The Saintess's Sin
The cold season had arrived.
Paying no heed to the harsh weather, a young priest worried for the saintess lost in prayer and brought her a coat.
“Saintess, the air is bitter. Please cease your prayers and return to your chambers.”
“Very well.”
Capia offered no second refusal and returned to her room, a chilling smile lingering on her lips.
It is not yet time. Rumors say the Klein daughter’s return will be announced at the spring debutante ball? Very well… I shall wait quietly until then.
Thirty years had already passed since she became saintess.
Having endured every humiliation under the pretext of the temple’s waning holy power, Capia was desperate to grasp anything she could.
The Duchess of Orleans may be backing me for now, but that alone will not suffice.
Long ago, the Duke and Duchess of Klein—the very heart of the empire’s left wing—had visited the main temple. The duchess, heavy with child, had come seeking prayers for a safe delivery.
Capia had schemed relentlessly to forge a connection. If no reason existed, she would create one. She blessed the unborn child while secretly channeling her weakening holy power into its mother’s womb.
The moment she saw the duchess, she had understood.
The child soon to be born would be a mage who naturally devoured immense magical power.
Yet for now, it was merely a powerless fetus holding latent potential.
If she laid her hands upon it, she could shape everything to her will.
That impulsive plot had worked far better than expected.
Upon hearing that their long-awaited youngest—destined to be doted upon after two elder sons—would be born frail, the Kleins had entrusted the newborn to the main temple without hesitation.
They gave her only the noble name Tiana Marietta Klein before departing.
From that moment, the infant’s life rested entirely in Capia’s hands.
Good.
Originally, she had planned to keep the child only until it could understand reason, using the excuse of curing a nonexistent illness.
Once the girl grew old enough to regard Capia as a godmother, she would return her and maintain a favorable relationship.
But she could never allow the girl to grow into a great mage the world had never seen. How could she?
She herself had become saintess only to live a life of mockery and hardship. It was unfair for the girl alone to possess noble birth, magical talent, and a good husband.
You will become a kind daughter who sees me as your savior and serves me for life.
Had the saintess’s position corrupted her, or had Capia’s nature been twisted from the beginning?
Filled with warped desire, Capia kept the girl imprisoned in the temple until her sixth birthday drew near.
She even gave the child the temple’s ancient relic—the ruby pendant—to suppress her innate magic.
When the newborn opened her eyes, her hair had been a pale gold nearly identical to the duke’s. Yet the pendant’s power gradually turned it a soft pink. In time, it might even deepen into vivid red.
Capia pressured the wet nurse and maids, warning them that the girl suffered a grave illness and must never speak of it.
Thus, their letters to the ducal house never mentioned the change. When the girl turned three and a painter was suggested for a portrait, they frantically refused, claiming she needed rest.
Capia had not hated the innocent Klein daughter without reason.
She had merely used the child as a tool to fulfill her own ambitions.
Five long years passed in this manner.
The girl was already six. Though they had never grown close due to the constant confinement, Capia had kept her long enough. If the illness dragged on further, the Kleins might summon other healers.
It is time to send her back. After raising their daughter in the temple for five full years, they will not dare slight me.
The moment has come, has it not?
The saintess intended to announce that while the girl’s hair could not be helped, her health had improved, and prepare to return her.
Then… the carriage was suddenly attacked on its way home.
The culprits? Likely remnants of a fallen kingdom or bandits who had infiltrated deep into the empire. They had committed murder simply to steal the treasures and gold coins aboard.
Capia swore to the heavens—this was not her doing.
The carriage had been far too ornate. A little farther and the temple knights stationed nearby would have appeared to escort them.
The coachman and others perished. The young daughter vanished without a trace.
If the remnants had taken her, she was likely sold as a slave in some distant, lawless kingdom beyond the empire.
Even while imagining such a horrific end, Capia later delivered the oracle that the daughter would return to the ducal house—a transparent ploy.
She feared the Duke of Klein might question her about the past upon their reunion and sought to buy herself time.
Capia’s lips twisted grotesquely.
The oracle she had arbitrarily given had come true in its own twisted way. Their gazes and footsteps had simply missed each other by a hair’s breadth.
Honestly, Duke Klein, this is your fault. If you truly felt the pull of blood, you should have recognized your own child. One more step, a few more paces, and you would have found your daughter safely.
If that had happened, she would never have needed to take such risks, and their reunion—and her own plans—would have proceeded smoothly.
“Haa.”
Capia’s eyes returned to the present after wandering through distant memories.
Well, the fact that things had remained quiet suggested the real daughter had no idea who she truly was. Despite the rumors spreading throughout the capital that the Klein daughter had been found, she showed no sign of moving.
