The Saint and the Noble

The night the two Saints were chosen at the Apostle Palace of the Sun Sect, the heart of the Imperial capital, Sanctum Hill, remained restless. Deep within the Imperial Palace lay the Inspection Office. In an Empire teeming with competing factions, this department always maintained a strict neutrality. It was the shadow that guarded the Empire, inspecting and mediating the various disputes and scandals that arose within its borders. To put it more simply, it was the intelligence agency responsible for policing the Empire.

The lights in the office of the Chief of the 3rd Department of the Inspection Office did not go out until late into the night.

Clatter.

In the silence of the office, a fountain pen rolled off the desk and came to a stop. "..." The owner of the pen stared quietly at it. Michael Hausen. In his 30s. Single. A man who had been recognized for his brilliance at a young age, earning him the title of Marquis and the position of Inspection Chief. He was an elite who handled his work without a single flaw, yet he was also a lazy man who lacked any ambition and possessed virtually no social life. That was the extent of his reputation among the nobility.

Currently, he was half-buried in an armchair, rolling a peppermint candy around in his mouth. 'What a drag...' Michael leaned back on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair. As he lowered his gaze, he saw three documents laid out neatly on his desk. His languid eyes scanned them, and soon, he picked up the letter on the far right. On the top left, the seal of the Pope; on the top right, the seal of the Inquisition.

After staring at the document for a long time, Michael let out a sigh that seemed to shake the very earth. This document had arrived late this afternoon. It was because of the contents written within.

'An inspection and a request for memory alteration, huh...' The inspection itself wasn't particularly difficult. After all, inspection was his daily bread. It was merely an extension of the work he did at his desk, combining the evidence sent from the field to derive meaningful information. The content to be inspected wasn't complex, either. He just had to confirm that the two people being canonized didn't have any severe personality defects. As long as the Saint or Saintess wasn't a world-class psychopathic serial killer, there was usually no problem, so the request for inspection was essentially a formality.

However, the memory alteration was different. 'I've had a lot of work to do with this lately.' Memory alteration was one of the Inspection Office's primary duties, alongside inspection and dispute mediation. It was a process used to protect valuable talent for the Empire or to erase the traces of things the Empire had handled in the shadows. The problem was that if a fatal contradiction was discovered, the memory alteration could shatter. For this reason, the most important aspect of large-scale memory alteration was delicately adjusting memories and traces so that there were no contradictions in each event. Michael was the best at handling this in the entire Inspection Office.

Although he was of Imperial blood, he found that bureaucracy suited his aptitude. When he practiced it to launder his identity as a bureaucrat, he had somehow become one of the world's leading authorities on memory alteration. That was also why he had received the title of Marquis at such a young age. The problem was that the man himself hated this memory alteration work more than anything. Collecting all the testimonies, eyewitness accounts, and traces, and then altering or adjusting memories naturally without any contradictions, was a very tedious task even for him.

Michael washed away his annoyance with a dry face-rub and stood up. He scanned the official request for cooperation once more. 'Altering information to create a sense of mystery, eh...' The request was a procedure to ensure that the process didn't clash with the Inspection Office and cause contradictions. It was also to seek the advice of Michael, an expert in this field. Besides, it was a diplomatic discourtesy to go poking around in another country's business without permission.

'Are they trying to make another Saint like the Saint of Victory?' Looking at the official document, an example of a Saint from history suddenly popped into Michael's mind. The Saint of Victory. A Saint who appeared simultaneously on countless battlefields to spread hope to humanity. It was clear that the Saint had been active on the battlefield. That had been cross-verified through numerous historical records. However, the Inquisition likely had a hand in the locations of her appearances, which didn't match the timeline of her heroic tales. The Inquisition's method was like this: based on facts, they added a few lies to maximize the miracle. It seemed likely that would be the case this time as well. Holiness comes from ambiguity, after all. They were trying to maximize the achievements of the Saint and the Saintess.

'Have they already started the work? They ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠say they saved a patient whose heart had stopped and a patient struck by lightning.' From Michael's perspective, it seemed the work had already begun. A patient whose entire body was burned by lightning. A patient whose heart had stopped for five minutes. They said they had made them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠get up and walk. Naturally, that would be the intervention of the Inquisition.

'There's no reason to oppose it.' Michael didn't view the Church's actions in such a negative light. The current state of humanity was far too desperate. People needed hope, and he understood that sometimes, the lie of a religious miracle was necessary to keep that hope alive. Of course, Michael, who could see the truth of the miracles so clearly, could never have hope himself. Nor did he need to.

'I can't stay like this forever. Shall I start selecting the information?' Michael stood up and began to check the information the Inspection Office had on the Saintess. Ayla, the Saint of the Lantern. The little girl known for being the most active during the recent tragedy at the North Gate. According to the testimonies of those around her, she had never been sick a day in her life. During the recent incident, the number of times she cast Refresh reached a thousand. It was a number that far exceeded what a high-ranking healer could do in a day. He had never seen her use the top-tier holy magic recorded in the Bible, but she had performed miracles equivalent to it. In the surgeries she participated in, those with shattered skulls, those with pierced abdomens, and even those whose hearts had briefly stopped, had all come back to life. And since she showed the potential to use top-tier holy magic in the distant future, he considered this condition satisfied as well. Finally, even though no one had ever seen her praying, her holy power never ran dry.

'She meets the five principles of a Saintess.' Michael had that thought as he turned the page.

"So that's why she's the Saint of the Lantern." A truly fitting epithet. With a brief thought, Michael organized the information on Ayla. Michael's fountain pen began to move.

[Deletable. Deletable. Preservation Grade 1. Deletable. Downgrade to Preservation Grade 2 and transfer to the Inquisition.]

