Ch.588Episode 21 – Peace in Our Time

The Saint’s embarrassment was evident as she avoided answering with an awkward smile. Her smile was so forced that her mouth, eyelids, and even eyelashes trembled.

“What on earth did you do?”

The persistent questioning continued.

The Saint, who had seemed reluctant to speak, finally began to talk after I grabbed her shoulders and pushed firmly. What poured from her mouth was something close to an excuse—no, it could only be seen as an excuse.

“Well… my sister seemed to be suffering so much alone…”

“Suffering? What do you mean by suffering?”

“Ah, you know!”

“Bam!” Veronica’s voice rose momentarily, as if unable to contain her frustration. My brow furrowed slightly as I watched her, but the Saint, acting as if nothing was wrong, ruffled her hair and continued with her excuses.

“She was moaning in the corner like someone without friends, so I just wanted to help her relax a little…”

There was no need to ask what she meant by “helping her relax.”

The evidence was all too clear in the wet traces splashed across the floor and inner thighs.

I looked away from the collapsed Francesca and shifted my gaze to Veronica. Then, with a half-doubting expression, I slowly spoke.

“…It’s not what I’m thinking, is it?”

Veronica placed her hands on her hips.

With an incredibly imposing attitude.

Her expression seemed to have absorbed all the composure and confidence in the world.

The Saint’s voice was as bold as ever. Every gesture of hers overflowed with confidence, as if asserting her innocence.

I was terrified of that.

A crazy person acting boldly was never good news.

Sure enough.

“Oh my…”

The Saint stared at me with a look that said I was asking the obvious. While holding up her index and middle fingers.

Using her other hand to make a V-sign.

She clashed the two scissor-shaped hands together as if it were the most natural thing.

“What else would two naked women do besides scissoring?”

“…Are you insane?”

Episode 21 – Peace in Our Time

Watching the Saint make shameless excuses without any awareness of wrongdoing makes me feel like a thousand fires are burning inside me.

This was as absurd as when Arkande brought a herd of masterless goats to the communal quarters and insisted on raising them there, or when Camilla devoured an entire jar of cookies hidden in the cupboard and pretended nothing happened with crumbs all over her face.

“No. Francesca is your sister, isn’t she?”

“We’re not blood-related, right? So it’s fine, isn’t it?”

“You’re a member of the clergy.”

“Rules are made to be broken!”

“What nonsense are you spouting, you crazy—!”

My reaction burst out involuntarily, as if I’d witnessed something horrifying beyond belief. But Veronica just chuckled softly, treating it all as if it were tremendously amusing.

“I’m joking, just joking~”

The Saint covered her smiling lips and waved her hand dismissively.

It was all a lie, she said.

“How could I possibly scissor with my sister?”

“But you just said you did?”

“That was obviously a joke! I was just playing a little with my fingers, and you looked so serious that I… wanted to tease you a bit?”

“……”

“Surely you didn’t actually believe I had that kind of relationship with my sister?”

Yes. To be honest, I thought she might have. At least the Veronica I knew would.

I thought there was a possibility she was telling the truth. But how could someone collapse in such a disheveled state just from fingers?

Francesca’s collapsed form on the floor didn’t look fine by any stretch of the imagination.

She could barely control her limp body, pitifully twitching, unable to utter a single coherent word.

Even though Francesca’s body was known to be exceptionally sensitive, this was…

“Hmm…”

The Saint leaned forward, staring directly into my eyes.

Her hand rested on her hip, tapping her index finger, and her lips pursed slightly as if contemplating something.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Would you believe that if you were me?”

“Fine. I’ll show you directly, then you’ll believe me.”

“Wait, what are you going to show—?”

Veronica silently smiled with her finger pressed against her lips.

Her hips gently bent as she slowly lowered her waist.

She approached Francesca, almost overlapping with her, carefully pushed aside one knee, brushed back her sideburns, and took a deep breath.

“Hooo-“

The moment the Saint’s hot breath touched the private area.

Like lightning striking, the alchemist’s waist jerked up, her pelvis lifting off the ground.

“…!”

The change was dramatic.

Hands covering her mouth, muffled moans escaping through tightly closed lips. In contrast, her body radiated heat and her breathing became rough. Water splashed in all directions.

And finally, the slick sound of lubricant wetting her delicate fingers.

“Ungh…”

The alchemist’s face, mixed with all kinds of emotions, became dazed like a drunk person.

Whether it was helplessness or humiliation, it was difficult to guess her exact feelings, but one thing seemed clear.

