Chapter 3
“High Priest Jered, the Saintess is nowhere to be found.”
A holy knight with a sword strapped to his waist reported to a man in pure white priestly robes. They were standing in the capital’s dirtiest, foul-smelling slums.
Earlier that dawn, there had been a sudden divine revelation—one that hinted at the appearance of a Saintess, something that had not happened for fifty years.
As soon as the sun rose, the temple dispatched a group of knights to retrieve her. A Saintess from the slums? The news brought more unease than hope.
In fact, the temple wasn’t particularly pleased about her appearance at all. The higher one’s rank, the colder their reaction.
Really? A Saintess now, in these peaceful times?
Still, a Saintess with strong divine power couldn’t simply be left roaming free. The majority agreed that she had to be brought in. Thus, High Priest Jered himself had come all the way here. But what did they find? Nothing—the Saintess was gone.
Had they misinterpreted the revelation?
“The Saintess was indeed here,” Jered said as he slowly opened his eyes.
The youngest ever to attain the position of High Priest, Jered was gentle and virtuous, earning him many followers. His fine, sky-blue hair was neatly tied back, and his ascetic, tidy appearance exuded sacred dignity. Clear skin and long lashes highlighted his divine aura.
But most striking of all were his golden eyes, which shone like sunlight piercing through darkness. Some believers even claimed that meeting his gaze felt as though he could see right through their souls.
The knight’s face lit up in awe.
“Truly?”
“Let’s ask that child over there.”
The boy who had been secretly watching them flinched and tried to run away, but the knight quickly caught him.
The boy struggled violently.
“Let go of me, you temple dogs!”
…Dogs? The knight traced a cross with one hand. As expected, children in this district had foul mouths.
“You’re here to take Nar, aren’t you? What did Nar ever do wrong?”
“Nar?”
“What has God ever done for us, huh? Did He give us bread when we were starving? Did He send a healer when we were sick?”
The boy shouted, his eyes welling with tears. In these streets where no one could be trusted, Nar was the only peer he was close to.
But at dawn, armed men had appeared, and Nar vanished. Alarmed, the boy went to her place and found it a mess, as if she had hurriedly packed and fled.
Whatever the reason, Nar had clearly run away from these people. The boy spat at the knight’s feet.
“Let me go! I won’t say anything!”
“What should we do, High Priest?” the knight asked.
Jered placed his hand on the boy’s tangled hair. Though it should have been unpleasant, his expression did not waver.
A faint white light flickered like smoke and seeped into the boy. His fierce, glaring eyes soon turned dull and hazy, as though his will had blurred. The knight pretended not to notice.
It wasn’t harmful, after all. And finding the Saintess was what truly mattered.
“Can you tell me what this child Nar looks like?” Jered asked, still smiling kindly.
The next morning, Nar woke up in an excellent mood.
‘Mmm! A luxurious bed!’
The day before, Nar had boldly declared she would stay in the duke’s household. Adrian objected immediately, insisting that repaying a favor was one thing, but this was another matter entirely.
But after some thought, Manuel allowed her to remain. Evidently, the favor Nar had done for the duke himself carried weight.
Nar bounced out of the fluffy bed and stretched lightly. She was still fit and agile, after all those years darting through alleys.
She dressed without anyone’s help. The first time she opened the wardrobe, she had been shocked—it was full of dresses. Most likely the childhood clothes of the second daughter, Jeanne Demias.
Practical outfits weren’t really her taste anyway. Nar liked things flashy, shiny, and frilly. But as a guest, she couldn’t exactly make demands.
She didn’t care much about clothes, food, or sleeping arrangements. She had never grown up in an environment that allowed her to be picky. So, she chose the frilliest dress she could find.
It clashed horribly with her roughly cropped hair, but Nar grinned with satisfaction in the mirror. She simply wiped the sleep from her eyes instead of washing up and headed for the dining hall.
She remembered where it was from last night’s dinner. The meal time had passed, but surely they wouldn’t let a guest go hungry?
Servants she passed in the halls looked flustered, unsure how to treat her.
“Hey, you.”
Someone blocked her way at the dining hall entrance. Adrian gave her a thorough once-over, his face twisting.
“What’s with that outfit?”
“What about it?”
“And why are you speaking informally?”
“You spoke informally first. Doesn’t that mean I can too?”
Adrian was dumbfounded. A child from the slums, a mere commoner, had absolutely no fear. At least when Father was around, she showed a little courtesy. Now, not even that. His temper flared.
“That’s Jeanne’s dress, and it doesn’t suit you. Change into something else.”
“I like this one.”
“I said it doesn’t suit you.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s pretty.”
