🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 9
Mila Nephur—daughter of a modest baron’s house. Just a year ago, she had awakened an exceptional holy power and had been elevated as the sole candidate for Saintess.
So when the news reached her, she could hardly believe her ears.
“Who did you just say was nominated as a Saintess candidate?”
“Lady Grace Apherdite, my lady…”
Her eyes narrowed, voice trembling with disbelief.
“And how, exactly, did she become a candidate for Saintess?”
The young priest before her lowered his head, clearly uncomfortable.
“I apologize, my lady. The proposal was raised during last week’s council of bishops. It passed with majority approval. That is all I know.”
Because she was not yet formally Saintess, Mila had been assigned a low-ranking cleric with limited access. Thus, no matter how many questions she asked, the answers she could gain were scarce.
Once the priest left, Mila remained alone in the corridor. Rage flared, uncontainable. Her palm slammed against the window frame, the sound sharp in the silence.
“I won’t accept this!”
She had been born powerless, a weakling in the eyes of society. She knew better than anyone that not everything would go her way.
But this—this she could not and would not accept.
Even Mila, who lived apart from high society, knew the truth: Lady Grace Apherdite had no holy power. Her lack had even brought her family lineage into suspicion.
“Someone without an ounce of holy power… becoming Saintess? Impossible!”
And worse still—Grace Apherdite was whispered about as a villainess. To Mila, it felt obvious. The woman must be plotting to use the temple for her own ends.
“That wretched villainess can’t be allowed to become Saintess…”
As she turned over in her mind how she might demand answers from the cardinals, a voice—smooth, amused—rose from behind her.
“Funny, isn’t it? Someone like me, with no holy power, suddenly being discussed as a Saintess candidate.”
Her body went rigid. Slowly, Mila turned.
There stood Grace Apherdite, smiling sweetly—yet her expression carried a chill that prickled at Mila’s skin.
“Should I apologize to you, then?” Grace tilted her head, lips curved in mock politeness. “For being a villainess yet still chosen as a candidate for Saintess?”
Caught off guard, Mila stammered, lips parting but no words forming.
“Why so quiet?” Grace pressed, her tone still light but laced with sharpness. “We are fellow candidates now, aren’t we? Shouldn’t we get along?”
“I-I… I didn’t mean—” Mila faltered, her cheeks flaring red with shame.
Grace’s eyes narrowed slightly.
‘Still so careless. Just like before.’
She could have let it pass. But overhearing someone badmouthing her in the holy temple’s halls—openly, no less—was not something Grace would ever ignore.
“Don’t worry. Being called a villainess is nothing new to me. I’ve never denied it either—since it’s not entirely false.”
She took a step closer. Mila flinched, her body trembling.
“Y-you…”
Grace caught the flash of discomfort in her eyes, the faint wrinkle of her brow.
“Even if you dislike me, you ought to be more careful in a place like this. Many eyes watch within the temple. If someone else overheard, they might misunderstand you.”
“I-I wasn’t—”
“Misunderstand… that a Saintess candidate’s character leaves much to be desired?”
Mila’s lips snapped shut. Her face drained of all color.
Grace’s gaze lingered on her trembling form, and unbidden, memories surfaced—memories she wished she could forget.
“How could you, Lady Grace? How could you do this to me…?”
The words Mila had cried before Grace’s first death echoed sharply in her mind.
Her forced smile faltered. Her jaw stiffened.
‘Tch. I only meant to scold her for gossiping, but now my mood’s even worse.’
In truth, she had only come here to see Leandros and praise his progress. Running into the “true Saintess” so soon had not been part of her plan.
Grace exhaled softly, forcing her lips to curve again.
“I only meant to warn you. It would be better if you were careful. That’s all.”
Mila, pale and shaking, bowed her head.
“Y-yes… I will be careful.”
Seeing her on the verge of tears, Grace decided to shift the subject.
“Do you know where Sir Leandros might be?”
“Sir Leandros? W-why do you ask…?”
“I’d like to finish a conversation we left incomplete.”
Her smile returned—gentle, practiced. Mila froze, then her expression twisted, fear flickering across her face.
“D-don’t tell me…”
Before she could finish, another voice called out from behind.
“Lady Apherdite?”
Grace turned.
There he was—Sir Leandros himself.
“How did you come to be here?”
“I came to see you.”
“…Me?”
His tone was brighter than before, touched with warmth.
“Would you spare me a little of your time?”
“Of course. As much as you need.”
Grace was about to lead him away when—
“Sir! Don’t you have an appointment with the children at the temple orphanage today?”
Mila’s sharp interruption cut between them, almost desperate.
Grace blinked.
‘Strange. She’s unusually flustered. Does she not want me and Leandros alone together?’
Leandros’s face showed faint embarrassment.
“You already had a prior engagement, then.” Grace inclined her head politely. “Forgive me for appearing unannounced. I only wished to thank you quickly—for all the effort you’ve shown on my behalf.”
“You needn’t thank me,” he replied firmly. “I merely kept my word.”
Her lips curved despite herself. How like him.
But then, from the sidelines, Mila whispered, her voice hesitant.
“Sir… Was it you? The one who recommended Lady Apherdite as a candidate in the council?”
Her eyes pleaded for denial.
But Leandros had never been one to lie.
“Yes. That was me.”
Mila’s face collapsed, stricken. Tears welled in her eyes, and without another word, she excused herself and fled down the corridor.
Leandros looked after her with mild confusion, but to Grace’s surprise, he didn’t chase her. Instead, his gaze returned to Grace—brighter, lighter than before.
‘…No. I must be imagining it.’
Surely he cared. Surely her leaving so distraught troubled him. He simply couldn’t move because Grace was present.
After all, in her past life, the two of them had always seemed close. During the moment when the relic was stolen, hadn’t he stood at Mila’s side against her?
Her chest tightened. The memory of her first death weighed heavy.
But she forced it down.
“Even so, I truly didn’t expect you to recommend me,” Grace admitted. “That was… surprising.”
‘This wasn’t supposed to happen.’
In her past life, two candidates had been chosen instead: Mila Nephur, with her dazzling holy power, and the daughter of Marquis Bodia, whose holy power was weak. Everyone knew the reason—it was political.
Mila was the natural Saintess, but rival factions had forced a second candidate into play.
‘And this time, that role has fallen to me.’
Originally, Grace had intended to bribe the cardinals to secure her place. Yet before she could act, Leandros himself had nominated her.
‘Unexpected, but… convenient. His support will only strengthen my position.’
Grace offered a polite smile, intending to thank him—and perhaps deepen his goodwill.
But his reply stunned her.
“Though you may act mischievous at times, in truth your heart is kind. That is why I believed you worthy of Saintess. I merely voiced my conviction to the council. Nothing more.”
Grace froze.
“…What?”
He looked at her without hesitation, eyes as clear and steady as the blue sky.
“Your character, Lady Grace, is more than worthy of Saintess.”
Her thoughts spun.
‘Could this be… guilt? From that time when he drank poison in my stead?’
But no matter how she searched his expression, she found no insincerity. His gaze was steady. Earnest.
And for the first time, Grace was at a loss for words.
