The Saintess's Rest

Her fingertips touched the stone plate. Black light erupted. The air in the sealed chamber flipped in an instant. The red velvet walls, the silver barrier formations, the bed, the restraints—all were pushed into the darkness. The light spewed from the Black Record Plate devoured the room.

Seraphina el Rosen stood there. Or so it seemed. But the focus in her amethyst eyes was already gone from this place. She was being pulled into the plate. Into the time I had hidden.

"No."

My voice leaked out. I yanked at the chains. Clink. My body didn't move. The restraint on my right wrist was bound to the floor barrier, and the silver rings on my left hand and ankles glowed simultaneously.

Ariella von Estria grabbed my wrist.

"Leon."

"Stop."

"It's too late."

Her voice was cold. But her hand was trembling. Ariella knew too. What the record plate showed. How it broke a person once opened. Because she had seen it herself. Her own death. The empire's fall. The fact that I had erased all those futures with my blood.

"Seraphina!"

I called again. The saintess didn't respond. Her fingertips touched the Black Record Plate. And then the system window appeared.

Auxiliary output. Meaning Seraphina would experience it directly. And I would see it again. The nights I wanted to hide most.

The first scene rose above the Black Record Plate. Sanctuary of Light underground. Broken sealing chamber. Black mist. I stood in the center. Or rather, me from exactly 3 years and 7 months ago. Much gaunter. Dark circles under my eyes, lips bloodlessly pale. The Black Stigma had just been etched on the back of my right hand. The pattern writhed like living worms.

In the screen, I was smiling. But my body wasn't. My fingertips trembled. My knees buckled. Breath shallow, back soaked in cold sweat.

Seraphina's shoulders twitched. She was feeling it. The pain I felt then. The Black Stigma burrowing inside my flesh, gnawing at my veins. The agony like cold nails driven into every bone. The terror of black thorns growing in my lungs with every breath.

"……"

The saintess's lips parted. No sound came out. In the record, Seraphina knelt. She knew nothing then. That the curse meant for her had transferred to me. That I was terrified. That I didn't want to die. She just believed I had insulted her.

On screen, I opened my mouth.

"Can't even protect your own body, and you call yourself a saintess?"

Seraphina's eyes shook. She remembered those words. The ones that pierced her deepest. But the record plate displayed another line beneath.

On screen, I stepped back. At that moment, holy power leaking from the saintess's body brushed my hand. The Black Stigma reacted violently. My skin burned. I staggered. But I smiled right away.

"Your prayers are too late, Saintess."

Seraphina swallowed. Tears welled in her eyes. But the record didn't stop. Second scene. Sanctuary recovery room. Night. Moonlight filtered through the window. I sat on the bed. Freshly treated wounds, but I couldn't sleep. The stigma on my hand was wrapped in bandages. I unwound them. The black pattern had spread from hand to wrist.

On screen, I dipped my hand in the water basin. The cold water turned black. I inhaled sharply. My expression stayed calm. Then Seraphina's voice came from outside the door.

"Sir Leon."

The me in the record froze.

Seraphina stood outside the door. Not even touching. Yet the stigma reacted. I shoved the basin under the bed, hastily rewrapped the bandage, and opened the door. She wore white saintess robes, pale pink hair cascading over her shoulders, amethyst eyes cautious.

"I came to check on you."

She meant it. She was worried. But the closer her concern came, the more my hand burned.

The me in the record said, "I'm not in critical enough condition to need your treatment, Saintess."

My tone was cold. "I'm afraid your incompetence might be contagious."

Seraphina's face hardened. She was hurt. I saw it then. And inwardly, I was relieved.

Tears streamed down Seraphina's cheeks. The Seraphina watching the record. She bit her lip.

"I…"

Her voice trembled faintly. "Back then, I really thought you hated me."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. I didn't know what might come out if I opened my mouth. The record moved to the third scene. The grand cathedral in the Sanctuary. The day hundreds of faithful gathered for the saintess's blessing. Seraphina stood on the central altar. White robes embroidered with silver thread. Pale pink hair. Amethyst eyes brimming with holy power. She looked every bit the saintess. She was the saintess. Healing the wounded, offering prayers to the despairing, embracing the cursed.

But that day, I leaned against a pillar at the back of the cathedral. Smiling. Though my vision shook.

Every time Seraphina spread holy power from the altar, the stigma inside me rebelled wildly. Light that was rest for others was a blade to me. My lungs constricted. Heart pounded irregularly. Sensation left my fingertips. Yet I didn't leave. Simple reason. An assassin was in the cathedral that day. A zealot targeting the saintess. An original event. As Seraphina bestowed blessings, he would throw a black needle. Hit, the curse reactivates, stigma invades her remaining sanity. So I had to be there. Even if holy power burned me. Even if I couldn't breathe.

