The Saintess and The Priestess

 Chapter 30

“『If you dare defy Father, the Duke, and in doing so endanger the citizens, then offer recompense equal to your audacity.』”

Those were Angelica-sama’s words. Even if the world reveres me as a Saint, I haven’t changed since my academy days. I’m still just a common-born girl who loves to study and happens to possess healing magic.

No matter how fervently others worship me, my reach is limited—I can’t save everyone.

In truth, it’s more accurate to say I’ve only saved a few, while failing the overwhelming majority.

To save all who suffer… Such a noble ideal, yet the path toward it is steep and endlessly distant.

Feeding the hungry, building shelters for those displaced by war, offering prayers for the souls of the grieving—

People call me a kindhearted Saint, but in reality, all I’ve done is provide temporary relief.

It’s far better to prevent war than to heal its wounds after the fact.

Far better to create a society where the poor can uplift one another, rather than simply handing out food.

Far better to stop disease at its source than to merely treat the symptoms.

Three years have passed since I became Saint, and yet the only time my power is summoned is after catastrophe has struck.

Every day, the same question haunts me: How can I save more people?

I’ve pored over countless records of Saints preserved by the temple, but they offer little guidance.

In fact, I’ve come to understand that the very concept of a “Saint” is a convenient symbol crafted by the Kingdom of Holfort.

According to the few surviving texts on the first Saint, she was simply a female adventurer who fought beside the kingdom’s founding king.

No divine reincarnation, no demon in disguise—just a woman of extraordinary courage.

When the royal ship activated, His Majesty Roland suggested I might be her descendant. But the idea never sat right with me.

If I truly descend from such a revered figure, then why is my family of common birth?

Why have most Saints throughout history come from prestigious noble houses?

Anyone who thinks critically will arrive at the same conclusion.

The nobility and royal family deified my ancestor to justify their authority. Once she outlived her political usefulness, she was discarded.

It’s natural for those in power to seek legitimacy.

But they must never forget: this kingdom survives on the backs of its common folk.

The two wars with the Duchy of Fanoss didn’t merely change the kingdom—they shattered its very structure.

Aristocrats who clung only to pride and pedigree fell, while capable lower nobles and commoners rose in their place.

Back at the academy, I was mocked for being a literate commoner. Excelling beyond nobles made me a target every single day.

Now, one’s birth matters less than one’s ability.

And that should be a good thing.

Yet the postwar shift has warped public perception.

“Merit” has replaced “lineage,” but that too has bred a new form of prejudice: disdain for those deemed less capable.

For years, laws prioritizing status and gender suppressed commoners and even noble men.

Now, resentment festers—and distrust in the royal family grows.

As a result, power has begun to shift: from a fading monarchy to a Duke’s house that values ability over ancestry.

If civil war breaks out, all the progress we’ve fought for could vanish in an instant.

History and my own studies have taught me: those who slay tyrants rarely become just rulers.

As a common-born Saint, I draw attention whether I wish to or not.

And the Duke’s household approaching me so persistently only deepens my unease.

More people could die.

After two wars, the people are exhausted.

The streets overflow with jobless artisans, ruined nobles, and discharged soldiers.

The kingdom’s safety and economy remain in decline.

And as always, it’s the poor and powerless who suffer the most.

That’s why I immersed myself in relief work.

Even the temple’s upper clergy—who secretly look down on me—had to support my efforts to maintain their public standing.

Since becoming Saint, I’ve gained a measure of independence, and I’ve used it to the fullest.

After three years, I’ve earned the people’s trust, earned the scorn of those who see me as a naive hypocrite, and earned the loyalty of a few precious allies.

Just when I began to believe I was making a difference… I realized how powerless I truly am.

I cannot openly oppose the High Priest, who seeks stronger ties with the Duke.

Nobles involved in governance dismiss me as a mere commoner.

And though I wish to stop the conflict between the royal and ducal factions, I can’t find a single effective means to do so.

It’s like stumbling blindly through darkness.

Powerless to resist the agendas of the temple and the kingdom, I simply follow the itinerary placed before me.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The airship cuts smoothly through the sea of clouds, offering a comfortable journey—unsurprising, as it’s owned by the temple.

An institution revered as sacred must maintain a grand image.

This ship is excessively ornate, its interiors lavish.

Temple knights don armor crafted from rare materials, and all the lady attendants are noble-born and beautiful—nothing like a former commoner like me.

Everything is designed to overwhelm and display authority.

When I was told this was a downgrade from prewar standards, I was honestly stunned.

To the royal family, the temple is indispensable—it legitimizes their rule. They can’t afford to offend it.

Just as the people worship Saints and gods, they must also revere their king.

The temple is the stage that keeps this illusion alive.

And I… I am the living symbol—crafted to win the people’s trust and preserve the kingdom.

Realizing this always makes me sigh.

“Olivia-sama, is something troubling you?”

The voice belonged to a woman with dark blue hair—my attendant.

One result of my time as Saint has been a surge in those wishing to join the temple.

Some seek status. Others—people I met during my charity work—truly want to support me.

Among them are fallen nobles and humble commoners. Marie-san is one, and so is she.

She once served a noble girl who bullied me at the academy.

That noble house was eventually dismantled, after we exposed its ties to sky pirates and corrupt officials.

She was disowned and vanished after the academy shut down temporarily.

I met her again years later—frail and unrecognizably thin—during a visit to a poorhouse.

She looked stricken when she saw me, but I said nothing. I simply used healing magic on her.

Not long after, she disappeared.

A few months later, she reappeared—newly appointed as a lady attendant to assist me.

“Just lost in thought. How long until we arrive?”

“Less than an hour. It’s nearly time to prepare your outfit.”

