The Saintess and Aileen
Three despicable traitors had appeared. The three who had trampled all over my expectations and trust each offered a different excuse.
“I have confidence in my own abilities. There’s no need to include me as well.” That was the meritocrat.
“No matter what, as the future emperor, cooperating in something like this is a bit…” That was the normal guy with zero eye for women.
“Looking at my fellow sinner, I realize once again how fair the Lord is. Still, if one’s perceptiveness has vanished to this degree, wouldn’t it be quite the bargain compared to your abilities?” And that was the Saint (in air quotes).
They each had their reasons, but by my standards they all received failing grades. Their futures were already set in stone.
‘The most difficult female lead has already agreed, so once you three join we’re done!’
If only the three of them would come, everything would fall into place. Yet no matter how many times I explained it, I couldn’t break their stubbornness. One overtrusted his own skill, one clung to his dignity, and one claimed I had no perceptiveness whatsoever.
In the end I had no choice but to use my final resort—the method I always found most effective. What else? Connections, obviously.
“Oppa?”
“U-uh, Eun-ha? Mind loosening those fists a little?”
“Just accept it, oppa.”
“But Eun-ha, we have the imperial family’s dignity to consider…”
“It would be wise to obey while I’m still using words. Or would you prefer to be persuaded by ‘peace’ and ‘love’ instead?”
“…Is the left fist ‘love’?”
“The right fist is ‘love.’”
“I will accept every demand without exception.”
After moving my younger-sister-like imperial princess to deliver some physical persuasion, I continued.
“Hey, Lucas.”
“Liu?”
“Do it.”
“Wait, hold on. Liu, listen to me for a sec—”
“I said do it.”
“…Fine.”
Even though he had found another love, Lucas was still weak to Liu. With tears in my eyes I had gone this far, yet I successfully recruited seven out of the eight members of the special class.
The Hero, two from the Imperial Family, the Mage, the Psychic, the Great Wealthy, and even the Fortune Teller who wasn’t actually a special class. At a glance the party could devour any ordinary students, but I was still hungry.
‘It would be perfect if the Saint joined too.’
If the Saint joined us? I could guarantee that unless every other first-year formed an alliance and came at us together, no one could defeat us. Our vanguard, rear guard, and support were all flawless. That was exactly why the academy had gone to the trouble of gathering all the special classes into one group.
With a dream team on the verge of completion, even I—who had thought this was impossible—was on the brink of losing my mind. I wanted to immediately use physical persuasion to gently turn the Saint’s heart, but since we had known each other for a while, I decided to give him one last chance and headed to the church myself.
“He is not here.”
“Where has he gone?”
“When he leaves on pilgrimage he tours the entire aerial city, so… even we do not know his exact location.”
“I see. Thank you.”
Hmm. I had worried they might turn away a fortune teller at the door, but it seemed only fanatics on the Saint’s level would do something so petty. I did feel a few strange gazes, but whatever.
…Then where on earth was I supposed to find the Saint?
“Instructor Charles, are you there?”
“…Saint.”
“I’ve come to see Miss Aileen.”
“…Please come in.”
The Saint followed a somewhat haggard-looking Charles Teddybear inside the house. The interior was no different from when he used to sneak in secretly. The only changes were that the bed that had sat in the sunny spot was gone and the previously empty room had become Aileen’s. Her door was now tightly shut.
“…How many days has it been?”
“The fourth day.”
“Is it the same as what you described last time?”
“…She still comes home from the academy and immediately shuts herself in her room. Even when I try to enter she blocks me… It’s been days since I last saw my daughter’s face.”
Ever since the survival test at the Great Lake, Aileen Teddybear had remained locked in her room. She still attended the academy and had taken the retest yesterday, but she avoided everyone else and returned straight home to isolate herself.
When Charles Teddybear had first consulted him, the Saint had assumed it was ordinary puberty. But when the behavior continued for days in such an unnatural way, he realized what was happening. And unlike what he himself had experienced, this territorial war was abnormal.
