Chapter 32
“How do you mean to kill them?”
The Emperor asked. Ren answered carefully, trying her best not to breathe in the stench.
“With a gun. You can shoot them dead.”
“Is that true?”
“We’ve seen it ourselves.”
Nocturne replied in her stead. When the other princes also nodded, the Emperor said nothing, merely fixing his gaze on Ren again. With his lips closed, he looked exactly like a corpse, but then the corners of his mouth twisted.
“As a saint, you have a completely useless talent.”
Rix frowned at that. Only Nocturne and Dominic chuckled. Ren alone stared wide-eyed at the Emperor, not understanding the reason. He clicked his tongue like an old man lamenting the folly of youth. Then, shoulders drooping with sudden fatigue, the Emperor spoke.
“The main character of tonight’s ball has been decided.”
Ren realized at once that he meant her.
The old, ailing Emperor rose without another word. The three princes straightened at once and dropped back to their knees. Ren followed their lead. The Emperor, his hands trembling, leaned heavily on his cane and the arm of an attendant, moving forward one step at a time. Without them, he would have collapsed straight onto his face.
Once the Emperor—who seemed like he belonged in a nursing home—was gone, Nocturne was the first to stand. His eyes were full of contempt for his father.
“Day by day, all he does is nag.”
“Watch your mouth, brother.”
The youngest, Dominic, hushed him with a finger to his lips. Nocturne just snorted. He looked at the rest of them.
“Anyway, the commotion’s more or less settled, so get ready for the evening ball. And take off that ridiculous stuff.”
He roughly tore off the golden shoulder sash Ren had put on him. Dominic did the same. Come to think of it, when it was Rix’s turn, the uproar had started, so she had never given him his sash. Realizing that, she clenched her fists in embarrassment.
“You too, Saint—change out of that and into a dress.”
Nocturne’s eyes slid over her from head to toe as he said it with a smirk. She felt as if insects were crawling all over her skin.
“Then, I’ll see you later.”
Dominic followed Nocturne out. Rix, however, remained where he was, clearly unwilling to join them. As the sound of their retreating footsteps faded, Ren and Rix’s eyes met.
Ren’s gaze flicked to the spot on his forehead where he had been injured. There was only a faint bloodstain and a trace of where the skin had split and healed instantly. To someone who didn’t know, it might look like an old wound that had accidentally been smeared with blood. She gave him an awkward smile.
“I expected a lot of things, but I never thought I’d end up meeting His Majesty the Emperor.”
“I didn’t expect the stage to collapse, either.”
“Really?”
Ren gave a small laugh as she looked up at him. Rix didn’t reply. She knew it was a lie. There was no way someone as meticulous as him hadn’t prepared a Plan B for the stage collapse.
“Though I truly didn’t expect to see Father.”
He spoke while looking toward the throne—far too large for the frail man they had just met.
“How do people see the saint, anyway—”
“Submissive. Docile. Something you can do whatever you like with.”
Rix’s tone was icy. The chill in his expression made Ren bite her lip, unable to say anything more.
“A saint is nothing but a worthless card to be used and thrown away when needed.”
“…Am I one of those cards, too?”
Rix looked down at her. Ren didn’t look away from his golden eyes as she asked,
“Am I a card you’ll throw away, Your Highness?”
She didn’t know where the courage came from, only that she had to ask. If she didn’t get an answer now, she felt she would regret it forever.
His pupils trembled. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Ren turned her head away, smiling bitterly.
“When the time comes, tell me. I’d like to at least be prepared.”
She walked past him without another glance. Her chest felt tight, as if someone had gripped her heart in their fist. But she kept her expression perfectly still. Especially now—she had to make sure that the man behind her didn’t mistake her feelings. She stepped forward with deliberate, steady strides.
She walked, and walked, and walked… until she felt no presence behind her. Just as she hesitated, about to glance back, the heavy door slammed shut with a bang.
She never saw the twisted look on Rix’s face.
A white horse galloped toward the temple. The guards blocking the entrance moved to stop it, but when they saw the rider’s face, they quickly opened the gates.
