Recollection (2): The Saintess Who Answered My Love

It is said that only one person in each era can reach the Goddess. A man becomes the Saint, a woman the Saintess. To hear her voice and convey it—that is my mission.

The benevolent Goddess loved all equally and spread her mercy across this world. Yet the love one gives does not return unconditionally. There is no law that what you bestow must come back to you. I, Sirke Aidela, the Saintess of this era who can see and hear her love, understand this better than anyone. Love is given without expecting reward.

I was ten years old when the church took me in. It was the fifth year since I had assumed the role of Saintess that news arrived of a man called the Demon King appearing in the distant north.

After his arrival, I was forced to watch people suffer for five long years. I witnessed blasphemy that denied the gods themselves. I had to find a way. The Goddess’s love belonged to this world; I would see smiling faces once more.

She was the one selected by the Goddess, a magnificent soul who would surely let the Goddess’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠name shine across the land once more. Uncommon black hair cut short. Determined brown eyes brimming with resolve. That lovely mouth, curving into a bright grin—it was truly beautiful. Her body seemed strong, clad in armor that looked like an impenetrable wall. She appeared to be someone who would protect everyone.

Among the ‘beloved ones,’ even the greatest archer of the elves had joined the quest. Though we all served the Goddess’s will, I had rarely encountered anyone from the Armilla Elf territory. We had only passed each other at the appointment ceremony. That was all. So she fascinated me. Those long, elegant ears. Skin as white as snow. Eyes that glowed with green light. Lips red as roses, glossy and full. A straight nose. Hair so fine one might mistake it for pure white. Ah—when I stared too intently, she turned her face away with a pout. I wanted to keep looking. Still, the subtle muscles along her arms made her skill with a bow unmistakable.

But who was this man called Woojin? No matter how I observed him, I could sense no trace of a blessing. If I had to describe him, he was utterly ordinary. The only notable things were armor that didn’t fit properly, a sword hanging loosely at his side, and that enormous bag. Could his strength itself be his blessing? The hero strongly opposed letting him join, insisting he had no divine protection. Yet I found myself hoping he would come with us. His resolute gaze, his declaration that he would support the journey with everything he had—such courage, such sincerity. He would surely become someone this noble expedition needed. Someone essential to spreading the Goddess’s will.

The adventure was far less noble than I had imagined. The holy knights had once told me battles were glorious and sacred. That cutting down those who denied the Goddess’s love with the swords granted to them was their sacred duty. How they had shone as they charged forward in their pure white armor. But what I witnessed was nothing good. Blood. Severed limbs. Spilled entrails. Things I had never heard of, never imagined. Had the sisters who went to the front lines lived while seeing such horrors every day? Was I truly qualified to be the Saintess? Every time the Goddess sent me an oracle, she told me I was doing well. But it didn’t feel that way at all. Were the people on the front lines really seeing these things? Even the strong hero was retching, struggling. Then what about me?

On a day when everyone was suffering, Woojin stood firm. I had cried myself to sleep from exhaustion and woke to realize he had taken the night watch. He had no blessing. It was only natural he would be struggling far more than the rest of us. In such a brutal fight, how could he not be in pain?

“Um…”

“Ah, Saintess.”

He smiled gently and added more wood to the fire.

“Was your sleep uncomfortable?”

“No… thanks to you, I slept deeply.”

In truth, I hadn’t even realized I had fallen asleep. The others were still resting inside their tents.

“Are you all right? There may be another battle tomorrow.”

“I’m not doing much. My only role is to make the journey a little easier for all of you.”

As Woojin smiled, the shadows beneath his eyes were dark. It wasn’t good. People were always conscious of my position. Because I was the Saintess—the one who met the Goddess directly and carried out her will—they tried to hide their own pain, thinking I must be suffering more. So I secretly used a sliver of my power.

“Woojin. Are you truly all right?”

Tell me honestly. I will help you.

“It’s hard. Truly. I’ve never heard of battlefields like this, never seen blood soaking the ground. How many more of these horrors must we face?”

