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Chapter : 12
The Baby Saint Wants to Destroy the World!
“We’re going to hold a tournament. We’ll give everyone a truly honorable chance to become the Saint’s guardian.”
Of course, for free.
“What kind of nonsense is that?!”
Archbishop Omar clutched at the few strands of hair he had left.
The Temple hadn’t always been this poor.
Back when the Empire still existed, it had maintained its vast scale thanks to enormous donations from the Imperial Family.
Then the Empire fell at the hands of Lunafelt’s faction and split into four kingdoms. The Temple subsequently grew into the great organization that united the entire continent.
Those were the good old days.
But Beatrix, the Witch of Envy and the strategist known as Lunafelt’s greatest tactician, couldn’t stand seeing the Temple and the Four Kingdoms getting along.
Thanks to Lunafelt’s schemes driving a wedge between them, donations flowing from the Four Kingdoms into the Temple dwindled with each passing day.
“Even so, making people guard the Saint for free? That’s outrageous!”
“You’re mistaken, Brother Omar. Anyone driven by greed would reject such an offer. This is a brilliant idea.”
“Exactly. Being chosen as the Saint’s guardian is an honor beyond anything money could ever buy.”
When even the strict Mother Superior Agnes voiced her approval, Pope Bahaman finally made his decision.
“Besides, it is the glorious privilege of staying by our adorable Saint’s side! If I weren’t already the Pope, I would volunteer myself.”
Thunderous applause erupted.
Amid the cheering priests, Archbishop Omar—the only sane person present—could only tear at what little hair remained on his head in despair.
“The problem isn’t that we don’t have enough people to assign as her guards!”
“Well…”
He sacrificed himself to drag the discussion back to its original point.
“Why was Georg IV selected in the first place? We already had numerous devout Holy Knights. The only reason we decided to recruit someone from outside was because of one thing.”
“Whether the Saint accepts them or not is the biggest issue.”
There were only four people assigned to attend the Saint.
Maria had cared for her since infancy, while poor young Georg IV had never been able to resign because they failed to find anyone to replace him.
Aside from those two, the remaining attendants changed as frequently as daily meals.
Trying to satisfy the whims of the capricious Saint was practically impossible.
While the other priests smiled cheerfully as though everything would somehow work out, the realist Archbishop Omar shook his thinning hair and presented one final condition.
“If we’re really going to hold an event, we need at least some way to pay for it.”
“Money comes and goes.”
At the Pope’s infuriatingly carefree response, Archbishop Omar finally exploded.
“Unless you’re planning to find the money yourself, then don’t object to whatever methods I use! Understood?!”
“I’ll leave that matter entirely to you.”
“You’re giving me your word.”
With that, Archbishop Omar stormed out, making it abundantly clear that no one was to interfere, no matter what he ended up doing.
“I hope someone catches the Saint’s fancy.”
“If the guardian is personally chosen by our Saint, they’ll surely be more dependable than anyone else.”
“Since we’re talking about her, why don’t we go see the Saint?”
Leaving Archbishop Omar behind, the remaining elders concluded the meeting and headed together toward the bedroom where the little Saint slept like an angel.
Five years old now.
With her chubby cheeks and even chubbier little belly fully exposed, baby Lucy had kicked off her blanket and fallen fast asleep.
“So cute.”
“Adorable.”
“Truly precious.”
“Mmmgh…”
Watching her sleep peacefully, they stroked her hair and poked her cheeks.
Each time the priests touched her, the nightmare pressing down on her sleep only grew worse.
And so, thanks to them, the little Saint once again spent the night tormented by inexplicable nightmares.
***
News that the Temple would hold a martial tournament to select the Saint’s guardian spread through Lunafelt in the blink of an eye.
“A tournament?”
After countless assassination attempts had ended in failure, Crom, Lunafelt’s Consul, was in an exceptionally foul mood yet again.
“It seems they’re strengthening the Saint’s security because of the assassins we’ve been sending.”
“Any reports from our agents?”
“It appears the Temple resorted to some rather vicious methods.”
The assassins they sent apparently forgot they had ever been assassins.
Even when meeting former comrades, they no longer recognized them and instead lived diligently as faithful priests.
Nearly every investigation into the fate of their infiltrators ended with the same absurd conclusion.
“They even converted one of Kihol’s finest assassins?”
“I believe that Saint is the suspicious one.”
Even after dismissing his subordinate, Crom remained deep in thought.
The power to make even assassins submit…
It was already a famous story across the continent that Lucifella had forced Georg II—the man who had come to kill her—to kneel before her, convert to her side, and eventually rise to become one of the Seven Magicians.
Just as the Temple had suffered humiliation from that incident, Crom himself had never forgotten it.
“So, who are you sending? I’d appreciate it if you sent me.”
Having eavesdropped on the conversation through the spirits, Jack Casanova spoke in an unusually sweet voice the moment the Saint became the topic.
“No. I’ll go myself.”
“Hm?”
“I said I’ll go personally.”
Five years had already passed since he’d decided to stop relying on Jack’s tricks and simply wait.
There was still no trace whatsoever of Lucifella.
