Arc-6 Ch-17

 Dress: check.

Shoes: check.

Makeup: check.

I stood before the large mirror in my private room, meticulously inspecting every detail of my appearance.

Honestly, even now, when everyone calls me “Saintess,” wearing a dress like this still feels unnatural.

The priests and priestesses suggest I commission the finest dress from top artisans using the best materials, but most of the temple’s budget comes from public donations.

The idea of using only what’s necessary where it’s needed doesn’t fly in politics or diplomacy. How much money you have, how much power you wield.

Nobles flaunt these to avoid unnecessary conflicts. If money can prevent bloodshed, there’s no better deal. I force myself to believe that maintaining the hard-won peace with a single dress is a bargain.

“You look wonderful, Lady Olivia.”

“Thank you.”

Carla, who helped with the dress and makeup, complimented me. I thanked her, though I wasn’t sure if it truly suited me.

“Marie’s lucky—she looks great in cute dresses.”

“I heard that as a jab at my childish figure. I prefer something more feminine and flashy.”

“No way—that’d spill out of your chest.”

“Ughhh, I curse my hungry childhood~!”

Marie wore a pale pink dress suited for a young teenage lady, her hair tied back. From any angle, she exuded the cuteness befitting a well-born lady—far more than me. Watching her squirm under Carla’s makeup like a cat dodging pets, I finished my preparations. It was an unexpected, urgent summons, so it wouldn’t be surprising if something was off.

“There, all done. Unless someone knows her, no one will recognize Marie like this.”

“We’re wearing masks anyway—makeup’s unnecessary.”

“You never know who might see you, so better safe than sorry.”

“Fine, I get it. Lady Olivia, don’t forget the wig.”

“Right, please do it.”

As Marie grumbled, I was next to have a long, black wig fitted. With hair reaching my waist, I looked like a completely different person. Preparations complete. We’d be late if we didn’t leave soon.

“Just put the robe over it, and you’re set.”

“Kyle should have the carriage ready by now. We’re pressed for time—let’s go.”

“Got it.”

Wearing the temple-affiliated robe over the dress felt incredibly strange. I removed a painting from the wall, revealing a metal handle.

Pulling it slowly slid a section of the wall aside, opening a narrow passage just wide enough for one person. An emergency escape route built into the saintess’s room for crises. Marie took a magestone lamp and led the way.

“We’ll be off. Take care of things while we’re gone.”

“Leave it to me. I’m glad I’m on duty today.”

The mechanism could only be operated from outside the passage—someone had to stay and close it. Logically, Marie, my proxy, should stay, but she was my most trusted and strongest ally in the temple. Kyle could guard, but a half-elf stands out too much—especially where we were headed.

By process of elimination, Marie and I had to go. Carla would hold the fort. We walked the long, stone passage. The exit was at the temple’s edge, quite a distance.

“Never thought we’d use this.”

“It’s meant for emergencies, but I’ve heard past saintesses didn’t use it properly.”

“Like?”

“Some spoiled saintess, proud only of her family name and eager to play, used it to sneak out. There’s also a carriage stop for nobles, temple knights, and priestesses to slip out at night—we’ll use that.”

“I’m preaching temple discipline, yet here I am using this. Mixed feelings.”

“It’s all His Highness Julius’s fault. Want me to ●×□▲ him?”

Marie suddenly spat words no girl should say, making me break into a cold sweat. Born a viscount’s daughter but denied ladylike education, Marie occasionally let slip shocking vulgarities. She must have picked them up from hunters who taught her to hunt or adventurers who taught her to fight. She usually watches her tongue, but when emotions run high, they slip out unconsciously.

“Haha… Don’t say that in front of others.”

“If they’re troubling Lady Olivia, I’m half-serious. No exceptions, even for royalty.”

“Marie.”

“…My apologies. I’ll refrain.”

“Good.”

We’d made good progress. The changing air flow signaled the exit was near. Unlike the room, the exit could be opened from inside. Opening the door led to a disguised shed at the temple’s edge. A short walk took us to the nearest carriage stop outside the grounds. Kyle was waiting at the stop.

“I’ve been expecting you. This way.”

“Thank you.”

“The driver’s tight-lipped, so don’t worry. He’ll take you near the destination.”

“Understood. Leave the rest to us.”

“Don’t return after dawn, or the temple will notice. Come back early.”

“Got it.”

“No souvenirs expected.”

“None planned. Marie, take care of Lady Olivia.”

