Chapter 10
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Don't Praise Me
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I tidied up the empty teacup while stealing a glance at Elysia, sprawled in a bizarre pose on the sofa.
Elysia lay on the sofa with her head dangling limply over the armrest, staring upside down at the ceiling. Her silver hair cascaded like a waterfall toward the marble floor, a few untidy strands precariously clinging to her cheeks and the corners of her lips.
"Aren't you bored?"
At my question, Elysia slowly rolled her violet eyes toward me. Even in her inverted field of vision, her gaze remained sharp and languid, like that of a predator.
"Bored."
It was a monotonous reply.
It was a pose that could have looked ugly, but on her, it somehow resembled a work of art. Even her silver hair pouring upside down seemed to glow on its own without any sunlight, and I felt my heartbeat quicken once again.
"How do you usually spend your time?"
At my question, Elysia fell silent for a moment. Her vacant eyes, which had been fixed on the golden patterns of the ceiling, wandered around before settling on me.
"At first, I sought God."
Her voice was low and subdued.
"Then alcohol."
It didn't sound like she was merely talking about hobbies.
"Now, what should I seek?"
Elysia let out a hollow chuckle as she let her body slump even further on the sofa.
"Come to think of it, it's a life where I can only survive by depending on something."
Her words made a corner of my chest ache. In the original story, she always had to be perfect, gnawing away at herself just to avoid betraying others' expectations. She'd grown sick of artificial strawberry-flavored potions infused with holy power—to the point where she had no time to care for herself, devoting everything to the role of saintess.
"Then how about focusing on yourself for a change, Saintess?"
I made the suggestion cautiously. Not on rules or God's will, but purely on discovering the tastes and pleasures of the person named Elysia.
"Well. I'm probably not that entertaining of a person."
She lifted her eyelids lazily, as if annoyed, and shot me a mocking look. But I shook my head firmly.
"No. You are entertaining. Just observing you up close like this makes every single day thrilling enough for me."
It was sincere. As her fan, and as the priest determined to save her, watching her subtle changes was my greatest joy. At my confession, Elysia's eyebrows twitched upward.
"Does that mean my face looks ridiculous?"
"You know that's not what I mean. You—Elysia—are plenty charming."
Elysia trembled her eyes faintly, looking flustered. Whether she wasn't used to compliments, or because of my boldness in calling her by name, I could see her white nape flush ever so slightly.
"Rude. Calling the saintess by name so casually."
Her low murmur carried a strange embarrassment instead of her usual sharp sarcasm. I watched her raise an arm to her forehead, avoiding my gaze. With the obsessiveness of a true original story reader, I spotted the faint tremble in her fingertips.
"Beautiful name, isn't it? Elysia von Rosewell."
"Shut... your mouth."
The predator's piercing stare was gone; now her eyes darted about like those of a young beast caught in a trap.
The slender fingers gripping the sofa armrest clenched until her knuckles turned white.
Instead of her usual leisurely breaths, short, shallow ones escaped her lips—like someone whose secret had just been exposed.
She looked so adorable that I pretended not to notice and took a step closer. "Saintess, are you running a fever by any chance? Your face looks even redder than before."
"......Shut up. Go away."
Elysia waved her hand dismissively, but the gesture lacked her usual decisiveness. Rather, half-hiding her face behind the cascading silver hair to dodge my gaze made her look less like a dignified saintess and more like an ordinary girl flustered by praise.
As I gathered the scattered liquor bottles, I added casually,
"But really, today... you held out pretty well."
"......?"
"You didn't touch a single drop before I got here. I didn't expect you'd keep the promise so faithfully. I'm truly impressed."
I beamed at her with genuine admiration. But what came back wasn't the shy reaction I'd anticipated.
A suffocating silence stretched for several seconds. Elysia slowly pushed herself up from the sofa. The languor vanished in an instant, replaced by deeper, darker emotions swirling in her violet eyes.
"Don't... say that."
