The Fake Saintess Serista (2)
"D-Did the... the Hero ever... t-talk about me... I mean, about M-Miss Lilith...?"
"Yes, Saintess Serista."
At Lilith's sudden question, Serista was plunged headlong into a tangle of confusion.
What could Lilith truly be after, asking whether the Hero had any interest in her? And of all moments—now, right when Serista herself was agonizing over whether to reveal the truth to the real saintess standing before her.
Lilith approached with words that felt like a test, and to Serista, that approach was terrifying. The thought crept in on its own: Has she already figured out that I'm a fake saintess?
And beyond that, there was something else—a darker possibility.
Could Miss Lilith have noticed, at least in part, the power slumbering inside me?
Perhaps that was why she was posing such a question so casually to the saintess herself. She couldn't be certain, but the possibility was more than real enough.
The saintess's qualities Lilith carried were the kind of power anyone would sense instinctively, no matter how oblivious they happened to be. Surely Lilith must have used it, in some form or another, a handful of times over the course of her life.
Without the priestly rite of ordination, she could never have wielded her divine power in full—so instead, that power must have channeled itself into her explosive magical talent. Maybe she had realized her strength was no ordinary gift, and these words were a warning delivered under the guise of small talk.
...Or, failing that, maybe Lilith's heart had simply been drawn to the Hero, Gehmajoshigi-gwat.
He was the Hero, and she was the saintess.
The Hero was Gehmajoshigi-gwat, and the saintess was Lilith.
Of course they would be drawn together. The Hero and the saintess—it was only natural.
And she herself... was the interloper wedged between them.
Serista had spent days chewing over the swap in her fate with Lilith, imagining every possible scenario in her head, which was exactly why a single short question from Lilith about what the Hero thought of her could leave her this visibly flustered.
Even though she knew better than anyone that Lilith, from where she stood, had no possible way of uncovering the truth on her own.
"......"
"......?"
Lilith, for her part, only tilted her head in puzzlement at the sight of Serista floundering, unable to answer so simple a question.
Serista wasn't answering—her eyes darted away, and her body trembled as if gripped by fear. Reading something distinctly off in her demeanor, Lilith hurriedly backpedaled, gathering up the words she had so carelessly let slip.
"If that question puts you in a difficult position, you needn't answer, Saintess Serista. It truly meant nothing."
"...It truly was... j-just a meaningless question, then?"
"Yes, it was. ...If I had to justify it at all, I'd say the Hero did indirectly save my life, so I was simply wondering whether, if he held any goodwill toward me, I might be able to thank him in person."
"......"
"So please don't dwell on what I just said, Saintess Serista. I'll ask you to pass along my gratitude for saving my life on my behalf."
The moment Serista showed herself unable to answer, Lilith withdrew the question entirely. Did that look—like an offer to surrender the saintess's seat to her—only feel that way because of Serista's own guilty conscience?
She couldn't say why, but the fake saintess understood with sudden certainty, watching the real saintess's behavior: Lilith knew everything, and was calmly pretending not to.
And that pretense was her own quiet form of acknowledgment—an act of consideration for Serista's position.
And compared to her, I...
She was simply turning her face away from the greater good and the necessary fate, all because she couldn't bear to part from the Hero.
The place at the Hero's side belonged to the real saintess, not to her. And yet, even knowing it was what the Hero, the saintess, and all of humanity needed, she couldn't let go—and in that moment, she felt more wretched than ever.
This seat has to go back to the real saintess. It has to.
But I want just a little more time with him. Even a tiny bit—just a few years.
At the very least... until we graduate from the Academy.
"Forgive the intrusion, Saintess. Please continue to study hard alongside the Hero from here on as w—"
"...I'll g-give it back. When we graduate from the Academy, I'll give it back. I promise."
"...I beg your pardon?"
Serista answered with a mournful expression as she watched Lilith hurry away from her. Lilith wore a look of complete bafflement at the reaction, but Serista, as if steeling herself for something, pressed on with an expression grown all the more resolute.
"You don't need to worry. I will never steal away your future, Miss Lilith."
"...What are you saying, Saintess Serista?"
"...I can't tell you. The moment I answer your question, Miss Lilith, I lose the right to be here any longer."
"......Pardon??"
"So please—couldn't you let me enjoy this life just a little while longer, Miss Lilith?"
Frankly, Lilith had no idea what she was supposed to be letting her enjoy, or what she had just agreed to. But between Serista's grim, determined expression and her flat refusal to explain, she found herself nodding before she could stop.
Some instinct told her that if she pushed for answers here, something unfortunate—somehow—would come of it.
"...A-all right. If that's what you wish, Saintess..."
"Your mercy is a blessing, Miss Lilith."
"W-well then, I'll be going, Saintess."
"Take care, Miss Lilith."
