Chapter 30
Except for Rix, the other princes introduced themselves to Ren, whose attention was elsewhere.
The smooth-talking First Prince who greeted her was Nocturn, and the youngest, who always seemed to rub both Nocturn and Rix the wrong way, was the Third Prince, Dominic.
Neither the name Nocturn nor Dominic had existed in the original Saint’s Dilemma.
Ren’s gaze was fixed on Rix, who was with Hatasha. The two of them weren’t speaking, but their eyes locked like predators about to clash. It felt like someone should step in before things escalated, but neither prince left any openings.
“This concludes His Majesty the Emperor’s address.”
Right on cue, the Emperor’s representative finished speaking.
A thunderous cheer erupted. Even though he was only the Emperor’s representative, not the Emperor himself, the crowd’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
“At last, it’s our turn,”
Nocturn said in a voice as slick as butter.
Hatasha finally shed the gentle demeanor that seemed too big for her small frame and strode up the stairs with her staff, heels clicking against the stone.
As she ascended, the cheers quieted into murmurs. The polite softness in her tone vanished, and she spoke with authority.
“The Goddess Fiora has descended upon us once again.”
The crowd fell abruptly silent—not out of reverent focus, but from shock.
Someone whispered, “The Saintess?” and that single word rippled through the crowd like a siren’s refrain, spreading from person to person.
The Saintess has come.
The Saintess has descended.
At last, we have been blessed again.
The Goddess Fiora has not abandoned us after all.
“A new Saintess has appeared!”
Someone shouted, and the applause drowned out even the Emperor’s speech.
Ren flinched at the sheer force of it.
Suddenly, she wanted to run away.
She had grown up in an orphanage, her pretty face and title as the youngest national representative putting her in the public eye from a young age. There had been a time when reporters’ camera flashes and shouts of “Over here, please!” were constant.
But after the fire, when her screams of pain rang out, no one had listened. What people had loved was not Min Su-ji herself, but her position and the dramatic backstory that came with it.
And now, that nightmare was returning.
These people didn’t know her.
They were ready to love her simply because she was “the Saintess.”
The thought tightened like a noose around her throat.
“The new Saintess has come today to personally bestow blessings upon the princes,”
Hatasha declared, each word carrying weight.
The princes all adjusted their clothing one last time. Starting with the eldest, they slowly ascended the stairs.
Before they had all reached the top, Rix’s gaze met Ren’s.
She wanted to run, but his eyes were deeper and heavier than hers, pinning her in place.
“Are you alright?”
Mabel asked softly. Ren swallowed hard and nodded.
When the youngest prince had joined his brothers, the crowd’s cheer pierced the sky.
“Saintess,”
Hatasha murmured when the noise subsided.
Guided by Mabel, Ren stepped onto the creaking stairs, one at a time. It felt like waking from a nightmare.
Gradually, the sight of the crowd came into focus—people packed tightly along a red carpet that stretched far into the distance, their colorful heads like scattered dots.
Her stomach churned.
She quickly turned her eyes to the one sight that felt familiar—Rix.
His golden eyes were fixed steadily on her.
Calm down,
he mouthed.
A sudden gust of wind swept her silver hair across her face, blocking her vision for an instant. In that brief shelter, her heart steadied again.
She clenched and released her fists, then approached Hatasha.
Three priests beside her stepped forward, each holding a black velvet cushion with a neatly folded golden sash atop it.
Am I supposed to drape this over their shoulders?
Ren glanced at Hatasha, who gave a small nod.
With trembling hands, she picked up the first sash. The First Prince, Nocturn, knelt on one knee and looked up at her with an intense gaze.
Ren carefully placed the sash on his shoulder. Her hands shook.
Before she could pull away, Nocturn caught her hand.
She flinched, but his grip tightened as he bent and kissed the back of her hand.
“Thank you for blessing me.”
He released her casually, and she nearly stumbled backward but kept her balance. Rising to his feet, Nocturn turned to face the people.
When he waved once, the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.
As the celebration faded, Ren swallowed against her dry throat. Her hands were still trembling. She clenched her fist again, then took the second sash.
Expecting Rix next, she looked up—only to find clouds above her. Lowering her gaze, she saw Dominic, shorter than Rix by a hand’s breadth.
Why is the Third Prince in the middle?
Before she could question it, Dominic knelt like Nocturn. She had no choice but to place the sash over him. Like his brother, he kissed the back of her hand—except he didn’t just take her fingertips.
His hand slid along her wrist in a slow stroke.
Ren’s brow furrowed at the shiver crawling from head to toe.
Thankfully, Dominic let go and turned to the people, who greeted him with cheers as loud as Nocturn’s.
The third sash.
Finally, it was Rix’s turn. Their eyes met with the comfort of familiarity.
But as soon as Ren lifted the sash, the unexpected happened.
“Boo!”
“That’s the prince who will ruin the country!”
The voices weren’t cheering—they were jeering, mocking.
Yet Rix’s expression didn’t change as he looked straight at her. His golden eyes were clearer and sharper than any of the others, unwavering.
Ren caught the other princes trying—and failing—to hide their laughter behind their hands or turned faces.
Why…?
While she was still confused, Rix mouthed:
Be ready.
With a subtle tilt of his head, he gestured toward her waist. She followed his gaze to the silver revolver he had given her.
The crowd’s jeers grew harsher. Ren gripped the sash and reached toward his shoulder.
Then—
“A monster!”
someone screamed.
The heckling turned to shrieks. The dense crowd surged, shaking the platform.
Right at the spot she and Rix had scouted earlier, a human was transforming into a monster—skin blackening, throat releasing a beast-like growl.
Ren instantly drew the revolver from her hip.
It began to glow in her hands. Without hesitation, she aimed at the monster and fired. Even as the bullet struck home, screams of “A monster!” rang all around.
She adjusted her aim and kept shooting methodically. The platform groaned under the crush of bodies, but her shots stayed true.
When she lost her footing, Rix caught her before she could fall.
Holding her close, he rolled with her just as a wooden plank crashed down onto his back.
From the chaos, voices shouted:
“The monster’s gone!”
“The Saintess defeated it!”
“The Saintess killed the monster!”
Order returned as the guards pushed the crowd back.
Ren looked up at Rix’s face above her. He grimaced, meeting her eyes.
“Are you alright?”
She nodded.
Rix moved aside, letting sunlight pour over her. Around them lay splintered planks and debris. Mabel and Scarlett had formed a protective barrier, and Hatasha was being supported by the priests.
Rix got to his feet first and held out a hand.
“Up you go.”
Ren gave him her left hand, the one not holding the gun, and he pulled her up in one smooth motion.
Only then, in the clear sunlight, did she notice the blood trailing from his forehead down his chin. His red hair had hidden it before.
“Your forehead—”
She reached out instinctively, but Rix slapped her hand away before she could touch him.
Before either could react further, the gash on his forehead began to close, healing instantly as if by divine blessing.
“Your forehead…”
Ren repeated numbly, though the meaning of her words had shifted.
Rix avoided her gaze.
“The Saintess has slain the monster!”
“The new Saintess has descended!”
“The Saintess has returned!”
The cheers grew so loud they stung her ears. All eyes were on her.
Ren gripped the revolver tightly.
And in her ears—there was nothing at all.
