Chapter 8
Racelle was startled and turned toward the doorway. As expected, the door was locked from the inside, but people outside were still shaking it.
“Help—”
Just as Racelle tried to call out, a man’s hand roughly clamped over her mouth.
“Mph! Mph!”
Racelle struggled violently, muffled and resisting, but her efforts were useless. The people outside couldn’t hear her.
“Hey, she can’t be in here. And to get in, you’d need keys from the chief clerics.”
“That’s true… But where on earth is the saint?”
“Do you think she could really be inside the temple? There are rumors that it was the saint who burned the temple knights to death…”
“Hey, watch your words.”
After that, their voices became muffled as they whispered and gradually moved away.
Racelle sat dumbly, having forgotten even to resist.
Only after the sounds of people shaking the door completely faded did the man release her mouth.
Racelle, however, remained frozen. The conversation she had overheard earlier was too shocking.
“They think I burned people to death? Is that what they’re saying? That I burned the temple knights and ran away?”
Bella… what on earth.
How far will you drag me into ruin before you’re satisfied with stealing my fate?
“What did I do wrong? What did I even do? I—”
Her hatred and indignation toward Bella reached a breaking point. Racelle was on the verge of losing her mind.
A shadow fell across the light streaming through the ceiling. Racelle instinctively looked up.
Martin was perched on the windowpane.
He signaled her by waving his hand downward.
“…!”
Racelle quickly lowered her gaze. Her heart thumped violently inside her small chest.
Please, don’t let the man see him up there.
“Please… Martin will go get help. I hope he isn’t seen—please—”
But the man noticed that the meeting room had darkened. Just as he turned to look up at the ceiling—
Clang!
The ceiling glass shattered, sending shards raining down. Racelle screamed and curled up.
“So that signal earlier wasn’t ‘don’t look,’ it was ‘duck!’”
Even in the chaos, she remembered.
Racelle and the man in the corner avoided most of the glass shards. Still, a few pieces pierced the man’s body, and blood dripped from him.
Without a sound, he plucked the shards from his skin. Blood splattered as he scanned the surroundings with a blank expression.
Then a rope looped around his neck.
Martin, from the corner, had thrown a noose over the man’s neck, looped it quickly around a chair, and kicked it away.
Bang! Crash!
The man collapsed to the floor, strangled, with the chair.
Martin didn’t even glance at him and rushed to Racelle.
“Racelle!”
For the first time, Racelle looked up and saw Martin running toward her. He knelt in front of her, drew his sword, and cut the ropes binding her hands and feet.
Blood surged back into her limbs, sending tingling sensations through her body. Martin supported her as she stood.
“Can you stand?”
“Yes… but how did you get here—”
“Later. Let’s get out of here.”
He hurriedly said this, practically dragging her toward the doorway.
“Wait, the door’s locked—”
Before Racelle could finish, Martin kicked the door with all his strength.
Thud!
The door swung open as if in disbelief.
Racelle stared, unable to trust her eyes, alternating between the slightly broken open door and Martin, who, unable to support her by just holding her arm, scooped her up entirely.
“Ah!”
Startled, Racelle stayed still, letting him do as he pleased.
Martin ran down the hill and set her down in front of a horse he had tied there.
“Get on.”
Racelle struggled onto the horse, stepping on the stirrups with effort. Seeing that she was on, Martin leapt up behind her and immediately kicked the horse into a gallop.
While riding, it was impossible to speak without biting one’s tongue. Racelle had no choice but to suppress her anxious feelings in Martin’s arms, wrapping around her from behind as they rode.
Martin rode recklessly along the temple’s internal roads, where horse riding was prohibited.
Clerics who passed by shrank back in panic, staring wide-eyed. Racelle’s heart ached, imagining they thought she had murdered the temple knights and escaped.
“Get off.”
Martin stopped the horse in a shrub-filled flowerbed in front of Racelle’s quarters.
Racelle dismounted with difficulty, and Martin got off as well, standing beside her.
“I didn’t take you directly inside because the situation isn’t safe. Look ahead—don’t reveal yourself.”
He pointed toward the building. Racelle carefully pushed aside the shrub branches to look.
