Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Shattered Illusions
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『I thought death should be this serene. In the center of the cathedral, where dazzling lilies bloomed in wild profusion.
So that the red blood wouldn't stain her white saintess robes—as if someone had meticulously staged the scene—Saintess Elysia drew her final breath without ever losing her smile.
She had borne the world's sins in God's stead, leaving behind not a trace of resentment.』
I read that passage dozens of times. Hundreds, even.
The web novel [Empire's Flower].
"……Saintess Elysia."
Just murmuring her name to myself made my chest ache. She was perfect in the story. Noble, compassionate... and in the end, she died a wretched death.
The novel had a classic happy ending. The Hero slew the Demon King, the Empire reclaimed its peace, and the male protagonist and female protagonist married amid everyone's blessings. But behind that radiant light, she faded away like a lone candle burned to the wick. For her alone, this world was a brutal tragedy.
That's why I loved it all the more. That's why it hurt so much. Furious at the readers who treated her sacrifice as a given, I pulled an all-nighter to leave a wall of a comment.
[Author, this isn't a happy ending—it's abuse. Why does Elysia have to die? She deserves happiness too....]
And the result? Possession. As you can see.
Into the body of an extra apprentice priest, no less.
"……Why am I here?"
When I opened my eyes, there was the cathedral.
Exactly three days since the possession. The face staring back from the mirror was that of a silver-haired young man in austere priestly robes: Ian. An extra priest whose name never even came up in the original story. But none of that mattered.
"It's real."
I muttered as I gazed at the massive cathedral spire looming outside the window. The first few days after possession had been a whirlwind of adjusting to this alien world.
Thankfully, my body seemed to remember the basics—the prayers, the etiquette. All ingrained.
And just as I'd suspected, the world I'd been dropped into was indeed [Empire's Flower].
Hail the mighty Author.
The hack I'd scorned was now practically a god to me.
Ah, calling the Author a "hack." Blasphemy.
Time for some reflection.
As I settled into this strange priestly routine, one thought consumed me.
Meeting my ultimate favorite, Elysia, face-to-face.
If the Author who made that possible wasn't divine, what was?
"Ahh, I believe."
In the Author.
We're inside the cathedral, so I kept that last bit under my breath.
Wouldn't want to get hauled off or anything.
That'd be terrifying.
The opportunity came sooner than I'd dreamed.
In front of the Diocesan Bishop's office, dozens of priests stood in a line, faces as dour as livestock headed to the slaughterhouse. Their eyes brimmed with profound fear and despair.
"……No volunteers this time either?"
The Diocesan Bishop's heavy voice echoed down the hall. But all that came back was icy silence. Heads bowed, eyes averted, as if by some unspoken pact.
"Haa, no helping it. We'll draw lots like always, then..."
The Bishop sighed as he reached for the lot box.
"I'll go."
I raised my hand matter-of-factly, cocking my head like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The room went dead silent, like someone had doused it with cold water. Dozens of stares pinned me in place. Shock. Horror. Utter disbelief.
'Huh? Why's everyone looking at me like that?'
The senior priest beside me had eyes twitching like they were spasming. His face was the picture of watching a comrade march to the gallows.
'Ah... jealousy.'
How else to explain eyes bugged out that wide? A rookie priest like me, daring to hog God's vessel, Saintess Elysia, all to myself. Her popularity held strong even in this possessed world. I smirked inwardly, triumphant.
"……Priest Ian, you're serious? You're the first one's ever volunteered."
The Bishop scratched his head, eyeing me like a madman as he stamped my assignment slip.
The other priests patted my shoulders, muttering things like "See you alive..." or "Brave guy." But I just basked in their envy-tinged send-off and headed for the saintess's private prayer room.
The corridor to the prayer room was eerily quiet.
It should have been bustling with preparations for dawn prayers, but not a single footstep echoed. If anything, my own steps rang thinly off the marble floor with every stride, like they were betraying my heartbeat.
'Why was everyone so scared?'
I tilted my head and glanced at the assignment slip again. The red seal gleamed boldly.
[Exclusive Attendant Apprentice Priest to Saintess Elysia — Ian]
What was so frightening about this?
"For real... I'm really going to see her."
My lips quivered on their own. Couldn't stop them even if I tried.
I clenched my fist tight.
'I'll protect my fave.'
『Her prayer room was as clear as dawn light.
