.

Arthur asked the high priest.

“Where will the saint stay tonight?”

“You won’t need her tonight. Her power is depleted.”

“That’s my business. Just answer the question, high priest.”

The high priest’s gray beard twitched with displeasure.

After a moment of resistance, he revealed the truth.

“She will use the quarters at the end of the first-floor garden. Aside from where I stay, it’s the best room in the temple. We cannot give her the attic she used before.”

The attic she once used…

Haulanner’s golden eyes met Arthur’s black ones.

“Did you know this woman, Siena?” Arthur growled.

The high priest nodded silently.

“Of course. Siena was once a commoner saint candidate of the temple. Like the others, she tended to the ‘royals.’”

“…She was a candidate? Then why does she act as if she doesn’t know you at all?”

“Perhaps she is pretending not to remember. And with good reason…”

Even after decades, the high priest’s expression was far from joyous at witnessing a saint’s birth.

The reason was clear.

“…Three years ago, Siena was expelled on charges of murder.”