Chapter 18

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 5. The Heroine is in Danger (6)

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The Saintess belonged to the church, but she was closer to a special operative than an ordinary priest.

Supported by the Blancard ducal family and managed by the Greenwinter imperial family as the "living treasure of humanity," her utility was so high that she rarely participated in actual church activities.

Half the year, she wandered the continent performing purifications, and of the remaining half, she spent most of it being dragged to imperial events.

This year, with her marriage on top of everything, she was staying at a villa provided by the imperial family during her rare personal time, which led to grumbling within the church: "Are we just cleaning up after the Saintess?"

Even so, Genevieve tried her best to participate in church events amid her busy schedule.

It was because the Pope, who was over ninety this year, doted on her like a granddaughter.

Despite the unspoken rule that "a Saintess cannot become a leader," the Pope hoped she would fill his vacant position. During a private meeting with Crown Prince Edwin, he had candidly shared his wish, saying it wasn't just personal affection but because of Genevieve's outstanding character and virtue.

It was heartwarming to hear, but... when you looked deeper, it wasn't entirely beautiful.

The Pope resented the imperial family and nobles for taking away the church's symbol, the "Saintess." Known for his strong greed for power and wealth, he had clashed with the Emperor multiple times in his youth.

Pushing the Saintess as the church's leader was meant to claim credit for her achievements. Even if his affection for her like a granddaughter was genuine, it was unconvincing coming from someone who loved money and power so much.

How much did the Pope love money? Even weekday services, not open to the public, could be attended if you paid—but the amount was so exorbitant that only nobles or royals with massive donations could set foot in the grand cathedral on those days.

Edelaine carefully observed Genevieve's surroundings as she listened to the Saintess's clear voice in her ceremonial robes.

A sturdy priest guarded her immediately behind, Holy Knights were stationed at the entrance, and all items brought to the Saintess were pre-inspected meticulously by nuns.

Even with only verified identities allowed entry, the security was tight.

'They even sent someone to the imperial party, so the Warlock must control not just monsters but people too.'

Edelaine, who had long since deleted talk of Warlocks and monsters to her mental trash bin five years ago, tried to dredge up faint memories.

A Warlock was a general term for mages who used black magic.

Witch, sorcerer, mage, Warlock.

Many names, but all subcategories under the broad concept of mage, divided by their specialties.

Those with little mana but skilled in herbology, potions, and minor curses were called witches or sorcerers.

Mages mainly used white magic, while Warlocks specialized in black magic.

Black magic, requiring curses, sacrifices, or victims, was highly destructive, making Warlocks social pariahs.

Yet, its cruel efficacy made it popular among nobles who secretly learned it. If caught, you'd plummet to ruin in an instant—but if you weren't caught, it was fine.

Among black magic were hypnosis and curses that controlled people.

The assailant who attacked Edelaine five years ago—actually aiming to kill Genevieve—had been under a Warlock's black magic control.

So, anyone could be targeted, grudge or no grudge.

You couldn't tell who was controlled, but an awakened "Saintess" could purify curses. Genevieve could help if she knew who was affected.

That was why the Warlock wanted her dead.

Originally, she could purify without touch... but it was unknown if the current Genevieve could still do it.

'That's why the last direct attack was that day.'

In this healing flower garden romance, she even shared pink vibes with the Warlock, developing something like romantic feelings, and ultimately, he failed to kill the heroine.

It was a great point showing the heroine's irresistible charm, even toward someone she was supposed to kill.

'I'm not a fan of the heroine getting involved with sub-males outside the main story with the male lead...'

She didn't like sub-males taking up too much page time anyway, let alone romance or backstories with a villain she'd never end up with.

As Genevieve finished the service and turned to leave, their eyes met.

Surprised to see them there, Genevieve's violet eyes widened fully, then she beamed and approached Edelaine.

"Lady Edelaine! If you were coming, you should've told me ahead...!"

"Wanted to surprise you. Oh, but is it okay to come over here?"

"Of course, it's fine. Everyone here is basically church staff."

Spotting Shane, Genevieve gave him an eye-smile and continued.

"Have you eaten? The church meals are great. If it's before lunch, stay and eat."

"Busy."

Shane answered for Edelaine, but Genevieve only looked at her. Finally, Edelaine spoke.

"Nah, not busy. Genevieve, want to tell me what you usually eat?"

"Oh, then let's eat together in my room."

"That okay, Shane?"

Shane grumbled crookedly.

"Didn't you want to go to the central library? By the time we eat, it'll be dark."

"You're the one who's in a rush today."

"And men can't enter the Saintess's quarters."

"Then eat in the dining hall."

"Ridiculous. If we're not eating together, we'll eat back home."

Genevieve let out a small giggle. Edelaine eyed her—why laugh?—and Genevieve said,

"You two seem close."

"We're not."

"Ah, shall we head this way first? Let's talk outside."

Genevieve naturally led Edelaine and Shane out, grabbing Edelaine's elbow and gently pulling her between the escort and Shane.

She was using her guards well and being cautious herself—Edelaine was very satisfied.

Edelaine wanted Genevieve safe. The attack rising right after the resurrection knight felt too timed to blame on herself.

'At this rate, another assault during weekend service wouldn't be surprising.'

Assuming incidents would happen was an old habit.

Edelaine noticing what no one else did was a product of that habit.

Like right now.

"...!"

Edelaine shoving Genevieve away and the burly priest behind grabbing Edelaine's neck, slamming her against the wall—it was nearly simultaneous.

Before her back even hit the wall, Shane had drawn the Holy Knight's sword and severed the priest's wrist clean off.

"Argh! M-my hand!"

Thud. A chunk of flesh hit the ground.

"Seize him! He tried to harm the Saintess!"

"Aaaah...."

The wristless priest screamed, writhing on the floor, as Holy Knights and church staff shouted and subdued him. Genevieve cried out something, dragged away by a Holy Knight.

Her heart pounded from shock. Her legs gave out. Edelaine slid down the wall.

A person's wrist severed with a slash. The sound clung to her ears.

She'd squeezed her eyes shut the instant her neck was grabbed, so she saw almost nothing. She didn't want to see. Rubbing her throat, Edelaine looked up.

Next to the fallen wrist was a boot.

Shane's. He was silent for a moment.

"Hurts, huh?"

His voice was ice-cold.

"Of course it does. Help me up. My legs won't work."

Shane roughly shook the blood from his blade and walked over to the slumped Edelaine.

He crouched down, wiping the blood splattered on her cheek with his sleeve, and said,

"Didn't your parents teach you not to do dangerous things, Edelaine?"

"I..."

"Or do you get antsy if you don't throw yourself into every danger?"

"......Genevieve might've gotten hurt."

"She can't get hurt, but you can?"

"......"

"Your legs give out from a bit of blood, and what the hell do you trust to jump in like that!"

Shane gritted his teeth, straining not to raise his voice.

"Damn it, if I hadn't been here..."

Edelaine thought Shane's face was too pale.

She was the one grabbed. He'd reacted lightning-fast, like he knew. If he hadn't taken the Holy Knight's sword and sliced the wrist, her neck and back would've been bruised black.

Yet his face said he was the one choked. Edelaine murmured softly.

"......Sorry?"

"That's your apology?"

"Saving someone shouldn't require an apology, but you're mad."

"I won't accept that kind."

"Then, thanks. For saving me."

"......"

"Shane?"

Shane rested his forehead on Edelaine's shoulder and neck, slumped beside her.

A long breath slowly escaped him.

Edelaine hesitated, then slowly raised a hand to stroke his fine black hair.