Chapter 126 – The Saintess and Her Guardian (4)

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Holy Capital Florencia

The paladins guarding the capital were slowly gathering in response to a single girl’s reckless actions.

It wasn’t that the knights were too weak to restrain a petite, delicate-looking seventeen-year-old—barely taller than a child. The problem was her status.

Her long, pale hair swayed as she marched forward, her pristine white nun’s habit—far too luxurious for an ordinary citizen—billowing with every step.

But what truly marked her as untouchable was the crimson cross-shaped Holy Mark on her forehead and the radiant halo floating above her head.

Saintess Cecilia Evangelina.

One of only four in the Holy Kingdom, second in authority only to the Pope himself—a living testament to divine favor.

“Saintess Cecilia, His Holiness has forbidden you from leaving the capital.”

“Piss off.”

The vulgarity that left the saintess’ lips was so out of place that the paladins stiffened.

Cecilia ached to blast them all aside. She hated formalities, hated being restrained—especially now, when her usual leash-holder, her Guardian, was nowhere to be found.

Her halo pulsed. With a sound like shattering air, translucent wings unfurled from her shoulder blades—just one pair, but more than enough to send the paladins flying.

Her delicate hand rose, gathering a blinding mass of holy energy.

“Move, or I’ll kill you all. Choose.”

“Saintess Cecilia, His Holiness has forbidden you from leaving the capital.”

Even faced with death, the paladin repeated the same words, tone unwavering.

‘Go ahead. Shoot.’

The paladin’s helmet hid his expression, but his voice carried absolute resolve. Holy energy dripped from his unfocused gaze.

Cecilia didn’t hesitate.

Another saintess might have faltered, but not her.

She didn’t care about the title, the duty, the faith. The only reason she’d even become a saintess was because he had wished for it.

Just as she prepared to unleash her power—

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there. Let’s talk this out like civilized people, yeah?”

A man with eyes so narrow they seemed permanently shut stepped between them.

“Carté. Should I send you to meet God too?”

Carté.

Captain of the Heresy Inquisitors.

The Pope’s favorite lapdog, the most insufferable man in the capital. Even Cecilia, who couldn’t care less about politics, had heard of him—mostly from her Guardian’s grumbling.

“Abandoning your sacred duty to protect the capital—where exactly do you plan to go? The outside is a nightmare right now, thanks to those monsters.”

Cecilia knew. After the Green Star fell in the east, the creatures had grown stronger, more vicious.

Her Guardian had drilled the knowledge into her, insisting a saintess had to stay informed.

“Why not wait in the capital until the investigation team returns?”

Carté’s smile was infuriatingly reasonable.

And it might have worked—if Cecilia’s Guardian, Gray, hadn’t been part of that team.

Two weeks.

Two weeks without seeing him.

Her patience had run out.

“Cut the crap. You know.”

“Know what?”

“You talked to him! You sent him out there!! Without even asking me!!! Do you want to die!?!?”

Carté’s eye twitched. He really wanted to toss this brat into Salem right now.

But he couldn’t.

Rude, childish, insufferable—but still a real saintess. That halo and mark weren’t artificial, unlike some others.

“And who told you that?”

“Wait, so it’s true?! I asked the angels where he went, and they told me! So it was you! Why don’t you go ask them? Oh wait—you’re not a saintess, so you don’t have any angels! Maybe go cry to that wrinkly old Pope of yours?”

This little—!

Carté clung to his last shred of sanity. Too many eyes were watching—not just paladins, but citizens gathering to gawk.

“Even angels don’t know everything, it seems. Gray went with the investigation team for your sake. Did your angels forget to mention that? How incompetent of them.”

“…For me? Why?”

“That’s a secret he asked me to keep. Even from you, Saintess. Oh, and he also said—please behave.”

‘Oh, so that’s how you’re playing it?’

‘Selling him out like this?’

Cecilia’s irritation spiked.

At first, she’d assumed Gray was just busy. But as days turned into weeks, her patience had snapped.

Sleeping in his arms was her only solace in this dull, suffocating capital. Sometimes, she’d even loosen her nightgown buttons, just in case he—

“I don’t need to ask the angels. I’ll go ask him myself.”

“You’re really going? Gray would hate to see you waltz into danger. Oh, and we’re short-staffed, so no escorts for you. Still leaving?”

‘Short-staffed you say?’

Cecilia glanced at the hundred paladins blocking her way.

Carté wasn’t letting her go.

“Oh, and if the Pink Witch shows up? Even a saintess could be devoured in one bite. Heard about Lucia, the former Inquisitor Captain? Even she fell to a curse from a witch that strong.”

“A w-witch!?”

Seeing Cecilia flinch, Carté smirked.

‘A saintess, but still a child.’

Just as he thought he’d won—

“Is she… pretty? Big chest? Nice hips!?”

By the time Carté realized something was very wrong, it was too late.

Cecilia’s eyes had gone cold.

‘Answer wrong, and I’ll kill you.’

“I’ve only seen her once, but… yes. Beautiful enough to enchant men. Very ample chest. They say her curse is—”

“GRAY!!!! I’M COMING TO SAVE YOU!!!! IF YOU EVEN LOOK AT ANOTHER WOMAN, I’LL KILL YOU BOTH!!!!!!”

Before Carté could finish, Cecilia vanished in a burst of light, leaving only scattered feathers in her wake.

“…A miracle. Even with the Throne of God empty, the angels still answer her.”

Carté sighed.

He’d never understand why the angels chose her of all people—but her power was undeniably real.

“Sir Carté, what now?”

“What can we do? Send a third investigation team. If we leave her alone out there… Gray might just elope with her.”

A nearby priest crossed himself before hurrying off.

The Holy Kingdom still needed miracles. Even if the miracle-worker was a brat.

Carté massaged his temples.

How to report this to the Pope.

How to deal with Gray’s inevitable fury over his broken promise.

Gray was a decent man—friendly, easygoing. They got along well enough. If Lucia were here, she’d have handled this better, but she was currently enjoying her stay in Salem after one too many slip-ups.

Four years in that prison would drive anyone mad, yet reports said she was still sane. Maybe he should visit. For old times’ sake.

Carté reached for a drifting feather—only for it to dissolve at his touch, as if rejecting him outright.

“…Hmph.”

Lucent