Meanwhile, the birth of the baby Saint—hailed as the reincarnation of the living Goddess—had slowly begun restoring the Temple’s influence.
“Is there really any reason for you to go that far?”
“I’m starting to wonder if that child really is Lucifella reincarnated.”
He had spoken half-jokingly.
Yet for some reason, Jack—normally calm about everything—reacted far too strongly.
“No way! That’s impossible! It can’t be!”
“And how can you be so certain?”
“Well… I… that’s…”
Perhaps it had begun as a joke.
But every time the Saint was mentioned, Jack’s suspicious behavior became increasingly difficult to ignore.
“Even if that’s true, what happens to Lunafelt’s administration if Consul Crom leaves?”
After struggling to come up with an excuse, Jack finally blurted that out.
Crom merely snapped his fingers.
As though she’d been waiting for the signal, Beatrix, the Witch of Envy, appeared.
“I’m here. What are you worried about?”
“You heard her.”
“But—!”
“I’ll use this chance to prove once and for all that I’m Lunafelt’s true second-in-command—not you.”
Though Lucifella herself had died, no one had forgotten who the true master of Lunafelt was.
The leader of the Seven Deadly Sins.
The worst witch in history, adored by all and hated by all.
Beatrix, the Witch of Envy, had always coveted Crom’s position as Lucifella’s right hand.
“Then I’ll leave things in your hands.”
“Crom!”
“At this point, I need to see this with my own eyes.”
Just what kind of child was this so-called Saint?
How had she managed to reduce over a hundred assassins into obedient servants of the Temple without anyone noticing?
The Temple still hadn’t even officially announced the young Saint’s existence.
Rumors claimed the child was no different from the Goddess reincarnated herself, capable of healing the dying and performing miracles with divine power.
What if that ‘divine power’ is actually brainwashing used to turn people into her slaves?
Even Jack’s strangely favorable attitude toward the Saint made Crom uneasy.
Most of all, Jack’s insistence that he had fallen in love—
That was something Crom had never seen directed at anyone except Lucifella.
“Can’t you just trust me this once and let it go?”
“You should stop trying to smooth everything over with that smile of yours.”
No matter how beautifully Jack smiled…
No matter how sweetly he tempted others…
It had absolutely no effect on someone as unshakable as Crom.
“Then at least send me instead.”
“As if the Temple would welcome you.”
“Crom!”
“This is an order from Lucifella’s representative.”
Speaking aloud the name that no one had dared utter for the past fifty years, Crom bit his lip hard.
“…That’s not fair.”
“Beatrix.”
“Leave him to me. I’ll keep a close eye on this fool.”
Removing the Consul’s ring that Lucifella herself had once placed on his finger, Crom declared firmly,
“Our duty is to prepare for the day she returns.”
“…I know.”
After glancing once at Jack, whose cheeks were puffed out in dissatisfaction, Crom handed the ring to Beatrix without a trace of hesitation.
Beatrix burned with jealousy toward everyone around her and constantly sought to surpass them.
Precisely because of that, Crom trusted her to protect Lunafelt.
“This works out nicely. It’ll also be fun to use this opportunity to bring the Four Kingdoms under our influence and corner the Temple.”
“It won’t take that long.”
“Shall we make a wager? If I win, hand over one of Lucifella’s dresses.”
“I’ll pass.”
Sensing an opportunity, Beatrix greedily pushed her luck once again.
Crom refused without leaving even the slightest room for negotiation and draped the cloak hanging on the wall over his shoulders.
“Oh, come on…”
“You should worry about keeping your mouth shut first.”
Beatrix promptly smacked Jack on the back of the head for yet another one of his irritating remarks.
The two of them then watched as Crom departed.
***
“Ugh…”
Lucy had just experienced an absolutely horrible nightmare.
It must have been around her fortieth reincarnation.
She had been reborn as a shrimp, happily swimming through the sea, only to die after getting caught between two fighting whales.
Unable to escape.
Remembering how helpless she’d been trapped between those enormous creatures, Lucy abruptly opened her eyes.
“Damn it!!”
“Saint?”
Maria, standing beside the bed, jumped in surprise at the unusually rough, anger-filled outburst.
“What… did you just say?”
“B-Bubbles! I… I want to blow soap bubbles!”
She couldn’t afford to have her identity exposed already.
So Lucy forced the cutest smile she could manage and beamed innocently.
Seriously… this is exhausting.
She had always been free-spirited, but pretending to be a clueless little child was something she simply could not get used to.
Still, she had no intention of letting anyone discover who she really was.
So she blinked her big innocent eyes and shamelessly acted like a child who knew nothing.
“I want breakfast. I’m hungry.”
“While you’re eating, there’s something important we need to discuss today.”
“Something important?”
“The Temple is planning to officially announce your existence to the world.”
“What?”
If someone recognized her true identity…
Then her infiltration mission would be completely ruined.
Forget the mission—she’d probably end up burned alive.
Listening to Maria’s completely innocent words, Lucy came to a realization.
Sometimes, the purest good intentions could become the cruelest form of evil.
