Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Saintess Normalization Operation
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I adjusted my grip on the quill pen and began filling in the next line on the parchment. In the room enveloped by a warm glow and thick, heady fragrance, I tried my best to keep my voice as businesslike as possible.
"Alright, Article 2. Magical herbs are off-limits for now. You said earlier they were harmful to your body, after all."
At my firm declaration, Elysia, who had been lounging languidly on the sofa, narrowed her eyes and shot back.
"They're not harmful."
"......Pardon?"
"You said they were harmful before. And what even is this magical herb anyway? I searched through every record I could find, and there's not a single mention of it. Is it some kind of smuggled illegal drug you brought into the cathedral on the sly?"
It hadn't appeared in the original story either.
I cast a suspicious glance her way.
If this was some addictive magical narcotic, the problem would be serious.
But Elysia shrugged indifferently, pulling a leaf from the pouch I'd confiscated and holding it up.
"This? Its official name is 'Moonlit Herb.'"
She rolled the leaf between her fingertips and continued matter-of-factly.
"Out in the world, they call it all sorts of fancy things like 'Violet Mist Grass,' and around here, they whisper it's the 'Saintess's Poison Herb.' The dried leaves are a deep purple with silver powder on the surface—looks ominous no matter who you ask."
She held the leaf to the candle flame, and once again, a dense, dreamlike purple smoke wafted up.
"Truth is, it's a painkiller. A damn good one, too. Perfect for when your body's screaming in agony, or when your magic runs wild and starts eating away at your mind."
"......A painkiller?"
"Yeah. No toxicity, no addiction. Just a pure herb that stabilizes your magic. So why'd I say it was harmful?"
Elysia exhaled a long plume of smoke and smirked.
"It looks harmful. Perfectly primed for misunderstandings, with that cloyingly sweet smell to boot. Our old fogeys are hypersensitive to that kind of 'visual.' Damn boomers. They care more about appearances than how pure something is on the inside."
Her tone was casual, but it carried a sharp undercurrent of cynicism.
"No matter how much I explained, they wouldn't believe me. 'How would a saintess who's never set foot outside the cathedral know about some weird weed?' If the Pope hadn't pulled strings to make it a 'specially permitted item,' I couldn't have brought it in at all."
"......In that case, I'll strike it from the prohibited list."
I boldly scratched out the word "prohibited" in Article 2 with my quill. Elysia's violet eyes widened just a fraction for the first time.
"Didn't expect that. Figured you wouldn't buy it."
"I'm not your enemy, Saintess. If anything, I'm on your side. I want you to be healthy. To live long and healthy."
"Long and healthy......"
She rolled the words around on her tongue and let out a soft chuckle, as if they'd struck her as utterly foreign.
"But you said it's a painkiller. You also claimed you weren't in any pain—so why keep smoking it?"
"Just...... smells nice."
Rather than answer my probing, Elysia dipped her head forward languidly and crooked a slender finger in slow invitation. A gesture like an irresistible spell, beckoning me closer. Drawn in like a moth, I leaned my upper body toward her lips.
In that moment, the purple haze filling the room blurred the boundaries between us. Close enough to feel her breath, a damp whiff of alcohol mingled with the dizzyingly sweet, unique scent of Moonlit Herb invaded my lungs. The glimpse of her pale nape peeking from the towel and the smooth line of her collarbone threw my vision into disarray, while the subtle heat radiating through her damp saintess robes turned the air thick and feverish.
She pressed her lips close to my ear. Her hot breath tickled my earlobe and trailed down my neck, sending chills racing down my spine. Her violet eyes shimmered temptingly right beside me as she whispered in a low, seductive voice.
"Looks cool, doesn't it? Come on."
It was laced with playfulness, but the vibration resonated deep in my chest like a low thrum. Amid her intoxicating personal fragrance drilling into my nostrils and the hazy smoke, even breathing felt like a dangerous mistake. My heart pounded up to my throat, threatening to burst, and my face burned like it might explode.
