Chapter 46
A day had passed since I returned home for the vacation. Fortunately, nothing major had happened, aside from my family being a bit more excited than usual now that I was back. My mother had embarrassingly bombarded the three women with all sorts of prying questions about her son, which left me exhausted playing mediator. But it seemed like seeing me hang out with female friends after Luna made her happy. Thanks to her sweet, people-loving personality, the women quickly warmed up to my mom. For some reason, they kept coming over to me saying things like, “Son, just trust your mom!” Probably her way of saying she'd handle my future connections. They weren't exactly ordinary high-society folks, after all.
“Heading out already?”
“It's just for a day. We used to do this all the time when I was little.”
It hadn't even been 24 hours since I got home, but I was already preparing to leave again with my club members.
“We should at least pay our respects to the Count while we're here. Dad's been dumping all his visitors on him for our territory, so he's probably annoyed enough as it is.”
“Leave it. You think that guy's the type to bat an eye at something like that?”
When I was young, I wondered how my dad even knew the Helios Count. Now that I knew the truth, it made sense—he must've crossed paths with him often while serving in the Imperial Guard. Back when Dad was active, the Count had just reached Aura Master at a young age and was the talk of the town.
And so, we boarded a carriage bound for the neighboring Helios Territory. It would take two hours to reach the Helios family estate. During that time, I recalled the conversation I'd had with the Saintess the night before.
* * *
Our house wasn't wealthy enough for everyone to have their own room, so we'd agreed I'd share mine with Polo, while the three women split the guest rooms. The Saintess had looked a little disappointed—maybe she'd hoped to room with Polo, just in case.
Those two seem fine, at least?
Come to think of it, the duke's daughter and the princess hadn't asked about Polo lately. Their change puzzled me a bit, but given the major incidents they'd been through, I figured they weren't ready to face their feelings yet. So for this vacation, I decided to focus on helping the Saintess.
“Did you prepare what I mentioned?”
“Yes... Vintage wine, some expensive cheese, and high-end scented candles? Does the Count really like this stuff?”
The Saintess eyed me skeptically as she questioned the gift list I'd sent ahead. Her glance felt bluntly honest, like a 1% trust boost at best.
“It's spot on, so don't worry.”
The Count wasn't into extravagance. Having risen from commoner roots through swordsmanship alone, he lived simply and plainly. Aside from training, his only hobbies were fishing with my dad or pairing cheap local wine and cheese with classical music.
Once, I'd tried gifting him pricey wine and cheese for his birthday, but he'd said fancy food upset his stomach and preferred affordable stuff.
“What about the scented candles, then...?”
“Oh, those are for the Countess.”
The Count's devotion to his wife was legendary. It was like he funneled every coin into her. Of course, the Countess was kind and virtuous, donating excess gifts or using the money to help the needy—a truly admirable woman. Scented candles suited her tastes perfectly, making this the best gift set considering both husband and wife.
“Yeah, that makes sense... If I'd brought something random without knowing, it might've backfired.”
“The Count wouldn't judge people over that, so you'd have been fine. Oh, and one more thing—please refrain from praying to your god in front of him.”
“Hm? Why?”
“He values self-made success above all. That's why he doesn't think much of religious folk who pray all day.”
This was the biggest concern when I'd hoped the Saintess and Polo would get together. A commoner who clawed his way to Aura Lord through sheer effort, the Helios Count trusted only his sword and himself. He believed human will was paramount, so he'd witnessed his disdain for those leaning on gods multiple times.
“Th-that... can't be...”
Her face fell at my words. Who wouldn't be upset learning their job was the one thing their love interest's dad despised? Especially as the most devout, influential Saintess, not some average believer.
“Y-you made that up, right? Out of jealousy or something...”
“Why would I be jealous of you? I get the shock, but face reality.”
Her nonsense made me tempted to flick her forehead.
“Besides... I don't believe in gods myself. I get where he's coming from.”
