#2-5 Saintesses Fallen into the Trap (Sharon - Hypnosis Induction) (3)
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot—I have a gift for you, sis."
After enjoying a long chat over some delicious desserts Noa had brought, she placed a box she'd set aside onto the table.
A gift? She'd already brought such tasty treats.
"I didn't prepare it myself. An acquaintance of mine insisted on giving it to you and asked me to deliver it."
"Really? Who is it?"
"They didn't want me to tell you who. But they're someone you can really trust."
A gift from some mystery person felt a bit off-putting, but if Noa said they were trustworthy, it should be fine.
Inside the box was an ornate incense burner and a necklace embedded with jewels.
"It's an herbal aroma good for relieving fatigue. They said to light it before bed or when you're resting."
Lemon carefully took the incense burner Noa offered and examined it. She knew little about luxuries like this, but even at a glance, it looked expensive.
She really shouldn't accept something like this. It would be too burdensome to use, and she could only imagine the sideways glances if the other saintesses saw her with it.
The jeweled necklace was even more so. In the end, she refused it. She didn't want the incense burner either, but Noa's persuasion—"They said absolutely not to return it," "You can keep it in your room where no one will see, and everyone uses things like this"—wore her down.
And she was a little tempted by the effects Noa described: mental stability, fatigue recovery, and so on. As a saintess meeting countless people every day, stress built up sometimes. It was fulfilling work, but the daily grind could leave her feeling drained.
Noa lingered a bit longer before finally leaving the room. The saintess placed the incense burner Noa had left near her bedside.
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Sharon the Saintess's nightly patrols continued without fail. The culprit remained at large, and the security team under her command patrolled every night without exception.
And as always, her sponsor joined them. Not every night, but roughly every other day.
Even alternating days, patrols could get monotonous. Yet her sponsor showed no signs of boredom or complaint. Sharon's initial worries had been unfounded.
Perhaps because of that, Sharon seemed to be gradually warming up to him. Lately, they'd even shared a bit of friendly chit-chat.
'Hmph. Still not showing his true colors, huh? Even when I'm the one striking up conversations.'
Of course, that was just for show. At least as far as Sharon was concerned. Her smiles were forced, and her eyes toward the sponsor occasionally flashed with wariness.
She had no intention of actually getting close to him. Her creed was simple: never trust the rich. Most who amassed wealth had dirty secrets. And those with money who approached her were even more suspect. They were surely the kind who lusted after the saintess's name—or her body.
Still, she played friendly and stuck by his side to uncover his true motives. The First Saintess was an enigma with no outside contacts. The Third was too naive, trusting everyone. So naturally, suspecting and weeding out threats fell to Sharon.
'And there are suspicious signs.'
His direct investments in her and the security team. The incidents stopping after he started joining patrols. And above all, that eerie unease she'd felt at their first meeting—she still hadn't forgotten it.
What was that sensation? It differed from the presence of cultists or Seeds of Ruin. To uncover its nature, Sharon decided to keep him close and observe. Pretending to open up while ready to slit his throat at the first suspicious move.
'I'll expose your true face for sure.'
Sharon's eyes glared darkly at Gaon.
"Pardon the late intrusion. May the goddess's grace be with you."
Even to Sharon's curt greeting, the mild-mannered resident replied with a happy smile and saw her off.
Sharon moved on from the house toward the next. She'd assigned the rest of the security team to check blind spots in alleys, while she patrolled the main streets and nearby homes where people frequented.
No telling if the killer might be hiding in an ordinary house, so she knocked and checked personally.
"The residents can rest easy thanks to you, Saintess. You're patrolling the streets yourself, protecting them. So they know it's safe... You're sending that message through your actions. Truly impressive, Saintess Sharon."
"...Yeah, something like that."
She nodded ambiguously to her sponsor's admiring words. She'd considered that angle, but honestly, this method was just the safest. No way a real killer was hiding in some random family's home.
Distracting herself with his fawning as best she could, Sharon arrived at the next house: the Mera couple's laundry.
First floor was the shop; second and third were their living quarters. Word had reached even Sharon's ears about their pretty new hire who worked diligently.
Sharon, who had young priests at the church handle her laundry and lodging, had no reason to stop by.
'...? What is it? Something's nagging at me.'
Mera Laundry. It suddenly hit her that it shared her sponsor's name.
She glanced back at him, but he looked unfazed. "What's wrong, Saintess? Let's check it out."
No special reaction, even though it was supposedly his home. Convinced it was just coincidence, Sharon shrugged it off. Not worth dwelling on anyway.
Ding-a-ling—
The bell at the laundry's front door chimed. After a moment, footsteps approached from inside.
The door opened, revealing Mrs. Mera in thin sleepwear. Married, but she looked remarkably young—and beautiful, even to Sharon's eyes.
"It's the Saintess. You've come again."
"Pardon the late visit—again?"
Sharon tilted her head at Mrs. Mera's words. Had she stopped by before during patrols? She didn't recall.
"You're here about that rumored killer, right?"
"Yes. Have you seen anyone suspicious around?"
"No suspicious people... but."
Mrs. Mera hesitated. Unable to withstand Sharon's puzzled gaze, she continued.
"Well... I've been hearing strange noises from our basement. My husband's away, and I'm scared to check alone...."
Noises from the basement. Sharon first thought rats, but Mrs. Mera's explanation turned her expression grave.
"Like a man's groans...?"
"Yes. And what sounds like knocking on the door...."
"Ma'am, may I take a look?"
Mrs. Mera agreed readily, as if she'd been waiting. Sharon brushed past her into the entryway.
The dark hallway of the unlit laundry led to the basement stairs. The sounds Mrs. Mera described weren't clear, but Sharon sensed an odd presence below.
Someone was definitely there. An adult man, perhaps.
'He's hurt...?'
She could guess that much, but without seeing him, details remained unclear.
Sharon rolled up her sleeve. Her pale skin gleamed in the moonlight. She raked her nails across it—scratch—leaving a long mark that soon bled.
The blood writhed like a living thing, swirling around her. A good amount flowed out, yet Sharon didn't waver or pale. It regenerated instantly.
Her power, dubbed the Saintess of Regeneration, let her goddess-blessed body heal and restore itself without spells.
Ready to intercept based on the enemy's reaction, Sharon boldly stepped toward the basement.
That was when mana stone lantern light approached. Gaon, waiting at the entrance, had received it from Mrs. Mera and entered.
"Why'd you come in? It's dangerous—wait at the entrance, sponsor."
"But it'll be dark without a light."
"I'm fine. I'm enhancing my vision with mana. Even without that, I can sense presences, so darkness is no issue."
Her glare urged him to leave, but he stayed put.
"More importantly, Saintess, I have something to say."
"Now?"
"You didn't ask, so I didn't say—but this is my house."
"......?"
So it was. She recalled Mrs. Mera saying "my husband is—." He'd mentioned a trip, so who was this man? Why use the Mera name?
"And this isn't your first time here, Saintess Sharon. You've just dropped by briefly before."
"...What...."
Sharon turned to Gaon. His eyes met hers, glowing red.
They looked familiar somehow—then her consciousness rapidly faded.
'Oh no...! He's doing something to me...!'
Too late. Curse or magic, she didn't know. Strength drained from her body, and Heart—calmly, as if not for the first time—supported her as she collapsed.
Amy Mera closed and locked the entrance door behind them.
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