All I Have to Do Is Not Get Caught
Mariel stretched out both arms before she could even think.
A small body dropped from the empty air and settled carefully into her embrace. It was light. So light that it felt as though it might crumble if she held it even a fraction too tightly. But it was warm. Undeniably warm. A thin breath brushed against the back of her hand.
Mariel’s eyes trembled.
Only moments ago, she had sent one child on her way. A child whose form she could barely even recognize. A pitiful life she had only been able to identify as a child by the small hands and torn scraps of clothing. The child’s white ashes were still scattering before her eyes.
Yet now, on the very spot where those ashes had drifted, another child was breathing.
Mariel swallowed hard.
She couldn’t tell whether the dead child had returned or whether the Goddess had sent down a different one. No—she didn’t need to question any of that right now. In the place where she had desperately sought an answer, this child was alive and breathing. That single fact was enough.
As if in a trance, Mariel drew the child closer with even greater care. Dazzling silver hair spilled over her arm. Amid the stench of dirt and blood, only this child’s breath continued—small, clear, and pure.
“Sister Mariel!”
The paladin who had been on reconnaissance came running, only to freeze on the spot. His gaze dropped to the child in her arms.
“What… is that child?”
Mariel did not answer right away. For a long moment she simply looked down at the small figure nestled against her. A face pale as untouched snow. A tiny chest rising and falling faintly. The warm temperature against her palm.
Tears welled in Mariel’s eyes and slipped slowly down her cheeks.
Then she spoke, very quietly.
The paladin stiffened.
“Pardon?”
Mariel held the child more tightly, as if she would never let go again.
“The Lord…” Her voice trembled, yet it carried something entirely different from the crumbling faith she had felt only moments before. “He has personally answered my prayer.”
The paladin could ask no more.
In any case, Mariel was no longer waiting for his response. Her gaze remained fixed solely on the child in her arms. She gently placed her hand on the small forehead. It burned. The tiny body was feverish, the breathing shallow and fragile.
Mariel gathered holy power at her fingertips. A brilliant golden light carefully seeped into the child.
In that instant—
The limp little body gave a violent flinch.
“…Ugh.”
A faint groan escaped the unconscious child’s lips.
Mariel’s hand froze. The holy power was not penetrating properly; it merely swirled across the surface. From deep inside the child’s body, something alien and murky was violently repelling the light.
At that moment, beneath the silver hair, at the base of the neck, the brand glowed faintly.
Mariel did not see it. She only knew that the child in her arms was writhing in terrible pain, as though she had touched a place that must never be touched.
“Why…”
Flustered, Mariel hurriedly examined every inch of the child’s condition. Only then did she truly see.
The child in her arms was far from whole. The clothes were torn roughly in several places, and the exposed arms and legs bore countless small wounds—scrapes from falling, bruises that had turned a deep purple from heavy impacts, injuries that had already begun to fade.
But what stood out most was the right arm. Beneath the shredded sleeve, the small forearm carried a horrifyingly deep bite mark. No blood flowed, yet the wound was painfully vivid, as if something had been gnawing on it only moments ago. Around the mark, a thin, scorched-black trace had spread.
It was not the mark of a beast. It was the mark of a monster.
Mariel’s face hardened like ice.
The monsters that had attacked the village earlier had not been ordinary. They had moved while bound by black magic. If those fangs had torn into this child’s flesh, it would be no surprise if dark power had seeped deep into her body through the wound.
“It appears the monster’s dark power has penetrated all the way to the bone.”
Mariel bit her lip in distress and murmured softly. She immediately reduced the holy power at her fingertips. A gentle golden glow now wrapped the child’s body in a thin veil.
The shallow breaths that had trembled with pain finally began to settle.
Mariel stroked her own chest and let out a small sigh of relief.
“For now, stability must come before purification.”
The paladin beside her continued to stare silently at the child in Mariel’s arms. The wariness and suspicion in his eyes had not fully faded. But Mariel did not linger on his gaze. She pulled the child deeper into her embrace.
“I will move her.”
“Sister.”
“Not here.”
Mariel’s voice was quiet, yet it did not waver. “This child must be saved.”
The paladin swallowed a heavy sigh and closed his mouth.
Mariel waited for no further reply. Holding the child close, she rose slowly to her feet.
When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I saw was a bright, hazy light that stung like needles.
My eyelids felt as heavy as lead. My body lay sunken like wet cotton, and every breath carried an unfamiliar, sweet fragrance across the tip of my nose. My arm throbbed as though it might tear away. The inside of my throat was bone-dry.
“Are you awake?”
A gentle voice tickled my ear.
I turned my head slowly. The first thing that filled my vision was a pure white nun’s habit. A neatly fastened collar rose all the way to the neck, and above it flowed pale cherry-blossom pink hair that caught the light and sparkled faintly at the tips. It was the soft color of petals just beginning to bloom.
A smooth forehead. A straight nose. Thin but lively lips. Because she had tilted her head slightly, long lashes cast delicate shadows across her eyes. Meeting the cherry-blossom gaze beneath them felt like staring into a quiet pool of languid spring light.
