I tapped my fingertip against the wall, picturing how people might get swept up in a fervor of collective belief, all utterly intoxicated by me.
If there was no real miracle, but I could still stir up the crowd’s fierce conviction and zeal, then maybe even Leonardt would think, ‘Isn’t this basically a miracle?’ and let it slide.
Of course, Leonardt wasn’t the type to fold easily. He’d keep watching me with that furrowed brow till the bitter end… but if I had enough people on my side, there wouldn’t be much he could do alone.
Turns out people really don’t just die so easily after all!
“This is actually a pretty solid plan, if I do say so myself. Hehehe.”
As I spoke out loud, delighting in my pleasant daydreams, that quiet god decided to butt in again.
—You revel in such vain hopes, mortal.
Hearing Callisto’s biting voice echo in my head, I let out a little laugh.
“If you’re not going to help, could you at least keep quiet and just watch, old man?”
—What a wretched tone and scheme you’ve concocted.
“Well, what choice do I have? Otherwise I might end up executed. I didn’t even get to properly enjoy my golden life—been working nonstop—execution is just outrageous!”
I began pacing around the room, slowly building out the details of my plan.
If I really want to leverage crowd psychology… I’ll have to elevate the atmosphere of the ritual to the highest level of sanctity. Lighting, music, what else? The Temple has an organ-like instrument, so have it play grandly to stir their emotions…
As I kept thinking it through, I realized more than anything else that the staging was going to be the most crucial part of this con.
Call it production design if you wanted to sound fancy—simple little effects could have an enormous impact.
For example, I could have the light shine cunningly through the stained glass, making the area around the altar look exceptionally radiant.
Even just a few shafts of light, when people were already wound up and emotional, could seem like a spectacular miracle.
Next, it might help to enrich the harmonies of the choir.
If many people sang sacred hymns together at full volume, the congregation would get swept away and start tearing up, overcome with awe.
They’d probably exaggerate it later, saying “The Saintess awakened divine power through music!”
Good. If I get the atmosphere right, it’ll be hard to nitpick.
Lastly, to fully maximize the collective hysteria, it’d be best to have the believers start feeding each other lines like “The Saintess is preparing an incredible miracle,” spreading that rumor along different channels so that by the time the ceremony started, their hearts would already be at a fever pitch.
If word got around like, “Your child might be healed just like mine!” or “They say light pours down whenever the Saintess prays!” then even Leonardt might get carried along by the mood.
The catch was, I’d need people inside the Temple to help me pull this off—especially someone from the Bishop’s inner circle.
But since the Bishop already supported me wholeheartedly, if I nudged him gently, it might actually work.
“Hmm… totally, let’s ask the Bishop to bolster the choir for a more divine atmosphere. Maybe suggest polishing the stained glass till it practically sparkles? That’d make it even more moving.”
—Moving? A ‘production,’ you say? This is nothing but a stage for fraud!
Ugh, and what do you expect me to do?! Better this than being executed!
***
The next morning, I woke up at dawn.
I sat on the bed and yawned, glancing around. A bit of pale early light was seeping through the window.
Normally I’d be lazing around, but today there was no time for that.
I jumped up and mentally reviewed my crowd-psychology scam scenario one more time. My heart was pounding.
‘First, I need to meet with the Bishop. He already believes I’m the real Saintess, so I’ve got to slip these suggestions in today.’
Things like expanding the choir, making sure the stained glass was extra spotless, encouraging everyone to sing loudly during the ceremony—basically, anything that could blow the congregation’s emotions sky high.
I washed up as quickly as I could, then stood in front of the unfamiliar mirror, fixing my clothes and lightly brushing my hair.
Alright, time to go all in!
As soon as I stepped into the hall, several priests were already bustling back and forth getting ready for morning prayer. Each one bowed respectfully when they spotted me.
“Your Most Holy Saintess, did you rest well last night?”
