Chapter 162

“W-What are you saying…?”

The priest Artan—no, Hersiso—suddenly changed color and stood up.

“I was only concerned for the Saintess. How can you, an outsider, be left alone with her at a time like this?”

Hersiso, ever the sly con artist, quickly reverted to the persona of a proper, rigid priest.

“Of course, eavesdropping on your conversation is my fault, but do you really think I’d be the subordinate of a woman daring enough to impersonate a Saintess?”

On the surface, it sounded like a reasonable statement.

“That’s true, Baron Luciviu.”

Arcia stepped forward to defend her aide.

“Priest Artan has served me faithfully for three whole years. This incident is simply the result of her overzealous loyalty. So, allow me to apologize on her behalf.”

Having lived in constant fear as a fake Saintess, Arcia was naturally cautious.

Even when we first met a few days ago, she had suspected that I might have hidden motives.

To have earned even this level of trust from her was impressive—a testament to the con artist’s skill, the same skill that had fooled multiple nobles and drained their wealth.

“But Saintess, I can provide proof that this person is Riena’s spy.”

“Proof? Show me then. I’m curious too.”

Hersiso, now brimming with confidence, didn’t even flinch at my words.

Her confidence stemmed from the fact that she had never left any evidence while communicating with Riena.

And it was true—Hersiso and Riena had taken extreme precautions to leave no trace.

Even Tara, who had been waiting for an opportunity, couldn’t bring me any of Hersiso’s letters to Riena.

Even if there had been letters, Hersiso likely would have disguised her handwriting.

Yet, even someone as careful as Hersiso had one tiny gap—one flaw—which I knew from reading Return and Walk the Flower Path.

“Very well. I’ll show you.”

Feigning that I was rummaging through my handbag, I distracted Hersiso and struck.

In one swift motion, I rolled up the wide sleeves of her priestly robe.

“This is the proof.”

Seeing Hersiso’s exposed shoulder, Arcia couldn’t hide her astonishment.

“Th-This… is… a tattoo?”

I held Hersiso tightly and spoke to Arcia.

“The important thing is the design of the tattoo.”

“Oh, it’s a rabbit design. And the one with the bib looks just like a baby rabbit… a rabbit?”

Arcia’s eyes sharpened.

She was well aware of the nickname for the Cassius family’s daughter, which had spread widely.

“Artan, you…”

“N-No! It’s a misunderstanding, Saintess!”

Hersiso shook her head vigorously in front of the intimidating glare of Arcia.

“When I was a child, I raised rabbits. This tattoo is to remember one of them!”

“Then what about the letters ‘R.C.’ beneath the rabbit? Isn’t that Riena Cassius’s initials?”

“N-No, really! That’s the initials of the rabbit I raised…”

It was a plausible excuse, improvised on the spot, but Arcia was no fool.

“Guards! Guards!”

As she called for the guards outside her quarters, Hersiso stopped her.

“Wait! Haa… fine. Your suspicion is correct. I am Hersiso.”

Her annoyed eyes turned toward me.

“How do you not know? I only ever revealed my tattoo to Riena!”

Well, that made sense—because it had appeared in the novel.

Hersiso’s one flaw was her excessive affection for Riena.

And this wasn’t unique to Hersiso.

Riena’s followers, no matter how capable or intelligent, would act irrationally when it came to Riena.

They had to prove they loved Riena more than anyone else.

“Even Eliot, the so-called genius, did the same.”

The secret coded message about Riena’s cuteness—the longest, most inefficient string imaginable—was entirely to show his love for her.

Hersiso was the same. Her love for Riena was so strong that even when apart, she had to flaunt it.

That was why she tattooed a mark on herself that could be dangerous if discovered while infiltrating enemy territory.

‘Well, she probably thought she wouldn’t get caught.’

Priests didn’t wear short sleeves even in midsummer to maintain dignity.

And public bathing was unheard of.

Because of that, Arcia hadn’t noticed the spy was right beside her until now.

“Artan… I trusted you. How could you…”

Even as Arcia trembled with betrayal, Hersiso remained indifferent.

“I suppose I owe you an apology.”

The con artist’s gaze shifted to me.

“Shall we make a deal instead?”

It seemed she judged that I held the initiative between Arcia and her.

