Cancel! Cancel! All the Misery!
Who was this girl protruding like an awl? (10) Justina rummaged through her mind, hazy and unraveled by pain, dragging the memory to the surface. Her dilated pupils began to focus. Only then did she remember.
“Goddess…?”
It was a dry, cracked, hoarse voice. Even so, Sara beamed, delighted that she had spoken.
“Ah! You’re awake! I was so worried!”
Why was Sara here? What was this place? Doubts welled up belatedly. Her reason, crushed under the weight of divinity, was recovering thanks to Sara’s presence.
Justina spotted a single golden thread forming a circle behind Sara’s back. Staring at it eased her breathing somehow. Yet her face remained deathly pale. Her heart, already a tangled wreck, stirred up a profound sense of powerlessness.
“Ah…”
“Let’s get outta here quick! Malik’s waiting outside!”
Sara yanked out the needles piercing Justina’s body with swift tugs. Then she grabbed her, trying to drag her somewhere. She grunted with effort, but Sara’s strength wasn’t enough. Justina simply had no will to walk on her own.
“Let go. Leave me behind.”
Justina bowed her head. Her body trembled in fine shivers.
“Nothing changes if I leave. It’ll be the same.”
Real or not, this was a place to look back on her life—a life where she’d never chosen anything for herself, a realization that nothing would ever change.
“If I have to keep living like this forever, then just…”
Justina chewed her lip. The pope’s smile was seared into her brain like a brand, intensifying her learned helplessness.
“Maybe it’s better if it ends here. Yeah, it probably is.”
Pink strands of hair fell into disarray, veiling her face. Even so, her words, her actions, her very aura laid it all bare.
Sara watched her quietly. Then she spoke.
“It won’t be the same.”
“What do you know…”
“It won’t be the same! ‘Cause I’ll be there!”
The lively voice made Justina’s head lift just a fraction. A twisted expression peeked through her hair, but Sara didn’t care. Her smile was so bright it bordered on unsettling.
“Um, sure, that pope’s a total jerk! A pervert who just wants to be a girl! But Nari’ll take him out, no problem!”
Snap! She seized Justina’s hand.
“So I’ll take responsibility for you, Saintess! I’ll make you way happier than all those crappy times put together!”
Justina wanted to say it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t about who was in charge—it was her life, rotten to the core, inevitable. The words bubbled up, heavy with that meaning.
“…And who the hell are you?”
Resentment choked her voice. A few days of knowing her, and this?
“Who are you to toss that out so easy? What do you even know?”
She glared. The answer came swirling in.
Swish—the thread spun.
“I’m the goddess.”
A faint glow, yet its presence filled the space. Gold flickered in Sara’s eyes.
“The badass goddess who blasts away all that unfair crap! So yeah, I can do it! I said I’m the one who can, and Nari agrees—it’s gotta be true!”
Sara glared at the space and bellowed.
“Perverted jerks handing out rotten fortunes—cancel!”
Crack! The space warped and shattered. Beyond it, an orphanage sickroom draped into view.
“Cowardly scum bullying kids—cancel!”
Crack! The sickroom warped and shattered. But another scene overlaid it. Mannequins reenacted Justina’s most hated memories. They kept coming, endlessly, yet Sara didn’t stop.
“Lewd-staring creeps—cancel! Tool-treating trash—cancel! Cancel! Cancel! All of it—cancel!”
Each time, that single golden circle thickened. Its glow began to dazzle the eyes.
“Bring something else! Bring the happy stuff!!!”
Justina gaped blankly at Sara, who’d shot to her feet, cheeks puffed in childish fury. It was like a brat throwing a tantrum—and with every outburst, the scenes shifted, stirring her emotions into strange ripples.
“Come on, Saintess, join in! What do you wanna do? What’s fun!?”
It was idiotic. Utterly ridiculous and laughable. But the thought hit so hard that her rising anger just… fizzled.
