A Life Lived Earnestly
I really did live diligently, didn’t I?
The Saintess and the Pope are said to discard their original names and use the ones bestowed directly by the goddess. The Pope, Silvester. And the Saintess, Beatrice. Names personally granted by none other than the Goddess of Love and Combat, Eris.
…In other words, no matter how much I threw a tantrum begging to change it, it was pointless. Well, whatever. What’s in a name anyway? What matters isn’t the wrapping, it’s what’s inside, right?
With that self-consolation, I began my life as the Saintess.
Life as the Saintess was monotonous but brutally demanding. I rose at dawn for prayers and mass. It could have felt tedious, but the gentle resonance of the prayers echoing through the hall was surprisingly soothing. More importantly, it was the time I could sense and refine the divine power slumbering within me, so I actually looked forward to it.
What should have been free time in the mornings and afternoons was instead spent receiving combat training from Vargas, the Knight Commander. When I first declared that I would train alongside the holy knights, Commander Vargas had shouted with grave determination, “Not until dirt fills my eyes!” But with both the goddess’s and His Holiness the Pope’s permission secured, what could a mere Knight Commander possibly do about it?
Just in case, I had even prepared a final desperate measure by clutching a handful of dirt, but fortunately, it never came to use.
“Even though you are the Saintess, during training I will treat you exactly the same as the other knights. No—in fact, you must undergo even harsher training than them.”
That was how Commander Vargas had accepted me. I secretly scattered the dirt I was holding onto the ground and flashed him a bright smile. I still remember the way his eyes trembled as he watched that dirt hit the floor.
For my weapon, I chose the spear. I had tried swords, axes, battle axes, maces, and all sorts of others, but since I had carried a wooden staff throughout my days as a street urchin, the spear simply felt the most natural in my hands.
Commander Vargas was an extremely rigid man of principle. No matter that I was the Saintess, he showed no leniency during training. Yet he was an outstanding teacher. At first he had been full of complaints about a Saintess receiving combat training, but once he saw that I followed every instruction without complaint and absorbed everything he taught like a sponge, he began smiling with satisfaction and even brought me snacks.
The other holy knights who had hesitated, saying things like “How could we possibly spar with the Saintess? What if she gets hurt or starts crying?” or “Is the Saintess really learning martial arts? Isn’t it just childish curiosity?” completely changed their attitudes once I started mercilessly beating them with a practice staff and sending them straight to the infirmary.
At night, I endured tedious theology lessons with Grand Priest Bartholomew, reading sacred scriptures. It became a daily scene in the church: me dozing off from exhaustion during lessons, sneaking away to nap in a corner, only to be jolted awake by the old man’s thunderous scolding.
And right before bed, I would place a sheet of parchment on my desk, pick up a quill, and clutch my head in frustration.
“…Fuck, I can barely remember anything about the original story.”
You know those scenes in possession stories? The protagonist writes down everything they remember about the original plot and pulls it out like an error notebook whenever they hit a snag.
…Unfortunately, the moment I fell into this world, I spent a full six months living as a street urchin, barely surviving day to day. Because of that, most of my memories of the original novel had grown hazy. On top of that, I had dropped the story midway, so it was safe to say I remembered almost nothing. I couldn’t even clearly recall the protagonist’s name, for crying out loud.
The one saving grace was that the last part I had read before dropping it was the episode involving the Eris Church. The plot had been so shocking that I still retained some memories about the church. It was strange—my recollection of the protagonist’s name was foggy at best, yet I could remember surprisingly detailed information about the Eris Church.
Pope Silvester: Fell ill, was imprisoned by Cassian, and died alone.
Commander Vargas: Didn’t appear in the story. I think it was mentioned that the previous commander died in the Demon Realm.
Leonid: He was the Knight Commander in the original. Can’t remember much, but I definitely remember he was a total bastard.
Cassian: That motherfucker.
Hmm… I squeezed my brain as hard as I could and wrote down everything usable, but… how the hell am I supposed to come up with a plan?
“First, I need to take care of the Pope’s health… warn Commander Vargas to be careful when entering the Demon Realm or tag along with him… Leonid is still young, so I can just beat some sense into him… ugh… but what the fuck do I do about that son of a bitch Cassian?”
Like that, right before falling asleep, I would scribble down whatever fragmented memories floated up like shards onto the parchment.
