Wow! Getting Adopted! Golden Spoon Life Begins!
A miracle that erupted overnight completely transformed the stuffy air of the grand cathedral into fervent fanaticism.
The day after Spencer Count, whose soul had been possessed by a high-ranking demon, walked out of the underground chapel on his own two feet without a trace of aftereffects, the capital's high society and the church were thrown into utter chaos.
In front of the cathedral's firmly shut iron gates, nobles' carriages formed a blockade, all desperate for even a glimpse of the miracle saintess Elia and the enigmatic genius mage Chloe by her side.
The Orthodox Church, isolating the young saintess from the flood of greedy stares, was busy bolstering its ironclad protections.
"Saintess. Could you recite the meaning of this sigil once more?"
"Yes, priest. It is the third omen of the Lord God, signifying mercy and devotion that cleaves through pitch blackness."
In a lavish reception room bathed in warm sunlight, Elia calmly answered with a thick tome of doctrine resting on her lap, nearly as big as she was.
"Oh, splendid! And after enduring that grueling exorcism yesterday, you maintain such focus."
A fanatic reverence gleamed in the wrinkles around the old priest's eyes.
The sudden onslaught of the church's blind praise and suffocating overprotection would crush a normal ten-year-old under the weight of fear or corrupt them with arrogance.
Yet Elia silently, almost frighteningly diligently, absorbed her harsh saintess training like a sponge.
As the priest withdrew with a satisfied smile, Elia's clear green eyes cautiously peered past the bookshelf.
"Wang!"
"Kkamang! That's my sock!"
On the plush carpet of the finest quality, the silver-haired girl—who outside was shrouded in mystery as a genius mage, spawning endless rumors—lay on her back, rolling around with a puppy, laughing innocently.
In stark contrast to her overwhelming talent and fame, the real Chloe was nothing more than an utterly naive child, innocent of power or worldly affairs.
I have to protect her.
Elia clenched the leather cover of the doctrine book on her lap with her small fists.
The heavy expectations and predatory gazes directed at her were suffocating, but she couldn't back down.
She was the only friend who had secretly protected me in that hellish underground chapel.
She was the saintess.
Friends are for me to protect!
The young saintess's noble delusion settled on her fragile shoulders as a sense of mission.
Kkamang opened its mouth wide and let out a long, black smoky belch.
"Ker-uuuuurk!"
"Ugh! Kkamang! Bad breath!"
I pinched my nose and rolled around on the soft carpet.
Ugh, it reeks like sulfur or something!
These past few weeks, everyone at the cathedral had been piling me with delicious treats, calling me the "saintess's friend and genius mage," and I'd been so happy.
But Kkamang's condition was off.
For some reason, today it kept belching black smoke and groaning while clutching its belly.
I gently rubbed Kkamang's bulging, plump tummy.
"Kkamang! If you keep picking up weird stuff off the floor and eating it, your tummy ache won't get better!"
It must've snuck out at night and scavenged something strange from the kitchen. That's why it's in such bad shape.
"Kkamang's tough, so no need for tummy medicine, right?"
"Kkiing?"
"I'll just keep petting you instead!"
"Kkiiing..."
Kkamang tucked its tail and meekly surrendered to my touch.
This guy really loves its owner's pets, huh.
The chat windows floating in midair cackled like mad.
Night snack? Spicy? Oh, it must've snuck some spicy sausage or peppers from the cathedral kitchen.
"Kkamang! No more sneaking snacks next time!"
"Kkiing..."
Yep, a proper adult scolding, and Kkamang shrank back.
If it doesn't listen, I gotta discipline it as its owner. That way it won't bite people.
"Next time, chew it really well so your tummy doesn't hurt!"
I patted Kkamang's back and let out a big yawn.
Aww, so sleepy...
The cathedral's reception room resembled a bustling marketplace, tangled with greed pouring in from across the empire.
"Oh, Your Holiness! Truly radiant children of miracle. If our count family could take them in, it would be our house's utmost glory...!"
"Come now. With our family's wealth, we could build a new cathedral on the capital's outskirts for the saintess! Why don't you step aside?"
"Who're you telling?!"
The capital's power nobles spewed spittle-flecked courtship and blatant power lust, fouling the air.
Roën elegantly lifted her teacup, coolly observing the ugly spectacle from above its rim.
Idiots. Exposing your black hearts like that—think the church elders are insane enough to hand the saintess to hyenas like you?
No matter the promised riches, the church wouldn't yield their absolute trump card, the saintess, to a house baring its power hunger.
The imperial family and noble council won't sit idle either.
Her first-life memories proved it clearly. The saintess's destination was long decided.
The law-robed nobles famous for deep faith, strict neutrality, and zero martial might: the Bestert family.
I'll just watch and worm in as their backer the moment Bestert's confirmed.
Control the saintess and that idiot kid, and everything falls into place.
As her meticulous scheme flashed through Roën's mind, a stern middle-aged man entered under the solemn guidance of an attendant.
Finally, it's here.
Neatly combed hair, intellectual gold-rimmed glasses, and a well-trimmed mustache.
The renowned central law noble, ironclad principle adherent: Bestert Count made his appearance.
"Your Holiness Archbishop. An honor to meet you."
The count bowed at a flawless angle.
"Welcome, Count. The road wasn't too long?"
"A path to behold children serving the Lord God—how could it be arduous?"
The count's upright gaze turned to Elia on the sofa.
Elia, visibly tense, curtsied demurely with practiced restraint.
"Pleased to meet you, Count. I'm Elia."
"Truly clever and refined. The cathedral's teachings have served well."
A satisfied smile crossed the count's lips. By his principle yardstick, Elia passed with flying colors.