“If you pretend not to notice me and let me go, I’ll provide information you want.”

“Betray Riena?”

“I’m about to get caught—what does loyalty matter?”

“How can I even verify if your information is true?”

“Then don’t. Too bad. I wanted to test how you figured out my tattoo and maybe strike a deal. You’re… quite interesting.”

I briefly lifted my blessing and considered how to use her.

Could I keep her close as a double agent for Riena?

“What do you say? Deal?”

My answer was decided.

“No, I don’t need it.”

I pulled out a short rope from my handbag and snapped it at her.

In an instant, the rope expanded and wrapped tightly around her body.

“W-What?!”

Moments later, Hersiso, fully bound, glared at me.

“I was just about to strike a deal!”

“Enough. Best not to deal with a con artist at all.”

Even if I removed the blessing, there was no guarantee she would truly side with me—too risky to use her as a double agent.

Hersiso wasn’t like Tara, whose revenge had been achieved thanks to me.

‘She was already a wanted habitual con artist before even becoming Riena’s subordinate.’

Too risky to deploy for such an important matter.

So I decided to let Hersiso face her punishment.

“If you commit a crime, you must pay for it.”

“Ugh! Let me go!”

Hersiso struggled angrily but couldn’t escape.

The rope had been an artifact gifted to me long ago by the eccentric inventor Kys.

Shortly after, we handed Hersiso over to the guards who had been summoned by the Saintess.

“Suspected of impersonation. Detain her and investigate thoroughly.”

After discussing with Arcia, we decided to postpone reporting her to the authorities until after the Saintess verification.

It wouldn’t benefit Arcia to learn her closest aide was a con artist.

The blessing on Hersiso could be removed leisurely later.

“But what’s the use of all this? The real Saintess is still that woman…”

I took Arcia’s dejected hand.

“I have a favor to ask. Take me to the Door of Verification.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I have something to test. I might, no, I’m highly likely to be able to help you.”

Seeing the seriousness in my eyes, Arcia didn’t question further.

“…Come to think of it, what you said in the courtroom earlier has come true.”

She handed me a priest’s robe, which I wore as I followed her.

Disguised as Arcia’s aide, we proceeded to the innermost part of the main hall.

The guards stationed there paid little attention to me.

The room exuded solemnity, and in its center stood the Door of Verification.

It looked as if the main gate of some ancient monumental structure had been cut out and placed there.

Arcia grasped the handle and pushed with all her strength, but the door did not budge.

“My life’s goal was to become a worthy Saintess. I’ve lived solely for that…!”

“Arcia, even if you cannot open the door, to me, you are the person most suited to be a Saintess.”

I supported her as she began to collapse and helped her sit on the floor.

“Stay as a Saintess. I’m asking you.”

Arcia tried to respond, but I reached for the handle first.

Creeeeak. The heavy sound of the door moving filled the room.

“Ahhh…”

A gasp escaped Arcia’s lips, but to me, there was a sound even clearer than her voice.

“Oh.”

White light poured from beyond the door, rapidly filling the world.

The next moment, I stood not in the temple’s depths, but in a world of pure white.

“Well, it’s been a while since I had a pleasant visitor.”

The voice of the goddess Miella, long unheard, spoke.

I chose my words carefully. There were many things I wanted to ask, but given this phenomenon might not last, I had to ask the most important first.

“I have a question. A Saintess exists only once per generation. Is this absolutely true?”

“Well… maybe. Maybe not.”

“Please answer honestly.”

“I am answering honestly. Whether a Saintess is singular is up to you humans to decide.”

“So that means…”

“I occasionally choose a living being and grant them power. But never have I said to humans, ‘This one is my representative, and you shall treat their words as mine!’ Nor did I say my power is limited to human women.”

Miella smiled calmly.

“It was humans who spread and believed such claims.”

Just as I suspected. This confirmed my intuition.

“Saintess! I greet you!”

At that moment, with Arcia’s voice, the white space dissolved, and my consciousness returned to the main hall.

Arcia’s face was flushed, tears streaming down.

“You were the Saintess all along. I’m sorry I didn’t realize. And sorry for impersonating the Saintess until now.”

“Arcia.”

I calmed her and spoke.

“I am not the Saintess.”

“Eh?”

“The Saintess you believe in is merely a construct of the Miella Church.”