#2-18 The Salvation King, And... (Saintess Lemon - Fellatio Gesture♥) (1)

I'd always thought of myself as someone pretty unusual. Someone different from the so-called normal people around me, harboring some twisted sensibilities.

I'd often tell Lete or her subordinates things like, "I'm actually a good guy," but of course, that wasn't sincere. Truly good people don't go around announcing, "Hey, I'm a good person!" Crazy people don't call themselves crazy. That's just how it is.

"You're seriously weird."

"Talking to you gives me chills sometimes."

"I start doubting if you're even the same species as me."

"How the hell do you grow up to be someone like you? I'm actually scared."

Even my ex-girlfriend had said stuff like that. It was harsh, but when I thought about it, she wasn't wrong, so I accepted it back then. It didn't hit me as hard as I'd expected, either. Maybe I was hurt but just didn't realize it. Who knows.

At work, I heard it all the time too. That I was a weirdo. A psychopath pretending to be normal. Like something had snapped inside me. Anyway, even if I couldn't see it myself, if everyone around me said so, I had no choice but to accept it. I was definitely a weirdo, someone off-kilter, twisted in some way.

"Gaon... sir."

What changed that thinking was the assault by Holy Knight Eve. The day I faced death for the first time—my perspective shifted in all sorts of ways.

It wasn't because of my own death. What flipped the switch wasn't something as trivial as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my pathetic life. Even if I lost this worthless life a hundred times over, I wouldn't change. I'm certain of that.

What changed me was Lete.

She'd thrown herself in front of me, covered in blood, hugging me tight as Eve's sword pierced us both, and she died right there in my arms.

I remember that warmth. The scent of blood. The fading spark of her life, replaced by the chill of death as she held me—I remember it all.

I truly hated her dying like that. I couldn't accept that this girl, who cared for me so deeply, would just end up gone.

Back then, I was furious. Without a doubt, seething with rage.

At the woman called the noblest knight, who'd driven Lete—this girl who'd tried to save me—to such a desperate death.

And at my own powerless self, unable to save Lete as she died.

I was livid.

'Ah, what the hell.'

That's when I realized it. I wasn't as twisted as I'd thought.

Lete was my subordinate. My precious subordinate.

And normal people get angry when someone touches or breaks their stuff. Especially if it's something dear to them.

If I'd felt nothing facing Lete's death, I'd have been the psychopath and freak everyone said I was.

But I wasn't. I was pissed. That meant I valued her.

It wasn't just Lete. Mea and Barosy, who died that day too—they were all precious to me. They'd become mine. My possessions.

Sure, I'd used some underhanded methods, but they'd given me their hearts. Or at least, I'd been drawn to them—their looks, their minds. We'd lived side by side, faces close, until I couldn't pretend otherwise anymore.

Once that happens, you can't help but cherish them. And I did. That's why I could get angry.

Being angry meant I cherished them that much.

So I wasn't twisted or a psychopath anymore. Just a regular guy with some quirks. Obviously.

If you can cherish someone, that's what makes you normal.

—Rewind a bit, just moments ago.

"Lemon and I haven't known each other long."

In the dark room, amid the distant clamor of battle filtering through the shattered window, Gaon looked down at Lemon, sprawled bloodied on the bed.

Behind him, Sharon held her breath, tense.

Ignoring her, he checked Lemon again—fingertip to her nape, hand to her lips for breath. As he'd confirmed countless times, she was undeniably dead. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Her face serene, like she was just asleep.

"We only met a few days ago, after all."

Not long before, Gaon had been defeated and killed by Eve. Lete had sacrificed herself to protect him, but died alongside.

His shock at her death outweighed his own. After regressing, he'd researched reviving dead 'heroes.'

Status windows galore, sifting through plausible skills one by one.

It failed. No reviving dead heroes with player skills.

He recalled the reviews: Dead heroes can't be revived—handle with care.

"Still, it felt like we'd been together forever..."

"Noa kept chattering about Lemon whenever she got the chance. Gushing about her beloved big sis. Probably why."

