The Broken Obsessive Saintess Descends
The Broken Obsessive Saintess Descends
It was a place bathed in brilliant sunlight.
The air was clean, and the sky stretched wide and clear.
A beautiful countryside, like something out of a painting.
And amid it all, a sickly young noble lady.
That was me after my reincarnation—Rosaria.
Being of noble birth, I never wanted for food or shelter.
My body was a bit frail, but it wasn't terminal, so that was fine.
My face was pleasant enough, too—catching my reflection in the mirror was genuinely a small joy.
Living out a peaceful life as a noble lady until a peaceful death... all things considered, that might not have been such a bad reincarnation.
"My lady, you have a guest."
If there was a problem, it was the guest who visited almost every day.
This world's Saintess kept coming to see me.
Her official purpose was treatment, but the reality was something else entirely.
The butler opened the door and ushered the Saintess inside.
"...You'll only get in the way of the treatment, so close the door and go. Far away."
The Saintess controlled them with an air of considerable authority.
And then, the moment the sound of their footsteps clattering down the stairs faded away—
The Saintess cast a barrier and climbed onto my bed.
She wrapped her arms around me and began speaking in a rapid, breathless rush.
"Ahh... Rosaria. I missed you so terribly. Every day without you was unbearably painful. I love you. I truly do."
The Saintess spoke as if reciting a letter, rubbing her face against my chest.
"I'm low on Rosalium... you'll let me recharge, won't you?"
The Saintess named some element I had never heard of before.
Of course, I wasn't ignorant of what would follow, but all I could do was nod.
Because in this world, the Saintess was an absolute existence.
"Thank you. Thank you so much. I felt like I was going insane. Being without you felt like my heart had shattered. Please don't ever be apart from me again."
The Saintess began kissing my nape.
At the same time, she inhaled deeply and buried her face in my hair.
She even squirmed and pressed her body against mine while holding me tight.
"Rosaria, shall we get married?"
The Saintess even proposed, in an atmosphere that hardly suited it.
Still, this was a confession that felt like an annual ritual—not something she really meant.
...It had to not be.
The Church didn't permit same-sex marriage.
If it happened, she would have to resign as the Saintess.
"For you, I could quit being the Saintess. I gave it several days of thought, because a life without you is hell."
She'd been quiet for about three days—had she spent that whole time agonizing over this alone?
"...There's no need for you to step down from your position because of me."
I opened my mouth, trying desperately to calm the Saintess as she clung to me like a madwoman.
"Ahh... that's exactly it. Your kindness—one of your approximately 2,980 virtues—that kindness drives me mad, Rosaria."
I'd thought it was water, but I'd poured oil on the fire.
Maybe there was no water in this house at all.
Or maybe I was just the oil tank at an oil factory.
In any case, the Saintess, whose eyes had even changed shape, was going wild.
But I wasn't worried.
She would stop on her own after a while.
"I'm sorry. I've shown you such an unsightly side of myself."
Yeah, you really were unsightly.
"But it's your fault, Rosaria. Why won't you come to the Holy Kingdom? It isn't far, and coming to my home wouldn't be difficult. Besides, the Holy Kingdom is better for me to protect you as the Saintess. The room next to mine is empty, so couldn't you come there?"
Her visits alone already drained me, and now she wanted me to move in?
'Can't she just give up and go home...?'
When I first reincarnated, I had actually looked forward to it somewhat.
I thought I wouldn't be able to resist a beautiful, angst-ridden, obsessive Saintess.
So the first time I received this kind of physical affection, my face flushed and my head spun from sensations I'd never felt before.
But whenever I made contact with something like a genuine, untouchable madness, my head filled with fear, as if I were being swallowed by a snake.
She must have known I was different from the Rosaria the Saintess knew.
The problem was, the Saintess loved even that changed side of me to the point of insanity—and because she believed my feelings had cooled, she was currently launching an insane offensive of affection.
"...I'm sorry, but it seems going to the Holy Kingdom will be difficult for me."
It wasn't a lie—it was the truth.
It really did seem difficult to go.
Wouldn't I be punished for treason?
"What worries you? Please tell me. I'll take care of... no, I'll fix it."
She'd definitely said "take care of."
She meant she was going to bury someone—one or two people, for real, wasn't she?
Or was she planning a bloody purge or something?
'No... she wouldn't, right?'
She only got like that when she was inside this room.
In truth, this Saintess,
outside, was completely normal beyond reproach.
People all said it with one voice: the reincarnation of the goddess.
The greatest Saintess in the thousand-year history of Saintesses.
So she... probably... wasn't the type to purge people just because she didn't like them.
"That's not it. It's just... I don't want to leave this house where I've lived my whole life."
Because outside the blanket looked seriously, seriously dangerous.
But I was oil, and the Saintess was fire.
I was the perfect kindling that made her flare up at the slightest touch.
"Hahh...... hahh......"
I didn't even know what I'd triggered.
The Saintess suddenly clutched her chest.
"...Are you all right?"
The Saintess began trembling so violently it actually worried me.
Looking closer, she couldn't even breathe properly, going on like this.
'Ah, shit.'
If she died here, it would be a catastrophe.
I could genuinely be executed.
I absolutely had to save her.
"S-Saintess? Are you all right?"
For the moment, I held her and patted her back.
All the while, I ran through every possibility in my mind.
Had she eaten something bad?