“Yes, yes~”

After Kyle’s words, we boarded the carriage, and it immediately set off. Considering travel time, we had little margin. We had to return by early morning somehow. Feeling the pressure, we gazed at the night streets through the window.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The carriage stopped, and the driver knocked to signal. We removed our robes, leaving them with our extra luggage. I tucked the invitation and mask into my bag and opened the door. Bowing to the driver, I stepped onto the capital’s cobblestones in unfamiliar high heels. We veered off the main road into a maze of alleys toward our destination. In dresses, we stood out blatantly. Night was deepening, but the streets weren’t entirely empty.

After several turns, we arrived. An old, unremarkable building. Several young men loitered by the door. Their clothes were neat, but their expressions and demeanor screamed anything but honest work. Any ordinary woman would hesitate to approach, but we had business inside.

We donned our masks in a blind spot and approached. Three guards: two young men and one middle-aged. I handed the invitation from my bag to one. He eyed us suspiciously from head to toe. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

“…Could you let us through already?”

Marie, growing impatient, glared at the man. I’d visited this place a few times, but never been delayed like tonight.

“Wait a sec. Gotta follow procedure, y’know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Trust comes first.”

They turned to me, grinning sleazily.

'Here we go again.'

These types were everywhere.

"Women don’t belong on the battlefield.” 

“Women shouldn’t meddle in politics.”

Men who belittled women and forced their way with strength. They never targeted the strong or superior. Always the weak, the inferior—cruelly wielding power over them. Seeing me as a woman and Marie as petite, they clearly looked down on us, hoping for some gain.

“What, we ain’t gonna eat ya. Just be a little flexible, that’s all.”

“You came to a place like this, so you get how it works, right?”

Their vulgar grins intimidated us, but our hearts were ice-cold. Beyond this point was a kind of neutral zone—a gathering place for people with secrets, free from barriers of status or position.

High-born folks must sneak in often, but seeing two young women alone, they got cocky and tried to extort us. The middle-aged man stayed silent—either exasperated or deliberately ignoring it.

Either way, we couldn’t waste time on them.

“Just a little, that’s all.”

The moment the young man’s hand reached for me, killing intent leaked from Marie beside me.

'Oh no.'

Marie got angrier when 'I' was disrespected than when she was.

Especially toward anyone with impure thoughts about me—she showed no mercy.

She was more of a saintess (Olivia-only) fanatic than the temple knights or priestesses who admired me.

“Don’t touch her, you filth.”

The instant Marie’s hand seized two of his extending fingers—

'Crack.'

A small, dry snap. His fingers bent in directions they shouldn’t—clearly broken.

Fingers are packed with nerves, more sensitive than other parts, and even a woman can break them easily. The man, not comprehending what happened, stared blankly, his face paling from the unnatural angle and pain.

“H-Huhhh?!”

He desperately clutched the broken fingers with his unharmed hand.

In that moment, his mind fixated on the injury, creating a massive opening.

*Smack!*

Marie’s palm heel slammed into his brow.

The face is a cluster of vital points controlling sight, smell, hearing, and taste.

The struck brow—center of the triangle formed by eyes and nose—temporarily paralyzes vision on impact, and a nosebleed disrupts breathing.

*Thud!*

“Gyaaah!!”

Marie’s kick drove into his groin. His agonized scream echoed through the night sky. It was excessive, but from finger-breaking to groin kick took mere seconds—too fast to stop.

The man writhed on the ground.

“You bitch!!”

The other young man raised a fist and charged at Marie. I stepped between them, assuming a stance with both hands.

His descending fist struck my body, but his rage-blinded attack was painfully predictable.

I advanced a step, slipped inside his elbow, placed my left hand on his wrist to redirect the force, then gripped his upper arm with my right, adding my strength to his momentum.

Manipulated, he crashed into the nearby wall and crumpled. The lack of force showed his strength was mediocre. He looked tough but wasn’t.

“I noticed his attack, o… miss.”

“That was overkill, Ma… lady.”

We nearly called each other’s names and hastily covered. The saintess throwing men at night would be terrible for reputation—though I didn’t regret punishing rude gatekeepers.

Ignoring the two on the ground, voices came from inside the building.

The door opened, and nearly ten burly men emerged. One was the middle-aged gatekeeper with the young men—he must have called for backup. These men clearly differed from the two we defeated—their demeanor screamed experience in violence.

'Now what?'

Fighting this many bare-handed would be tough. The saintess’s necklace or bracelet could amplify my power, but I left the relics at the temple. If things escalated, reaching our destination would be impossible. All over?

