Chapter 11
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: The Pristine Prayer Room
-----------------------------------------------------------------
I knocked on the door of the prayer room, but no answer came from inside.
"Excuse me, Saintess. Priest Ian here."
No reply came. But by now, I knew that meant permission to enter. The moment I carefully pushed open the door just like always, I froze in place.
What unfolded before my eyes was an unbelievable sight.
The prayer room was—
Spotless.
No, spotless didn't even begin to cover it.
It was normal.
The suffocating stench of alcohol that had clung to everything so stubbornly was gone. The rotten sweet smell of incense sticks was absent. Empty bottles that used to roll across the floor, scraps of cloth strewn in utter chaos, the endless mess that sprang back up no matter how much I cleaned yesterday—all traces had vanished.
Not even a speck of dust—
was in sight.
Instead, a faint lily scent wafted through the air. The official fragrance of the cathedral.
In the original story, the saintess's prayer room was always described as "dawn."
『Her prayer room was always filled with air as transparent and pure as the light of a freshly blooming dawn.
Thin lace curtains hung at the window, fluttering faintly like a butterfly's wings in the occasional breeze, and sunlight filtering through them wove intricate patterns across the marble floor, utterly free of dust.
Instead of the acrid smell of alcohol or choking smoke, a subtle lily fragrance symbolizing divinity rose gently, calming the hearts of all who lingered there with reverence.
This was no mere dwelling for the saintess—it was a sacred sanctuary untouched by worldly filth, the purest testament to her innocence.』
The room, which until yesterday had been dank with empty bottles and the haze of half-burned incense, was now impeccably clean, as if a miracle had swept through. And in the center of it all, bathed in the dazzling sunlight pouring through the curtains, knelt a woman.
『Elysia herself was the embodiment of radiant white.
Her skin resembled a freshly bloomed lily, sometimes gleaming like cold snow or smooth holy oil.
Yet that whiteness evoked chilly moonlight more than warm sunlight, instilling a lofty beauty that made one feel a cool sense of alienation upon drawing near.
Her silver hair, undisturbed even by the wind, cascaded over her shoulders like threads of shimmering silk, while her violet eyes, holding the hue of dusk just before sunset, gazed into realms beyond this world with a mystical, distant depth.』
Overwhelmed with emotion, I held my breath. The saintess from the original story—the one I had loved, the one I had yearned to save—stood manifest before my eyes.
『The back of Elysia at prayer was profoundly still and silent, as if she bore the world's every sorrow upon her shoulders.
She always sat with her back straight, upholding decorum, that rigid posture a courtesy to the divine and a fierce vow never to let herself falter.
Amid that seemingly perfect form, the only thing that trembled was the tips of her slender fingers—a faint quiver hinting at the solitary struggle of a single human enduring in a role demanding flawlessness.』
The prayer spilling from her lips was reverent and beautiful, utterly unlike her usual sharp-tongued barbs.
『The prayer flowing from her lips was no beggar’s plea to the divine, but a noble vow to silently shoulder the world’s every pain and burden in God’s stead.
Even in the act of prayer, she never lost her merciful smile, her voice free of resentment or lingering attachment toward others.
Like a candle burning alone behind brilliant light, her prayer was a quiet process of self-consumption to save another.
That sacred resonance spread along the prayer room’s walls, filling listeners with awe at the tragic fate she bore.』
As her prayer ended, Elysia slowly lowered her head and turned her gaze toward me. With a trembling voice, I cried out.
"S-Saintess! Have you finally returned to your true self? Do you know how much I've...!"
But my didn't last even three seconds. The moment she saw me, she furrowed her brow and clicked her tongue.
"What're you babbling about? Tch, I thought those old fogeys were here. Ugh, wasted effort."
"...Pardon?"
At my dumbfounded reaction, Elysia waved her hand dismissively, as if annoyed.
She pulled out a notebook from her bosom and checked it.
Today was the day the Pope and high-ranking clergy were scheduled for their routine visit. The instant she confirmed it was me, she discarded her saintly poise from moments ago and flopped into her chair.
Sinking deep into the seat, she let her upper body slump carelessly and tilted her head back.
The saintess robes draping her shoulders slipped loosely to one side once more, brazenly exposing the pale curve of her neck and collarbone.
She sat with her legs splayed wide, slouched at an angle, lazily swinging her toes.
"Saintess!"
My voice came out louder than expected.
"Your skirt...! Please, be more careful!"
Only then did she glance downward briefly. It felt less like checking and more like the bare minimum effort to endure the hassle. In that short motion, her skirt hem had already hiked up. The hem that should have been prim lay disheveled, revealing the curve of her thigh far too easily.