“Who knows. Until this journey ends, I suppose. We will have to keep overcoming them.”

“I thought I had prepared myself.”

“So did I.”

“…But I cannot collapse, can I?”

Hm?

“The Saintess, the hero, the archer—you are all struggling. If I fall here, it would be wrong. There must be a reason I am here, Saintess. So I’m all right. I am.”

Clearly the power of a blessing was wrapped around him. The “confession” that brought relief ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by revealing one’s true heart. Most people used it to voice resentment or pain, yet he… As expected, he was an extraordinary person.

“Yes, but… I am still lacking. In strength, in stamina. So I must keep moving forward. There is still a long road ahead, Saintess.”

“You will surely succeed, Woojin. Do not falter. Look ahead. The day will come when you become even stronger than you are now.”

Of course, you already seem harder than steel compared to any of us.

Did I mention it? That when you give love, you should not expect anything in return. Though I offered much help, most people simply took it for granted. They would only praise me—“As expected of the Saintess”—and nothing ever changed. It was the same even when I used my blessing. Those who confessed their struggles never tried to change the root of their suffering. Because once they came to me, those painful feelings would vanish.

But Woojin was different. He responded beautifully to my “love.” Whenever he faced a wall and seemed about to break, he would do as he had on the first night of our journey—honestly reveal everything and ask for help. When I offered my advice and encouragement, he would rise splendidly and overcome the obstacle. I began to like him. He never forgot to express gratitude. I was drawn to him because he answered the love I gave in equal measure.

Will the day come when I can tell him my feelings? When this adventure ends, will I have the courage? Goddess, please grant me that strength.

“….!!!!! Goddess!”

“Hmm? Saintess, have you received an oracle?”

“Ah, no, that’s…”

I must not be discovered. I must not be discovered…!

“It looked like you were saying something you couldn’t speak aloud—”

“Woojin, could you step outside for a moment?”

“No, why…”

“Honestly. The Goddess is a woman, the Saintess is a woman. Don’t you sense anything?”

“…I’m sorry—kek!”

“Get out already! And stop doing weird things!”

…Thanks to the archer, I was saved. But I still don’t understand. Is it uncomfortable for him to have me by his side? We are companions. I should not be feeling these emotions.

…Still. This feeling of my chest tightening so fiercely. It is not entirely unpleasant. Perhaps. Perhaps—if I speak with him a little more, this feeling will grow even warmer. Soon we will reach the front lines. There will be no time for conversation there. So wanting a little more now, sharing a few more memories with him… that cannot be wrong, can it?

“…Mmm?”

“Looks like you had a good dream, Saintess.”

“…Yes.”

Warm sunlight poured through the gap in the tent. In my dream I had met those happy days again—days as warm as the sunlight I loved. The old me would have offered gratitude to the Goddess for allowing such a happy dream. The fact that I feel no desire to do so is not my fault… is it? Or is it?

“Again… having such blasphemous thoughts…!”

“…Look, I don’t want to say this, but you know time is urgent, yes?”

“…It is my fault. I shouldn’t even have time for such thoughts.”

I rose hurriedly and stretched my body with a long pull. After rolling the sleeping bag tightly and tying it exactly as he had done, I pulled out the stakes, dismantled the tent, and prodded the burnt firewood with a poker to make sure no embers remained. Ash fluttered lightly—

“Achoo!”

Sniff. It was time to depart. I placed the well-packed bag at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rear of the carriage, secured the knot, and climbed back onto the heavy vehicle. The hero scanned the surroundings once more before taking the driver’s seat.

…This evening and tomorrow morning, I will insist on switching roles even if I must force it. I know her heart is heavy, but it cannot be as horrible as mine. Truly. I mean it. After all, the devil’s voice that used my own tone still rings vividly in my ears.

…Even though I know they are hallucinations, sometimes I cannot control my own hands. If the archer had not been there, I might have already cut off one of my ears.