“How about the Royal Titty Guard!? A world where ranks are based on boob size—what d’ya think? You become queen, Saintess!”
Sara burst into giggles. Her cheeks flushed with excitement, twisting Justina’s face into a weird mix of anger and amusement.
“What the hell is that…!”
“The Royal Titty Empire…! No, Empire!!!”
Crash! The dark scene vanished. Blue skies, swirling flower petals along a grand avenue, atop a massive carriage—Sara and Justina together. Crowds lining the street roared in cheers.
In the midst of it all, senses sharp, taking it in vividly.
“Ugh…!”
Justina’s face ended up streaked with tears. Then she laughed. Laughed like a fool.
“You’re such a moron…”
Sniffling the words, Sara just grinned wide.
“But it’s good, right?”
Everything dissolved into scattering petals. The space emptied.
“Dreams should be happy ones. When you’ve got happy dreams and tomorrow feels exciting, you can live happy as hell.”
How sweet those words were, laced with a magic that begged you to believe. In moments when she hated it all, felt utterly listless, wanted to just die locked away like this—when nothing seemed to improve—they pierced like an awl, popping the swelling burdens that crushed her.
“Let’s go out together. Let’s go be happy. Us.”
Sara locked eyes, gripping both her hands tight. Somehow, Justina was an adult again, back in her real body.
“You think we can?”
Only then could Justina truly see Sara. That shady cult symbol. That brainless little girl. No—not anymore. She understood why that hulking, intimidating man doted on this girl endlessly.
This was a goddess. The kind who shook souls. A world ruled by a god like this—you couldn’t help but think it’d be better than now. So impossibly warm.
“…Someone like me—is that okay?”
Her voice trembled, thick with unshakable anxiety.
“Worth going that far… for me?”
Sara answered without a hint of hesitation.
“’Cause you’re the Saintess.”
The golden light crumbled the space. The stubborn blue divinity finally began to melt away.
“Pretty girls with big boobs deserve to be happy. It’s the law!”
In that warm glow, Justina closed her eyes. It felt like sinking into someone’s embrace—a sensation her life had never known. So cozy, so addictive, drawing her in.
She melted into the bed-like haze, blissfully dazed.
Then, a hard floor pressed against her. Her eyes burned hot.
[Justina! Justina!]
A chirping voice battered her ears. Justina felt pressure on her chest and opened her eyes. She was sprawled on the floor, with Sara blinking awake from a nap atop her.
“Ugh…?”
Sara came to. She didn’t lift her head from Justina’s chest—not out of anything shady, but sheer exhaustion. Indeed, the golden circle behind her from that dreamlike place was gone.
Sara flashed a big grin. Justina, tears still unshed, laughed through her crying face and pulled her into a tight hug.
[Justina! I came to save you!!!]
[Malik… he’s gone…!]
[Shut up!!!]
Her chest warmed. Like a blockage pierced, long-suppressed emotions burst free.
But was it really over?
[Aaaah!!!]
A ghostly shriek echoed, drawing closer.
Justina flinched and whipped her head around. An armored corpse, wreathed in blue divinity, charged with a twisted face.
[No! No no no no!!!]
The pope. His face had changed, but she knew.
Instinctively, Justina shielded Sara in her arms and squeezed her eyes shut. Danger raced up her spine.
Slash!
A grisly sound ripped through the space. Then—thud! Something heavy hit the ground.
Justina cracked her eyes toward the noise. She gasped.
The pope lay split vertically, dead. Behind him, clack-clack, Lenoir approached.
An utterly impassive expression. An aura that needlessly boiled the tension.
His gaze fell on Sara, still drowsy and passed out.
Something astonishing happened.
“At last… you have come.”
Justina had to wonder if this was a dream. She had no choice. Lenoir, ignoring her entirely, knelt and gazed at Sara in her arms. A glint at the corner of his eye.
…Tears?
Clear droplets welled up. His face blank, yet the raw joy was unmistakable.