The men closed in slowly. They didn’t intend to attack outright, but letting us escape would hurt their pride.

“What’s going on here?”

A sudden voice. Turning, a masked man stood behind me. Crimson, sky-blue, and purple hair—three familiar, well-built friends. Tension drained from my body the moment I saw them. We were saved. Then I remembered the wig.

'Oh no, what if they don’t recognize me?'

(Olivia, what happened?)

The sky-blue-haired man whispered. They all saw through my disguise.

“Still the same as ever, huh, miss.”

“Long time no see. If you were watching, you could’ve helped sooner.”

“Sorry, we just arrived. Never expected trouble at the entrance.”

Marie snapped at the other two, but they brushed it off. From the men watching us, the two we beat cursed in rage.

“It hurts! It hurts!!”

“I’ll kill you bitches!”

Their ugliness made me want to cover my ears, but we couldn’t run. They were rude first, but we attacked. I needed to explain considering that. Time was wasting. To return to the temple quickly, we had to end this fast.

“What is the meaning of this? I demand an explanation.”

“That one! That woman broke my fingers and attacked me!”

The apparent leader stepped forward, but the beaten man ranted only about his injuries. His anger showed no sign of abating.

“The gatekeepers made improper advances toward the lady, demanding money and physical favors.”

Marie answered for me. Instantly, scorching rage flared behind us. Her bluntness was factual, but considering the potential for bloody conflict here, it needed tact.

“…Is that true?”

“Yes, though her wording is exaggerated.”

“But you did make advances?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then it’s settled.”

'Clang~'

The three removed their masks, tossed them to the ground, and approached the men. Moonlight and streetlamps provided enough light to recognize faces at night. Shocked gasps rose from those who knew them.

“First, introductions. Brad Fou Field. Pleasure.”

“Chris Fia Arclight.”

“Greg Fou Seberg. Heard of us?”

As introductions ended, the men’s fighting spirit withered. Understandable. In recent years, they’d become famous heroes who saved the kingdom.

Guardian heroes, elite adventurers, little sword saint—countless titles. Just days ago, they crushed the anti-monarchy radical group “Forest of Ladies” hiding in the capital. For those in shady organizations, catching a hero’s eye meant death.

“These ladies are with us. We had business inside tonight, but that’s not happening now.”

“Chris, how long to shut down this underground gambling den?”

“An hour, tops. With them and the latecomer, even less.”

“Sounds good. Shall we?”

The three and Marie brimmed with fighting spirit, intimidating the paling men. Finding flaws to gain advantage is negotiation 101, but I had no such intent. I wanted to settle this peacefully—our goal wasn’t to fight here.

“…These guys are fallen nobles, new recruits. They’re not ready to handle customers inside, so we had them on gate duty.”

“If they’re picking fights with customers, that’s a problem. Plenty come here for reasons beyond gambling—like us.”

“Underestimating customers kills business. Especially in the underworld, trust is everything.”

“Exactly. I swear those two will face proper punishment. So, please calm your anger?”

“That’s not for us to decide.”

Urged by the three, the leader bowed to me. His demeanor was smooth, and I could sense genuine remorse. I intended to forgive from the start. But Marie attacked first, and as her supervisor, I shared responsibility for not stopping her. In response to the leader’s courtesy, I bowed, expressing apology.

“We attacked first. Please be lenient with them. I don’t wish for excessive punishment leading to death or disability.”

“The lady shouldn’t apologize!”

“It’s only right to apologize for hurting someone. You apologize too.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Marie bowed after me, clearly reluctant. But to prevent the hot-headed Marie from causing future issues, I needed to drive the point home here.

“Your consideration is appreciated. We’ll ensure this doesn’t happen again. I’ll guide you inside; the rest, please follow.”

“Understood.”

Trusting the leader’s words, we cautiously entered. After a narrow corridor, a lively, glittering room appeared.

In the back alleys of the Holfort Kingdom’s capital, such underground gambling dens existed.

No matter how rulers suppressed the people, human desires couldn’t be eradicated. Even the temple, preaching discipline, was corrupt, and enforcers succumbing to greed was common.

Entrusting illegal aspects to non-predatory underworld organizations for back-channel order worked better. Beyond here, numerous illegal gambling dens and black-market auctions operated as the kingdom’s underbelly.

But the largest force in the Holfort underworld—and the kingdom’s shame—“Forest of Ladies” was eradicated by us. Any necessary evil eroding the nation must be excised.

