CHAPTER 28
. The High Priest’s Plan (4):
A vein bulged on Ares’ temple.
Regardless of status or race, this boy just got on Ares’ nerves.
This brat—he just had to crush him somehow.
Still, Ares folded his arms and replied smugly.
“Because Zion said she wanted to talk with just the two of us! Gotta respect that. I’m her ‘closest friend’, after all.”
“Hmph.”
“And since I’m her ‘closest friend’, I should also cut her some slack if she wants to hang out with some girl for a bit.”
“Aha…”
Even the usually composed expression on Carion’s face cracked slightly.
“So you were off getting in the princess’s good graces while I wasn’t around, huh?”
He had the urge to jab his thumb down on Ares’ crown and drive him into the ground.
But Carion simply smiled brightly.
“Then I guess you also know what Zion’s favorite fruit is?”
“…What?”
“C’mon. You said you’re her closest friend, right?”
Ares froze for a moment, flustered.
“Zion eats anything Master Lethe gives her, though?”
The princess had never shown a preference or dislike for any food.
He suddenly remembered the maids gossiping about how precocious she was.
Carion leaned down slightly and whispered gently.
“You don’t even know that? You red gnat.”
“You blue-eyed freak!”
Just as Ares exploded in anger, a commotion broke out in the lounge—the princess had collapsed.
During her time as the High Saint, not once had she passed out even when she wanted to.
She’d even tried to faint just to get a break, but never succeeded.
“But now this body feels like it’s made of glass. I collapse at the slightest thing?”
She hadn’t even had the chance to be amazed at finally using magic.
The moment Lethe brought her to the lounge, she’d keeled right over.
When she opened her eyes, Lethe was there, looking at her worriedly—and so was the fake High Saint—no.
“Armené.”
Lethe earnestly pleaded with Armené.
“Saint Halkion, our princess’s condition worries me. Would you mind delaying this private audience?”
“Ah, oh. I’m fine with that—”
“N-no, I’m okay!!”
I sprang up from the sofa like a spring.
Then I grabbed Armené’s startled hand tightly.
“I-I wanna talk with this unnie! Lethe, I’m fine!”
“Princess, but—”
“I said I’m fiiiine!”
When I threw a tantrum, Lethe was so startled she let go of my hand.
“If not now, I won’t get another chance to talk to this girl without Talos or someone else watching!”
Was she really cluelessly pretending to be the High Saint?
Or was she in on it with those bastards?
“How can I ask her without sounding suspicious in Elysion’s body?”
Lethe widened her eyes at my intense insistence.
But Armené herself looked the most surprised.
Still, in the way she gently looked at me, there was genuine warmth.
“Um… Princess. Thank you for earlier, at the banquet.”
“Hm?”
“I’ve never been to anything like that before… I was so nervous.”
“Ahh. What were you doing before you became the High Saint, unnie?”
“I was just a commoner, Your Highness. I lived in the countryside until the war…”
Armené glanced at Lethe.
I felt a little guilty, but I asked Lethe in a soft voice:
“Lethe. Can we be alone just for a bit?”
“Princess, what are you saying? She’s clearly—!”
Lethe stopped mid-sentence, lips pressed together.
You want to say she’s the ‘enemy of the war’, right?
I could read it in her eyes.
But no, not her. If anything, the real enemy of the war is me.
And that very “enemy” was now acting all cutesy and sweet.
“Please? I’ve never played with an unnie or a girl my age before…”
“Princess…”
“Just a little bit, pleeease?”
Lethe looked troubled.
But I’d never begged like this before, and in the end, she gave in.
“Then… if anything happens, please call me right away.”
“Mm!”
At least Armené had no weapons, and she gave off such an aura of harmlessness that it was a relief.
When the demon noble stepped out, Armené let out a quiet sigh.
There’s not much time. I have to find out what really happened.
I put on the most innocent childlike smile I could.
Then, resting my chin on both hands, I stared up at her intently.
“Unnie, I’m super curious about your story. How’d you become the High Saint?”
“Hehe, so that’s what you wanted to know.”
“Yeah! Tell me more, please!”
“Well, apparently, after the last war, some children who were healed by the 13th High Saint developed divine power.”
“Wait… what?”
“Of those children, I inherited the most divine power, so I was blessed to become the 14th High Saint.”
Armené lifted her right hand toward me.
On the back of her hand were scars—like blisters that had split and healed.
Seeing my surprised expression, Armené shyly lowered her hand.
But her eyes were filled with pride.
“These marks were left when the 13th saved me.”
“Uh…”
“The High Priest said they’re a ‘holy mark’—proof the former High Saint chose me. After I got this, I could use divine power too.”
“You—!”
“You…?”
…You liar! You damn con artists!
This wretched Yulipos! What kind of absurd scam are you pulling now?!
If divine power could be inherited by just being healed by the High Saint, there would’ve been hundreds of successors already!
This girl’s divine power must’ve emerged by chance.
The timing simply aligned too perfectly with the priests’ scheme.
And these scars! I must’ve been too distracted to properly heal her!
I’m not perfect.
Sometimes, when I used divine power while exhausted, scars like that were left behind.
My head was spinning with rage and fury.
Still, I gritted my teeth and looked again at the back of Armené’s hand.
This seemed like something a group of priests could probably pray away.
“Unnie… can’t we get rid of that scar?”
“O-oh, I’m not getting rid of it! Even if I could!”
Armené quickly covered her right hand with her left.
“There were scary things too… but every time I look at it, I tell myself to be strong…”
“…”
“When it’s hard, I look at this and keep going. I’m going to be someone who saves people, just like the 13th.”
Her words silenced me.
With a heart like that… maybe she’s even more suited to be High Saint than I am.
Sure, I worked hard too… but…
It wasn’t really by choice—I was dragged into it by all the noise around me.
Seeing Armené’s sincerity, and thinking of Lethe waiting outside, I felt a sense of urgency.
I didn’t feel the same certainty the 12th High Saint had when they chose me.
They said they felt a “pull of the soul” when they met me. Whatever that means.
But someone like this—she deserves to be the real 14th.
…Yeah. I’ll pass on all my divine power to her.
Then I can just live as ‘Elysion’, with only magic remaining.
I looked up at the sky.
“Is anyone listening? Gods, former High Saints—if you don’t object, I’m making the decision.”
There’s supposed to be some formal process with a gemstone or whatever, but I’ll skip it.
There’s no time for ceremony now.
Go, my hand!
“But still, unnie, it must’ve been really tough…”
I slowly reached out toward Armené’s hand, but she shook her head firmly.
“No! I’m going to work hard so I won’t bring shame to the previous High Saint!”
“…”
I lowered my head to hide my grimace.
Being the High Saint isn’t as glorious as it sounds.
It’s a title full of hollow honor and real scars.
Even if you’re powerful, you can’t save everyone…
And the guilt of those you fail to save builds up.
Even if you give your all for others,
“Ugh, why are you so slow?!”
—what comes back is constant irritation and blame.
My hand froze mid-reach toward hers.
Calling someone like me the High Saint is the real selfishness.
I was trying to dump this girl into a fire just so I could live comfortably.
Even pretending to be a beloved saint of an enemy nation.
Living here, loved without guilt.
As if I’d always been the real Elysion.
…Yeah? And so what if I am?!
It had been so long since I felt this kind of love.
I had family, friends, people who genuinely cared about me.
Forget the war between Tartarus and the Holy Kingdom—if I returned to the Holy Kingdom, would anyone like that even exist?
No. No one would be there.