…Today the road will be long again. But the path that leads to him shows no end. It feels more suffocating now than when we faced the Demon King. Every time the forest draws nearer, every time I realize the cursed frontline village is close… dark thoughts leak from me even though I try to stop them. It is too horrible. That the Saintess is actually this kind of person. Now I cannot believe I will ever be forgiven.

…And even my faith in you, Goddess, who should be praised above all, is beginning to waver. He deserved to be loved. He should have been protected. I, who should have helped him more than anyone, who should have embraced him, instead spat the worst words at him. Even if it was not of my own will, I denied his sincerity. And you, the omniscient and omnipotent one who did not stop it… How could you? How could you do that to him?

Thud.

“Ugh.”

My stomach churned. Still, I would endure. He had driven more gently. He had been able to reach the destination quickly while doing so. He had always worried about my motion sickness whenever I got down. How could I… How could I… How could I…

“…Huuup!”

I cannot cry. I have no right. I can only endure. For now, I will focus on the thought of meeting him. If I do not hold onto that at least… the dagger I keep cherished against my chest may turn toward me instead.

At least, if I can hear one word of forgiveness, then perhaps I will be able to smile as I end my own life. Until then, this body and this soul have no worth to be saved.

To die while cursing a soul that is loved, to take one’s own life—that is the opportunity to receive the worst punishment recorded in the doctrine.

…I am waiting for that day. I truly am.

…Again, time has slipped away. I cannot remain this defenseless. Morning had come, and my entire body ached.

…It is the same as always. During camp, I always volunteered for the night watch.

…The thoughts about my past self that arise so naturally now are difficult to deny. Perhaps I should simply accept them. But remembering the past makes my chest hurt so much that I end up striking it until groans escape me.

If anyone saw, they would call me insane. Or perhaps I already am. To think I could join an adventure without a blessing. Ah, who said those words again?

Please. Please. Stop.

I cannot hate her any more than this.

My throat, already ruined, produced no proper sound—only broken, grotesque cries. The cool breeze, the bright weather, the warm sunlight we had once praised together, the clouds that had painted the sky like a picture—none of them brought me anything but pain.

Please, just kill me. I am too disgusted with myself to turn blades toward the people I once loved.

I needed to find shelter. Every muscle screamed. It was only natural after crying, wailing, rolling across the ground like a lunatic, and beating myself.

…Damn it. I feel like I am truly losing my mind. I need maximum rest. My head is ringing with hallucinations; I can barely speak. Who would accept a madman like me?

“…Found one.”

A cave. There should be no dungeons left. No monsters either. A cave would make a good shelter. But…

“Hi… hic…”

I collapsed where I stood. A short scream slipped from my lips. Y-yes. Why hadn’t I realized it? This cave… it was definitely the one hidden behind the bushes—the one the hell hounds had emerged from.

“Hu, huuaa…”

I flailed my legs wildly, barely pushing myself up with my hands as I fled. I had to run. Faster.

“Hak, haa, hak, haa…”

If they catch me, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠will die. The howl echoes—companions gather. But I have no companions. They will bite and tear. I will be ripped apart. Back then I had a sword. Now I have nothing. If I charge with bare hands, I won’t even cut one of them. My limbs will be torn off. My stomach will be devoured. I will die. I will die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to experience that terror again.

“Go away! Go awaaaay!”

…I have gone mad. Only after falling into the water could I admit I was a lunatic who had lost his mind. Nothing had been chasing me. That cave was probably just an ordinary cave. Maybe. No, it must be safe. Or should I suspect it? But aside from the occasional animal, I had seen no monsters.

“I have to suspect. You survive by suspecting everything.”

But if that were true, I would have died long ago. That cave must be safe. If I light a fire there, it would be warm at night. Yet I cannot bring myself to go back. I cannot turn my steps in that direction at all. The sun has already moved to the right. I will have to light another fire and try to sleep. But will sleep even come?

…Even if I must force it, I should close my eyes.