Erased Story (1)
Erased Story (1)
She had found a direction.
But that didn't mean all of her problems had vanished.
'...How am I supposed to meet Canaria?'
An ordinary person living in the Holy Kingdom had very few chances to see the Saintess in person. Aside from catching a fleeting glimpse of her hair from impossibly far away during national festivals like the Holy Spirit Festival, it was impossible to even approach her unless one was a cardinal of the holy see.
'...It feels like if I could just meet her, everything would be resolved.'
She had a hunch.
No matter how much her appearance might have changed.
The intuition that the current Saintess was the Canaria she knew kept filling her mind. If she could just meet her and ask, she was certain she would understand everything.
The problem was Canaria's condition.
- The Saintess is in seclusion!
- I heard she's been very ill.
The current Saintess was secluded somewhere, refusing to show herself—a fact even the younger siblings Isabella had met for the first time in a while knew.
'...Canaria, what in the world are you doing?'
And where had Rosaria disappeared to?
What had happened while she was away from the Holy Kingdom?
The sense of wrongness that Isabella kept feeling.
And above all, that same sense of wrongness had settled heavily over the nation of the Holy Kingdom itself.
'...The atmosphere has completely changed.'
The atmosphere of the Holy Kingdom seemed to have brightened slightly. It was a far cry from the dark, oppressive Holy Kingdom of that era, bound by doctrine and rules—it felt softer, warmer, with a quiet sense of freedom permeating the land.
It had become a nation so serene it felt as if she had stepped into paradise itself. In truth, one of the reasons Isabella had kept away from the Holy Kingdom was because she hated that rigidity. Even this strangely brightened feeling was more than enough to provoke a sense of wrongness.
'...Did Rosaria do this?'
Because, after all, the last saint in her memory was Rosaria. And somehow, this whole atmosphere felt so... like Rosaria. To the point where she wondered if this wasn't the very image of the ideal Holy Kingdom that Rosaria had always spoken of.
Rosaria's presence was embedded deeply throughout the Holy Kingdom.
So her questions only grew.
What had happened to both of them?
Why had the letter claimed they were gone?
To say they were dead—their footprints were felt far too vividly for that.
"...They're definitely alive."
Thinking that, Isabella continued to agonize over how to approach Canaria, who was still in seclusion.
And then, opportunity came at an unexpected moment.
*
She had exerted effort in every direction, inquired through various channels, and had been struggling for some time to uncover the truth about the Saintess, to the point where she felt she was running herself ragged.
"...Huh?"
It was pure coincidence.
A chance visit to the orphanage to see her younger siblings,
when she saw a woman with blonde hair and silver eyes.
Of course, this person couldn't be Rosaria.
Because she was a woman of considerably advanced age.
Then maybe Rosaria's mother?
Of course, that couldn't be it either.
Rosaria had come to this place after losing her parents.
She remembered the day Rosaria had walked in here, crying, as a child.
'...The previous Saintess?'
Was she perhaps the Saintess from the generation before Rosaria?
If so, it would make sense. In her entire life, she had never seen anyone with blonde hair and silver eyes apart from Rosaria. And hadn't that same Rosaria become the Saintess?
By that simple process of elimination, she was a Saintess.
Then why was the former Saintess here?
Of course, the answer was easy enough that even Isabella knew it.
The power of a saint was inherited. When a saint fulfilled her divine mission, it was tradition for her to share her power with a new saint, to guide her, and to help her master her divine power.
It was Solomon's Canon, written in the sacred scriptures.
After the death of the First Saint, the next saint—born alone as the absolute strongest—had reasoned that the only one who could teach the complex usage of divine power was another saint. Thus, she had woven together a canon for all saints, using her divine power and words, so that future saints could fulfill the Chief God's mission more easily.
And because a saint was permitted, upon completing this canon, to lose all of her divine power and live an ordinary life as an ordinary person.
She was likely a saint who had finished the process above and was living her second life.
And perhaps, she might be the only lifeline—the only one who might know the truth about the secluded Saintess.
Isabella approached her as if spellbound.
Yes, if anyone would know, it was her.
Even if she didn't, surely she would at least know the Saintess's location?
If not, she might at least know how to find another path.
Thoughts of that sort kept filling her head. Before long, Isabella had forgotten even to breathe.
By then, Isabella had come right up behind Erika.
For some reason, she could see an aura similar to Rosaria's.
Moreover, she believed this woman would know everything.
"...Excuse me."
Isabella opened her mouth without hesitation.
How should she put this?
Would she be seen as a madwoman?
But nothing else came to mind.
Isabella whispered so that only she could hear.
"...By any chance, were you the Saintess before Rosaria?"
At that question, Erika's brow twitched slightly.
Catching that, Isabella thought to herself.
That's a yes.
"...I think we should talk outside for a moment."
Erika wore a peculiar expression.
At the same time, she led Isabella outside.
They didn't walk for long.
They walked outside in silence for a short while.
The place they arrived at was a somewhat secluded and quiet warehouse. It was a place where supplies needed for the orphanage were stored, and it was such a quiet, deserted spot that whatever was said there wouldn't leak out.
Isabella grew anxious, wondering if something was about to happen. But just as she steeled her heart, Erika was the first to speak.
"...Where did you hear information about Lady Rosaria?"
From Isabella's perspective, it was a strange question.
Because it wasn't information she had to hear from somewhere to know. But the question itself was a kind of proof of something.
Isabella decided to be honest and lay everything bare.
"...Rosaria is my friend."
Erika's eyes narrowed.
But Isabella paid it no mind.
Her intuition kept screaming in her head that she couldn't miss this chance. She had to keep the thread going somehow—thinking this, she continued the flow of the conversation.
"As I clearly remember, she was a friend who became the Saintess not long ago, and she had the same hair and eyes as you. And she had the appearance of a saint from the scriptures as I remembered... but one day, all the common sense I knew suddenly changed, and I thought that was strange, so I came to the Holy Kingdom."
Isabella worried she might be spouting somewhat disjointed words. But she believed that conveying her thoughts was more important than organizing her words, so she ignored that concern and kept talking.
"And Canaria is also the name of my friend. She definitely had black hair and golden eyes... but I have absolutely no idea why the Saintess bearing my friend's name has white hair and silver eyes, and why that has become the characteristic of a saint."
She remembered vividly.
After all, it was the face of a friend she had seen for nearly her entire life.
How could she possibly not remember that?
That was why this entire situation was so bizarre.
Her mind was in chaos, and her sense of the world was so twisted that even breathing felt uncomfortable.
"You, who were previously the Saintess, know, don't you? Why the world turned out this way, what happened to those two, why the Holy Kingdom changed so much while I was away, where Rosaria went and why Canaria became the Saintess—you know the whole process, don't you?"
By now, Isabella, her eyes even losing focus, wasn't aware of her own rudeness as she grabbed Erika's shoulders and began clinging to her.
Because she was desperate.
"Please, tell me! Why it's come to this, what happened, where Canaria is, what became of Rosaria... Please tell me, Lady Saintess...!"
Isabella was even shedding tears.
But she didn't realize it.
Isabella was so out of her mind that she didn't even recognize the changes in herself.
"...Please, calm yourself."
And Erika calmed her down.
Strangely, as if those words held something, Isabella's excessive agitation subsided in an instant.
"...What is your name?"
In truth, Erika was just as taken aback.
She knew that Canaria had twisted the world's memories, and she also knew the categories of people whom that divine power couldn't affect.
Unless they were kings, heroes, or beings close to anomalies possessing both qualities, every single one of them should have had their memories manipulated. So she couldn't understand why this ordinary girl before her eyes had escaped that manipulation.