Time flowed like water amid those hectic days. Living so diligently, I turned fifteen and went out on my first real mission.
It would have been nice if I had become an overpowered Munchkin who smashed everything like in those novels, but the moment I saw the grotesque form of a demonic beast, I froze in terror and couldn’t do a thing. As a result, several holy knights were badly injured. That was when I learned, bone-deep, that training and real combat were completely different.
Still, having experienced real battle once, on the next expedition I barely managed to keep my wits about me and started slicing through monsters. Of course, afterward the sensation of having cut a living creature—even if it was a demonic beast—lingered in my hands, causing me to throw up everything I had eaten that day. I couldn’t sleep a wink that night either.
Once that clumsy period passed, I grew strong enough that after slaying demonic beasts I could casually joke around with the other knights. My spearmanship improved by leaps and bounds as well.
Time passed like that, and by the time I became known as the Silver Holy Spear, I had turned twenty and undergone my coming-of-age ceremony. The goddess personally bestowed upon me the Holy Vestments and the holy spear Astra as celebratory gifts.
Astra was truly the perfect spear. It adjusted its length and size to fit my body, had a sleek and elegant shaft, could only be lifted by me for security, could change shape for easy carrying, and had excellent divine power conductivity. Honestly, the list of praises could go on forever.
When I first received Astra, I even hugged it while sleeping in bed, so there’s no need to explain how much I loved it.
…But the goddamn Holy Vestments that came with it were a different story.
The first time I used my divine power to don the Holy Vestments, brimming with anticipation, I immediately kicked open the door to the prayer room, grabbed the goddess by the collar, and shook her violently. Well, since she hadn’t actually descended, that’s just what I wanted to do.
“Goddess! Have you lost your mind?! How the hell am I supposed to walk around wearing this?!”
In my urgency, I had kicked the prayer room door wide open without even closing it behind me and was screaming at the top of my lungs. From outside, I heard the sound of old Bartholomew clutching the back of his neck and collapsing, but that wasn’t important right now.
Oh my, such a passionate reaction. Does that mean you like the Holy Vestments that much?
“Like it my ass! What the hell is this?! You call this clothes?! It’s barely a scrap of fabric!”
The Holy Vestments blatantly exposed my cleavage, and the sides were completely open, leaving my bare skin on full display.
You simply don’t understand your own value. That perfect body, those beautiful curves and resilient skin—it would be a sin to cover such a divine masterpiece with dull armor.
“What kind of perverted nonsense is that?! The saintesses of other churches wear modest robes that cover them from neck to toe! Why am I the only one dressed like this?!”
To serve me, the Goddess of Love and Combat, shouldn’t you first learn to embrace your own beauty? Think about how the other children of our church dress.
“Ugh…”
She had a point. The priestesses of the Eris Church wore far more revealing and liberated attire compared to other churches. Far from being ashamed, they took pride in displaying their beautiful bodies.
“…But the exposure level of my Holy Vestments is on a completely different scale.”
Still, this was too much! Honestly, there was more skin showing than covered!
Oh my, but you are the highest-ranking woman in the church. It is only natural that you should reveal your beauty even more. Besides, you have finally come of age. Hehe, I waited so long for this day.
“…So you knew this outfit would be problematic for a minor?”
I glanced down at the Holy Vestments and, upon seeing the overwhelming expanse of bare skin, squeezed my eyes shut and snapped sarcastically.
Of course.
“Don’t admit it so easily!”
We argued back and forth for a while, but the goddess childishly yet firmly declared, “I can’t change the Holy Vestments I already gave you. Go away. If you don’t wear them, I’ll sulk!” On top of that, the performance itself was incredible—just like the joke that exposure and defense power are inversely proportional—so in the end I had no choice but to accept them with tears in my eyes.
Anyway, with the Holy Vestments and Astra in hand, I dove back into the Demon Realm and spent another year there. It was a simple summary, but I had truly lived a turbulent life.
Thinking back, for thirteen years since my possession I had worked without a single break. I really should have lived this diligently in my previous life too.
The current problem was that I had no idea when the original story was supposed to begin. Cassian would probably join our church around that time as well.
…Were there any events I could remember? How did the original story start again?
“…Nuna. Nuna!”
