Chapter 38
The Prophecy Day always came within two or three months of the Saintess Selection. The first one carried the greatest impact, but there were usually second and third prophecy days afterward. The more complicated the prophecy, the more times the Saintess had to meet “the Mother.”
And this first Prophecy Day was the day. The day the Gas family would be officially announced as the ones honored to guard the Saintess.
‘Wait a second…’
A sudden unease made me snap my head up. Across the hall, in his designated seat, sat Whisler.
Our eyes met at the same time—his gaze flaring with intense emotion.
‘Whisler and Mille might actually become a couple.’
The worst possible scenario.
The angelic Whisler, the empire’s shining nobleman, and Mille, the Saintess and protector of the empire. Together, they looked like a couple pulled straight from the pages of a novel—even more than me and Herace.
If things went this way, they could become my rivals.
And the worst part? It wasn’t impossible. Historically, Saintesses were often guided and protected by an “honored one,” and many ended up marrying them.
‘And it’s not like Whisler has no interest in Mille…’
I’d seen them kiss. Whether it was impulsive or not, in the novel they were the main couple. Rationally speaking, the odds favored them in the long run.
‘Up until now, Whisler’s fixation on me was only because of his inferiority complex toward Herace.’
But now that Herace and I were officially dating, who knew? Would Whisler keep chasing me—or turn his attention elsewhere? The odds were shaky.
He might grow more desperate—or he might give up.
But human nature cracks under pressure. Whisler, already under stress, might fall into love even faster.
‘I need a backup plan.’
You can’t easily stop a man everyone calls an angel. That’s probably why Herace suggested putting revenge on hold. He must have thought the same thing.
‘So, instead of wasting time on Whisler, I’ll shift focus to Mille.’
I fixed my gaze on the stage lit by stained glass—where Mille would soon appear.
“Know your enemy, and prepare for them.”
Yes. Mille would be easier to deal with than Whisler. If I could learn more about her, maybe persuade her, maybe negotiate…
As the prayers ended, the High Priest of Pureist climbed onto the podium.
“Welcome, everyone. First, thank you for gracing this sacred day with your presence. At last, the day we’ve all been waiting for has arrived.”
I braced myself, ready to finally hear about the Saintess.
“On this Prophecy Day, we welcome the 35th Saintess, Mille Shining.”
Following the priest’s gesture, a lone figure appeared.
Mille emerged slowly, her head fully veiled, clad in pure white ceremonial robes. A sheer veil floated around her, adding an air of mystery.
In her hand, a staff topped with a multicolored crystal orb shimmered, surrounded by a silver swirl of energy.
She seated herself at the center of the stage.
‘What’s different?’
Her golden eyes were the same. But her hair—hidden beneath the veil—looked more grayish than silver.
“Now, by tradition, the honored guardian of Saintess Mille Shining: from the Gray bloodline, the Gas family’s Whisler Gas.”
Whisler stood and climbed the steps to the stage. The priest handed him a silver crown.
Kneeling on one knee, Whisler carefully placed it on Mille’s head. He bowed his head, pressing his hand over his heart.
That simple act drew gasps and admiration from the crowd.
“…How frustrating.”
Heat swelled in my chest. My lips burned. I could feel my competitive spirit flaring. Why? Because Herace and I were better.
We had exchanged love languages. We had shared deep conversations. We were more real than that staged perfection.
“I, Whisler Gas, vow to walk with Saintess Mille Shining through her beginning and her end, through all that is most important. As the present is what matters most—not the past, not the future—I pledge my life to the Mother.”
The audience repeated his vow in unison, their voices blending into a prayer. When it ended, Whisler sat at Mille’s right, while the High Priest stood to her left.
“Now, we will offer blessings for the meeting of the Mother and her Saintess.”
The High Priest knelt, and the circle of priests around the stage lowered their staffs toward Mille.
It felt strangely familiar.
‘Ah. Of course. This is the start of a Western-style possession ritual.’
Mille closed her eyes and raised her hand toward the painted ceiling above. Her fingers trembled as a clear voice rang out:
“O our one and only God, O Mother who gave us birth and breath, I, Mille Shining, greet you for the first time.”
Silence fell. Her small voice carried like a spell, sinking deep into everyone’s ears.
“O Mother who treasures the present above past and future, please extend your hand so that our present may continue.”
The priests surrounding her dropped to one knee in unison. Unlike Whisler and the High Priest, they pressed their foreheads to the floor. Then the other two followed, lowering their gazes.
Now only Mille and the glowing staffs remained upright.
A strange hum filled the air. Light gathered at the tips of the staffs.
Mille rose and spoke the final invocation.
“History is preserved by the written word. So I, too, shall save your history through writing.”
But her voice was not her own. It was husky, alien. A shiver ran down my spine.
“I will reveal your hero.”
With a bang, the staffs erupted in light. The energy arced toward Mille, engulfing her in brilliance.
Behind her, a radiant halo burst forth. She floated upward, cradled in dazzling light.
Crackling energy flared from her staff’s crystal, shaping itself into a floating book and quill before her.
She was about to write the prophecy.
“This is my will—”
Her voice cut off.
What? Was this normal?
I glanced around. No, everyone else looked just as confused.
“My will—”
The silence grew heavier. Doubt spread in the nobles’ eyes.
“What is—”
“Ah!”
She spoke again, but this time it was Mille’s real voice, not the husky one. A sound that shouldn’t have been heard yet.
Then—crack!
A deafening noise rang out. The light vanished all at once. The staffs went dark.
“There—look!”
With a gasp, Mille collapsed, plummeting from the air.
And Whisler leapt up, catching her in his arms.
“…Huh?”
Something flickered at the edge of my vision. I’d seen something—but couldn’t grasp what.
‘Was her hair silver… or gray?’