Had she gotten caught up in a poisoning attempt?
Or was someone trying to kill her with a curse?
All sorts of grim thoughts rose in my head.
But naturally, what shattered all those assumptions in an instant was this Menhera Saintess's own mouth.
"I just thought about us living together at my home... and it was so wonderful."
You crazy bitch—if you're going to fantasize, at least do it gracefully.
I had been genuinely, deeply worried, thinking she was suddenly dying.
But thinking about it, the Saintess could heal curses, poisons, or whatever. In other words, I'd worried myself sick over possibilities that couldn't even happen in the first place—and that very act of mine just poured more fuel on the fire.
"That kindness of yours—worrying even about someone like me—I love that too."
Were they abusing her in the Holy Kingdom or something?
If that were the case, I would be genuinely concerned.
No matter how messed up the Saintess in front of me was, if the cause wasn't her own nature but some external influence, it wouldn't sit easy on my conscience.
But of course, even that brief moment of worry seemed to have caught her eye.
The Saintess's expression shifted, a blush now spreading across her face.
"Let's definitely live together. I'll do everything for you."
I had no trouble eating and living even without the Saintess.
No matter what, the butler and maids were better at it than she was—they were the professionals.
Besides, that chocolate she had given me before had tasted a little... metallic...
I didn't want to know what she'd put in it.
Even if I knew, I wanted to ignore it.
If I ate an iron-rich cocoa lump made by a severe yandere every single day, wouldn't a person lose their mind?
Anyway, living together was a bit much unless she fixed that personality of hers.
"My preamble was long. I'll treat you again today, with all my heart."
Had she finally absorbed enough Rosalium?
Aside from the lingering blush, the perverted face from just moments ago had vanished without a trace, and only the benevolent countenance of the Saintess remained.
'If she'd only shown me this sane face from the start, I would have fallen for her right away.'
In truth, even falling for her would be a problem.
I wasn't Rosaria, after all.
And on top of that, was it even all right for the Saintess to love another woman?
Though if I started listing the problems, there would be no end to them.
"In about three years, you will be fully cured, Rosaria."
As I stared blankly at the sane version of the Saintess, the treatment ended.
For this moment alone, my body felt lighter and my mood lifted considerably.
"Thank you, Saintess."
I offered a greeting first.
It was the proper decorum of a courteous Eastern nation.
I did my best to ignore the way the Saintess's expression shifted.
"...Could you call me by my name, just for today?"
For some reason, the Saintess was being stubborn about this.
The strange sensation hadn't gone away, but I granted her request for the time being.
"...Thank you, Canaria...?"
The Saintess clutched her heart with a small "Hng—!" sound.
At first I'd thought it was a heart condition and worried,
but it turned out to be just a plain old mental illness.
'This crazy bitch—getting heart palpitations just because I said her name...'
If we got married, wouldn't she die of a heart attack the very next day?
Why did she like Rosaria this much? That was a mystery too.
How on earth had the original Rosaria lived? That was also a mystery.
And what the hell were those lunatics in the Holy Kingdom doing, that the Saintess had developed these strange behaviors and thoughts?
"I'll see you tomorrow, Rosaria. I love you."
The Saintess smiled brightly as she said goodbye.
For some reason, a wound on her wrist—one she hadn't healed—caught my eye.
But for now, I pretended not to notice as much as possible and said my farewell.
If I found out any more about things like that, it would only get complicated.
And so, loathing this madly spinning world again today, wiping away the Saintess's dampness that still lingered on my neck, racking my brain, I began searching for a way to live out my life quietly.
But did such a way even exist?
*
Inside the carriage returning to her residence,
Canaria lifted her sleeve and looked at her wrist.
The marks of severe self-harm came into view.
But soon enough, she channeled holy power and healed them.
Her ability was such that she could even restore a severed arm.
With the sole exception of Rosaria's illness, she could erase anything in an instant.
A self-inflicted wound of this degree was nothing more than a costume piece.
'What a shame.'
If Rosaria had noticed it, she could have beheld that worried face for quite a long while. She would have enjoyed the honor of capturing with her unworthy eyes an expression more beautiful than any masterpiece painting.
'And then, surely, she would have worried over me and healed it, wouldn't she?'
Because Rosaria was a kind person. She wasn't so irresponsible as to simply overlook a wound right before her eyes.
'If it had gone further... that would have been nice.'
Rosaria was also weak to lies.
If she had asked Rosaria to lick the wound, would she have obliged?
If she had, Canaria would have remembered the sensation of that tongue emerging from those small, beautiful lips for her entire life—treasuring the memory and bringing it out in every unhappy moment thereafter.
She would have held that kindness, the kindness that reached the point of licking her wounds, in her heart.
'I will definitely bring you here. If that proves impossible, I will abandon being the Saintess and come to you.'
Because you are worth that much.
A lovely person to whom giving her entire life would still not be enough.
A person so precious she would have no regrets dying in her place.
A person for whom she would cast everything aside without the slightest hesitation if asked.
'Let's marry. Absolutely.'
A house, wherever you want it.
Children, as many as you want.
A way of life, however you wish.
As she thought these things, she found herself licking her lips.
"So please, hurry and recover your memories."
Hoping that Rosaria would someday reclaim the memory of the day she had taken the curse meant for Canaria upon herself, Canaria gazed at the childhood image of Rosaria set within her necklace.