The False Saintess (4)

After finishing my conversation with Abel, I stepped out of the tent. It was late, and since everyone had likely returned to their own tents, the camp felt quiet and empty.

The cool night breeze brushed against my face, stirring a slightly sentimental mood within me. To clear my head, I began walking toward the hill at the lower edge of the camp.

Just yesterday, quite a few people had still been out sightseeing, but today, not a single soul was in sight.

Well, today's subjugation expedition was incredibly grueling, after all.

They were probably all exhausted and had gone to bed early.

The sound of grass crunching underfoot accompanied my slow steps. I savored the gentle wind caressing my entire body as I walked.

Normally, Silpi would have been out here enjoying the breeze with me, but today, perhaps tired, he had already returned to the spirit realm.

He must have even severed our link, because no voice echoed in my mind. Lost in idle thoughts, I spotted a lone figure sitting in the distance.

Black hair cascading over the grass—she must have let it down—and a face that, though much fuller than before, was still painfully gaunt.

Yurph?

The girl with blue eyes, Yurph, was curled up, quietly gazing at the sky.

Her body was still frail, but compared to before, she looked much better. Thinking this, I quietly approached and sat down beside her.

As I plopped onto the grass, Yurph's startled face turned toward me. Her eyes widened briefly as she looked at me, then she offered a greeting first.

"...Hello."

"Yeah. Hi."

The scene wasn't much different from usual. After exchanging greetings, silence settled between us again. It wasn't as suffocatingly awkward as before, but it still felt a little stifling.

Yurph didn't seem particularly bothered by the atmosphere, simply continuing to gaze quietly at the night sky.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking at the stars."

Stars.

Following her lead, I looked up. Countless stars were embroidered across the pitch-black canvas. None of the constellations matched those from my past life, but the beauty of the sight wasn't so different from back then.

Later, in the cities, the countless artificial lights made it nearly impossible to see even a single star.

Here, though, even a slight turn of the head revealed so many stars that counting them would be impossible.

"Do you believe in the superstition about constellations, Id?"

"Huh? There's such a thing?"

At my question, Yurph looked at me with puzzled eyes. Her gaze, as if asking why I wouldn't know, made me awkwardly avert my eyes.

It wasn't accusatory—just genuinely curious why I was unaware—but it stung a little nonetheless.

She closed her eyes briefly before beginning to explain the superstition.

"According to the myth, each constellation in the sky represents a person's fate."

"Those constellations?"

At my skeptical question, she nodded slowly. The idea that constellations in the night sky dictated people's fates was a superstition hard to swallow.

Even conservatively estimating, there had to be hundreds of millions of humans in this world. If that were true, wouldn't the sky always be daylight instead of night?

As I mulled this over, Yurph continued softly.

"It's a well-known myth. Many people believe in it."

His Holiness the Pope is a prime example.

When Yurph added that, I closed my mouth before speaking. As the Pope of the Goddess Church, he would certainly know more about this world than I did.

"Id, do you see a star shining especially brightly in that sky?"

"That..."

I lifted my head again and stared at the night sky.

Just as she said, among the countless stars emitting pure white light, one stood ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out, twinkling more intensely than the rest.

But calling it a constellation didn't make sense—there was only one of it. That lone star flickered precariously, as if it might vanish at any moment.

I knew it was just a superstition, but an ominous feeling crept over me nonetheless. Just as I was about to voice another thought, Yurph spoke again.

"I can't see it."

"Huh?"

Turning my head, I saw her smiling bitterly.

Yurph stretched her bony hand toward the sky. Her arm trembled pitifully, as if desperate to reach the stars above.

"Among the constellations in that night sky, not a single one belongs to me."

"What does that mean...?"

"It means I'm an outsider in this world."

Outsider.

The familiar word made me freeze. The emotion surfacing on her face was profound loneliness.

What could have made a girl her age wear such an expression?

A face that seemed disheartened, even cowed in a way. Somehow, it reminded me of my past self, making it impossible to simply look away.

"After all, I'm just a fake."

A fake. I couldn't quite grasp the meaning behind her words, but I had a rough idea of what she was struggling with.

Because I, too, had once wrestled with similar doubts.