I stared at her face in a daze. She was beautiful. The word felt insufficient. The lines of her face, the benevolent gaze, even the way she sat with her hands gathered neatly on her lap—everything was so perfectly graceful and sacred that it made me instinctively want to lower my own breathing.
I finally understood why the priests always thought of her name when they spoke the word Saintess.
I had never seen her in person before. But there was no way I wouldn’t know her.
“My name is Mariel,” she said with a careful smile. “What is yours, child?”
Mariel. There was no way I wouldn’t know that name.
“…Ria.”
She was not a mere named NPC like Elysia or Leona. She was a central axis of the original story, a key member of the demon king subjugation party. In the future she would be revered as a Saintess, a pivotal figure who would steer the entire Holy Kingdom.
And the Holy Kingdom—when it came to anything connected to black magic—was the place that spoke first of mercy yet acted with the greatest cruelty. In that land, black magic was not a simple wound or illness.
It was contamination that had to be isolated the moment it was discovered. A trace that became a sin the instant it was hidden. A disaster that, if necessary, had to be burned away along with the person who carried it.
That rule did not apply only to black mages. The contaminated beings who carried black magic inside their bodies, the test subjects—the Holy Kingdom called them victims. They clucked their tongues and called them pitiful children ruined by black mages. But they never treated them as people.
They were unclean vessels engraved with a black mage’s sin. Contamination that could erupt at any moment. Beings that had to be purified before they suffered further. And the Holy Kingdom called that mercy.
The Mariel of the original story had followed those teachings more faithfully than anyone. She had been kinder than anyone, pitied more deeply than anyone, and prayed with more sincerity than anyone.
She had always been present at the place where “mercy” was bestowed upon the test subjects—hands quietly joined, face unwavering.
My hand moved reflexively to the back of my neck. I clutched it, pulling the silver hair down as if to hide it.
The brand. The master-servant imprint of a black mage. To the people of the Holy Kingdom, it was a mark that no excuse or explanation could ever erase. If it was discovered, it was over.
“…?”
Mariel’s cherry-blossom eyes touched my fingertips.
Only then did I realize what I had done. Ah. That looked suspicious.
“Does it hurt somewhere?” Mariel leaned closer, asking with genuine care. Her voice was impossibly soft.
I shook my head quickly. “N-no. It’s just… I was a little startled.”
Mariel watched me for a moment. Her eyes held only pity, no trace of suspicion or wariness. She did not know why I had tried to hide my nape.
“It’s all right now.”
She reached out carefully. I tensed instinctively. A warm hand settled on top of my head. Mariel stroked my hair with the utmost gentleness.
“No one will hurt you anymore.”
I could not answer. Mariel’s touch was kind. Her voice was kind. And for that very reason, it was terrifyingly dangerous.
Becoming deeply entangled with the Holy Kingdom’s church in my current precarious state would be nothing short of suicide.
The slave brand of a black mage still lived on my nape, and the master-servant imprint rooted inside my body had not been fully dismantled. The moment they labeled me a test subject, no explanation would matter.
I swallowed dryly. Stay calm. It’s still okay.
The only clergy member before me was Mariel. I simply had to pretend I knew nothing. Once my body recovered even a little, I could slip away quietly.
“Don’t worry, dear.” Mariel, apparently thinking I was still frightened, smiled even more softly and whispered, “This is the safest place in the entire world.”
My eyelids trembled faintly.
“…Here?”
Only then did I truly look around. An excessively clean white bed. Curtains embroidered with sacred patterns in gold thread. Holy paintings covering the walls. Dazzling silver candlesticks. An unfamiliar, sweet incense. The room was far too clean and orderly.
Just before I lost consciousness I had been in the forest. I had been chased by monsters, hidden Seira, and used self-destruct. Yet the space before me now felt impossibly distant from that forest.
I was definitely supposed to resurrect in the nearest village…
Mariel must have thought I was still anxious, because she stood up.
“Looking outside might help you feel safer.”
With graceful steps she walked to the window, drew back the curtain, and threw it wide open. Brilliant sunlight flooded the room.
The moment the overwhelming view outside met my eyes, I forgot to breathe and froze completely.
In the center of the scene stood a colossal goddess statue that seemed to pierce the clouds, looming with overwhelming presence. Below it stretched an endless plaza of pure white marble.
Paladins in armor emblazoned with shining golden crests patrolled in perfect formation, while countless priests in pure white robes moved across the square. Dozens of sharp spires rose toward the sky as if to stab it.
The deep tolling of a massive bell rang solemnly throughout the entire city. The whole place looked like one enormous cathedral. Or rather, as if a single cathedral had swallowed an entire city.
Mariel stood by the window, bathed in sunlight, and offered a faint smile.
“This is Arbel Holy City.”
One of the church’s primary headquarters—the Arbel Holy City Grand Cathedral, home to the Paladin Order and countless priests.
I could not speak for a long time. The fingertips that had been covering my nape turned ice-cold.