"Y-yes... you as well, Saintess..."
Lilith walked away from the pink-haired fake saintess thinking the conversation had been an utter waste of effort.
...She never noticed that at some point, Serista had begun calling her "Miss Lilith."
"W-well then, I'll be going, Saintess."
"Take care, Miss Lilith."
"Y-yes... you as well, Saintess..."
Somewhere in the middle of that conversation, I'd sensed the atmosphere going strange, so I wrapped things up with Serista in a hurry and put distance between us as fast as my legs would carry me.
I couldn't pinpoint the cause, but I could tell well enough that her mood had lurched into chaos right around the time we'd been talking.
She's already emotionally volatile as it is. Poking at her now would only stir up trouble for nothing.
If I mishandled her and Serista abruptly announced she was stepping down as saintess, that would have been a genuine disaster. Because if that happened, my future would be nailed down to exactly one option: joining the Hero's party, like it or not.
The healer who awakens as the true saintess in the final battle against the Demon King is a mandatory element of the story.
Whether that fell to Lilith, the saintess stripped of her qualification, or Serista, the fake saintess, didn't matter.
After all, in the game, neither of the two saintesses lived up to the standard of a perfect one, and the endless foreshadowing made it clear that one of them would have to awaken—even in-game, the writers kept dangling that thread.
Granted, I currently met the standard of a perfect saintess, but if this world really was built on Luminor Academy, then awakening Serista wasn't out of the question either.
In other words, to avoid suffering through years of Demon King subjugation even after graduating from the Academy, I had to somehow keep Serista glued to the Hero's side.
Because if she lost her drive and drifted away from him, the only person left to fill that empty seat was me.
Four years at the Academy, fine—it wouldn't hurt my prospects going forward, so I could live with that.
But a Demon King subjugation campaign of unknown length stretching on for years after graduation? There was no way in hell I was signing up for that.
That was effectively "surrender your entire twenties as a sacrifice for humanity," and how many people would cheerfully accept those terms?
The Hero avenging his parents, slain by the Demon King under the goddess's decree—that suited him.
The saintess who loved the Hero and wanted to stay at his side for as long as it took—that suited her.
The mage determined to become Tower Master of the Crimson Magic Tower and the rightful heir of House Elizabeth—that suited Agnes.
The stubborn elf who would repay every debt owed, whatever it cost—that suited her too.
The Demon King subjugation party was a role for characters built around that kind of grand purpose. It had nothing to do with me.
All I wanted was to enjoy this otherworldly life, casting magic to my heart's content.
And if I got saddled with some annoying post in the subjugation party, I'd obviously be separated from Ethan, too.
Whether I joined or not, it was all but certain that Ethan would have to return to the Blackwood Ducal House.
He was the sole son of a duke; he had no business joining a campaign that would keep him away from home for years.
And even if Ethan somehow wanted to go, there was no way Harold would allow him to wander the world through his mid-to-late twenties—precisely the years a nobleman needed to establish his standing...
No. No, no, no.
What did Ethan have to do with whether I joined the Demon King subjugation or not?
The exclusive maid contract and the temporary lovers arrangement were both only for the duration of our time at the Academy, weren't they?
Somehow, the mere thought of possibly being drafted into the subjugation party had made me habitually imagine joining it with Ethan.
...I need to be careful. If I go developing strange feelings for Ethan, the future just gets more exhausting.
At the end of the day, Ethan was the sole heir of a ducal house, positioned to make a political marriage with royalty or another powerful noble family.
Even if his feelings for me truly never changed, at absolute best my place would be that of a concubine.
If it came down to maintaining my current relationship with Ethan by entering his house as a mistress, I'd rather be the one to walk away first.
Sure, Luminor Academy, the game I'd loved in my past life, was a harem game—but me becoming a member of that harem was a matter on an entirely different plane.
For one thing, I had zero desire to watch other women tangle and writhing around with Ethan right in front of me.
"Still, though..."
In the end, I never found out what Gehmajoshigi-gwat actually thought of me and Ethan.
I hadn't expected Serista to panic so badly she was practically dripping sweat.
What on earth was she hiding that she'd react like that? I still had no clue.
Something definitely happened while I was staying at the church, that much seemed clear... but I'm not a mind reader. How would I ever know what's going on in her head?
My one indirect route to talking with the Hero had dried up again, so I'd just have to try another approach.
The showdown between Ethan and the Hero was still over a year away. Surely some point of contact would come up somewhere in that time.
So please, all I could do was pray that Gehmajoshigi-gwat wasn't one of those notorious Agnes stans from the Luminor Gallery who spent all day cooking up fake featured posts.
After all, the only reason anyone would hold a grudge over me hijacking the Kraken subjugation event was something like that.
...Thinking about it again just makes my blood boil. Those Chihuahua Gang bastards, I swear.