Amused by my reaction, she lifted the corner of her mouth ever so slightly in a faint smile—like a predator gazing leisurely at trapped prey.
"......Looks can be deceiving, you said."
My barely squeezed-out reply came out an octave lower than usual. Elysia sank back into her chair with languid grace and blew a puff of purple smoke straight at me.
"Who knows. Guess I'm human too. Sensitive to sights, dependent on them—a fool who can't see past the surface."
Her lazy laughter scattered into the thick haze.
I ignored my burning ears as best I could and jotted down the third article.
"Article 3. Please dress properly. Especially when I'm around—keep it modest, and don't strip carelessly in front of just anyone."
"What, you think I'm some kid? Obviously."
Elysia snorted in disbelief.
"If it's so obvious, then why'd you do it earlier? You were about to strip right in front of me without a care!"
"Well...... your reactions are fun."
Elysia lifted the corner of her mouth ever so slightly in a faint smile.
"Your face turns all red and flustered—it's pretty cute. Watching Priest reactions is my only entertainment these days."
"......Please be more careful from now on. You should think about my heart health too, right?"
"Fine, I'll try."
She didn't look like she'd try at all—utterly nonchalant. Instead, she melted deeper into the chair and counterattacked.
"This is basically my house, though. Can't I relax a bit? Do I have to keep that stiff saintess robe buttoned to my chin even at home?"
She had a point. In the original story, Elysia had spent her whole life bound by others' gazes and rules. I didn't want to oppress her even in this tiny room.
"......Understood. Conduct and attire will reflect your free will—no notes in private spaces."
It was a cowardly retreat after realizing I couldn't outstubborn her logic, but Elysia seemed satisfied, tapping her glass with a clink.
I slid the completed parchment across to her.
[Saintess Normalization Operation - First Negotiation Draft]
Alcohol permitted only after dinner. No quantity limit, but confiscate immediately if overindulgence occurs.
Moonlit Herb (magical herb) for designated uses (pain relief and stabilization) only; cooperate with indoor air purification.
Conduct at your discretion, but maintain the saintess's dignity in front of others (especially other priests).
Elysia scanned the rules, pursed her lips, and picked up the quill.
『Elysia von Rosewell』
Her elegant, beautiful script adorned the bottom of the parchment. I tucked the contract away preciously, swelling with pride.
Finally, first step taken. All that's left is for her to return to being the noble saintess!
In my misplaced confidence, Elysia sank deep into the sofa once more, closing her eyes languidly. Whether the smile playing on her lips was mere mockery or a sense of relief from long-forgotten 'care'—I couldn't tell yet.
Thus began my arduous Saintess Normalization Operation in earnest.
After Ian left the room to reheat the tea, I was alone. I gazed quietly at the parchment on the table. My name, 'Elysia von Rosewell,' written in elegant script, felt strangely unfamiliar.
Through hundreds of regressions, I'd met thousands of priests. They wept before me, raged, or glared with disgust-tinged eyes before leaving just the same. But not one had ever proposed a 'contract' or shoved 'rules' in my face.
"Rules, huh... First time in my life for something like this."
A chuckle escaped me unbidden. A mere apprentice priest, boldly declaring he'd 'normalize' the saintess. Holding my wine bottle hostage for negotiations. Even when I'd backed him into a corner and threatened to kill him, he hadn't flinched—instead scolding me for ruining myself.
The warmth of his hand on my forehead just moments ago, the lazy air as he laughed at my reactions—it all still lingered in the room.
"Ian, was it."
He was brazen. Or rather, brazen to a fault. But those eyes looking up at me held no schemes, no blind worship. Just raw, genuine concern for one person: 'Elysia.'
"What a weird guy."
I sank deep into the sofa and closed my eyes languidly. In the endless loop of tragic deaths, this was the first truly intriguing variable. This priest—brazen yet sincerely worried for me—was starting to pique my interest more and more.
"Let's see how long you last, Priest."
A faint smile spread across my lips. This loop might be a little less boring than the rest.