Veronica stroked Francesca’s trembling lower abdomen and smiled mysteriously.

“How is it? Isn’t it amazing? All sticky and melted, with vaginal walls that grip tightly and never let go. Look at how this soft creature refuses to release my fingers.”

Francesca’s waist shot up violently.

Like a stone thrown into still water, a forceful gush of fluid was an added bonus.

Whether she knew her fingers were soaked with that fluid or not.

Veronica slid deeper, searching for her sister’s weak spots.

I could only cover my face with my palm and let out a deep sigh.

“Ugh, I get it. Now please stop that hand…”

I didn’t even have time to say “that’s enough.”

Her long, slender fingers changed shape and curved, digging into the flesh like hooks, triggering a dramatic reaction.

Her pelvis arched toward the ceiling while her waist, completely drained of strength, remained on the floor. Her waist, slim enough to encircle with one arm, stuck to the floor while trembling uncontrollably.

When the Saint, who had grabbed one of her full breasts, withdrew her probing fingers, the still-trembling waist rose up helplessly like a fish caught on a hook.

Sweet moans were a bonus.

“Yap!”

“Haaauuungh…!”

Whether caught up in the moment or perhaps this was her natural inclination.

The two paid no attention to my presence. It was essentially ignoring me.

I buried my face deeper into my palms.

As if trying to escape from the situation before my eyes.

“Ungh, oh, ohooooh…!”

Of course, the vulgar sounds of palms slapping against skin and water droplets splashing were clearly audible.

Merely covering my eyes was a futile act that offered no help whatsoever.

Veronica wiped away beads of sweat and casually spouted nonsense. As if she couldn’t hear my muttering about how pathetic this was.

“What an incredible fountain show.”

“…Is that really what you have to say right now?”

“Come on, squirt out every last drop~ Yap!”

Seeing her lunge at Francesca again, I felt the urge to roll my eyes back and faint.

This was truly maddening.

*

After the storm had passed, tension lingered in the air.

The Saint chose silence.

Though she treated popes, bishops, and all authority figures as prudes and prioritized her own pleasure and satisfaction above all else, it seemed the divine messenger had still preserved a last bastion of conscience.

But as for the reaction of the person directly involved…

Well, that’s another story.

The alchemist’s expression was constantly changing.

Like a chameleon changing its color according to its habitat, her complexion was tinged with various hues.

Blue, red, yellow.

A pale face, skin flushed with shame, and finally, a complexion indicating fatigue as she entered the stage of acknowledging and accepting reality.

“…Huu.”

With her face buried in her palms and shoulders slumped, she looked both miserable and pitiful. It seemed the moment of reality awareness had arrived.

The woman sitting beside her was no different.

Restless. Now that her head had cooled, she seemed suddenly afraid of the consequences, with a worried current of “Oh… was that too much?” swirling in her eyes. The hands that had been probing the other’s lower parts repeatedly moved to pat her shoulder, only to flinch and withdraw.

“No… it’s a lie, it’s all a lie…”

Francesca kept muttering while shaking her head from side to side. It was a natural reaction.

Who was she? A graduate of the Secretariat, where only exceptional magicians from the Magic Tower were employed. Not just that, but a direct descendant of a prestigious family with a Grand Magician as its founder.

Moreover, she had recently gained her own reputation by devising original alchemical weapons and vanquishing monsters from the Moritani continent that no one else had been able to handle.

Such a woman had been laid on the floor without offering meaningful resistance, her private parts probed like a toy.

By another woman, no less—the Saint whom she called sister.

It was natural to start by denying reality.

This wasn’t a question of whether Francesca’s defensive range was wide or narrow.

Even if she could dream of “forbidden love” and develop feelings for her sister, Francesca would have found the current situation difficult to accept.

Ugh, what is this…

Although she might be a bit inadequate below, her pride was second to none, past or present.

No matter if the other person was her sister, she could never accept being treated like a toy.

Moreover, having shown that disgraceful scene to none other than me…

It was only natural for her to say:

“Die.”

“Excuse me?”

“Either forget this or die… right now!”

“No. Why are you saying that to me…”

Francesca suddenly forced an absurd choice on me: either erase my memory or die by her hand. When I removed my palm from my face, her face was red with shame.

Like a dangerous bomb about to explode… or a precarious building on the verge of collapse…

I couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but I had a feeling that if I touched her wrong, there wouldn’t even be bones left to collect.

As the alchemist grabbed my shoulders and shook me violently, I silently endured the bile rising in my throat.

