The Saintess (1)
The moment the fountain pen began moving on its own, my mind floated free as if I were having an out-of-body experience. It felt like sitting in a darkened theater, watching a film unfold—observing someone else’s handwriting with an eerie sense of detachment. When I snapped back to reality, glowing blue mana had formed elegant letters across the counter.
Ashley Cooper is an anatomist before he is a surgeon.
Cadavers, anomalies, the Royal Society. This might even be connected to the royal family….
It reminded me of how Conan would always mutter to himself during his deductions. The fountain pen’s reasoning mirrored that exact tone. The handwriting was so identical that it felt like Conan himself would have written this way if he had known Korean.
Do relics take after their owners? Then again, this was the very pen Conan had used while writing Sherlock Holmes. Given how he spent half of every day hunched over his manuscripts, the pen was practically an extension of his soul. The fact that he couldn’t bear to part with it also proved just how badly he had wanted to weave my story into his work.
In any case, the clue the fountain pen had provided about why Ashley Cooper killed those prostitutes went far beyond a mere hint—it was practically the answer itself. After all, it was Conan’s deduction. Yet because it remained only a hypothesis pieced together from scattered fragments, the reasoning ended in a question mark.
I opened my phone and searched for the name “Ashley Cooper” online.
He was an anatomist who made enormous contributions to the advancement of medical science, vascular surgery, and anatomy. He is also the man who laid the foundations of modern anomaly studies.
The missing pieces clicked together, completing the picture. So he removed the organs for experimentation. The prostitutes would have turned into monsters and died anyway if left alone. For a surgeon like Ashley Cooper, there could be no better test subjects. It might even have been orchestrated by the British royal family, just as the fountain pen had implied.
Ashley Cooper was a cruel murderer, yet ironically history remembered him as a great man who propelled modern medicine forward.
The words the fountain pen had traced on the counter eventually evaporated like mist. After that, I kept experimenting with it. I wanted to see exactly how far its deductive power could reach.
From famous mystery novels like And Then There Were None and The Tragedy of Y to entire collections of locked-room tricks—the pen scratched across the page without hesitation, as if it truly were the key to truth itself.
I lost track of time completely. Then suddenly it felt like my brain was on fire, and the acrid smell of scorched neurons filled my nose.
“That’s enough.”
I set the fountain pen down. The rapid drain of mana left me dizzy. Its ability was so absurdly powerful it felt like Conan was standing right beside me. Yet even Conan’s fountain pen wasn’t omnipotent.
The more difficult the deduction and the fewer the clues, the more mana it demanded—an exponential increase. If clues were insufficient, it would cross out its own writing and start over, or simply stop. The longer the deduction took, the faster my mana poured out like water.
Above all, what the pen offered were only clues. A deduction was still just a deduction; it could never be absolute truth. Blind faith would be dangerous. And without any clues at all, even deduction was impossible.
At least it doesn’t take up a slot. That’s a relief.
Conan’s fountain pen was a treasure that could be stored in either the relic catalog or the general catalog. The relic catalog was already over its slot limit anyway, so storing it there had been impossible.
The relic catalog slot has exceeded its limit.
Conan's Fountain Pen has been moved to the general catalog.
The warning appeared, and the pen was automatically transferred. I figured it was only possible because it had been obtained through a sub-quest rather than the main one. After all, it wasn’t Conan but Vanessa who had summoned me to London. And while it was a legendary artifact, it belonged to the non-combat category.
─ Joan of Arc
─ Vanessa Walker
Destiny-Twisting Woman: Vanessa Walker
Rank: Legendary
Attribute: Shadow
Manifestation Time: 6 hours
Resummon Wait Time: 01:57
Vanessa Walker is the London seamstress recorded as Jack the Ripper. She who should have become a ghost of history changed her own fate and reclaimed her name. As a result, she was exiled from the world.
The description was so shocking it left me speechless. Destiny-twisting woman? As if fate had ever been set in stone. The portrayal made her sound like a rebel against history itself. Shaking my head, I summoned both of them.
“You’re back.”
It was Jeanne. She accepted the cityscape visible through the window with familiar ease. After spending more than a month with me, she had grown quite accustomed to modern society.
Vanessa, on the other hand, wore a rare expression of surprise. Her golden eyes widened into perfect circles as she gazed at this new world.
“So this is Benefactor’s world.”
“Yes, it’s a place called Seoul.”
Her astonishment lasted only a moment. Vanessa quickly returned to her usual calm demeanor. “Then can I eat as much bread as I want now?” She even flashed a playful smile as she teased me.
I let out a small laugh and nodded. “Not just bread—you’ll be able to enjoy far more delicious things. That’s why I called you here, after all.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Before that, we should buy you some new clothes first.”