“You haven’t told that fortune teller, have you…”
“…I have not. It was Aileen’s request.”
“Understood.”
It was news that should have reached Namgung Min first—the man Aileen seemed to follow and depend on even more than her own father—but her stubborn refusal had made that impossible. That had been the only thing she said while shut away in her room, which only made the situation more serious.
Having grasped the gravity of the matter, the Saint bowed his head to Charles Teddybear.
“…I’m sorry.”
“What could the Saint possibly have to apologize for?”
“No, this is… a preemptive apology.”
“Pardon?”
“Please wait a moment.”
Leaving the bewildered Charles Teddybear behind, the Saint walked toward the closed door. Though it was firmly shut, to someone with the same class as him it was nothing more than a wooden board. However, instead of breaking it down, the Saint quietly closed his eyes.
General skill Holy Radiance. Because of the severe backlash, it was a skill he rarely used. He had employed it last time to locate the Skill Thief, but Namgung Min had found the monster faster, rendering it unnecessary. Still, its effect was undeniably powerful.
"Open the door."
The moment the wish left his lips, the doorknob turned by itself and the lock clicked open. Sensing movement inside the room at the unexpected development, the Saint grabbed the knob before Aileen could lock it again. Since he held it in place, she couldn’t secure the door.
Having bought himself a moment, he bowed to Charles once more.
“I will explain everything after I come out. For now… I am truly sorry.”
“…It’s all right. I will… wait.”
A daughter who had suddenly shut herself away, and a Saint offering an ominous apology. No one was more confused than Charles Teddybear, yet he trusted the Saint. He sat down in a chair and clutched his forehead. Even though it concerned his one and only precious daughter, all he could do was wait.
After watching the anguished father for a moment, the Saint opened the door and stepped inside.
“………….”
“Good evening, Miss Aileen.”
Aileen’s room was ordinary. Wooden furniture, a bed, a bookshelf, a wardrobe. It was the kind of room one could see anywhere. Except the entire space was in complete disarray.
“…Get out.”
“No, I cannot do that.”
“Are you here to kill me like that nun?”
“………So you overheard the conversation in the church basement.”
Aileen looked even more haggard than Charles. She sat with her back against the bed, but her arms and legs trembled weakly. Her hair was dry and brittle, her cheeks hollow from not eating. Yet the fact that she still retained her beauty proved she truly was a Saintess.
Looking at her with pity—she who had fallen into the same fate he once had—the Saint spoke.
“First, let me clarify one thing. I never tried to kill you, Miss Aileen.”
“But that nun… she did try to kill me.”
“That was a special case. I don’t expect you to understand this part, but I am telling you anyway.”
“What?”
“Because there is something far more important than that.”
The Saint gripped the mace at his waist and pointed its end toward Aileen. The moment the threatening gesture made her reach for the flail in the corner of the room, the Saint took one step closer, his face filled with compassion.
“Who are you right now?”
“What are you—”
“Are you the Saintess? Or are you Aileen Teddybear?”
“———!”
“Do not worry. This is something only I know… or rather, something I cannot help but know.”
“………You.”
“So, who are you?”
It was an endlessly coercive question. The threat of the mace pointed at her, the anxiety that he might charge at any moment, and the hatred born from the misunderstanding that he had tried to kill her. Under these circumstances she was not the type to answer obediently.
Yet in the end Aileen lowered her head.
“………The Saintess.”
“And Aileen?”
“She’s… asleep.”
“You want to believe that, don’t you?”
“………….”
He took another step closer.
“I will ask again. Where is Aileen?”
“…She won’t come out.”
One more step.
“Are you—the person who knows best what is happening right now—really going to lie?”
“…Ha.”
The final step. When the Saint finally stood right in front of the Saintess, still pointing the mace, she lifted her head with a face twisted in malice.