My vision swayed back and forth, and whew.

This could kill someone physically, not with magic.

I was worried she might explode as soon as she came to her senses, but fortunately, that concern proved unfounded.

Although she showed a somewhat intense reaction, Francesca was just as I had known her. Only a bit less composed than usual, raising her voice rarely, and glaring at Veronica who was dripping with sweat.

Except for that, everything was as usual.

“…Ahem.”

As if trying to break the awkward atmosphere, the Saint cleared her throat and was about to open her mouth with “Would everyone like some tea?” but.

Before she could finish her sentence, a fierce glare shot from the alchemist.

It was so intense that the Saint couldn’t even meet her gaze properly and lowered her head. It was a scene that perfectly illustrated the position of religious power in today’s civil society.

“……”

The alchemist glared at the Saint as if she would devour her, yet took no action, while the Saint, as if repenting her wrongdoing, abandoned her shamelessness and avoided eye contact.

Watching this suffocating scene, I awkwardly brushed back my hair and broke the silence.

“If you’re done with your conversation, may I speak now?”

It was like asking if I could ask something.

My question was simple.

“Ugh… I know this isn’t the right atmosphere for this conversation. But I can’t help but ask.”

“……”

“Why are you all suddenly acting like this today?”

*

I had wanted to ask from the beginning.

Why they suddenly came looking for me. What wind had blown them here.

They say that relationships between men and women can ignite like wildfire from the slightest touch, but this seemed a bit odd.

Veronica and Lucia aren’t people who shy away from physical relationships. Although they are religious figures from an order that emphasizes purity, there was no rule forbidding clergy from forming families.

It might be taboo, but the purity that religious people in this neighborhood must maintain has a slightly different texture from what religious people in the global village must maintain.

Above all, the two are humans who handle different blessings by receiving the favor of the divine messenger.

They hold unique positions that are difficult to constrain even by the laws of the order.

Francesca’s story is a bit different, but the result is not much different from the two.

As a noble, she should avoid being involved in scandals, but that doesn’t mean she must completely block extramarital relationships.

Rather, in Fatalia’s culture, extramarital relationships are not much of a social problem, and scandals of high-ranking public figures are thoroughly treated as private matters.

Unlike Abas and Kien media outlets that constantly check for hidden mistresses or lovers, Fatalia’s media showed little interest even when their president’s third marriage collapsed due to infidelity. Even though the infidelity was the president’s own mistake, and the relationship was with the wife of the opposition party leader.

Decisively, in Fatalia society, being a noble is a position of little significance.

Although the Ranieri family is treated as a great family, a magical prestigious family, with a status equivalent to nobility in the magical society, hasn’t it long lost its noble status in Fatalia society due to collusion with military dictators and decades of corruption?

In other words, although they are called nobles, they don’t actually live more privileged lives than other ordinary people.

While it’s an undeniable fact that they are upper class both then and now, Francesca has no obligations to maintain as a noble.

This is where she differs from Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrovna, who has remained unmarried for decades managing the northern border’s demons to avoid interfering with the Magic Tower and imperial politics and disrupting the imperial succession.

What I want to say is that there would be no social problem at all if she clung to a man along with other women or played with fire with the Saint.

The old men of the family might complain, and the tabloids might publish dating articles… but that’s just an internal family matter.

Tabloids publishing inflammatory articles about celebrities’ love lives is a universal issue in any country.

But if Veronica, Lucia, and Francesca get entangled together, the story changes.

Three women competing for one partner? Does this make any sense?

It wasn’t my place to say as the person involved, but this was clearly no ordinary problem.

What was the alchemist’s reaction as soon as she recognized my relationship with the two Saints? Didn’t she cut off contact and disappear for over three months?

This was a prime example of the complex emotions—bewilderment, shame, anger—that Francesca must have felt. That’s why I desperately watched for signs while waiting for replies that never came for months.

Really, it’s because they don’t talk.

It was more suffocating than the month I spent being chased by Chinese guys, searching for safe houses in Yanji, Shenyang, and Changchun.

So I ask.

Why did they do it?

Why did she suddenly follow Veronica and Lucia, wearing an outfit she didn’t seem to particularly want, to find me?

“…You asked why I did it?”

“Yes.”

“……”

The alchemist silently moved her lips for a long time.

Hiding her bright red neck, nibbling her lip with her front teeth.

Still unable to meet my gaze.

She, Francesca, said:

“Really… your lack of awareness makes you seem like a fool.”