Chapter 10
Nare couldn’t believe her eyes.
It wasn’t even dinner time, and even at dinner, they never set out this many desserts on the table.
A sweet fragrance filled the dining hall, and all the servants had gathered there.
Manuel, Adrian, and a sleepy-eyed Cleo stood at the front. Manuel gave a slightly awkward smile.
“Nare. We were supposed to have the party yesterday, but you fell asleep early, so we postponed it to this morning.”
“What party?”
“Nare Demias, welcome to our family.”
“…What?”
“Welcome!”
“Welcome, young lady!”
With cheers, the room filled with loud applause. Nare was still bewildered, unable to grasp the situation.
Cleo, who was now wide awake, slipped out from Adrian’s side and ran over. She clung to Nare’s arm.
“Nare, you’re family now, right? That means we’ll always be together?”
“Uh, well… not exactly?”
“What? Not? Brother!”
“Rio, even family can’t always be together. Besides, Nare is a Saintess, and historically, Saintesses have achieved many remarkable—”
“Enough. How far are you going to go with that? Rio, you’ll still be able to study writing with me and play all sorts of fun games.”
That way, the jewels will come.
“Wow, really?”
Cleo beamed brightly. Nare walked over to Manuel.
“You don’t even like desserts. What’s all this about?”
“I heard you like them, so the chef prepared a little something special. Well? Do you like it?”
Nare drifted toward the table as if enchanted and pulled out a chair at random.
“Yes.”
She had already tasted every dessert in her mind. Even though it was before breakfast, Nare devoured the vanilla cubes decorated with sugar-dusted pansies first.
Then the mandarin cake, coconut mango éclairs, raspberry aloe tarts… She enjoyed everything so much that she forgot this was supposed to be her family induction celebration.
Manuel and Adrian each politely picked up a plate, while Cleo sat beside Nare, happily eating with cream all over her mouth.
The chef and servants looked on fondly at the sight.
Nare moved rooms—from a guest room on the first floor to the third floor, right beside Cleo’s room.
The south-facing room was filled with sunlight, and its furniture and wallpaper designs showed great care. Reflecting both Nare’s identity as a Saintess and her mature image, it carried an oddly holy atmosphere—not like a child’s room at all.
But the child-sized furniture and small, cute trinkets were reminders that Nare was only thirteen.
Sitting in a rocking chair, she gazed out the window. Cleo was lying on her stomach next to her, drawing on the floor. From outside came the sound of the gate opening and horses neighing.
“Someone’s here today?” Nare muttered listlessly.
“Brother said his friend was coming.”
“Adrian’s friend?”
A sense of foreboding swept through her, and she stood up.
“Adrian doesn’t have friends.”
It was an extremely rude remark, but Nare didn’t care.
There was only one person who could be called the friend of Adrian Demias, Duke of Demias.
Nare suddenly leaned out the window.
“Nare, that’s dangerous!” Cleo tugged at her frantically, but it was no use.
Her eyes caught sight of a man entering the mansion—armed with a sword, strikingly handsome.
Platinum hair and blue eyes—the very picture of nobility.
Smooth skin like polished stone, features finely carved as though by a divine sculptor’s chisel.
Despite his cool expression, the man seemed to shine on his own, as though the sun itself was compelled to follow his beauty.
“Synsius.”
Nare whispered the name under her breath, afraid he might somehow hear.
Synsius Hedel. The only friend of Adrian Demias, and the wielder of the Sword of Frost.
The man Nare had loved passionately in her first, second, and third lives.
Sacred Law, Article 12, Clause 3: The Saintess may reside anywhere she wishes.
Back when she was a reckless Saintess, Nare had abused this rule to stay for a time in her beloved’s household. Of course, it had ended badly.
“That’s all in the past now.”
With detached eyes, she watched Synsius walk by. She told herself she had no lingering attachment.
But at the dining table, she couldn’t focus at all.
Adrian introduced Nare to Synsius. He skipped so many details that it nearly created a secret even Manuel didn’t know, but Nare quickly corrected it, smoothing things over.
When he heard the word Saintess, Synsius glanced briefly at her, and that was all.
He was so famously cold that people openly called him the “Ice Knight.” Nare knew this better than anyone, so she wasn’t hurt.
