Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Academy Stalkers
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Time remaining until the first class── 3 days.
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Saint Tara hated the Goddess Church.
The boring, useless rituals, the convoluted procedures, the restrictions that came with being a saint, the oppressively silent atmosphere, the endless chatter.
A saint must remain chaste. A saint must serve as an example to the faithful. A saint must not be promiscuous. A saint must speak only pure and proper words⋯⋯.
Mountains of demands piled up, each one asking something of her.
Some said she should be grateful for her dramatic rise from commoner to saint. What was the problem when she'd never have to worry about starving again?
Others said God had chosen her mercifully, so how could she reject it over mere human emotions? Wasn't it the greatest honor?
Still others said since things had turned out this way, she might as well go with the flow. What was done was done, after all.
But Tara had never wanted any of what they listed.
As a former shop girl, Tara understood the subtle principles of trade. Pushing something unwanted down someone's throat and demanding payment── that was called hard-selling.
They refused her one tiny wish, then threw money, status, and honor at her like, "Well? Pretty good, right?" It was infuriating.
So Saint Tara went astray.
She resolved firmly to do the exact opposite of what the church ordered.
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According to the church rules a saint must follow, the saint's robes had to be designed modestly to conceal the figure.
This was to prevent various issues── like a saint falling in love and eloping, or heading into back alleys for charity work only to be mobbed by uneducated thugs.
Don't do it? She did it anyway.
She put her shop girl experience to 200% use. She tailored the baggy saint's robes into skin-tight perfection. So tight that when she wore them, her navel indentation showed. She plunged the neckline for maximum cleavage.
The sleeves? She slashed them off to bare her shoulders and armpits. The rules specifically warned against exposing those.
Underwear? She bought sheer black lace tied with straps. The rules said underwear must be opaque, with no straps whatsoever.
She added a thigh-high side slit to the hem, exposing her hip and panty straps. The rules forbade it.
Everything they said not to do? She gritted her teeth and did it all.
"⋯⋯Is this clothes or a rag?"
Of course⋯⋯ the wearer herself felt like dying of embarrassment!
But she didn't back down. If it meant smearing mud on the church's face, she could endure a little shame. She got used to it after wearing it around.
And so the monster known as the "Couple Destroyer" was born. Like sunflowers turning toward the sun, half the passersby on the street would turn their heads as she walked by.
And several couples nearby would shatter in the process.
Her rebellion against the Goddess Church didn't stop there. She ditched polite speech for casual talk. When a noble offered a fortune for a saint's blessing, she'd curse them out inwardly.
(She made an exception for blessing newborns. Those, she did sincerely.)
She trashed her room, ate crumbly snacks over the carpet. When priests begged her to attend prayer meetings, she never went. No charity work either.
She scowled at everyone, glared at passersby. Ignored greetings. Snapped back at insults. She even considered sleeping around to spread scandals⋯⋯ but that proved too much.
But with her outfit, rumors spread like wildfire without her lifting a finger.
This was why the Goddess Church's saint had suddenly enrolled at the academy. Unable to handle her defiance, the church had exiled her there. Hoping she'd change her mind.
And so, a rebelliously dressed, ultra-sexy saint appeared at the academy.
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Her daily routine ended up resembling a salaryman's. Wake up, attend classes, sleep. With the academy not yet open, even classes were skipped.
Wake up, sleep. Repeat.
If truly bored, she'd hit the library for a book. If still time left, she'd ponder upgrades to her saint's robes (about 45% of the original remained). They were on the verge of not being clothes anymore, so delicate tweaks were needed.
A saint's duties were surprisingly numerous. Attending holy events, directing priests and holy knights in crises, writing thank-you letters to major donors.
She dumped all that on the underlings, freeing up her time.
In the midst of this monotonous routine⋯⋯.
"⋯⋯⋯⋯."
The panty-for-demon-sword swap incident happened.
The balcony carnage was still ongoing. Tara swung the demon sword through the air and wondered. Which bastard did this?
Demon swords were grave crimes.
The reason was simple. They were utterly immoral, destined for ruin someday. Attempts to instill consciousness in weapons dated back ages, but only one method succeeded: trapping a soul inside.
The soul suffered endless agony in a bloodless hunk of metal. It could think but not move── like being locked in a narrow coffin, unable to twitch.
Thus, no "good ego sword" could exist.
Even the noblest soul would go mad after 300 years sealed away. Every ego sword's endgame was a fallen demon sword.
That's why a conscious, talking sword was instantly a demon sword. No other creation method existed. That's why she sealed it after the first words.
"A provocation?"
If they'd just tossed the sword and left, she might've thought they were foisting it off on the church to avoid hassle. But smashing the drying rack and stealing panties? Pure provocation, no matter how you sliced it.
How to catch the culprit? As Tara pondered, a knock sounded. A female priest peeked through the door.
"Um, Saint Tara."
"Not going. Whatever it is, no."
"Someone just paid the consultation fee. They want to see you, so⋯⋯."