Thin lace curtains draped the windows, and a faint lily scent wafted from the censer.
Her back, as she prayed, was serene—like someone shouldering the world's every sorrow.』
I loved that scene so much I'd screenshotted the chapter and reread it dozens of times.
She was always so prim.
It wasn't just about her clothes. Elysia's primness felt like a vow never to let herself unravel.
In the original, she never laughed heartily. Never sobbed aloud. She only faltered in the tiniest moments.
For instance—
『When the Hero collapsed, wounded, she was the first to reach out.
But the tips of her fingers trembled ever so faintly.』
That tremble.
That was why I adored Elysia.
Not because she was perfect.
Because I could see it: in a role that demanded perfection, she was holding her breath just to look the part.
"Elysia..."
I murmured to myself.
"Wasn't a strong person... but someone who had to be strong."
In the original, Elysia was always described in whites.
White as a lily. White as snow. White as holy oil.
But it wasn't a warm white. Not sunlight white—it was moonlight white. The kind that felt colder the closer you got.
And right in the heart of that white... there was violet.
『Her eyes were the violet of the sky just before sunset.
First-time onlookers would call them "holy,"
but sometimes... they felt too distant.
As if she were already gazing beyond the world.』
I remember sitting there stunned after reading that line.
"As if she were already gazing beyond the world."
Yeah. Elysia was alive, yet always seemed to stand at death's threshold.
Even her smiles were just to put others at ease.
Even her prayers weren't pleas to God—they were her shouldering His burdens instead.
So in the end—
"Of course."
I let out a low breath.
"A person like that... died like that."
Beautiful? Please.
If that was beauty, it was the kind that turned someone else's suffering into mere decoration.
I ground my teeth.
"Not this time."
I wouldn't let it end like the original.
If that's why this world had dragged me here—fine, I'd accept it.
So now.
Opening this door—
Finally.
What I'd longed for.
My fave.
Saintess Elysia.
"……Meeting her."
My palm was slick with sweat. My heart hammered so loud I feared they'd hear it through the door.
I traced the sign of the cross.
"…Lord."
I opened the door.
...That instant.
What assaulted my nose
wasn't lily scent—
it was the thick stench of booze.
"……Huh?"
A beat later, I noticed the hazy incense smoke curling through the air.
From deep inside the prayer room came a slow, languid laugh.
And there I was, facing my "fave" in a posture I'd never once seen described in the original.
The prayer room was nothing like I'd imagined.
It was murky. Stifling.
The moment I inhaled, thick alcohol fumes and sickly-sweet incense sank deep into my lungs.
"…Ah."
I froze in the doorway, rooted to the spot.
And there she was.
On the sofa.
Slouched.
As if even holding herself upright was too much hassle, her upper body lolled against the armrest.
Her legs weren't neatly together—one dangled casually off the edge.
A pose utterly foreign to the original descriptions.
She was wearing her saintess robes. Definitely.
But they were far from primly donned.
The white fabric that should have draped her shoulders had slipped loose on one side, baring the line of her collarbone. The waist ties were undone, letting the cloth fold naturally along her curves, shifting subtly with every breath.
"…."
Words failed me.
My mind flashed to the original line unbidden.
『She always sat ramrod straight.
A saintess's posture was courtesy to God—and discipline for herself.』
That discipline—
was crumbling so casually right before my eyes.
Elysia held a glass.
Wine.
In the hand meant for holy water, red liquid swirled.
Even that hand felt off from memory.
In the original, her hands were always gloved.
Hands that bore others' sins—they kept a deliberate distance, avoiding touch.
But now they were bare.
Pale, slender fingers—vividly alive—curled loosely around the stem. Not gripping tight, not slack—just familiar. Natural.
Like someone who'd done this a hundred times before.
"……."
Elysia tilted the glass.
Her neckline bared.
As she swallowed, her slim throat bobbed faintly.
She set the glass down and looked at me.
Violet eyes.
The color was the same.
But the vibe... different.
Slightly unfocused pupils locked onto me precisely.
"…New priest?"
Her voice was low.
"…Why are you staring like that?"
Elysia smiled.
"…Huh?"
Only then did I realize I'd been holding my breath.
My mind went blank.
No lily scent—just booze.
No pristine robes—just disarray.
No serene prayer—just a drowsy smile.
Every description from the original clashed violently with the scene before me.
That day, my world came crashing down.
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