Vanessa tilted her head, still dressed in her 19th-century retro attire.
*
Once again, I called Choi Seoyeon to help pick out clothes for Vanessa.
“Oppa, are you collecting girls now?”
“She’s staying with me for work.”
“What kind of work?”
“Don’t ask. There are things you don’t need to know.”
I pressed some allowance into my sister’s hand and sent her off to the mall to choose an outfit for Vanessa—a white blouse paired with a black skirt.
“Hmm, so these are the clothes people wear in Benefactor’s world.”
Vanessa examined the garments with clear interest. As a former seamstress, she seemed fascinated by the design.
“If you’d like, we can look around a bit more?”
“No, I can’t keep the two of you waiting on my account.”
While glancing around the fitting room, Vanessa gave a bright, amused smile. When I followed her gaze, I clicked my tongue. Jeanne’s clothes had already been swapped out by Seoyeon, and she was standing there with her cheeks slightly puffed.
*
Nikolai was a hunter belonging to the Russian Orthodox Church. He had entered Korea to carry out orders issued by the Moscow diocese.
We must secure the Saintess before the Catholic Church does.
His mission was to obtain the Saintess who had appeared in Korea. Upon learning that the Catholics had also dispatched agents, Nikolai’s heart burned with urgency. If the Saintess fell into their hands, his own position would be untenable.
The Patriarch was not a man who gave second chances to those who failed. No matter what it took, he had to secure the Saintess. To the Church, the title of “Saintess” carried that much symbolic weight.
Her approximate location had already been identified. All that remained was to find her and bring her back.
“Mobilize every execution priest if you must. Bring the Saintess to me.”
“Understood.”
The priest who received the order left the room. Alone now, Nikolai swirled his vodka while gazing at Seoul’s glittering nightscape.
*
After finishing our shopping, we leisurely explored Seoul. We ate Korean food for dinner, visited an arcade, and even went bowling. The only thing I hadn’t accounted for was Jeanne’s surprisingly fierce competitive spirit. She kept rolling the ball with puffed cheeks because she hated seeing her scores stay so low.
It wasn’t that she was bad. Ninety points was actually quite respectable for a beginner. The problem was her opponents—my sister was experienced at bowling, and I casually broke a hundred every game.
“Mm, I feel bad that it seems like I was the only one having fun.”
“Not at all. I enjoyed it very much.”
Jeanne smiled brightly, as if she truly meant it. “Let’s come again next time.”
“......”
She had clearly developed a bit of a grudge from scoring so low. I hadn’t realized Jeanne had such a competitive streak. Then again, she had lived through the chaos of the Hundred Years’ War. Some degree of fighting spirit was only natural. It had simply caught me off guard.
That aside…
“I was genuinely shocked at how good Vanessa was.”
“Was I?”
“Yes. Were there bowling alleys in England?”
“No, this was my first time.”
Vanessa smiled gently. Despite claiming it was her first attempt, she had scored a staggering 220 points. Even that score came after a couple of early misses—if not for those, the number would surely have been higher. After lightly touching the ball and practicing a few throws, she never missed again.
She could turn pro.
As expected of Jack the Ripper. Her bodily control was on another level. Though she herself didn’t seem particularly interested in the game.
After enjoying ourselves thoroughly, night had fallen by the time we returned to the general store. Suddenly Vanessa stared silently past the residential district.
“Is something the matter?”
“Benefactor. May I step out for some fresh air?”
“Of course.”
I gave permission without much thought. Once her manifestation time ran out she would return automatically, so there was no risk of her getting lost.
She must have a lot on her mind. Suddenly pulled away from her homeland, she probably wanted some time alone.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Vanessa flashed a reassuring smile and disappeared beyond the residential area.
*
Meanwhile, in the basement of the Yeoksam-dong residential district Vanessa had been staring at, Russian Orthodox execution priests were gathered around a round table. These were the shadows who handled every dirty job the Church required.
“I confirmed the Saintess entering the store.”
The priest who had been monitoring the general store descended and spoke.
“Are you certain it’s the Saintess?”
“See for yourself.”
He tossed a photograph onto the table. It clearly showed Jeanne stepping into the general store.
“Escort?”
“There were three people with her, but they didn’t appear to be an issue.”
“Then let’s retrieve the Saintess immediately.”
The moment the execution priests finished speaking—
“Hmm. By ‘Saintess,’ are you perhaps referring to Lady Jeanne?”
“Who’s there!”
Startled by the sudden unfamiliar voice, the priests shot to their feet.
“!”
An unknown woman was now sitting among them.
“I was right.”
The woman holding the photograph of Jeanne—Vanessa—smiled sweetly. Between her gently curved eyes, her golden pupils gleamed as cold as glass beads.