Thanks to the spy she had long planted in the Klein household with the Orleans Duke’s help—a man she had never expected much from—he had accomplished something significant.
Disguised as a servant, the spy had searched Dorothea’s room upon entering as an Eina and discovered a suspicious item: an infant’s silk robe.
Since the girl came from Grace Monastery and possessed nothing else of value, he suspected it might be stolen and reported it to the temple, hoping it could be used against her.
A silk robe for infants with a distinctive knot. Could it be…?
While Dorothea was away, Capia had the item brought to her and immediately recognized it from years past.
Light brown hair and blue eyes? You cannot possibly be the daughter. I know every detail of that child from infancy onward!
Capia quickly investigated Dorothea’s past and the situation at Grace Monastery, and grasped the truth.
So there had been a girl named Morgana with light pink hair at the monastery? Dorothea had been her roommate?
Yes… she had stolen it. What a greedy child.
“I am a sinner.”
The saintess spoke the truth without the slightest hesitation.
Back then—when she had suspected that the child named Morgana was the real Klein daughter—if she had spoken up and helped restore her identity, or at least visited the monastery where the two had lived and confessed everything…
The daughter would have returned to her rightful place.
Capia, too, might have eased some of the guilt she carried.
But she had not.
She could not calmly walk the final path of repentance. To do so, she would have to fall into the abyss as a sinner herself.
After the Klein daughter’s disappearance, the saintess began avoiding anyone with pink or red hair, whether in the capital or beyond. It was pure instinct.
She kept her distance from men and women alike, even the temple knights.
Yet all this time…
You had remained quietly there. At the edge of the divine wing, in a solitary room within the monastery.
Using the spy inside the ducal house, Capia arranged for the information to reach the duchess in a deliberately twisted manner.
She also ordered that Dorothea be brought to her after losing consciousness, so she could learn exactly what the girl was plotting.
After clouding her mind further and questioning her until the statue’s power was exhausted, the result was clear.
You knew the daughter’s true identity yet still desired her false position and glory. Very well. I shall grant you the place you want.
Capia was delighted.
She had discovered a new, small demon she could use at will and cast into hell whenever she pleased.
But one day, you will pay for what you have done a hundredfold. And it will be by my hand alone!
The saintess’s eyes, steeped in dark magic, gleamed with malice.
* * *
Pay had roughly grasped the structure of the vast conspiracy surrounding her.
What do I do now?
This went far beyond simply exposing Dot’s misdeeds and restoring justice. Did Dot know the truth? Whether she knew and still joined hands or remained ignorant, it was terrifying either way.
I…
A loud cry echoed from the basket by the warm window.
“Pii! Piik! Pipipipi!”
“Oh, Momo.”
“Piiiiiiik!”
Momo seemed oblivious, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
The way his plump sides jiggled as he wagged his rear was oddly endearing. After reuniting with Lucius, he had seemed somewhat subdued, perhaps intimidated by his former master, but lately he had become lively again.
To Momo, the current slight distance between her and Lucius appeared to be a good thing.
Yes, at least you should be happy. There is no need for everyone to live with sullen faces.
“Hehe.”
Pay smiled for the first time in a while. That afternoon, she received an unexpected visitor.
Memories of her painful past threatened to bring tears, but she steadied herself and offered a greeting.
“Hello, Leon… or rather, Lord Cassel of Klein.”
Cassel’s red eyes darkened with unspoken sorrow as he replied with equal stiffness.
“You may simply call me Cassel, Lady Pay.”
“Then please call me Pay as well, Sir Cassel.”
“Understood, Lady Pay.”
After each yielding a step, the man and woman regarded each other in silence.
Pay could not bring herself to say the words of congratulations for finding his lost sister. Those words simply would not leave her lips.
If the person before her were Dot, she would have spoken them gladly.
Congratulations on recovering your true identity, and may you live well as a noble daughter from now on.
She was confident she could face the wicked Dot with a blade hidden behind her tongue.
Yet she felt no desire to direct any pointed remarks at Cassel.
Strangely, he too made no mention of the daughter.
She was his lost blood relative from childhood—surely he was not indifferent. There must be… some other reason. She wanted to believe that.
“I came without an appointment, simply because I wished to see you, Lady Pay. I apologize for my rudeness.”
“Not at all!”
Honestly, she was glad. Pay gazed at him blankly, allowing her usually suppressed emotions to surface just a little.
Did they resemble each other at all?
The eldest brother she had met again after learning her true identity did not immediately strike one as resembling the duke and duchess.
She had heard that the Klein family occasionally produced powerful warriors every few generations. Since the current duke was not one, perhaps Cassel took after an ancestor.
Pay herself did not closely resemble the duke and duchess either, so perhaps that was why the thought occurred to her. Her heart grew heavier with concern for Cassel’s future.