I didn't let my gaze linger on the scene.
But—
The effort not to look couldn't erase the fact that it had already flashed into my sight.
In that brief instant, I glimpsed the hue inside the fabric. White. Faintly, yet unmistakably. The landscape just before crossing into forbidden territory.
"Why."
Elysia's voice drifted out languidly.
"You turned on?"
She narrowed her eyes and curled her lips upward. It wasn't mockery or overt scorn. Rather, it resembled the leisure of someone who had fully anticipated—and relished—the other's response. Her violet eyes held me loosely, as if they knew exactly how far I'd been rattled.
I whipped my head away immediately.
More like slammed it aside.
I fixed my gaze on the golden ceiling patterns like nails driven into my eyes, counting each one. Meaningless ornaments, meaningless lines. I commanded myself not to see anything else.
My heart pounded beside my ear. Even inhaling felt deafening.
This wasn't desire—
It was tension.
The kind where one misstep could send everything crumbling.
From behind me came the faint sound of Elysia chuckling. Barely audible, yet unmistakably laughter. Like a predator watching its prey thrash to the very end.
I gritted my teeth.
I grabbed her splayed knees and gently pressed them together toward the center.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
Elysia asked in a voice soaked with bewilderment. Her body stiffened in the exact position where my hands had touched.
"Why are you so careless? What if someone sees? Maintain some dignity befitting a saintess."
I stood up, tossing the words out as if nothing had happened.
"You?! You can't just grab someone's legs like that!"
Her fierce shout echoed through the silent prayer room. Unlike her usual drowsy taunts, her voice trembled with genuine fluster.
"Ah."
As I opened my mouth to answer, belated realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. I'd tried to act nonchalant, but the vivid afterimage was seared into my palms like a brand.
Though the contact was fleeting, her skin felt softer than silk, its lily-smooth texture clinging to every joint of my fingers. Far from the coolness I'd expected, a heat far fiercer than when our foreheads had touched welled up from deep within, scorching my palms.
As I'd leaned in to close her legs, the thick, sweet scent of alcohol mingled with moonlit herb had invaded my lungs, dizzily numbing my reason. The lively firmness of her skin through the thin fabric replayed relentlessly in my mind, sending my heart surging to my throat, on the verge of explosion.
I jolted back in alarm, retreating. Unsure where to look, I desperately counted the ceiling patterns again.
Forcing a casual air, I turned back to Elysia.
But the arrogant predator who had mocked me so languidly moments ago was gone.
Her widely splayed legs were nowhere to be seen; now they were clamped tightly, allowing not a single gap.
What flustered me most was her face.
Her cheeks, pale as porcelain, had flushed deep like ripe strawberries—or deeper than the wine she drank. The crimson spread down her ears to her slender neck, and in apparent shame, she buried her face in both hands.
"Saintess...?"
When I called cautiously, her shoulders quivered ever so slightly. Gone was her usual sharp, languid aura. Before me now was just a girl at a loss, overwhelmed by something unbearable.
With her hands covering her face, a tiny mumble leaked from her lips.
"M-my purity..."
"Pardon?"
Thinking I'd misheard, I asked again. She peeked at me briefly through her fingers. Her violet eyes, far from the piercing gaze of a predator, glistened moistly as if on the verge of tears.
"Just now... you... my legs..."
Unable to finish, she buried her face again. Hunched with her palms to her cheeks, she looked far more vivid—and dizzyingly perilous—than the endlessly compassionate and reverent figure from the original story.
Silence returned to the room. But it differed from the earlier bored hush. The air thrummed with tension like a bowstring drawn taut, as if we could hear each other's heartbeats.
My palms still bore the imprint of her soft, hot skin. Recalling the lively firmness through the thin fabric dried my throat raw once more.
She kept her face hidden for a long while. Only the tips of her fingers resting on her clamped knees trembled faintly.
"...Take responsibility."
She mumbled through her palms.
"Pardon?"
"Take responsibility, you con artist priest."
She lifted her head just a fraction. Through disheveled silver strands, her eyes—still flushed red—glared at me with resentment, as if I'd stolen something precious from her.
That was when footsteps from the end of the hall finally reached the prayer room door.
Knock, knock.
A dignified knock shattered the silence.
"Saintess, the Papal delegation has arrived. May we enter?"
The moment the clergy's voices sounded, Elysia's eyes changed in an instant. The shy, blushing girl vanished, replaced by the cold, sacred gaze peering beyond this world.
But as she passed me, she whispered so low only I could hear.
"We'll talk later, Priest."
That drowsy warning sent a chill slithering down my spine.