“Yes, thanks to you all.”
I put on a gentle expression as I answered.
Just then, one priest carefully asked,
“We thought perhaps Your Most Holy Saintess would come out a bit later…”
“I needed to see the Bishop first.”
“Ah, I see. He should be in the inner sanctuary by the altar.”
I nodded and followed the direction the priest indicated.
A little deeper down the corridor, I spotted a glimpse of white beard through a slightly ajar door—it was Bishop Bertov.
The sanctuary was peaceful, the Bishop alone before a holy symbol, seemingly deep in prayer.
I tiptoed closer, trying not to make a sound. His eyes were shut tight, lips moving in silent murmur.
“May God grant us His grace…”
Must’ve been reciting a prayer.
I watched for a moment, then took a light breath and knocked.
“Bishop… are you there?”
The Bishop’s eyes cracked open, and he turned to me with a warm smile.
“Oh, Your Most Holy Saintess. What brings you here so early? You rose at dawn, I see.”
His voice was so gentle, so full of trust, that I actually felt a little guilty.
The Bishop quickly finished his prayer and stood, greeting me formally.
“Is there something you need? There’s still time before morning prayer, so please, speak freely.”
I sat down in the chair he offered, mentally organizing the details of my fabricated plan. I needed to sound natural yet propose very specific ways to amplify the ceremony’s grandeur.
“You know… the public service is coming up soon.”
As soon as I mentioned it, the Bishop nodded.
“Yes, indeed. There is still much preparation to be done.”
I quietly steadied my breathing.
“I too wish to do all I can for the Temple and the faithful. Perhaps Callisto saw that earnest desire… because recently, while I was praying…”
I deliberately paused for effect. As if to say, ‘See how devout my heart is.’
“I had this premonition that the upcoming service would become a great blessing for our followers. So I’ve been pondering how we might make it even more beautiful, even more sacred.”
The Bishop’s eyes shone.
“Oh! For Your Most Holy Saintess to receive such inspiration…”
Just as I thought—this man would be moved by even my slightest words. If I nudged just a little more, he’d be all in.
I continued in a careful voice.
“Isn’t prayer, after all, meant to be shared by all, not done alone? So I thought… what if we expanded the music and choir a bit more for this service? Especially during the hymns—if more of the faithful raise their voices together, the resonance would spread far deeper. It might move their hearts as one… and above all, it could give those watching the certainty that ‘this place is truly blessed.’”
“Ahh, Your Most Holy Saintess…”
The Bishop pressed his hands to his chest and even closed his eyes, speaking with a voice full of awe.
“How could one who was not truly touched by God’s word ever possess such insight? What wisdom You’ve bestowed upon us, we who are so foolish that we never even considered it ourselves…”
His head bobbed up and down repeatedly, and at last he was so overwhelmed he even crossed himself.
“To imagine so many gathered as one… ah, what a holy union that would be! I could never have conceived it. Indeed, Your Most Holy Saintess—every word You utter is a hymn unto itself!”
Honestly, this man looked ready to burst into tears no matter what I said.
I could hardly keep from grinning.
Some might wonder if I felt guilty pulling this off right before his eyes.
But guilt? That flew out the window ages ago in the face of his eager devotion.
Might as well use it to the fullest while I can!
I let a soft smile spread across my lips as I offered one more suggestion.
“Oh, and there’s just one more thing I’d like to mention.”
I put on the most careful, reverent expression I could manage.
“Could we… perhaps polish the stained glass by the altar a bit more thoroughly?”
“…The stained glass, Your Most Holy Saintess?”
“Yes. If the light shines through even more clearly, wouldn’t the faithful feel an even brighter spirit? As they watch that moment, they might truly sense that God is present with them here.”
The Bishop closed his eyes and gave a deep, solemn nod.
“Ah… Your Most Holy Saintess. To show such delicate concern… truly, one chosen by God must see the world from a completely different plane…”
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