The words blended into the crowd's prayers. But Seraphina heard clearly. Her head shook. Hurt eyes scanning the crowd. Looking for me. I hid fully behind the pillar just before her gaze reached. Then the assassin moved. Back to the pillar, I drew the wrist-mounted launcher from my cloak. Modified—not sharp bolts, but small heavy iron pellets loaded.

Thung. Dull, tiny whoosh. The pellet pierced the crowd's gap, striking the assassin's inner wrist precisely.

"Kuh!"

No blood. But the shock up his arm made his grip reflexively loosen. The black needle dropped to the floor. The assassin clutched his wrist, swallowing a scream. Causing a scene would expose him. He vanished into the crowd, suppressing pain. The needle rolled into the shadows under the altar, kicked by rushing faithful. No one noticed the attempt. Not Seraphina. Not that I'd just stopped it. She still scanned between pillars, face hurt by my venom.

I swallowed blood and left the cathedral. Collapsed in the corridor right after.

Seraphina covered her mouth with both hands. She was experiencing that scene. Her blessing being agony for me. That the more she spread light, the more I swallowed breaths behind her. That the barbs I hated were devices to keep her pinned to the altar center.

"Stop."

Seraphina muttered for the first time. "Please stop showing it."

But the record plate didn't stop. Scenes flashed by quickly. Sanctuary corridors. Festival nights. Temple underground library. Rainy carriage interiors. I smiled every time. Coldly. Dryly. Spitting words that stabbed someone. But the record plate revealed all the true lines beneath.

Seraphina crumbled bit by bit. First tears. Then labored breathing. Finally, even tears stopped. Her amethyst eyes emptied. No. Something filled them. Guilt. Something deeper. Seeing those eyes chilled my spine. Different from first seeing Ariella. Ariella's madness burned like fire. Hot, blinding, consuming all on approach. Seraphina's eyes were still. Like cold water, slowly drowning a person.

"Now do you get it?"

I said. My voice cracked. "It's nothing. It's over, and you—"

"No use getting drunk on belated guilt."

I clamped my mouth shut as the words ended. Seraphina wasn't hurt. She looked at me. No anger in those eyes.

"Sir Leon."

She said quietly. "You're still doing it."

"……"

"Even in pain, you choose words to make me back off."

I didn't answer.

"Now I understand."

Seraphina slowly lowered her hand. The Black Record Plate's light spread over her robes. "Your cruel words are proof you're hurting most."

Breath caught. She couldn't interpret it that way. Then nothing I said would reach. I looked at Ariella. She wore the same realization. No. She'd thought so long ago.

"Saintess."

Ariella said lowly. "Now do you understand?"

Seraphina nodded slowly. "Yes."

Her voice soft. "That we can't take Sir Leon's words at face value."

Ariella's lips curved faintly. I looked at them both. The Sacrifice Log hadn't defended me. It became evidence to bind me tighter. The Black Record Plate glowed on.

I swallowed a hollow laugh. Even my right to say no had trust attached. Truly mad world. Then a new line appeared below the plate.

Blood chilled. Sacrifice Log done. Saintess broken enough. Failed Worldline would be irreversible. I yanked chains. Clink. Restraint dug into wrist.

"Stop."

This time to the plate, not saintess. "Turn off."

Seraphina still touched the plate. I looked at her.

"Let go."

My voice shook. "Seraphina. Let go for real."

Her eyes wavered. Reacted to the name. Ariella's gaze chilled. But no time for that.

"You can't see that."

Seraphina looked at me. "For my sake again?"

"Yes."

"Then I must see more."

"No!"

I yelled. Throat tore.

Didn't matter. "That's you breaking."

Words spilled. Couldn't hide. "You corrupt, temple falls, you kill people with your own—"

Stopped. Seraphina's eyes widened. Ariella looked too. I gritted teeth. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Shouldn't have spoken. Too much.

Seraphina asked very slowly. "I… killed people?"

"No."

"Sir Leon."

"No."

"You know my corrupted future."

I shut mouth. Seraphina didn't release. Pressed harder.

"To stop that future."

Her voice trembled. "You took the Black Stigma instead."

"……"

"You say I can't endure seeing it."

"I'll endure."

"You can't!"

Seraphina smiled quietly. Tears fell. "You endured."

No words left. Saintess didn't let go. Black Record Plate rang again.

The sealed chamber vanished. This time I was pulled too. Seraphina. Ariella. All stood at the threshold of the failed world. Sky white. No. White ash. Endless drifting white ash. Sanctuary of Light crumbled. Statue split, black stigma bloomed like a flower on the altar. Holy knights knelt praying. But not to god. To one on the altar.

Seraphina el Rosen. Not the saintess. Pale pink hair lost luster, faded white, ends blackened. Amethyst eyes cold. Black Stigma bloomed on her chest. Pulsed like a heart. Thump. Thump. Sanctuary shook with each beat.

Failed world's Seraphina raised her hand. Voice serene. "Burn the unclean."

