~Chapter 01~
“Priestess, I have achieved a lot by doing what my master told me… but I’ve never had a goal or purpose of my own.”
“I see…”
Floria, who had her hands folded and eyes closed, slightly twitched the corners of her lips.
‘Why is he complaining in a confessional booth…?’
Today, of all days, there were so many believers visiting the temple.
The man’s story was so boring she could barely pay attention, letting it go in one ear and out the other.
It was already late, and the sky outside was completely dark.
The only good news? He was her last confessor for the day.
“Can I just die now?”
The man’s low, calm voice echoed in the booth.
He sounded so serious, like he was willing to stake the rest of his life on her answer.
“Dear follower.”
After a brief pause, Floria responded in her usual warm and gentle tone:
“Well, dying isn’t necessarily bad. If you only ever do what others tell you, there’s no point in living. But if you don’t want that… then maybe find a purpose to live for.”
“A purpose?”
“Yes. Like… finding someone you love so much, you want to keep living for them.”
What the heck am I saying?
She was practically encouraging someone to die, and now she was talking about love?
What kind of priest does that?
Floria frowned slightly. It felt like the “villainess soul” inside her was acting on its own again.
But the man didn’t respond for a while.
The only part of him visible through the small hole in the booth was his hand.
He was covered completely in a black robe, hiding his identity.
On his finger was a cheap-looking yellow ring that looked like a toy, not some fancy jewel.
He tapped the wooden shelf thoughtfully.
“…I see. That helped a lot. Thank you, priestess.”
Amen.
He stood up confidently, bowed slightly, and left the confessional.
Floria just slumped over in her seat.
I’m seriously going to die at this rate…
This stress is going to kill me first.
***
This miserable day started just a few hours ago.
Normally, the temple was peaceful and didn’t get many visitors.
Priests like Floria would only hear four or five confessions a day.
She was listening to one just like usual, spacing out while thinking about what to have for dinner.
From the next booth over came a familiar type of story:
“Priestess… my boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend. Please forgive me for wanting revenge on them.”
So basically, a personal drama disguised as a confession.
She sounded furious, and even her trembling could be felt through the wall.
But Floria could tell there was no regret in her voice.
Still, what could a simple priest do?
She was about to repeat the usual religious advice when—
“Dear follower, revenge is…!”
Suddenly, a wave of memories hit her like lightning.
She remembered her past life and the truth of this world.
She was inside the story of a book she read in her previous life.
And Floria…
Floria was not the heroine.
She was the villainess—one who pretended to be a saint and made the real saint’s life miserable.
…Yes, I’m the villainess.
Her mind was spinning.
“Priestess?”
The follower called out from the next booth.
Then suddenly, Floria blurted out something insane.
“If you’re going to ask for forgiveness anyway, go get your revenge first. Whether it works or not, just smash both of their heads.”
“…Th-thank you so much, priestess!”
…Huh??
“W-Wait a second!”
She came to her senses too late.
She covered her mouth in shock.
It was like the words had come out on their own.
‘No, this is bad. That wasn’t me—that was the evil villainess personality or whatever inside me again!’
She quickly opened the confessional curtain to stop the believer, but the woman was already walking, and her steps were strong and proud.
As if she had just received some divine mission.
Her hand, stretched out in vain, just dropped down helplessly.
‘Did realizing I was the villainess automatically make me act like one?!’
The soul of the villainess must still be inside her.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have said something so cruel without thinking.
‘I’m losing my mind…’
Floria couldn’t stand the embarrassment and shame that came rushing in after what she’d said earlier.
She started banging her head against the confessional booth’s wall.
Creaaaak—
A scary noise suddenly came from the old wooden wall, and she quickly stopped.
If she broke this thing, she might have to say goodbye to several months of her salary!
‘I-it’s fine. Yeah. It’s not broken.’
Nothing happened.
Trying to act normal, she gently patted the wall and calmly called the next believer.
***
After finishing her duties and returning to her room, Floria sat at her desk and pulled out some paper—then stopped in despair.
That last believer who said, “Can I die now?” had really shaken her up.
She wanted to scream and cry, but was afraid others would hear.
Instead, she just grabbed her head in frustration.
Ughhh—!
Her little scream faded quickly as she worried about disturbing the neighbor in the next room.
Something was weird.
Whenever she talked to believers in the confessional, her words would come out strangely harsh, as if someone else were controlling her.
For example, when one woman confessed that she wanted to cancel her wedding because she thought her fiancé was hiding the fact that he was bald…
Floria said:
“That man who lied to you will soon face terrible punishment from heaven. So don’t worry. God will forgive you.”
It was a scary thing to say.
She had planned to say something similar… but in a much softer, kinder way!
Wasn’t this too villainous?
Slamming both hands on the desk, she stood up—trying to rebel against the villainess inside her.
But then the desk creaked loudly, and she quickly covered her mouth in panic.
My salary!
She really didn’t want to break anything in the temple.
If she did, she’d have to worry about survival before anything else—forget being a villainess!
Her eyes darted around the empty room.
‘Seriously… this is going to kill me, Villainess Lady!’
Maybe the soul of the real villainess was haunting her after taking over her body.
She shouted silently in her head… but of course, there was no reply.
Sigh…
Letting out a long breath, Floria dragged her chair back to the desk and sat down firmly.
She took out a paper and began writing everything she remembered about this world—
from the book she’d read in her past life, The Real Saintess Blooms with Grace.
• Floria brings the real saintess (a young girl) to the temple.
• Later, she bullies the girl and uses her power to pretend to be the saintess herself.
• In the end, the male lead finds out everything and kills her.
The last sentence was scribbled in frustration, and she even circled the word killed.
The edge of the paper was crumpled, as if she didn’t want to accept it.
‘I can’t die like that.’
She bit her nail nervously.
In her past life, she died from overworking at her job.
It was sudden and meaningless.
And now, she’d been reborn as the villainess in this story—heading toward another tragic end?
Her hands trembled as she forced herself to hold the pen again.
She added a note below the first line.
• Floria brings the real saintess (a young girl) to the temple.
• The good news: the girl just arrived, so I haven’t bullied her yet!
That was the only slightly hopeful thing.
She wrote it brightly on purpose, trying to cheer herself up.
It didn’t really help… but still!
From everything that happened today, she realized that she could mostly act freely—except when she was in the confessional booth.
‘So now what do I do?’
That was the real problem.
What should she do next?
As she sat on the hard chair deep in thought…
Knock knock—
“Um, Priestess? I heard you called for me…”
A soft girl’s voice came from outside the door.
‘…Ah!’
It was the young heroine she’d just been thinking about!
After the morning prayer today, Floria had told Rose—the real saintess—to visit her after confessions were over.
She quickly cleaned up the messy desk and tried to look casual, resting her chin on her hand.
“Come in, Rose.”
She said calmly, pretending nothing had happened.
Then, the door slowly opened.
A tiny, trembling girl stepped inside, barely able to hold the doorknob. She looked weak and scared, and her eyes were unfocused.
According to the book, at this point in the story, Rose was dirty, thin, and neglected.
And now that Floria saw her in real life—yes, it matched exactly.
‘You bullied a kid like this?’
That’s horrible.
Feeling disgusted at the villainess’s actions, Floria waved her hand gently and spoke kindly.
“Come here, Rose.”
The little girl flinched.
It was probably the first time in her life that someone had spoken to her kindly.
The wind from the window blew through, making Floria’s red hair sway gently.
Her orange eyes glowed softly, not even a trace of cruelty in them.
Maybe that’s why, when their eyes met, Rose stood still in a daze—completely stunned by this unexpected kindness.
