The Saintess Won't Break (1)
The Saintess Won't Break (1)
The administrator who received the letter did not move hastily. To fully savor the rare chance to cool his head, he walked with deliberate, unhurried steps toward the training grounds where Karen was.
As he drew closer, the grounds came into view—ringing with spirited shouts, the clash of swords, and the sharp tang of sweat. Despite weather colder than midwinter, every northern soldier was training and drilling bare-chested, their upper garments completely discarded.
Those trembling in the cold were the new recruits. Those enduring it were the veterans. Those who didn't feel the cold at all were the exceptions.
The training ground was filled with these three kinds of people. The arriving administrator halfheartedly waved off the salutes he received from various soldiers and moved deeper inside. The further in he went, the better the facilities became, and the higher the ranks of those who used them. Soldiers gave way to officers, officers to commanders...
Eventually, he reached the royal family's training grounds, where even they were forbidden to enter.
- Karen Snowwhite, in training.
...He saw a sign that said as much.
Inside the personal training room, built of northern cold iron and magic crystals imbued with enhancement magic, Karen's muttering could be heard. The administrator knocked, saluted Karen, and stated his business.
"...The Saint has written a letter to Your Majesty the Empress."
At those words, Karen spoke from beyond the door.
"Leave it there."
"As you command."
Her voice was solemnly subdued.
A chill, like blooming frost, hung in the air.
The administrator slipped the letter through the door slot and departed.
Karen, who had been at the center of the training room, rose to her feet.
She carefully opened the letter she had received, and as she was about to read it—
"...Hehe."
She looked at the letter with an expression of pure happiness.
"La... Lady Canaria sent me a letter!"
She bounced around joyfully and rolled about the room.
As she rolled, the interior of the training room was revealed.
Drawings capturing Canaria's appearance as Karen had seen her that day, rendered in as much detail as possible,
and even portraits of a black-haired girl who resembled her, popular in Fran.
The entire room was covered in portraits of Canaria.
But she had certainly trained, for
blunted swords and shattered wooden swords were lined up in abundance.
The walls of cold iron, reinforced with enhancement magic, were deeply dented. Every manner of equipment lay broken and scattered about—the very picture of an exemplary northern training room.
Yet Karen ignored it all. The moment she received Canaria's letter, she thrashed about in pure happiness.
After all, in Karen's mind right now, Canaria was an idol.
A being who symbolized the ideal she aspired to become and resemble.
And if she had received a letter from such a being...
What else could she possibly do besides be insanely happy?
"H... How... Howwww!"
Even her grammar broke down.
Karen, trembling with joy in every limb.
"My most beloved sent me a letter... ngh—!"
Of course, she knew it was not a personal matter.
But because she had received a letter from her most beloved, addressed in her own name,
Karen simply trembled with mad excitement and joy.
That was the true nature of the person called Karen Snowwhite.
It was simply that no one knew it.
After all, Karen was a once-in-a-generation genius and a member of the imperial family.
No one ever imagined she would behave like this, and she herself understood her position, so she never showed this gloomy side of herself to anyone.
Thanks to that, it remained unknown... but in a secure, designated space like this one, her true nature spread forth unfiltered, serving to vent everything she normally kept bottled up.
And in fact, until just a moment ago, she hadn't been doing any training.
The broken and ruined equipment was the remnants of the previous day...
Her sky-blue bobbed hair wasn't damp at all.
The soft, dry strands, untouched by sweat, were proof of that.
Because right now was prayer time.
Of course, it wasn't that Karen had converted and sought repentance.
It was simply time she had set aside to understand that way of life.
'...He's the Saint, so he must have lived like a priest.'
So she was experiencing the life of a priest, which might have been the source of that strength. But regrettably, Karen did not believe in the main god... so, while she was at it with her devout prayers, she had chosen Canaria as the object of her prayers. She was praying before her portrait with her head bowed, in a posture of utmost piety.
Self-proclaimed) The First Devotee of the Church of Canaria.
Idol worshiper, Karen Snowwhite.
Her specialties: never showing it outwardly no matter how troubled she was, and liking an idol she'd fallen for with extreme fervor until she surpassed them. Her personality was introverted, so she didn't want to appear before crowds. The atmosphere she gave off was somewhat gloomy when alone... and as a secret, she couldn't sleep at night without her attachment doll—something along those lines.
