Chapter 138. Elfberry
The villagers exchanged confused looks.
“Does Lady Annette have divine power?”
“But Lady Annette is… a fake saint, isn’t she?”
Just as Miel’s lips trembled at the whispered murmurs, an old man standing in front suddenly raised his voice.
“Watch your tongues! Don’t you know that only one chosen by the Goddess can lift a holy relic?”
His eyes were so clear that he looked almost like a madman.
Then, he suddenly dropped to his knees and shouted,
“A humble servant of Pogen greets the Holy Saint!”
Overwhelmed by his fervor, the villagers all followed suit and bowed deeply.
“We… we greet the Holy Saint!”
‘It’s fine. These people live deep in the mountains. There’s no one for them to tell anyway. Maybe I can still fix this somehow, I thought—right when—
“What’s going on here?”
The knights outside the temple rushed in after hearing the commotion, their eyes widening at the unexpected scene.
“The Holy Saint? Are you referring to Lady Annette?”
Seeing Leon’s raised voice, I gave a dry, helpless laugh.
‘I really don’t know anymore.’
***
Priest Miel was unlike most priests who chased after honor or power.
He came from a humble background that would never have let him near the Grand Temple in the first place.
But above all, he lived by his faith.
While everyone else tried to rise closer to the High Priest, Miel volunteered to serve an old priest nearing retirement.
It was thanks to that choice that he got to assist Venemus for several years and gained deep spiritual insight.
The problem came after Venemus passed away.
Miel became little more than a gatekeeper of the temple, with nothing to do except occasionally listen to villagers’ confessions.
‘Is my life going to end like this?’
He sank into emptiness and despair.
One day, a hunter from a nearby village felt sorry for him and secretly brought him a bottle of fruit wine.
— “No, this is forbidden. How could a servant of the Goddess drink alcohol?”
— “Priest, fruit wine isn’t real alcohol. It’s just… fruit, really.”
Despite refusing many times, the hunter left the bottle behind.
‘Maybe… just one sip.’
After days of simply staring at it, he finally poured a glass late one night.
— “So, priests drink now, huh?”
It was the Duke—appearing after years—who caught him red-handed.
Though he had always lived an upright life, in a single night, he was branded a “fallen priest.”
And then, under the pretense of confession, the Duke revealed his curse of the dragon and his unstable magic power—and dragged Miel to the Duke’s castle.
‘Where is the Goddess leading me?’
He was lost and confused—until he sensed an extraordinary divine power radiating from the Duchess.
The official Saint had never displayed any such divine power in public.
Looking at all the evidence, it was clear—the real and fake had been switched.
‘The Goddess sent me here to bring the true Saint back into the light.’
His heart began to race.
He needed to report this to the Grand Temple and help the true Saint reclaim her rightful place.
But it wasn’t easy.
He had been banned from approaching Lady Annette for a long time, and only under the excuse of visiting the Pogen Temple was he allowed to join this trip.
— “Priest, remember this before you go. The Duchess is not the Saint.”
— “What? But, as I said before—!”
— “What does this look like to you?”
The Duke pointed to the cup before him.
— “Isn’t that herbal tea?”
— “No, it’s tomato stew. So, what does it look like now?”
— “…Tomato stew.”
— “Good. You’re not completely stupid.”
The Duke’s meaning was clear:
If he said the Duchess wasn’t the Saint, then she wasn’t.
— “Stay at least ten steps away from her. And if you say anything about the Empire or the Saint in front of her, I won’t forgive you.”
So, intimidated by the Duke, Miel had no choice but to keep his distance.
But when he heard,
— “We greet the Holy Saint!”
his doubts and fears vanished instantly.
He had finally found the person he would serve for the rest of his life.
‘I must speak now, here, before everyone.’
The Duke, his wife, the priest, the mage, and the knights were all gathered in one place.
But before Miel could open his mouth, Tiern spoke first.
“So… are you saying Lady Annette is the real Saint of the Empire?”
Tiern’s voice trembled.
“Of course! Then Lady Annette’s been insulted all this time for no reason—uh, I mean, wrongfully insulted!”
Demiche hastily corrected his words.
“We told the villagers to keep quiet, but I’m not sure they’ll really keep it a secret,” Norton said.