The document to be sent to the Inquisition was completed in no time. Now, if he sent this, they would use it to make the memory alteration and the traces of the Saintess's past much more mysterious. Perhaps they would say she was born from an egg, or that she had won theological debates with scholars since she was a child. They would add all sorts of embellishments to her childhood like that. 'The virgin birth setting... I can't do that.' Since she had an older sister, wouldn't that be impossible? Instead, it seemed highly likely they would write about weather records or celestial records on the day she was born. Like saying the clouds cleared away that day and sunlight only shone on her house, or that the constellations were exceptionally bright.

— Three Paladins dispatched by the Church are scheduled to arrive soon to the family, and after the official canonization of this girl, the remaining family members are scheduled to be relocated to a residence under the Church's protection.

This content was also attached to the document. However, it wasn't particularly meaningful information to Michael. Thus, the content regarding Ayla was processed in an instant.

The problem was the next one. '...Julian Schnabel.' The Black Saint. Dr. Schnabel. Known to the public as Director Shun, Michael's brother-in-law. His real name was Julian Schnabel. However, even that real name was recognized externally as Julian Nihilit. This was because when Director Shun had created the vaccine in the past, the name Julian Schnabel had disappeared from the world as part of protective custody. Instead, the figures Julian Nihilit and Dr. Schnabel had appeared in the world. Since Michael had been the one in charge of that task, he remembered it clearly. It was such a large-scale memory alteration that he had worked overtime for several months.

The Inquisition was demanding information on Director Shun among them. That wasn't a problem. Director Shun was a person who originally only appeared at work wearing a mask and had as little social activity as Michael. If he were only handing over Director Shun's information, there would be no major contradictions in the memory alteration. The problem lay elsewhere. Michael turned his head to the left. The leftmost of the three documents laid out on the desk. There lay an official document from the military with its seal broken.

Michael's brow furrowed deeply. To summarize the military document, they wanted to officially appoint Julian Nihilit as a professor of dark magic defense. 'Did that guy finally succeed in persuading him?' Michael thought of his half-brother. Prince Edmund. A man who stood at the opposite pole from himself. A muscle-brain who hated sitting at a desk even though he was supposed to. According to Michael's memory, Prince Edmund had pushed for the establishment of a dark magic course as part of military reform over the past year. In the process, he had faced opposition from the House of Lords, the Magic Towers, and the Church. But somehow, Edmund had succeeded in gaining the support of the Great Sage. And with that support on his back, he had finally managed to establish the course. And the document was a common request to verify if there were any personality defects before appointing Julian Nihilit as a professor for that course.

There was no problem with the document itself. However, the moment he placed it side-by-side with the canonization document of the Black Saint, a headache-inducing synergy occurred. 'On one side, they're trying to make Julian Nihilit a noble, and on the other, they're trying to make Schnabel a Saint.' The military was currently trying to make Julian Nihilit a noble. If his course were judged to meet the qualifications of a noble, the military ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would not hesitate to grant him a title. The problem was that he was already scheduled to be canonized as a Saint.

'A noble and a priesthood...' Originally, it was impossible to hold both simultaneously. Therefore, Michael needed to reject one of the two documents. Considering his position as an Imperial bureaucrat, he should have rejected the Pope's document for the national interest. But what made him agonize ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so much was the document placed in the middle of the three.

"...Father. What kind of future did you see?"

The Emperor's edict placed in the center. — I have finished talking with the Pope. Permit both. There was no context, but it was clear what it meant. Since he was the biological father of Charlotte and himself, there was no need to ask how he had foreseen this in advance. If there was one question, it was this: 'Is that boy a person of such greatness that you would take such an interest in him?'

Michael still couldn't understand his father's intentions. It was true that Julian Schnabel was a great man. But was he worth enough to create an exception that hadn't existed in a thousand years? Michael couldn't understand. The reason why he had to go this far. But that thought didn't last long. Michael had never properly understood the Emperor. Even his younger sister Charlotte couldn't read their father's mind. So, even if he knew that the Emperor was interested in Julian, there was no way to know his intentions. Nor did he need to know.

He picked up the fountain pen that had rolled on the table again. Inspection Chief Michael Hausen.

— Inspection before canonization complete. No grounds for disqualification. Application for memory alteration ritual approved.

Inspection Chief Michael Hausen.

— Inspection before title conferment complete. No grounds for disqualification. Permission to proceed with the report granted.

Once the two signatures were finished, one peppermint candy melted away and completely disappeared from his mouth. Finally, he threw the Emperor's secret order into the incinerator. Michael buried himself deep in his chair again. Today's work was finally over. The task of selecting and choosing information to send to both sides was a very arduous task even for him.

"Adjutant." Ding-dong. Michael called his adjutant. "Please send these documents and close the drawer." Michael's adjutant sent a curse with his eyes. Sending the documents was one thing, but couldn't he close the drawer himself? However, Michael, who had finished his daily quota of exercise, didn't seem to have any intention of moving. In the end, his adjutant pushed the drawer in front of Michael, took the two document envelopes, and left the office.

Michael watched the back of his adjutant leaving with a languid gaze for a while, then muttered to himself. "...Charlotte, that girl. She's going to have a hard time because of her fiancé." Or was it? Would she perhaps like the trouble that arose because of her fiancé even more? Perhaps that might be the case. Unlike when she lived alone in the detached palace like a dead doll with dead eyes. Lately, she seemed to be enjoying life while handling the cases her future father-in-law brought in. The fact that his only younger sister had regained her vitality wasn't bad news for Michael, either. 'A woman who loves cases and a man who brings cases with him... Perhaps... a match made in...'

Michael's thought couldn't continue. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the sleep he had been putting off. A fountain pen clattered and rolled on the edge of the desk once more.