The future of the North was simply somewhat dark.
Be that as it may, Karen, having received a peace alliance letter, was simply happy.
"I... I have to prepare. In that case, starting with a script first..."
Karen Snowwhite
(Age 20, 2nd Rank of the Ten Great Powers and current reigning Empress of the North)
Planning to spend a long period preparing, for the first time in her life, to perfectly welcome the existence who might become her eternal idol—one she might never surpass...!
But Karen did not know.
That Canaria was not the Saint.
Unaware that she had gained the additional career history of being a vile Demon King worshiper, Karen simply continued her exceedingly devout lunchtime prayer to the Demon King.
The future of the North grew even darker.
*
What Canaria wanted was a wager.
Naturally, the cause was her relationship with Rosaria.
But it was not a formal relationship.
...It belonged to the category of a physical relationship.
"...Please be honest with me, Rosaria."
The demon could perceive the desires of others. And because she was such a Canaria... seeing Rosaria suffer daily from something unresolved, gradually accumulating those dregs of frustration, was painful for her to watch.
"...I'm always honest."
But Rosaria did not want to tell Canaria about it.
After all, she was embarrassed, and since she loved her, she also had the psychology of wanting to appear perfect.
Rosaria did not want to be caught with the hot, ticklish sensation kindled by those unburned embers of desire.
But hadn't she said it with her own mouth?
...That chastity would wait until after she became a Saint.
So Rosaria simply endured that tickling sensation.
Though her honest feelings were very different.
"...There's no way that's true."
And Canaria, having read that, stirred her heart.
Canaria found it hard to endure as well.
She too, just like Rosaria, had embers that had not gone out.
And Canaria felt the very same ticklishness those embers produced.
So it was because she shared the same agony that she spoke up.
...Let's just cross the line like this and be happy, she was saying.
But Canaria wanted to be a little spiteful.
She wanted to see the sight of her proud, dignified love—the one who had treated her like a child to the very end that day—begging, having grown honest about the desire they both felt... so Canaria had made a proposal to Rosaria in the form of a wager.
"...I'm serious."
And Rosaria accepted that wager.
...The truth was, she had wanted to refuse.
But Canaria had pleaded so desperately.
(Or so she thought.)
So, having accepted it, she wanted to prove it.
That she was a Saintess who did not yield to such adversity.
A Saintess never breaks before desire...
And by proving that, she simply wanted to highlight the image of the perfect Rosaria in Canaria's mind. At the same time, Rosaria also wanted to use her own endurance as evidence to restrain Canaria, who was showing signs of running rampant.
"...Then I'll stop here for now."
Because of that, the days that followed promised to be very cruel.
The period lasted until they departed for the North.
Victory or defeat rested with Rosaria.
The moment she begged for it, Rosaria would lose.
But if she endured until the day they left for the North, Canaria would be defeated.
It was a wager mixed with pride and desire.
But since neither of them had any intention of losing, both were dead serious about the contest.
...And today was the day the first day of that wager ended.
Canaria had simply left a few kiss marks. Of course, for Rosaria, who was now excessively sensitized, even that was touch-and-go... but she somehow managed to endure.
And Canaria deliberately did not drive the wedge in deeper with Rosaria.
After all, there was still plenty of time left.
Canaria planned to lay siege to her slowly.
But Rosaria had no intention of losing either.
'...I have to win.'
Because if she did, she wouldn't be teased.
Since she had already been thoroughly teased for being childlike...
She had absolutely no intention of causing a catastrophe herself—being toyed with by that Canaria, unable to hold out, reduced to begging...
"...Canaria, I told you to do it where it doesn't show."
As soon as it ended, Rosaria grumbled. Through the mirror, she saw the traces, flushed red, starkly engraved on her body.
At the same time, a strange sense of moral transgression flickered through her mind.
A pink-hued fantasy born of turbid emotions.
But Rosaria shook her head and scattered it.
Then she looked at the calendar to see how many days remained until they left for the North.
...It promised to be an exceedingly long month.
Rosaria, whose flushed cheeks were pitiable.