“Who do you think you are?! You killed her! She’s only still alive because you killed her!!”
“So where is Aileen?”
“Ha, ha. Hahaha. If I had known it would be like this… if I had known from the beginning…”
“Where is Aileen?”
“………She is still here.”
“I see.”
Only after hearing the exhausted answer did the Saint lower his mace and sit in a chair in the corner of the room. The Saintess huddled on the bed and pulled the blanket over herself.
“………….”
“…………….”
Silence fell. It was the most awkward silence in the world, but the Saintess—who had covered even her head with the blanket—spoke first.
“…Is this… how it usually goes?”
“Yes.”
“You knew this would happen?”
“Correct.”
“…………….”
“Do you resent me for not telling you in advance?”
“………No.”
“Even if I had told you back then, you wouldn’t have believed me. Since you would experience it anyway, I stayed quiet… Even taking that into account, this is abnormally fast. It must be because you realized your nature as a Saintess at a late age.”
“………….”
“…………….”
Silence again. Yet the Saint simply watched the Saintess without moving, his eyes still filled with pity.
“As time passes… what happens?”
“You will not change.”
“…What about Aileen?”
“You already know the answer, don’t you?”
“…………….”
“There is nothing I can do to help. This is something every Saint and Saintess throughout history has gone through.”
“………As I thought, I really hate you.”
“I see.”
“Then what about this poor child? After spending her entire life in bed, she had finally become free. This child who found everything in the world fascinating—what happens to her?”
“It cannot be helped.”
The Saintess stared at him with hollow eyes. For a moment it seemed she might glare, but then something occurred to her and her gaze changed.
“You… already…”
“Remember this. We are sinners. Every Saint and Saintess must live carrying the sin of murder.”
“…The name. What was the name…”
“Raphael Martina. That is the name of the boy I killed. Please do not forget it.”
“………How could I forget?”
Aileen. Aileen Teddybear. The Saintess repeated the name several times, then suddenly turned her head toward the door. And toward the person who would be beyond it.
“Charles… Dad is…”
“You call him Dad.”
“………Yes. Aileen said we are sisters.”
“If you do not plan to tell him, you will have to act for the rest of your life.”
“…I suppose I must.”
The Saintess placed a hand over her heart.
Thump. Thump. She could hear the heartbeat. Inside, however faint, someone still remained.
…Aileen Teddybear.
“………….”
While the Saintess quietly felt that pulse, her eyes suddenly flew open.
“…He is coming.”
“Pardon?”
“He is coming. I can feel it. I can sense him… That person, my one and only God…!”
Her gaze was fixed on a corner of the room, but she was surely referring to the person beyond the wall.
“………Fellow sinner.”
“I’m happy, but at the same time… I must not!”
The Saintess’s heart was pounding violently. Simply knowing her God was drawing near filled her entire body with happiness and omnipotence. It was an emotion akin to a drug. She wanted to burst out of the room and greet him. She wanted to stay by his side.
But.
“I must… not…”
The stronger that heartbeat grew, the weaker the other faint heartbeat became. Ever since she realized this at the Great Lake, the Saintess had been avoiding her God. More than the joy of meeting him, more than the satisfaction she felt when she was with him, she was worried about her small, fragile sister.
The Saintess clenched her teeth. Suppressing herself, she forced her body to lie down on the bed.
“…If you truly pity me…”
“………….”
“Please tell him to go back… so this child, my sister, can stay a little longer… just a little longer…”
“………Yes. I understand.”
At the crawling voice, the Saint quietly nodded. The sound of the door closing behind him could be heard. At the same time, the front door of the house opened.
She could feel it. Her beloved God and the man she hated had met in the living room.
“Ah, aah……”
She wanted to meet him, but she must not. She wanted to approach him, but she must not. While feeling a headache-inducing contradiction, the Saintess swallowed her tears. There was nothing else she could do.