Holy knights rose. Weeping. But movements unhesitant. Outside Sanctuary, people. Cursed. Infected. Innocent. They begged salvation. Saintess saw them. Saw suffering. And said, "No pain, no further fall."

Holy power descended. White. Blinding. Burning all.

Seraphina screamed. The current Seraphina. She wasn't watching. She was inside that body. Her own hands. Her holy power. Burning the world in salvation's name. Feeling it directly.

"No……"

She said in trembling voice. "I… I didn't want this."

Record plate silent. Failed worldline flowed. Villages burned. Temples declared war. Unpurified deemed sinners. Half holy knights corrupted. Half died. Palace sent army to stop temple. Temple called palace corrupt power. Continent tore in two. Center: Seraphina. Saintess with Black Stigma. Preaching salvation, driving more to death than any.

Screen changed. Failed worldline's end. Sanctuary underground. Black mist awakening. Kneeling Seraphina. Me before her. I knew what happened if left. Reached into black mist.

On screen, I paused. Fingertips shook.

And I chose.

Black Stigma etched on my hand. Failed worldline tore. Burning Sanctuary vanished. Corrupted saintess vanished. Ash and screams sucked into black darkness. Last: me, swallowing blood, smiling.

Beneath, final line.

Back in the chamber, silence. Black Record Plate's light dimmed. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Seraphina knelt on the floor. White robe hem disheveled. Pale pink hair hid her face. Hand still reached to plate. But no longer trembling. That scared more.

I said carefully. "Seraphina."

She raised head. Amethyst eyes. Still beautiful. Still merciful. But something inside fully changed.

"Sir Leon."

She said. Voice soft. "Now I know."

"……"

"You didn't save me."

No. I did save her. From corruption. From becoming monster.

"You."

Tears fell from Seraphina's eyes. "Stopped me from becoming the monster who destroys the world."

I shut mouth. Couldn't deny.

Seraphina rose slowly. Ariella watched. Princess's eyes wary. Yet understanding. Eyes she'd seen. Of one who'd viewed failed world. Who learned their living world stood on one man's sacrifice.

Seraphina approached. I reflexively tried backing. Chains rang. Clink. She stopped. Didn't force closer. Clasped hands. Like prayer.

"I'm sorry."

Saintess said. "I was too late."

I didn't answer.

"But now, I won't be late."

Ominous words.

"What do you mean."

No system distortion. Voice low, rough.

Seraphina looked. "I won't believe your words."

Breath stopped.

"Even if you say you're fine."

One step.

"Not hurting."

Another.

"Leave me be."

Stopped before me. Close but not touching. Didn't reach.

"I know those might be your true feelings."

"……"

"But your true feelings always harm you."

Seraphina's eyes steady. "So I'll decide."

Ariella smiled quietly.

"Saintess."

She said. "Now our goals truly align."

Seraphina turned to princess. Gazes clashed midair. Gold and pale pink. Blue and amethyst. Different obsessions. Different justifications. Same conclusion.

Seraphina said, "I don't agree with Your Highness's methods."

"Of course."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Need treatment space."

"Prepare in my annex."

"Must install ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠temple purification array."

"Permitted. Under my watch."

"During treatment, Sir Leon's refusals?"

Ariella's gaze to me. "Natural symptoms of confusion."

Seraphina closed eyes briefly. In that short silence.

"Agreed."

I forgot to breathe.

"Seraphina."

Voice cracked. "Do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes."

"No, you don't."

"I do."

"It's imprisonment."

"Stability."

"Forced treatment."

"Salvation."

"You're crazy?"

Seraphina smiled sadly. "Maybe."

Ariella said lowly. "Now you understand, Leon?"

I looked at her. "You made us this way."

Wrong. I saved them. And now all choices choked me.

Black Record Plate glowed last.

Shared. Stomach iced at word. Princess's Cage and Saintess's Rest. Two names, one prison.

Ariella took my right hand. Over restraint. Seraphina placed hand near left chest. Stigma spot. Not direct touch. But faint holy power settled. Pain eased. Body comfortable. Mind sank deeper.

"It's okay."

Ariella whispered. "No need to run now."

"Rest."

Seraphina said. "Won't leave you to endure alone."

I looked at ceiling. Red. Silver barriers. Faint temple purification patterns overlaying. Chamber changing. Not princess's room. Not saintess's sanctuary. New cage of their merged justifications.

I smiled. Silently. Or I'd cry.

I want to go back to reality. Miss my family.

Didn't say. Would become reason for protection, salvation. Swallowed.

But system cruel.

Ariella's hand stiffened. Seraphina's eyes shook. They couldn't see system. But felt something move inside me.

Ariella asked. "Leon."

Seraphina quietly continued. "What did you just think?"

I closed eyes. No answer.

Knights' footsteps outside door. Mixed with temple officials carrying purification tools. Into princess's annex. Saintess's sanctuary entering.

Then I realized. No longer trapped by one. Two worlds gripped me. Palace protects. Temple heals. And I. Between beautiful words. Fading bit by bit.