My twin sister, who was better than me at everything. The memories of always being compared to her by our parents, of only ever hearing criticism.

In middle school, during those stormy adolescent days, I too had thought of myself as my sister's substitute—a fake.

Trapped in the belief that a fake was ultimately nothing more than a useless object, I had wounded my own heart.

As if to reinforce that thought, the people around me had been cruel.

Left to fester until the wound finally burst open, I ended up saying something to my sister that I would regret for the rest of my life.

Just like how Adel had hurt Lily back then.

Tch, still so foolish.

Forcing down a bitter smile, I asked Yurph:

"Is being real or fake really that important?"

In the end, what I wanted to say was simple.

Suppose real and fake truly existed. Even if I were the fake, why would that matter so much?

"That's..."

At my question, Yurph's eyes widened in surprise. She chewed on her lip as though she had never considered the idea before.

Perhaps Yurph thought of herself as the False Saintess.

She had said she continued fasting in hopes that the Pope ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would revoke his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠decision to appoint her as a Saintess Candidate.

But the Yurph I had seen until now was every bit a saintess.

Despite the toll of her fasting, even in moments of irritability, she never hesitated to bestow healing and blessings upon others.

Not only that, she had even risked danger to step forward and break the mental interference.

If someone like her couldn't be called a saintess, then who could?

"But... no one likes a fake."

"Do you really believe that?"

Yurph hesitated briefly before nodding slowly. Her expression carried a strange mix of pessimism and resignation—so much so that it was painful to look at.

It still reminded me of my past self.

"Listen, I had a twin sister."

A past I would never have revealed to anyone under normal circumstances. A memory that Adel von Este, by her very identity, couldn't possibly speak of—because unlike me, Adel had no older or younger sister.

But borrowing the identity of Id, the Spirit Knight, I could say it freely.

Maybe someday I'd even tell Abel, but for now, I had no intention of revealing it.

Doing so would mean confessing the absurd truth that I was a Possessor—and I doubted he'd believe such a delusional claim.

Just as my thoughts threatened to spiral, Yurph spoke again.

"Your... sister?"

"Yeah. She was incredible."

An amazing sister who always outshone me in every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talent. Studies, sports—even cross-stitching, the one thing I was halfway decent at.

Because of that, I lived perpetually in her shadow. To my school friends, teachers, even my parents.

Being twins, we looked identical, so at some point, people began treating me as her substitute.

The boys who approached me, even my parents—and eventually, I myself started believing I was nothing more than her imitation.

"A fake, you mean..."

"Yeah. It felt like I was her counterfeit."

Around the time I began seeing myself as her substitute—a fake mimicking her—my sister got accepted into a prestigious university. Despite our family's poor circumstances, she had done it.

In this world, it would be like a commoner getting into the Imperial Academy. It was such an incredible feat that I was pushed even further into the background.

"I thought I was a worthless imitation."

That's why I climbed to the rooftop.

When I stood at the railing, the first one to reach me wasn't a friend or my parents—it was my sister.

She clung to me desperately, tears streaming down her face, and shouted at the top of her lungs:

You're not my substitute! You're precious just as you are!

Even so, I refused to listen and spat words that would wound her:

Since when did you care about me? To me, you've always been nothing but a thorn in my side.

As we fought, when I nearly toppled over the railing, my sister threw herself forward to save me.

The smile she wore in that final moment is a memory I still can't forget.

"Listen. Whether you're real or fake doesn't matter at all."

"..."

"What matters is the kind of person you are."

If I had realized that sooner, maybe I wouldn't have said such cruel things to her.

If I had understood that I wasn't just her shadow—that I was her kind-hearted younger sister—maybe things would've been different.

"Can I ask you something?"

"...Yes."

When I turned my head, I saw Yurph's eyes brimming with tears.

Smiling faintly, I pulled a towel from my pocket and handed it to her.

"What kind of person are you?"

At my question, Yurph lowered her head, hesitated for a moment, then answered in a small voice:

"...I need some time alone to think."

"Alright. I understand."

I rose from my seat. Glancing back, I saw Yurph sitting with her eyes closed, lost in deep thought.

I didn't know exactly what she was struggling with.

But at the very least, I hoped she wouldn't tread the same path I had.

That was the only thought on my mind.