But as his eyes shifted to the seat beside her, his rigid brows twisted savagely.
"...."
Before him sat a silver-haired girl.
Chloe, was it?
One hand kneaded the black puppy's chubby jowls; the other held a silver fork in her mouth as she blankly stared at the chandelier.
Her unfocused purple eyes brimmed with lazy peace, devoid of any intellect.
Hm. So this is the genius mage the archbishop raved about...
The count inwardly clicked his tongue.
No manners, not a shred of sharpness—just a dopey look.
The Orthodox Church wouldn't lie...
He tsked again inside.
This was the classic profile of a lazy genius. Probably just exceptional at magic, nothing more.
Innate talent shines only under proper reason and discipline! If the church entrusts those children to me...
The count resolved: he'd etch the empire's laws and etiquette into her bones and flesh.
The bone-deep rigid educator and bureaucrat's strict standards targeted the oblivious Chloe humming tunelessly.
A massive trial loomed soon for Chloe's carefree days.
Ahh, so boring. Why do nobles in this world drag on such dull talk whenever they meet? Faith this, education policy that.
I spat out the fork from my mouth and scanned the table.
Oh! Right in front of me, inside a big glass bowl, sat the most tempting snack.
A walnut!
Not just any walnut. A huge, rock-hard one gleaming like a steel marble.
But no matter where I looked, no walnut cracker in sight.
Poked it with the fork—no dent.
What to do? I wanna eat it so bad.
Oh, right!
I rummaged in my pocket and pulled out the rainbow yarn I'd gotten as a gift a few days ago.
If I wrap this around my fingers like crocheting, loop it around the walnut, and yank tight—won't it crack?
Dunno why, but holding this yarn made it feel like the right way.
The more I thought, the better it seemed. Yep, I'm a genius!
I looped the yarn over my fingers and placed the iron walnut in the center.
"Loop it like this... and yank!"
I pulled both hands outward like a crochet trick.
—Shwick!
No grand incantation, no mana surge.
Just as her purple eyes blinked slowly.
Geometric lines of light sliced sharply across the silver tray.
"...?"
Bestert Count, mid-conversation with the archbishop, turned casually.
—Clang!
His gold-rimmed glasses slipped off his nose and rolled futilely to the floor.
"Wha—what...!"
The count shot up, chair scraping, swallowing a short scream.
The archbishop sighed briefly and pointed at Chloe.
Only then did Chloe notice the scene, startling and shoving her hand into her pocket.
The yarn vanished in an instant.
"Eek! Sorry!"
But the count's shock was elsewhere.
"S-steel walnut! How...!"
On the table lay the steel walnut.
A mana-infused item that northern elite knights needed aura-charged strikes to crack.
It wasn't even edible—just pure tea party decor.
Yet its shell was split into six perfect, butter-soft segments, fresh from the oven.
And not just that. The thick silver tray beneath followed the exact trajectory, sliced smooth as hair-thin precision, no scorch or roughness from friction.
No physical impact—this was space itself carved out.
Bestert Count racked his brains desperately.
Lacking magical talent as a bureaucrat, but his job took him often to the mage tower—his eye was sharp.
Space severance...! Chantless, just to crack a snack, manifesting absolute magic?!
His legs trembled like aspen leaves.
His prior dismissal of her as a rude brat morphed from shock to horrified awe.
—Crunch!
"S-sor—mmph..."
Apologizing yet innocently munching the walnut meat.
That girl was, indeed, a magical genius.
"Haa... As you see, Chloe sometimes causes accidents with magic like this..."
The archbishop's sigh fell on deaf ears.
A talent to revive the empire!
Fanatical duty blazed in the count's eyes—educator's obligation, bureaucrat's primal order instinct.
If the Orthodox Church entrusts her to our house...
He'd stake his life to guide her right.
And another watcher, breath held.
Roën's cool red eyes rippled with extreme turmoil.
...Impossible, what was that just now?!
Chantless space cut was peak high-tier magic.
Even grand sages from her past life needed dozens of seconds' focus for it.
Yet she used that power for one walnut?
That idiot... not just lucky fool, but real genius?
The regressor's precise calculations and common sense shattered.
Roën ignored the cold sweat down her spine, swallowing dryly.
What the hell is that kid?
As the tea party wrapped, the reception room's air hung heavier.
"Your Holiness. I can't promise certainty, but if we could shelter those two children in Bestert's fold, we'd deem it our house's glory and spare no support."
The count voiced his adoption intent resolutely.
The archbishop nodded, pleased.
As the adults exchanged polite farewells and departed, silence fell, and Roën approached soundlessly.
"You."
Suppressing the shock, she reached out and yanked Chloe's soft cheek.
"Owuu? Whyyy?"
"High chance you're headed to the central territories now? That count's a heartless principle fanatic. Don't act like a dumbass there too. Got it?"
Her sharp, biting tone. Her slim pinching fingers oddly possessive.
Chloe, cheek stretched, beamed innocently all the same.
"Yeah! Am I really getting adopted? Roën! Come visit my house for sure! I'll buy you yummy macarons!"
That pure, spotless gaze.
"...!"
Roën faltered, mid-retort. Instead, irritation spilled.
"Who said it's your house! Not confirmed yet!"
"S-stop it, Chloe! That's rude. Sorry, Lady Roën...!"
Elia intervened at last, and Roën released with a tsk.
"...Tch."
Roën was flustered.
Why am I reacting like this?
Just a dumb kid, yet stirring emotions she couldn't grasp.
Regaining composure, Roën thought.
If real genius... situation's unpredictable.
A kid with saintess power and magic talent? Before royal academy entry, an unexpected variable might arise, she mused.
The regressor's plans faced intrusion.