Preparing to Live Together
Preparing to Live Together
Just before they reached the Holy Kingdom, Canaria asked.
"...Rosaria."
It was a question about whether they could live together in the Holy Kingdom. Having already been rejected once, Canaria hesitated and struggled to get the words out. And thinking back, why had I refused her back then? Right—was it because leaving Isabella alone would have been too ambiguous? My jumbled, scrambled memories made it hard to recall clearly. Anyway, I had given a reason and refused once.
...And so, she was now fretting, afraid of another rejection.
"...When should I start coming by?"
That was why, this time, I gave her a positive answer. After all, there was no longer any need to remain indebted to House Versian. For daily rehabilitation and to return as the Saint, staying in the Holy Kingdom was the better option anyway. And above all, the thought of imposing any further was starting to weigh uncomfortably on my conscience.
"...I've been wanting to return to the Holy Kingdom as well, little by little."
It wasn't a lie. And at that different, positive answer, Canaria smiled. Seeing her expression, a small regret crept in—if I'd known she would react like this, maybe I should have brought it up first. She toyed with her ring, responding to the affirmation with all her might.
So, the moment we arrived at the mansion, Rosaria started packing her things.
Using convalescence and treatment as a surface reason, she prepared to leave House Versian's mansion, where she had grown attached enough to have become a burden. Of course, even though she had entered through manipulated memories, she hadn't simply freeloaded and done nothing. Canaria had diligently continued to pay the price for it. She had been supporting them behind the scenes, materially and morally, covering the value of their stay.
It was Canaria herself who said it could essentially be considered a concluded transaction.
Of course, it was bitter. House Versian was a family with no ties to Rosaria from the start; it felt as if they'd been half-forced to take in a person with no connection whatsoever. And more than anything, the time spent there hadn't been short. Bonds had formed to a certain degree, so the act of severing them left only a bitter aftertaste.
Still, a pounding heartbeat filled with happiness greater than that bitterness welled up inside her chest. After all, Rosaria had been born and raised in the Holy Kingdom, a girl who had lived as its Saintess. The rush of returning to past memories stirred her heart. ...And above all, wasn't she going to be living with Canaria again after so long?
Because this was their first time living together since becoming engaged. Bright thoughts pushing away the gloom filled Rosaria's mind as she diligently packed her bags. And at that moment, Erika knocked and entered.
"...Erika."
"I've come to say my goodbyes."
With that, Erika offered a salute for the first time in a long while.
"...For now, Canaria is still the Saintess."
"Within me, Lady Rosaria is the Saintess."
"...Thank you for thinking of me that way."
After all, Erika was the Saintess before her. She had been a seeker who guided Rosaria not to forget her goal, and a teacher who showed her how to live that life when she was still unaccustomed to the life of a Saint. So Erika held considerable significance for Rosaria. And of course, even as the head maid of this mansion, right after Rosaria was revived in that unstable state, Erika had taken on even the most menial tasks for her sake.
Just thinking about how recently Erika had to feed her, since she couldn't even eat properly on her own... it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say Erika had practically filled the role of a mother in that life. So this farewell with Erika carried a weight all its own.
"...Whenever you wish to return to the Holy Kingdom, just come back, Erika."
"...I'll have to decline. This life... it's the life I wanted."
Regrettably, in Erika's life, there was no one like Canaria... so no matter how much she had changed, she did not desire to return to the Holy Kingdom. Moreover, Erika was someone who had wanted an ordinary life like her current one, so she planned to spend the rest of her days as the head maid of House Versian's mansion.
"...Thank you."
Those were the only words Rosaria could offer. What else could she say but thank you to the benefactor who helped her endure those most confusing and difficult days? So, with her still-uncomfortable body, she saluted for the first time. She paid her respects to the senior who had been the Saintess before her.
"...I offer my gratitude to the Saintess who came before me."
For the first time in her life, she conveyed her thanks to Erika with the formal etiquette for greeting a Saint.
And that was only the beginning. After all, she had been indebted to so many people, directly and indirectly. Rosaria said her goodbyes to all of them: the maid who helped with her makeup, the maid in charge of laundry, the maid handling cleaning, the maid doing the cooking, the butler managing the estate, and so on. She was preparing to leave House Versian's mansion, the place that had taken care of her for so long.