Her voice trembled. It was too raw for anger, too terrified for rejection.
"Why? I'm just praising you for doing well..."
"If you say that—"
Elysia grabbed my collar roughly. Her fingers clenched so tightly they turned white. Up close, her breath carried not the sweetness of honey water, but a dry agony like scorched ashes.
"It makes me feel like I have to endure even harder. Tomorrow, the day after... even the future that will turn into the past."
Her violet eyes wavered perilously. A profound abyss churned within them—one I couldn't dare read or even guess at. Was the burden of being the saintess truly this crushing?
How heavy was the weight she bore?
Elysia exhaled a profound weariness.
Then, her lips curved into a very slow arc. Too faint to call a smile, too wistful to call a sneer.
"You're so... cruel, tossing out words like that without a care."
The strength drained gradually from her grip. The wrinkles left on my collar lingered messily, like traces of her passion. She stared at me intently before sinking back deep into the sofa—a vision so fragile, she seemed ready to dissolve into the air at any moment.
I couldn't pinpoint exactly what she meant by "the future that will become the past." I could only guess it reflected the vague despair of someone doomed to devote her entire life as the saintess.
Her violet eyes wavered perilously right before me.
"The moment you say 'good job,' it turns into another rule for me. 'The saintess must endure.' 'The saintess must hold out.' Those suffocating phrases tighten around my neck."
Elysia stared straight through me.
With that wistful smile teetering on the edge of collapse.
"So don't praise me. Don't say I did well. I don't want to be some noble existence. I just... want to stay broken."
She released my collar limply and collapsed back onto the sofa. Her shoulders trembled faintly. It wasn't the dignity of a saintess—it was the cry of a mere human desperate to set down her crushing load.
"......?"
The unfamiliar sensation of someone carefully brushing back my hair froze my thoughts. It was different from towel-drying—blunt yet gentle fingers.
"What are you doing?"
When I growled lowly, Ian replied with perfect composure.
"Petting you."
"That's not what I asked!"
I tried to swat his hand away, but Ian bent his knees to meet my eye level. To lock eyes with me slumped on the sofa, he'd lowered himself. His gaze held none of the blind worship or fear I'd grown used to.
"This is the most you-like you, Elysia."
"What?"
At my dumbfounded retort, he smiled faintly. Unlike my own wretched one, his smile brimmed with relentless tenderness and purity.
"When others see 'saintess,' I'll see Elysia behind it."
His voice echoed softly through the prayer room. The dank space thick with alcohol and Moonlit Herb smoke somehow brightened at his words.
"When others see nobility, I'll see your casual side."
"......"
"I'll remember that you like alcohol, enjoy smoking magic herbs, prefer mint chocolate over strawberries. Because I'm your dedicated priest."
He fiddled with a strand of my silver hair as he continued.
"I took this job not because of 'saintess,' but because of Elysia. That the saintess is actually lazy, actually a hopeless mess—I'll keep it all to myself."
I stared at him blankly until the final words jolted me awake.
"...But that sounds suspiciously like you're shading me."
At my sharp remark, Ian's eyes shook visibly. He shattered the tender atmosphere in an instant, reverting to his usual cheeky apprentice priest grin.
"Misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding? You literally just said 'hopeless mess' and 'lazy'—"
"Oh, the tea must be cold now! I'll go reheat it!"
Ian slyly extricated his hand from my gripped collar and began backing away. Where had that noble declaration gone? Grinning obsequiously like a scolded puppy, he fled toward the door.
"Hey! Stop right there?!"
"Tomorrow, I'll bring even tastier mint chocolate cake!"
I burst into hollow laughter watching his hurried retreat as he yanked the door open and bolted. In thousands of lifetimes, no one had ever treated me like this.
The warmth from his hand still lingered on my head. Without thinking, I touched the spot again.
"...What a pain in the ass."
A faint smile still clung to my lips. This round felt like it would be far less boring than usual.