Miel finally managed to stammer out,
“I—I told them it was the Saint’s will, so they won’t dare speak carelessly.”
“Why must we even hide the fact that Lady Annette is the real Saint?” Demiche said angrily, ruffling his red beard.
“We should show those who mocked her who she really is! Let’s crush anyone who spoke ill of her!”
“Indeed. We could even post official notices everywhere—‘The Duchess of Blenheim is the true Saint!’” Enolius added sarcastically.
“If that rumor spreads, our wine business will boom. Wine blessed by the Saint herself—who wouldn’t buy it?”
“Oh, that’s brilliant! We’ll make money and rub it in the Empire’s face!”
Demiche was getting carried away again, but when he saw Norton quietly shaking his head, he frowned.
“What’s your problem, mage? You mocking me?”
“I’m just glad you can tell,” Norton replied coolly.
“You little—!”
“Enough,” the Duke said, stopping them as if used to this.
“The Grand Temple already has their own Saint. They’ll do everything they can to ruin my wife’s name.”
“And if all attention turns to Blenheim, the Imperial family will grow wary,” Perel added.
“When did we ever care about the Empire or the Temple’s opinion?” Demiche shouted. “The Blenheim Knights can protect you from all of them!”
‘Yes, that’s right! This shouldn’t be hidden!’ Miel silently cheered him on.
But then the Duke cut him off coldly.
“The Duchess doesn’t wish for it.”
“…Ah. I see.”
At those words, Demiche’s fiery enthusiasm quickly faded.
“The Knights are also forbidden to speak of this,” the Duke ordered.
He swept his sharp gaze across the room.
“If this leaks outside, I won’t tolerate it.”
The knights all fell silent, unable to argue.
‘To think we must hide the true Saint even when she stands before us…’
Miel swallowed his frustration like bitter medicine.
***
After that morning’s incident, the villagers’ attitude became overly reverent—almost fanatical.
— “Wine made from the Saint’s blessed spring water! It’ll be the holiest wine in the world!”
— “We were foolish not to see that the Saint was blessing us in her own way.”
The old man who had shouted first turned out to be the village elder.
— “Please, let me show you our brewing house right away!”
Once he led the way, all the villagers began moving in perfect order.
‘So much for keeping a secret…’
I would bet my entire fortune that the elder had already told everyone in the village that I was the Saint.
Because of that, I had to visit everything—from the Goddess’s spring to the communal winery—and even taste every villager’s homemade fruit wine.
— “Ours has been aged longer, so it tastes different! You must try it, Holy Saint!”
They all spoke quietly, as if whispering would count as “keeping it secret,” yet they never stopped calling me “Holy Saint.”
‘To gain such kindness without doing anything…’
I felt oddly hollow when I thought about the real Annette, who never got to enjoy any of this.
But after walking all the way to the spring with my weak body—and getting slightly tipsy from all the fruit wine—that hollow feeling quickly faded.
“True recovery doesn’t need magic,” Enolius grumbled that evening as he cast a healing spell on me.
“My mana isn’t meant to be wasted on things like this.”
He seemed particularly irritated today.
“Ask the priest to heal you instead. He’d probably give up his life if you asked him to.”
“Quiet,”
Loic’s cold voice cut in as he gently took my hand.
“You’ll feel better soon.”
His hands pressed firmly yet softly against mine, easing the tension in my muscles.
“I’m not that tired…” I murmured, embarrassed, but both Loic and Enolius ignored me and kept focusing on their tasks.
I watched Loic’s long lashes tremble under his dark hair.
At least, because of this morning’s chaos, neither of us had time to feel awkward around each other.
“Lady Annette,” Perel entered the room, “the elfberries have ripened.”
We had seen most of the village already, but the elfberries—the main ingredient for their wine—only bloomed at night, so we’d been waiting until evening.
“Oh.”
At those words, Loic’s eyes dropped slightly.
He looked like a sad puppy watching his owner leave.
During the day, while I toured the village, Loic had been stuck in the temple the whole time, since there were so many women and children around.
‘This probably isn’t the kind of trip Loic imagined.’
“Be careful out there,” he said softly, smiling.
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I grabbed the sleeve of his robe.
“Loic, why don’t we go see the elfberries together?”
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