*
At that same hour in the Holy Kingdom, Canaria was just as busy with preparations. After all, Rosaria was coming to live with her. The nervousness, the happiness, and above all, the fluttering in her chest wouldn't subside. So Canaria kept rearranging and adding more things, over and over.
Thanks to that, a private chamber for Rosaria was completed in a single night. She had already renovated the room where Rosaria had stayed back then, so there was no need for construction—only the addition of things. And as Canaria was adjusting even the angle and position of a single potted plant with such care, someone knocked on the door.
The number of people who would dare knock on the Saintess's door was limited.
"...Come in."
Canaria, who had a good guess who was on the other side, permitted the door to be opened. It was Francesco, who had become the Pope.
"...The salute."
"Don't bother."
After all, he was one of the few who knew the previous world. There was an undeniable sense of discomfort in exchanging salutes and observing formalities when no one else was watching.
"...So, what do you plan to do about Lady Rosaria's treatment?"
"That is something I will handle myself. Please, don't concern yourself."
Francesco did not argue against that answer. After all, he was nothing more than a human himself. Even his title of Pope was a position he'd attained through luck, so he had no right to find fault or interject. Yet Rosaria's standing was indeed an ambiguous matter.
Because the Holy Kingdom that Canaria had already transformed was now a nation quite different from the Holy Kingdom of old. Of course, since she said she'd handle it, Francesco had nothing in particular to say. The one who would truly do something about it was Canaria, and she was even capable of changing memories and perceptions.
"...And I also came because I wanted to ask about the matter of subjugating the North."
Francesco was aware of Canaria's ideal—to create a paradise. And in that plan, to eliminate or control all variables, the land called the North held the greatest share. With its peculiar environment, its unique barrenness, and the sheer strength of its race itself... the North, the land of warriors, was a place where more beings considered variables existed than in all the worlds Canaria had conquered so far combined.
"...That is also something I will handle myself."
"...I suppose so. I apologize for interfering."
In the end, there was nothing specific for Francesco to do. As always, his job was to manage the Holy Kingdom that Canaria had changed, acting as its highest decision-maker, handling trivial tasks, maintaining the nation where they would reside, and simply living out the rest of his days. Part of him simply trusted she would take care of things.
Because he, too, was an ordinary human. He could not change the world, memories, or perceptions, nor could he perform miracles. He had no right to interfere, offer unsolicited advice, or debate the actions of beings who went beyond the ordinary. But humans were creatures who made mistakes even while knowing better.
He was just worried about Canaria, who looked somewhat unsteady.
Because Francesco had seen her at her most broken.
"...Then I shall go and prepare to welcome the Saintess, after such a long time."
"...I'm still the Saintess, you know?"
"...At least change your hair color and then say that."
It was an impertinent remark.
But Canaria didn't mind it.
Because he had always been that kind of person.
And Francesco left, swallowing a single question internally. How she intended to deal with the matter of the Purple Tower Master.
He merely pictured the Magic Kingdom, which had changed quite a lot.
But still, his thought was, 'I'm sure she'll handle it.'
After all, this was Canaria, the Demon King and the Saint.
Such a being had always lived brimming with venom, and had honed that absurd talent to a razor's edge every single day.
He could only think that there would be no variables.
*
Rosaria finished her moving preparations and stepped outside. The cold winter wind made a refreshing morning, just the right chilly weather for leaving the familiar mansion behind. And sure enough, right on time, Canaria's carriage drew up to the mansion. With a kkiik, the carriage door opened.
Rosaria boarded the carriage, receiving one last bit of assistance.
"...Thank you for everything up until now."
She simply offered a farewell and truly left the mansion behind.
"We're finally going back."
She then faced forward and turned her gaze toward the Holy Kingdom she was returning to after so long. Even when she had visited before and glimpsed it briefly, the Holy Kingdom had become a place notably different from what she remembered. The road back to her hometown, now changed into something unfamiliar, made her a little tense.
And Canaria, sensing that, held her hand.
"...Don't worry, Rosaria."
"...I'm not worried. I'm just a little tense."
At the same time, she looked at Canaria. She wore an equally tense expression. But still, it was a tension born from recalling happiness.
As always, they kissed inside the carriage.
Gradually moving downward to the nape of the neck— and as ever, they marked each other there, heading toward the Holy Kingdom.
It was the day the true Saint returned to the Holy Kingdom.