The Forest engaged in human trafficking, illegal drugs, arms dealing, and planned a large-scale rebellion in the capital. Foreign interference was confirmed, with the queen and prime minister still investigating. These dens often served as secret meeting places for royalty and nobles.

Just being here made anyone a potential criminal. Mentioning seeing someone proved your presence. Safer than the palace or temple, where eyes and ears were everywhere. Though, judging by those fallen-noble gatekeepers, the organization’s quality might have dropped.

The kingdom fought the Principality of Fanoss twice in recent years, losing many lives. Nobles tied to the Frampton marquess or the Forest had their houses dissolved.

Hiring low-quality ex-nobles out of necessity was common now. We were led to the innermost room. The corridor had multiple watchers.

The door was prison-thick, soundproof. Guided to an obviously scheming room, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. When I became saintess, I aimed for a pure world. Now, I was forced to swallow both good and evil.

Inside, a prior guest: a man in white formalwear. The door closed, and we finally relaxed. Masks came off, and we sat.

“Jilk, of all people, you’re first?”

“I always act swiftly. You lot are late.”

“Can’t help it—Olivia and company had trouble with the gatekeepers.”

“Why did that happen?”

“Because those disgusting gatekeepers leered at Olivia and tried to touch her. I broke his fingers, punched him, and kicked his groin.”

“…You held back, right?”

“Was it necessary?”

“Your actions were just, but everything has limits. Causing trouble when summoned by His Highness isn’t wise.”

“Those bastards made Lady Olivia bow in apology. I regret it, but if it happens again, I’ll do it again. Protecting Lady Olivia is my mission.”

“Good on ya, lass!”

“Stop with ‘lass’—we’re the same age.”

“Where’s Julius, anyway?”

His Highness Julius called us all here. A secret letter days ago specified time and place, urging attendance. The topic was predictable. The annual merit awards were near, shaking up kingdom personnel. Angelica’s visit to the temple days ago was for this. The documents detailed what she knew and her reform plans.

She likely entrusted me with info in case persuading the duke failed. And asked what I should do.

“Let’s organize info before His Highness arrives. It’s been a while since we all gathered.”

“I’ll start. No notable border activity. The Raschel Sacred Kingdom and Voldenowa Sacred Magic Empire are quiet. Merchants are busy profiting in peace.”

“Adventurers are declining domestically. Not fewer aspirants, but low-earning newbies and mediocre veterans flowing to the military. Stable pay, meals, and beds beat unstable adventuring.”

“Crime rates are down. For arrests, leniency with rehabilitation potential—prepare placements post-atonement.”

“Palace personnel: ducal faction growing. Neutrals observing, could swing either way. The prime minister seems unwilling to clash with the duke head-on.”

“…The temple recently received large donations from the ducal house. Officially for replenishing temple knights lost in war and expanding poorhouses. But clearly bribery to marry me into the ducal house. The high priest embezzled a hefty sum.”

Honestly, little good news. The duke didn’t want the kingdom for himself. Unlike the Frampton marquess, no usurpation via foreign ties. He acted out of concern for the kingdom’s future. Angered by contradictions and irrationalities, deeming the royal family unfit.

We were part of that trigger. Everyone here knew. Young twenties, we pooled wisdom and did what we could. The duke wouldn’t execute royals needlessly. Accept conditions, avoid needless blood—the people were war-weary. Heavy silence enveloped the room. No one spoke.

'Thud!!'

The thick door was knocked. Probably a knock.

His Highness Julius finally arrived. Relief as the door opened—a man in black formalwear, masked, entered.

'Who?'

Momentary confusion. The four besides Marie and me tensed, standing. He stood before an empty seat and removed his mask. A large scar marred the left side of his face.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳⁠

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

The gambling den is the same building as in chapter 26.  

In the main story, Marie is cold to Olivia, but here she admires her as a benefactor.  

Olivia’s combat ability: without saintess items, she can subdue average thugs one-on-one. (Based on vol. 10 depictions + combat experience here)  

No matter how excellent individually, politics requires groundwork and negotiation. Young twenties can’t easily oppose a cunning duke.  

Next chapter: Leon’s perspective, focusing on talks with Olivia and the four.  

Leon, bad!

Postscript: At the client’s request, illustrations by Ekaki Heta de Komene-sama and insertion illustration by Umatori Ken-sama. Thank you!

Ekaki Heta de Komene-sama: Pixiv  

Umatori Ken-sama: Skeb

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