While I was lost in thought, a familiar voice pierced my eardrums and yanked me out of my reverie.
“…Shut up. What’s got you so worked up, Leonid?”
I set aside my trip down memory lane and turned to look beside me. At some point Leonid had woken up and was urgently calling for me. The massive bump rising from the top of his head looked so ridiculous that a snort of laughter escaped me.
“Don’t laugh. Do you have any idea how many times I called you?”
“So why were you calling me so desperately?”
“We’ll be arriving at the church soon.”
“Ah, already?”
When I looked up at the sky, thick darkness had already settled over us.
“Yes, that’s right. But what on earth were you thinking about that you didn’t hear me no matter how many times I called? Or were you sleeping? You’ve been complaining about not being able to sleep lately.”
“No, I wasn’t sleeping. I was just… lost in thought, I guess?”
“…Oh? So even someone like you is capable of such a refined activity as contemplation—”
“Keep talking. I dare you.”
“Never mind.”
Why does this guy always pick fights he’s bound to lose? Does he actually enjoy getting beaten?
“…Hmm.”
I stroked my chin, narrowed my eyes, and stared at Leonid. Could this guy, who looks so neat and tidy on the outside, actually have such a perverted preference?
“Nuna, your gaze is kind of creeping me out.”
“It’s nothing. Forget it.”
Well, everyone’s entitled to their own tastes. I nodded to myself, having reached that conclusion, and turned my gaze forward again.
“I have no idea what conclusion you just reached on your own, but it’s definitely not that.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Can’t you at least answer with some sincerity?”
Leonid grumbled in dissatisfaction.
“We’re almost there, so make sure you properly lead the troops. Check the headcount multiple times to see if anyone’s missing. Send the injured straight to the infirmary. Have the priests check for any residual demonic energy left in their bodies and perform purification as well.”
“Don’t you know that’s originally your job, Nuna?”
“Sorry, but I’m absolute trash at healing and purification.”
“You say that like it’s something to be proud of.”
For a moment my fist clenched in irritation, but I held back. Since we had arrived at the church, it was time to take command of the holy knights and wrap things up. And that was the duty of the Deputy Knight Commander, not the Saintess.
This expedition had mostly consisted of apprentice members. During the march and right after battle, attention hadn’t been focused on me, but now it was different. Still, I had to maintain the dignity of a Deputy Commander in front of the apprentices, didn’t I?
…And just as I had said, I really had no talent for healing or purification. I could manage basic recovery spells to some extent, but they fell far short of what was expected from a Saintess. My purification was even worse than that of an apprentice priest. That was because my divine techniques were mostly focused on combat.
Still, my combat-oriented buffs were good enough to earn praise even from the strict old man Bartholomew, so that should count for something, right? Every church has its strengths and weaknesses, after all. I am the Saintess of Eris, who is both the Goddess of Love and the Goddess of Combat, so it’s not strange at all. Yep. That’s right.
“I’m heading in first. Good work.”
“Yes, yes. Please rest well, Saintess.”
“Mm.”
After saying that, I turned to head toward my room inside the church.
“…Huh?”
But a sudden wave of dizziness made the world spin around me.
“Saintess? Are you alright?”
Fortunately, Leonid quickly stepped in to support me, preventing me from collapsing in an embarrassing heap on the ground.
But the moment our bodies touched, the clammy sensation of that sinister dream that had tormented me throughout the entire expedition seemed to resurface. Without thinking, I violently slapped Leonid’s hand away and staggered back several steps.
“Why get angry even when someone tries to help you? You’re making me look bad.”
“…Sorry. I was just startled.”
I offered Leonid an apologetic look. No matter what, violently slapping away the hand of someone who had caught me before I fell was a terrible thing to do.
“Saintess, please go inside and get some proper sleep. Your face looks absolutely terrible.”
Normally he would have joked, “Did the Saintess just apologize?” but Leonid spoke with genuine worry, without a trace of playfulness.
“…Do I really look that bad?”
“Yes. You’ve been completely out of it throughout the entire time in the Demon Realm. You look seriously unwell. At this rate, your dark circles are going to reach your chin.”
“Got it. I should go to bed right away.”
“Rest well.”
At Leonid’s farewell, I gave a light wave in return and headed toward my room.
…Hoping desperately that tonight, at least, I wouldn’t have that damned dream.