Ren slid down from the saddle the moment she entered and sprinted up the stairs. The temple, usually quiet, was in an uproar. She ran toward the voices.
“High Priest! Please open your eyes!”
At those words, Ren’s heart dropped like a weight on a pendulum.
Back when she was Min Su-ji, working in the burn ward, one of the things she had heard most often was someone begging a patient to open their eyes. Those who never did… died. All her fellow patients who had promised to leave the accursed hospital with her had gone ahead that way.
No.
“No.”
The word slipped out as she dashed forward.
It was Hatasha’s old room. Male and female clerics of all ages crowded the doorway, faces full of worry, sighing in despair.
“Saint!”
Someone called out. The crowd parted. Ren didn’t answer, pushing through to the bedside.
Hatasha lay on a shabby cot. Beside her, a cleric was sweating heavily, pouring divine power into the area near the elderly woman’s heart. Her injured leg was already splinted; that wasn’t the problem.
“What’s—”
“Saint, the High Priest’s pulse is far too weak!”
A female cleric beside her wiped her tears as she spoke. Ren froze.
She wanted to help. But she couldn’t. Her divine power didn’t save people—it killed monsters.
From somewhere behind her, someone muttered through tears,
“If only Saint Rena were here—”
“Shh!”
Ren whipped her head around instantly. But in the crowd packed into the doorway, she couldn’t tell who had said it.
Rena?
Who’s that? Someone I know?
Since coming here, she had heard so many similar names, maybe her mind just wasn’t making the connection—or maybe the urgency of the moment was clouding her thoughts. But one thing was certain: the more she thought about the name, the more it felt like something wrapped in a hazy fog.
Who is Rena?
Ren asked urgently,
“Who is that person?!”
Silence fell. She grabbed the female cleric nearest her.
“Where is she now? I’ll bring her!”
“S-Saint…”
“Just tell me!”
Her voice rose—something completely unlike her usual tone. The thought that Hatasha might actually stop breathing made her head spin.
It wasn’t that she had any deep personal attachment to the old woman.
Hatasha had simply been the first person she met after arriving here. They weren’t warm to each other, nor were they at each other’s throats. Distant would have been the right word.
But that wasn’t a reason to let her die.
She hated—more than anything—the thought of losing someone she knew right in front of her eyes again.
“Please, someone—”
“Enough.”
The voice of a dying old woman cut through the room. Similar to one she had heard earlier today, but not quite the same.
As Hatasha’s ragged breathing filled the space, those in the room and at the doorway let out sighs of relief.
“Ren.”
Hatasha called her. Ren went to her side without hesitation. When the old woman extended her hand, Ren took it naturally—just like a granddaughter who had known her all her life. It was something she could never have done back when her own hands had been twisted and scarred from burns.
Hatasha, unable to fully open her eyes, murmured,
“It’s nothing serious, so stop making a fuss.”
Ren swallowed down the lump in her throat and squeezed the hand tighter. The deep wrinkles formed a faint smile.
“I just need some rest.”
“Still—”
“Tell everyone to leave.”
Even speaking a little seemed to drain her. Her grip loosened. Ren nodded quickly.
“Everyone, out.”
They exchanged glances, but at the saint’s order, they nodded and withdrew. When the door closed and they were alone, the sound of Hatasha’s shallow breathing filled the air. The sight made Ren’s chest tighten even more.
“Shall I get you some water?”
“No.”
“How did this happen to you?”
Ren scolded gently. Hatasha chuckled weakly.
“I don’t know either. I woke up and there were three people as big as bulls on top of me.”
Ren couldn’t help a small laugh. Hatasha swallowed with difficulty, then summoned her strength to grip Ren’s hand again. Ren straightened her back, meeting her gaze.
Hatasha sighed.
“I’ll be fine with some rest.”
“All right.”
“So you don’t need to find Rena.”
“Isn’t she the one you need? Just tell me where she is, and I’ll bring her here.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Hatasha’s grip suddenly tightened—maybe even harder than Ren’s. Her voice was desperate.
“Promise me.”
Ren barely had time to ask why before Hatasha’s cracked voice pleaded,
“Please… leave Rena alone.”