A group of clerics and temple knights were facing off.
The clerics were trying to enter the building, and four or five temple knights were barely holding them back.
Among the clerics attempting entry, Racelle clearly recognized the bald cleric in splendid ceremonial robes—Matron, the Deputy.
“Deputy Matron…”
“Those people claim you burned the temple knights with holy power. To be precise, if you didn’t kill them and run, they demand to see the remains.”
Martin explained carefully. No matter how horrifying the explanation, he continued.
“They are likely the ones behind your kidnapping. Otherwise, they couldn’t have responded so quickly to the rumors. Helga Deputy handled it, but even her protection is reaching its limit.”
Martin took a deep breath and said sharply, “So the choice is yours. Will you go there and try to resolve it, or leave with me?”
“…Leave with you?”
“Yes. If you come with me, the Duke’s House will respect your wishes fully and protect you.”
Racelle hesitated briefly, then thought deeply.
Even if she went there, would they believe her words or her side of the story?
They had orchestrated this situation to corner her from the start.
With Martin, the Duke’s House would prepare a plausible excuse until the incident was resolved. Even in the temple, it would be difficult to contradict a formal excuse presented by the Duke’s House.
In essence, Martin’s words meant: fight alone or fight with the Duke’s House.
“The answer is clear.”
She knew that. But…
Racelle rolled up her sleeve and looked at her arm. The markings that had been there were gone.
No, they hadn’t disappeared—they had likely been absorbed into her body.
The evidence of being cursed was gone, and she couldn’t use her holy power.
Would she have to face people trying to kill her without any means?
Wouldn’t that be foolish?
…But.
“Thank you for the offer, Your Grace,” Racelle said, giving a faint smile despite her pale face.
“But I must go there.”
“…Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
She had done foolish things many times in her previous life. Standing alone to assert her claim while no one believed her, with everyone against her.
She never wanted to repeat it, but she could.
If she escaped with the Duke’s House, it would spark a schism in the temple. The clerics would split into factions: Racelle’s and Matron’s, and conflict would intensify.
She no longer cared about being a saint, but she didn’t want to be at the center of that division.
Better to face great humiliation and suspicion here once and for all.
Racelle pushed aside the shrub branches and stepped into the garden.
Martin watched her back, his expression conflicted.
“…They want to see the bodies, right? If there’s nothing wrong with them, why hide them?”
“It’s not hiding—it’s that there’s no reason to show them to Deputy Matron and his group.”
“How dare you…!”
Into the midst of the chaos, Racelle slowly stepped forward.
At first, the people didn’t notice her. They were too absorbed in their own conflict, and a small child was easy to overlook.
“Everyone, calm down!”
Racelle raised her voice. Her sudden shout had meaning.
All fell silent and looked at her.
“The saint?”
“It’s the saint!”
“The saint!”
They all rushed toward Racelle.
“Where have you been, Saint?”
“What have you been doing? Who were you with?”
“Do you know what happened inside?”
Hostile questions poured out. Racelle closed her eyes for a moment.
“Answer, Saint!”
“Why can’t you answer? Do you know what happened inside—?”
“You expect me to know where I was, what I did, and who I was with?”
Racelle opened her eyes and spoke clearly.
The clerics, who had been firing hostile questions, paused.
“What…?”
“Do you know what happened inside? I do. Everyone’s been talking about it, so I had no choice but to hear it on the way here. Do you all believe I burned the temple knights with holy power? Do you really believe that?”
“It’s not that… there are oddities in this case, so we need to investigate—”
Racelle chuckled incredulously.
“Ederion, forgive these sinful people. What evidence do you have that I burned the temple knights? Were all the bodies burned by me? Am I responsible for all the burned people?”
“Then… where have you been until now?”
“Nowhere! What do you think I was doing? I was kidnapped in my sleep and rescued by Prince Martin Revius! Why do you insist that I must have done something?”
The clerics could not immediately refute the words of the young saint.
If she could navigate this much, it was hardly a hardship.
“You are the only one to survive this strange incident, Saint.”
A deep, resonant voice stepped forward—Deputy Matron.
Racelle met his cold gaze, bracing herself for what was to come.
