Chapter 36
Translator: penny
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Heretic
Heretic.
The 'True Name' that each Saintess possesses.
Though individual combat prowess varies wildly depending on that ability,
it's a well-known fact that these are extraordinary powers shrouded in secrecy.
And right now, the Isabella before my eyes has the ability called the Pupil of Wisdom, which lets her pierce through others' emotions and innermost thoughts with all-encompassing insight.
The reason she couldn't read Nana or Yuria's minds from the start is probably because she doesn't know how to properly wield that 'True Name.'
Being a half-baked Saintess forged from a devil's contract and all.
Unfortunately, that power ended up playing into the devil's hands against her will, twisting all her human relationships and isolating her completely, leaving her with deep scars.
I remember her having a particularly massive trauma about eye contact...
'...Does she really?'
Far from avoiding my gaze, Isabella is clutching my neck and peering even deeper into my eyes.
In simple terms, it means she's immensely grateful to me as a certain someone right now.
To the point where she's even curious about my inner thoughts... Her favorability has shot way up.
Isabella—the protagonist herself—would only crack open her heart a sliver after slaving away for three months, teetering on the brink of death four times to prove her sincerity.
A profound certainty gleams in her golden-flecked eyes.
"...From today onward, I will serve you."
What.
You're kidding.
What about the Heavenly God you all believe in?
That's what I think inwardly, but the luster still shines in the Saintess's eyes.
Pressed against my upper body like freshly steamed buns, the pounding of her heart slowly reaches me from her crushed chest.
An insanely fast heartbeat.
Flushed cheeks.
Trembling eyes.
Yet she locks her gaze with mine, refusing to leave my embrace.
Fanaticism as a favorability stat? That's a new one.
Love in a direction totally different from obsession...?
And right on cue, someone arrives.
In the distance, a single maid approaches slowly, wiping her gloves with a handkerchief.
Probably on her way back after killing the mid-to-high-tier demons that fled.
"Master, I've taken care of everything."
...She showed up.
We're all dead now.
"...Has that maid come too?"
Saintesses fundamentally exude pure white aura.
But in Yuria's case, it's the complete opposite—pitch-black-red mana surges forth.
Sinister, insidious mana that clings like a curse.
I've been through this situation a couple of times before.
I want to mediate somehow, but the Saintess has zero intention of letting me go.
'How can a battered human wield power this strong...!'
In situations like this, I need to navigate with slick survival skills pronto.
That's how I survived back then, too.
Ian acts accordingly. But the method that worked before won't fly now—Yuria's experience level in this regard has skyrocketed too far in the opposite direction.
Yuria, already reading the Saintess's gaze to a certain extent, lets her atmosphere grow stickier by the second.
She usually maintains a soft demeanor, but in moments like this, dark mana erupts around her body at a level that shocks even me.
Possessiveness.
Like how a normally cold, ruthless person explodes in volcanic fury when their switch flips.
In Yuria's case, it's probably even worse.
'...But it wasn't ever this bad before.'
When she met Rachel, it didn't escalate like this.
Back then, it ended with just a hint of killing intent. Now, it's heavier, something more.
She's pissed to the point where she wouldn't calm down without summoning an army of demons and slaughtering someone... N-no, she's just straight-up angry.
"...What are you doing with the Saintess?"
Her voice trembles at the end.
Ian clutches his head inwardly, forcing his stone-stuck brain to turn.
How the hell do I survive this...?
"Ah, uh... We had to rescue the Saintess first—"
"..."
He barely cuts off the words about to follow.
The killing intent swells stronger.
Her darkening eyes are half-hidden by her snow-white bangs, making them hard to see.
Which makes it even scarier.
"...Yes. The Saintess is important, right."
"No, I missed you too, Yuria. I was worried."
"...Then why aren't you holding me?"
"Th-the Saintess is injured right now!"
"...Injured?"
Her sly glance shifts to the Saintess.
There are injury marks, sure. But they've all healed. She can move around fine. Does she really need to be carried?
On top of that, they're stuck together like lovers.
...
About four minutes earlier.
Yuria's mind was in turmoil.
Because the Master wasn't where he was supposed to be.
'...Where did he go?'
He'd clearly said he was going to rescue the Saintess.
The village with the ringing bells was burning, littered only with demon corpses.
She'd finished her tasks first and come rushing here thinking of him.
'...He must've stepped away for something urgent.'
Rational, reasonable thinking.
The Master cherishes me, and he's the type to throw his life away for others without hesitation.
Of course he'd save others living unfortunate, harsh lives like mine.
Especially a Saintess, seen as a holy being. And if she's cursed, even more reason to save her.
"..."
Her words sound rational, but unbeknownst to herself, Yuria exudes a pitch-black aura, deeply displeased by it all.
What if,
what if he's with the Saintess...?
The assumption suddenly bubbles up from her subconscious.
And thinking he wouldn't fall for such a fake Saintess's temptations...
She never imagined her future self would serve a single human male like this.
She hadn't even dreamed of being saved in the first place.
That's why human relationships can spiral anywhere.
