Chapter 114
It was as if all her emotions had been condensed into a single point—at some moment, she had begun shutting herself inside the office all day long.
Su truly… sincerely wanted to comfort her lady.
But whenever she saw those lifeless, hollow eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to ask anything.
She could only stay by her side and look for small things she could help with.
And today was yet another one of those days.
“Um, my lady. It’s tea brewed with the new mint leaves that came in. Please try some.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”
Why was she so busy?
Su looked at Belia with worried eyes.
With the Saintess’s appearance raising the temple’s prestige, people began cutting consumption in accordance with the changing trends.
More devout believers began practicing frugality and abstinence according to the temple’s original doctrines, and the religious influence that had weakened over the decades since the Saintess’s disappearance suddenly revived with great force the following year.
Naturally, the number of believers increased noticeably, and some of them became fanatics, raising their voices boldly.
All within just a few months.
They claimed that God’s ancient commandments—temperance, abstinence, and thrift—must be strictly upheld.
Those who had witnessed the radiant light—what people now called the “Manifestation”—felt an odd sense of conviction toward the fanatics’ claims.
And so, over the past six months, temperance and thrift had become both a virtue and a trend.
Noble families traditionally close to faith led the movement, reducing their dresses and jewels, replacing lavish parties with small gatherings, and refraining from purchasing luxury goods.
Once a few influential houses practiced it, smaller houses naturally followed.
It was the trend of the times—forsaking luxury, cultivating modest refinement.
And at the center of that trend stood the temple.
As extravagance declined, donations to the temple noticeably increased.
The temple was overflowing with people desperate to witness divine miracles—anything resembling the radiant light of that day.
Their yearning for miracles translated directly into donations.
But if there is a place where faith brings profit, there must also be those who suffer loss.
One of the groups hit hardest within the empire was the Arpedi Trading Company, run by Belia’s family.
Dealing in jewels—the very pinnacle of luxury—Arpedi’s sales had been cut in half since the radiant light began illuminating the world.
And even that half was steadily decreasing, forcing the family to enter emergency management.
‘Bea,’ the luxury line Belia had ambitiously introduced, had also suffered great damage.
Once briefly at the height of fashion due to a potential match with the imperial family, it lost all brilliance after the Saintess appeared.
Although the workshop still operated because production occurred after pre-orders, new orders had long since stopped.
Soon, the workshop would stop entirely.
At best, there were occasional secret orders from those close to Belia or noble families friendly with the Arpedi Marchioness.
But most were little more than gestures of courtesy.
And regarding the letters accompanying the completed deliveries, every client requested the same thing:
Discreetly, quietly.
The situation was clear.
Arpedi Trading was facing an unprecedented crisis.
While the outside world celebrated the Saintess’s appearance, tension grew within the Marquess’s household as the company’s crisis coincided with Belia’s collapse.
Emergency meetings were held twice a week in the territory, and the Marquess traveled between the capital and their lands to manage the situation.
Even Barun Arpedi, the eldest son who had been under house restrictions for a while, had returned to the front lines.
To overcome the crisis, new markets had to be found or funds secured to endure the period—so Barun, bearing the Arpedi name, returned immediately to his original work.
Only Belia—miraculously awakened—was the exception.
After the Marchioness had collapsed, Belia fainting as well was too much; the Marquess panicked and forbade her from returning to work.
Thus Su could not understand Belia’s current daily life—and only worried more.
Neither her personal project ‘Bea’ nor the Arpedi Company’s affairs were providing her much work anymore.
So why—why was she so busy?
“So, my lady—”
“Su, could you change the bedding today?”
“…Pardon?”
“It’s summer, I guess. It feels a bit hot.”
At her words, Su reflexively turned to look out the window.
A dark, cloudy sky.
Late spring rains had been falling nonstop for days as summer approached.
Maybe during the day—but the nights? Hardly.
Su was the one who, due to the chilly weather, made sure Belia’s window was tightly shut every night.
So she knew immediately.
Her lady was uncomfortable around her.
Su touched the curtain, as if to hide the sting in her eyes.
She wasn’t hurt. No, really, she wasn’t.
It was just—because she knew what kind of person her lady originally was…
She could only imagine how painful it must be for her to push others away like this.
That was why she worried even more.
She had loved the Belia who changed around her debut at sixteen.
She had loved her before as well, but especially then—because she had looked genuinely happy.
But now… had she perhaps returned to the person she’d been before that?
Her lady’s reflection in the window looked unusually fragile today.
Swoosh—
Su closed the curtains, hiding not just the gloomy sky but also her own sadness and her worry.
She must not make the person she loves most in the world uncomfortable.
“Yes, you’re right. It’s summer! It is getting warm! And the new bedding is great quality—I actually wanted to change it as soon as possible. Perfect timing! I’ll prepare it right away!”
“Thank you.”
Belia gave a faint smile at Su’s bright voice.
“I’ll get right to it! So please drink your cool mint tea while you rest!”
“Mm. I will.”
“Then I’ll be back!”
Tap, tap—
Su’s steps toward the door were unusually quick.
Just as she grabbed the doorknob—
“Su.”
Belia’s quiet voice called out to her.
“…Thank you. For everything. Truly.”
Su pressed down the sudden rush of emotion swelling in her chest.
“It’s nothing! It’s just my job. I’ll be back soon!”
Hiding her trembling voice behind cheerfulness, she hurried out of the room.
And in the room now filled with silence—
Only then did Belia slowly release the pen she had been gripping.
Tap—roll…
The pen rolled across the desk.
Belia stared blankly at it, then let out a long, slow breath.
Her heart felt not just uncomfortable—but clogged, like indigestion.
She closed and opened her eyes, reached out, and picked up the mint tea.
The cool scent tickled her nose, and the slight clarity in her head made her feel a little better.
Yet, even so, her eyes stung as always.
She abruptly stood and pulled open the curtains Su had touched.
The sky outside looked just as gloomy as she felt inside.
“…It’s raining again.”
She had prayed for her loved ones to rise.
While looking at falling leaves, falling snow, blooming flowers.
Every time the season changed, every time the weather shifted—she prayed.
And now it rained.
“…Six months.”
She had lived through repeated regressions.
But she had never realized that these six months—half a year—could feel this unbearably long, like she wanted to die, like her life meant absolutely nothing.
It had already been six months since she regained her consciousness, yet she still couldn’t believe it.
Rud, who had promised to make her happy in this life, was broken to pieces.
Carlton—so precious, someone she relied on—still had not woken up.
No reaction at all, as if he would leave her side at any moment.
Her business, her family, and above all herself—everything was a complete mess.
She had resolved nothing, gained nothing—and once again she was being dragged back into that endless cycle.
Back into the empty, ruined life of the fake Belia.
Belia reached her hand out toward that self.
Despite her lie about feeling hot, the glass window was bitterly cold.
Countless memories swept through her.
She had known it would be reckless to go to Levron in search of the Saintess, but she believed she could do it.
In this life, she had carefully prepared each step like assembling a puzzle.
She truly believed she would not fail this time.
Because this time, she had a solid reason—
“…I’m not a fake.”
Plip—
The moment she finished speaking, rain began pouring from the sky.
The truth she discovered in the Forest of Mist had overturned the very foundation of her existence in this life.
It made her vow from the sixteen-year-old debut ball—“I’ll live brilliantly and die”—seem utterly hollow.
“Die? Why would I…?”
The one who should die is someone else.
She had met Carlton, and through the coincidences surrounding him, she had been so happy she no longer wished for death.
She had wanted to live.
And upon that desperate longing, the truth had ignited like flame.
I am not a fake.