As an atheist, even I had fervently sought gods once—in my past life. Trapped in merciless violence, I prayed endlessly, promised salvation if I believed. But waking up brought not angels, but my father's fists and beatings, palms raw from clasping hands.
Faith, hope, love—the greatest is love? Bullshit. What about those who'd never known love?
That's why I don't believe. Even now, transmigrated here, gods are no more than roadside pebbles to me. Praying to a rock yields nothing, same as ever.
“I can't let that slide. Don't you know our very breath is the Goddess's design?”
“I breathe with my lungs—why bring up the Goddess? Do you have her doing it for you?”
She was already someone I disliked, and her accusatory tone pushed my voice higher without thinking.
“My divine power! That's proof gods exist—!”
“Scholars say it's a mutation of mana. Unique, sure, but not proof of gods.”
“Blaspheming like that will bring divine punishment—!”
“Lightning strike me? I'm fine right here.”
“...You're irreverent. What will you do when God denies your desperate pleas?”
“I've been denied plenty already.”
“...?”
Past life memories surged, slipping into casual speech amid the surge of emotion. The god who'd crushed a child's desperate grasp for salvation. Worshipping that and forcing faith—it grated, snapping my restraint.
“What if your precious god betrays you? No matter how you scream, that lazy ass won't care.”
“...You're getting cocky because I'm nice to you.”
“Never been 'nice' to, so I wouldn't know.”
“...”
“...”
We glared amid heightened tension.
“Tch. My mistake expecting normal talk from you.”
After the standoff, she turned away first, shattering the heavy mood.
“...Faith brings salvation. Try escaping despair without your god's help, Mr. Hotshot.”
She stormed off haughtily, avoiding my face.
“...Escaped long ago. With my own hands.”
In the dark night, a bitter sigh carried away on the chill air.
* * *
We were ushered into the reception room upon arriving at the Count's estate. The Count greeting us looked unchanged from my last visit.
“Greetings, Count...”
“Ahem!”
“...I hope you're well, Master.”
Oddly, he always insisted I call him Master. For someone without official disciples, his persistence suggested my talent impressed him.
“You rotten disciple. Hiding to live quietly one day, strutting like a hero the next.”
“Did I show off on purpose...? I was just saving lives—no praise?”
I pouted, and he ruffled my hair—his unique affection since childhood. Knowing that, I endured the noogie quietly.
“Learning well at the academy?”
“Yes, Father!”
Polo's innocent reply drew a grin from the Count. Even an Aura Lord beamed at his son's smile after so long.
The duke's daughter and princess introduced themselves properly next. As the Saintess's turn came, I caught the Count's faint smile twitch—just a split-second, imperceptible without my reflexes.
“...Your visit to our house is the greatest blessing, Saintess. Thank you.”
Short and plain. Could seem curt, but I sensed no real prejudice—he was setting aside personal gripes for his son's guests.
Relieved by his warmer-than-expected response, a small smile flickered on the Saintess's face—
“C-Count. Visitors outside...”
“Aren't they here?”
“N-no... From the Church. Urgent matter...”
A soldier interrupted urgently, glancing at the Saintess. The Count frowned at “Church” but reluctantly let them in. Soon, a middle-aged man—high-ranking by his robes—entered.
“Greetings. I am Berdot, priest serving the divine.”
Berdot bowed slightly to the Count, who just jerked his chin: get on with it.
“Haha, impatient as ever... We're busy too, so to the point. Saintess? A telegram for the Grand Assembly. You must come with us now.”
“What?! What do you—?”
The Church's Grand Assembly—elders above cardinal rank debating critical issues, convened only for emergencies rivaling wartime. This meant a crisis bad enough for it.
The Count's brows rose in surprise; the others gasped too.
“S-so suddenly? B-but...”
“Time is critical. Let's go.”
Faced with Berdot's unyielding demeanor, the Saintess sensed the gravity, rising with a glum face.
“Sorry to leave early, Count... everyone. I'll contact you when I depart. Have a great vacation...”
* * *
And a few days later.
Word came that the Saintess had been imprisoned for the crime of impersonation.