But this Saintess is someone who tried to humiliate Ian. And she even tempted him with that filthy body of hers.
'...Master, with a woman like that?'
She has no idea what's so great about that woman.
"...Ah."
Glancing down, she spots her own prominent chest thrusting out proudly.
"...Master never lets go of my breasts, even in bed."
In other words, it connects to him really liking women's breasts.
Ominous intuition flows like water, suddenly birthing certainty.
'If... I'm lacking there.'
Her hand trembles as it touches her breast.
Her face reflected in the bloody water is coldly sunken, unlike the radiant Saintess.
Usually, men like gentle, all-accepting women as a hobby...?
But Yuria was a woman utterly detached from such notions.
The type to lunge and eliminate any fly buzzing around him the moment it lands.
She'd tried fixing it, but it never stuck.
Just, whenever another woman was by Ian's side, she instinctively wanted to kill.
But if Ian rejected her, that changes things.
Once she started assuming a negative future, it ballooned massively, already running to its end.
'...Am I lacking? Am I... not satisfying enough?'
Or is maidenhood like a nun's virginity important...?
Purity...? Warmth or gentleness?
It was an image utterly divorced from her own—ruthless, commanding demons as minions, hesitating not even to kill nobles on orders.
Close to a merciless, no-questions-asked killing fiend.
Surely he'd prefer a woman who warmly envelops him over someone so terrifying.
...No.
That can't be.
That Saintess clearly hated the Master.
That's why she'd committed such unforgivable rudeness.
Right.
It has to be.
"..."
But heading there with that hope, what she finds is him holding the Saintess—in a way he hasn't done for her yet.
And the Saintess sending coquettish glances.
Her resolute heart cracks bit by bit.
No.
She's clearly forcing those actions.
If she herself said she wanted to be held...
"What are you... doing with the Saintess?"
"...Ah, we had to rescue the Saintess first—"
...The Saintess is more important than me?
The thought fills her head, but Ian hesitates soon after.
Not certain yet.
Rejecting it, he answers.
"...Yes. The Saintess is important, right."
"...No, I missed you too, Yuria. I was worried."
"...Then why aren't you holding me?"
"Th-the Saintess is injured right now."
"...Injured?"
She wasn't injured.
Perfectly fine.
"..."
Then.
I'll make her injured.
Killing the Saintess he just saved with these two hands would surely make Ian hate her.
Just enough to hurt a bit.
But as his gaze increasingly turns to the Saintess, Yuria's hand freezes.
'...That bag of demonic holy power,'
was what I lacked.
I hate it.
I absolutely won't let the Master be taken like that.
If she didn't know love at all, maybe. But no.
She's already stolen his heart completely, taken her virginity too. No turning eyes to another woman.
"Don't touch my fiancé's body carelessly."
Yuria hugs Ian tightly, shoving the Saintess away as she speaks.
Thankfully, it ends without killing— just stealing Ian's embrace.
After forcibly stuffing the Saintess into the shadows, Yuria smiles in the forcibly created space for just the two of them.
She especially hates anyone encroaching on her time alone with me.
For example, she'd get extremely displeased even if a servant knocked during cuddle time.
But something felt off.
Normally, she'd press her lips to my neck right away.
Now, though...
Like a heroine facing a NTR crisis over her main wife position, she's craving affection.
"Ian. If you like outfits like the Saintess's, please tell me. I'll wear anything. So... don't look at anyone else."
Far from getting mad, unlike before, she buries her face in my chest with a timid tone.
Something's wrong.
"...Uh, um. Yuria looks prettier in her maid outfit—"
The moment I think I've smoothed it over.
-Squish.
A bit smaller than before, but still watermelon-sized marshmallows press in.
"...Does this... not satisfy you?"
Yuria's signature red eyes, brimming with immense possessiveness, fix on me.
Even if I avert my gaze, she grabs my cheeks and forces eye contact.
Hellish silence envelops us, until Yuria's lips finally part.
"...Master, do you like the Saintess's here because they're bigger?"
With that, she forces my hand onto her breast.
Thankfully not angry—her face is flushed.
"I think Yuria's are plenty big already."
G-cup is overkill even in my original world.
I give the honest answer as if it's obvious, and Yuria exhales once before her next question.
"...How does the feel?"
I can't say "feels comfy?"
What do I even say?
"I... can't become a real nun or Saintess because you took my virginity, Master."
"..."
"Master, you... like defiling pure, innocent white women, right...? I, I can do that too. I can submit. If you want, even now..."
No... this isn't even a question I can answer.
How did I get branded as someone with a 'twisted sexual desire to forcibly take a Saintess's virginity' to Yuria...?
...That's straight-up heresy, you know?
Suddenly, bloody water envelops Yuria's body in a flash, and she casually flips up her skirt, revealing her black panties.
"E-even now, like this. I can wear a nun's habit."
Deliberately emphasizing her lower body—more alluring than the Saintess's—along with her pale skin and flashy see-through lingerie.
Cheeks slightly flushed, but her backward glance is dead serious.
...Ah, this.
Feels like a different switch just flipped.