It felt like talking to a wall. Maybe she clung to pretty things because she grew up deprived? A flicker of pity crossed his mind.
Nar frowned.
“I don’t like those eyes of yours.”
“….”
Adrian’s face hardened. This brat was impossible to lower his guard around.
“Did you forget where you are? This is the Duke Demias household.”
“I know.”
“And you talk like this to me, a direct heir? Do you think you have some kind of backing?”
Pathetically, Adrian pulled rank. Even he didn’t know why. At first, he just wanted to intimidate Nar, who shamelessly claimed to be the Saintess without cowering before the duke’s power.
However she had bewitched his father, Adrian was certain she was a fraud. Yet the more they talked, the stranger it felt—Nar’s gaze made him feel like she was humoring a naïve child.
Just like now.
“Oh, how truly honored I am! The noble son of House Demias himself has come to escort a lowly commoner like me to breakfast. I hardly know what to do with myself.”
Nar’s tone implied: I’m only entertaining you because I have no choice.
“You—!”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I get cranky when I’m hungry.” Nar tilted her head. “Or did the Duke personally order you to keep me from eating?”
Adrian fumed, stomping away in frustration.
The head chef and butler, who had rushed out at the commotion, found Nar standing there calmly.
“Is breakfast available?” she asked.
“…Of course! Please, have a seat, Lady Nar,” the butler said, watching her with a curious gaze. She had just brushed off the heir of the house without trouble. Manuel had ordered them to watch her carefully, and now the butler was even more resolved.
A lavish meal was set before her—not the leftovers she expected.
The aroma of broccoli cream soup, sprinkled with croutons, filled the air. One spoonful warmed her whole body. Next came salmon tartare with banana and salad, refreshing and appetite-stirring.
That alone would have been a full breakfast, but greedy Nar asked for a main dish too. She devoured chicken breast stuffed with vegetables, glazed in sweet chili sauce. The exquisite flavor made her whole body shiver. Heaven itself!
The butler, watching, was impressed. Nar handled the cutlery perfectly and savored every bite—something no child raised in the slums could do. Despite her shabby background, there was a refined air about her.
Even Jeanne’s dress, he noticed, she wore neatly by herself. He had assumed someone helped her, but it seemed she dressed alone with ease.
Had she really fled from the temple? What had happened? The butler felt a pang of solemnity.
“Do you have any plans after breakfast?” he asked.
“Nope.”
Nar even went for a second helping of dessert.
“Then may I suggest trimming your hair?”
“Sure.”
Nar thought the duke’s household was much kinder than expected. Maybe she could stay here forever. Adrian was prickly, but the duke himself was a pushover. If she played her cards right, it might just work.
She entertained the thought lightly, unaware the butler would be horrified to hear it. Thankfully, he couldn’t read minds.
The weather was fine, so they went to the garden for the haircut. Nar sat under a tree in a chair draped with cloth. The butler insisted on doing it himself.
“Your hair will need to be cut quite short. Is that all right?”
“It’s fine.”
Nar was used to disguising herself as a boy, so it didn’t matter. The butler, however, looked pained.
“…I’ll do my best to make it pleasing to you.”
“Thank you.”
Nar smiled over her shoulder. Whatever the reason, his kindness toward her was a good sign.
Snip, snip. Hair fell. Nar kept her eyes closed—until the cold touch of scissors against her neck made her flinch. She opened her eyes wide.
The butler immediately paused.
“Oh dear. Did I hurt you?”
“N-no, it’s just… cold, that’s all.”
Nar awkwardly rubbed her neck. The memory of being mauled by a beast resurfaced sharply. Back then she had been resigned, but clearly, the trauma lingered.
She secretly used a touch of divine power to steady herself. Relying on it wasn’t good, but she couldn’t stop the shivers otherwise. Hopefully the butler didn’t notice.
“All done.”
A maid brought a mirror. Nar turned her head this way and that. The ragged hair now looked clean and neat, even rather cute.
She thanked the worried butler and hopped down from the chair. It still didn’t suit the frilly dress at all—but Nar was pleased.
Until the next meal, she lounged in the garden, sprawling on a mat on the grass. This was a child’s privilege.
In the slums, she would have been scrambling for food or money. Here, she didn’t have to. She didn’t know how long this peace would last, but everyone died in the end anyway. Better to enjoy it while she could. Even the blue sky above.
‘Hm?’
Something caught her eye. Nar leapt up and ran barefoot, grabbing the scruff of something round and small.
“What are you?”
“Let go!”
“You cheeky brat. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you spying on me?”
Nar laughed like a triumphant predator. Then, tilting her head, she studied the squirming child she had caught.