But every time she lifted her fork, memories from her past lives surged up. Her chest felt tight, as if she might choke.
They said first loves were beautiful, didn’t they? Not for her. For Nare, it was nothing but shame.
As she chewed on her roast meat, she was forced to relive the humiliating theater of her past lives in her head.
Ah, I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I do that? So shameful…!
If she were in her bedroom, she would have kicked holes through her blanket by now.
The reel of memories rolled on to the most humiliating climax—
“Lord Hedel! If I can’t have you, then no one can! I’ll destroy you before I let anyone else—!”
Clang!
The sharp sound of metal rang out, and the dining room fell silent.
But Nare was too shaken to think of anything else. She stumbled to her feet.
“I don’t feel well. Excuse me.”
“O-Oh… sure.”
Without delay, she hurried out.
Adrian was visibly unsettled, which was rare. She had never acted like this before.
When he first introduced her to Synsius, he had expected one of two typical reactions from young ladies—either they blushed furiously and couldn’t look him in the eye, or they stared at him blankly, lost in a daze.
Nare did neither. Instead, she gazed at Synsius with a knowing look, even nodding slightly. That alone had made Adrian tense, but nothing else had happened—until now.
At the table, in front of her favorite food, she just picked at it distractedly. Unthinkable.
Adrian, who knew her appetite, immediately realized something was wrong.
Her complexion flushed red, then turned pale, then bluish, again and again. Finally—
Clang!
She dropped her utensils. No, more like flung them down. But Adrian, unable to believe she would ever do such a thing, took it as an accident.
Nare staggered away from the dining hall. Adrian turned to Synsius.
“Sorry. She’s not usually like that.”
“No. But… is it really okay for the Saintess to be that frail?”
Who? Nare?
Adrian’s expression grew strange. Synsius glanced at the spot where Nare had left, then calmly resumed eating.
“The Saintess belonging to a noble family? Impossible!”
One of the High Priests shot to his feet, shouting. Others remained silent, but their faces showed agreement.
News that Nare had been registered into the Demias family had thrown the temple into chaos. Never before had a Saintess been taken in by a noble house.
“High Priest Jared, didn’t you say you could bring the Saintess back? How do you explain this?”
“She invoked the Sacred Law,” Jared answered calmly. “She chose her residence, and we must respect that.”
“You call that an excuse?” an elderly priest barked. This was why you shouldn’t put young men in high positions. His disdain was plain on his face.
Then a sly voice cut in.
“High Priest Patrick. You wouldn’t have treated the Saintess properly anyway, yet you’re quick to blame others.”
It was Aaron, another of the younger priests, like Jared.
“What nonsense—!”
“When the revelation of the Saintess’s return came, everyone here knew you were the most displeased. Don’t deny it.”
“You…!”
Patrick’s face flushed red, but he couldn’t argue—it was true.
In truth, the temple had not been eager to welcome the Saintess. After all, fifty years had passed since the last one.
In that time, the temple’s power dynamics had shifted. High Priests gathered followers, formed factions, and cemented their authority.
Patrick and a few others had become virtual rulers of the temple. Then suddenly, a figure appeared who could overturn their pyramid of power. Of course they resented her.
Worse, the new Saintess was from the slums. Surely ignorant, crude, unworthy.
Even if they had brought her in, they would have locked her up and molded her however it benefited the temple—whether as a tyrant or as a docile figurehead.
But letting her leave the temple altogether? Unacceptable. That was a matter of pride.
And of all people, it was Manuel Demias—the “Mad Dog Duke,” who clung to enemies of the crown until he killed them—who had taken her in.
The Emperor surely knew of her registration already. If he commanded Manuel to protect the Saintess, Manuel would do so without hesitation.
As long as she remained there, the temple was at a severe disadvantage.
“But we can’t just let her stay outside the temple forever!”
“That much is true.”
The chamber fell silent. Aaron glanced at Jared, who was lost in thought.
Short silver hair shimmered with a radiant glow, golden eyes gleaming, posture upright and firm.
Nare might not act like a Saintess, but her presence was so overwhelming that no one could deny what she was.
Yet she stood opposed to the temple.
“I’ve chosen the Demias household as my home. Do you have anything else to say?”
Jared opened his eyes.
“No matter what it takes, we must bring her back. The Saintess.”
A strange sense of mission welled up within him