But he couldn't give up. Wouldn't.

No letting that tragedy repeat.

Even so, preparing for the worst-case—what if?—he'd sought Lilith.

The ancient high noble succubus might know something.

—There might be a way?

—Just once, but if that's okay, I can tell you.

".........Gotta apologize to Lete."

Gaon murmured regretfully. He'd learned it to save her.

Too bad. Lete would just have to trust him not to screw up from now on.

He pressed a hand to his chest. It warped grotesquely, nails elongating, plunging puuk into his flesh.

"?! What—"

Sharon, off to the side, gasped, frozen at the sudden self-mutilation.

But Gaon casually withdrew his hand, unscathed.

In it, a crimson orb pulsed like a heartbeat.

A heart. Not human—a succubus heart, gem-like.

Now for the succubus secret art. It demanded high-level skills, draining nearly all his resource magic.

But enough for the ritual.

"...Time to wake up, sleeping princess."

From the moment he'd extracted it, bizarre magic circles swirled around him. An eerie wind stirred the room.

At the center of flowing breeze and mystic glow, Gaon placed his fresh heart atop Lemon's chest.

The red gem sank seamlessly into her wound, toward her stilled heart. Effortless.

Silence fell, as if nothing happened.

Then—

Paaaaaaaah—!!

A pillar of light pierced the ceiling from the heavens, engulfing the saintess on the bed in pure white radiance.

Sion saw it too.

Over Noa Florence's shoulder, a holy pillar plummeting from the sky, spearing through Mera Laundry's roof.

She knew instinctively who it targeted. Only one possibility.

Before certainty set in, the beam faded.

Silence returned to the streets.

Citizens peeking from windows at the goddess-like holy light held their breath, wordless.

Someone appeared on Mera Laundry's rooftop.

Noa, facing Sion, sensed it and glanced back.

Spotting the face she'd hoped for—unharmed—she sighed in relief, smiling.

"...Big sis Lemon!!"

"Yeah! Noa! Worried a ton? Sorry!"

"......Wasn't worried! Gaon-nim said not to!"

"Good then! I wasn't worried either! I trusted my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠god would save me! Wasn't scared or hurt at all! For real!!"

There on the roof, shouting joyfully: Saintess Lemon, revived.

Her habit still gore-soaked, but she was unscathed—vibrant, even more than usual.

Noa exhaled in relief, turning back to Sion.

At that instant, a clear song rang from the rooftop behind her.

No—a prayer. To her god.

The saintess's pure, resonant prayer spread from the rooftop, to the surroundings, heavenward.

From the rooftop, where Lemon stood, radiant light bloomed anew.

Different from the prior pillar—like silvery moonlight waves rippling from the laundry, turning the area into a holy domain.

The vast sanctuary healed citizens' minor wounds instantly. Even old scars vanished in miracles.

Cripples might've been restored fully.

The saintess's ultimate Restoration Field: area-wide total healing. Far beyond standard healers, bestowed on goddess faithful nearby.

Noa benefited too—wounds from battling a superior foe vanished; heavy fatigue lifted.

All thanks to the saintess's miracle.

But Sion, servant of the God of Ruin, stood unblessed, blood dripping from her shoulder.

She didn't complain, just stared blankly skyward, oddly relieved.

Come to think of it, she'd worn that expression throughout. Distracted in battle, zoning out in Lemon's room, waiting for Gaon.

"What now, Sion? Gonna keep going?"

Noa aimed her sword again.

Sion chuckled hollowly.

"Unfair. I'm wounded, you're pristine. And it's persistent healing? Slashes heal instantly? Fighting like that's just shameless."

Rich, coming from the one who'd snuck in and murdered the saintess.

Sion sighed in resignation, releasing her power. The massive scythe thudded to the pavement.

She raised both hands in surrender.

No fight left in her. Battle over.

But Noa stayed vigilant.

'She's... smiling?'

Sion's surrender gesture came with a smile.

As Noa approached cautiously—

Kugugugugugu—!!

"...?!"

The ground quaked. Pavement cracked with sharp creaks.