"I said no. Wanna see another slash in my robes?"
The chilling threat paled the priestess's face. But the matter carried weight, so she squeezed her eyes shut and continued.
"P-Professor⋯⋯ Professor Alejandro has urgent business!"
"A professor?"
Alejandro Menuva. Professor of "Basic Elements Overview."
Skilled, but annoying. Every accent dripped self-love── hardcore narcissist. Made your stomach churn just looking at him. Acted like half the world should adore him. She hated meeting him.
Still, a professor who paid a fortune── enough to cripple a common family── deserved a meeting. Defying the church mattered, but so did being fair to herself.
Fair trade must be honored.
Pay the right price without haggling? You get the goods.
Saint Tara strapped the demon sword to her waist and headed to the reception room.
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Professor Alejandro stroked his mustache gravely.
"It's sorcery, no doubt."
"?"
"I agonized over it. How could I, ascended to transcendence, fall for illusion magic from a mere mage? Then this morning, sunlight filtered through my window, and a flash of insight struck. It's the Goddess's blessing, surely."
"The Goddess's symbol doesn't include sunlight."
Alejandro ignored her. Lost in his trance, he rambled like a possessed man. Tara quietly cast a mana barrier. Spittle flew.
"I heard it clearly then: 'Alejandro, take heart. That Violet Magic Tower mage used sorcery!' Yes, black mages boost their spells with poor victims' souls! That bastard used black magic⋯⋯ no doubt!"
"Sure, whatever⋯⋯ so?"
"I'll report the vile black mage infiltrating as a new academy professor! For the students' safety and the empire's future, it can't wait. Handle it swiftly, or he'll erase traces and flee!"
The next 30 minutes of "It wasn't my skill, I swear" let Tara piece it together. The new Violet Tower mage handling "Countering Illusion Magic" had punked Alejandro.
Tara shrugged it off. Just Alejandro's inferiority complex exploding in epic flailing. Not the first time. He filed reports like this four times a year.
She knew the fix.
Visit the Violet Tower mage, whoever they were. Say, "Please wrap some chocolates and pass on regards to Professor Alejandro." Done.
He accelerated into rage as fast as he cooled off. A little lip service from the mage, and it'd blow over. "Your talent shines like the stars! Sorry for the misunderstanding before!" Cue the clinging.
Time to meet them.
Tara let Alejandro's words flow in one ear and out the other, declared the meeting over, and stood. She planned a rare stroll to track down the Violet Tower mage.
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Meanwhile, same time.
Black mage Bennett felt the need for deep intel on the Violet Tower mage. The Second Prince's faction── how exactly were they targeting the Third Prince? Timing? More details meant easier exploitation.
The plan couldn't hinge on just a demon sword. The mage meeting women like a playboy, visiting lingerie shops── pointless? No, purposeful.
The mage hid many secrets. Best way to uncover? Tail them. Bennett donned academy uniform, blended into the crowd.
Maintain distance. Tail the Violet Tower mage.
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Meanwhile, same time.
Niole stared at the panties, pondering. Had to return them, but how? Who owned them anyway? From the balcony drying rack, so the voice from inside the balcony door⋯⋯ must be the owner.
She imagined it. March to the Goddess Church with her whiteboard. Holding it high:
[Seeking Owner of Underwear!]
Parading around? No way. Picture looked too weird. Better sneak to the balcony at night and leave them. Niole tucked the panties away.
Next dilemma.
The Second Prince's evil plot. A massive storm loomed over the academy⋯⋯. Many would die or be dragged away. Innocents swept up too. Imperial blood meant brutal fallout.
[Can I stop it?]
She wrote on the board, staring deep in thought. Could she── slightly sharp-eyed at best── stand against the gale and protect academy peace?
"⋯⋯⋯⋯."
No, not alone.
The man who'd grabbed the demon sword and fled. He claimed it was valuable, but on reflection? Odd.
How'd he know it was a demon sword?
To Niole's eyes, the longsword he'd left looked ordinary. She'd chased him thinking the buried thing was a person, not a sword. He revealed it was a demon sword.
In her mind⋯⋯ he'd tried to thwart the Second Prince's plot. Why else steal and flee with the buried demon sword? Maybe he was on justice's side.
He'd fled misunderstanding her as Second Prince's ally, but if they met again, clear it up. Seek alliance. She wanted to stop the academy bloodbath too── join forces.
To meet him again⋯⋯.
The ones who'd buried the demon sword. Mage and beauty, duo. They were key. Tail them. Gather intel, foil the evil plan.
If he aimed to stop the prince's scheme, he'd tail the mage too. Might cross paths during the stalk. Great. Fighting spirit. Not alone. Let's go.
Niole jumped up energetically, setting out to find the mage-and-beauty pair.
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"We've got tails. Three of them."
"Why's a new academy prof getting tailed?"
I let out a disbelieving chuckle. What had I even done to warrant three stalkers? First class not even started.