She handed me a bag with my formal Saint’s attire, neatly folded inside.

Though I’ve worn it many times, it never quite feels like it belongs to me.

Perhaps because I’m a commoner.

Perhaps because I don’t want to be worshipped.

She helped me change into the ornate garb, and when I looked into the mirror, I couldn’t help but feel like a clown.

My appearance glorious—but completely disconnected from who I truly am.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, and a girl in her late teens stepped in.

“Carla-san, is Olivia-sama ready?”

“She’s finished dressing. Only the accessories remain.”

“Then let’s begin.”

The case is made of specially processed metal, boasting durability even against blunt force.

Its many locks and security layers speak to its importance.

I aligned the combination, inserted the various keys entrusted to me by the temple, and slowly opened it.

Inside rested a necklace, a bracelet, and a staff—all crafted from metal.

These ornaments are said to have once belonged to the very first Saint.

As I slowly adorned myself with them, a strange sensation came over me—

As if my sense of self was fading.

The girl in the mirror was no longer Olivia the commoner.

She was Olivia, the Saint of the Kingdom of Holfort.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The airship gradually decelerated as it prepared for landing.

Through the window, the foreign landscape stretched out—bearing silent testimony to a past era of splendor and the shattered pride of a fallen nation.

Once, this land belonged to a proud republic admired by its neighbors. The magic stones yielded by the Sacred Tree were a treasured resource, exported to surrounding nations, and its people believed their prosperity would endure forever.

That illusion collapsed two years ago. The Alzer Republic—governed by a council of great houses—was torn apart by civil war when internal disagreements erupted into violent conflict. The noble families, steeped in pride, refused to compromise. What began as a dispute quickly devolved into betrayals and bloodshed. The coalition fractured, and the nation was reduced to ruin in a matter of months.

Perhaps the Sacred Tree itself, weary of such folly, withdrew its blessings. As its power waned, the nation plunged deeper into despair.

It was a Priestess—chosen by a newly sprouted Sacred Tree—who managed to quell the chaos. With aid from neighboring nations and her tireless efforts, the war came to an end just before total collapse.

That Priestess was Noelle Beltre. And the nation she helped save is the Alzer Republic, once celebrated as the "Nation of the Undying Sun."

I began making frequent visits to the Republic at the behest of both the Kingdom of Holfort’s leadership and the Temple. The Kingdom saw opportunity in Alzer’s vulnerability—seeking influence under the guise of assistance, all while avoiding direct confrontation with rival powers. The Temple, meanwhile, aimed to expand its reach by promoting the Saintess as a divine figure.

And so, newly appointed as Saintess, I was dispatched to the Republic.

It feels like just yesterday that my companions and I labored to resolve the Republic’s turmoil. Through that ordeal, I grew close to the Priestess—so close that I now consider her a cherished friend.

Leveraging aid, the Kingdom gradually deepened its involvement in the Republic’s affairs. While official diplomacy is managed by envoys sent to the noble houses, the Kingdom entrusted all contact with the Priestess to me.

Diplomacy is fragile. A single misstep by a royal envoy could ruin everything. But as a trusted friend with no political agenda, I was seen as the safer choice.

Today’s visit is part of a routine exchange regarding the Sacred Tree’s condition—and a rare chance to reunite with a beloved friend.

As the airship buzzed with activity, we remained in our room, awaiting the call to disembark.

Carla adjusted my robes with meticulous care while Marie inspected her weapon, always prepared.

“I doubt anyone would attack an envoy, but we can't afford to let our guard down,” she said firmly.

To many in the Alzer Republic, Holfort is a meddling superpower—profiting from their weakness.

Over the years, I’ve learned how quickly patriotic fervor can spiral into bloodshed.

As the ship's hustle faded into stillness, a knock came at the door. An elven young man stepped in quietly.

He was a personal attendant—someone I had chosen myself.

Critics often mutter, “A Saintess with a slave?” But I have never treated him as one.

Even now, there are those who mock me, question my worth, and hurl insults—resenting that a commoner woman holds the title of Saintess.

Because of that, I must always surround myself with people I trust.

“The escort is ready,” he announced.

“Understood. Kyle, remain aboard the ship. Marie, Carla—you're with me.”

Kyle’s expression tightened in frustration, but he understood. He couldn’t accompany me in any official capacity. The Kingdom still clings to its prejudice against demi-humans.

And no matter how I try to change that, progress is painfully slow.

These days, that sense of helplessness weighs on me more than ever.

Even as I’m celebrated as the Saintess, I can’t help but feel how little power I truly wield to effect change.

“Lady Olivia, is something troubling you?” Carla asked, noticing the distant look in my eyes.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I gave a soft shake of my head. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

Straightening my back, I stepped forward with renewed resolve. I couldn’t allow myself to falter—not before my mission, nor my meeting with Noelle.

Temple knights stood at attention near the airship’s ramp. In the open field beyond, surrounded by guards, stood a woman clad in ceremonial attire distinct from mine.

Step by step, I approached the Priestess of the Sacred Tree.

All eyes—of temple knights and Republic soldiers alike—fixed on me. Every gesture I made would reflect upon the Kingdom’s pride.

With staff in hand, I knelt and bowed deeply.

“I’m grateful to find you in good health, Priestess of the Sacred Tree. I, Olivia, Saintess of the Kingdom of Holfort, have come as envoy.”

Many within Holfort believe such humility is unnecessary, given our political dominance.

But I’ve learned—arrogance breeds resentment and can spark the flames of war.

And more than anything, I refuse to put on airs before a dear friend.

“It is an honor to receive you, Saintess. I, Noelle Beltre, Priestess of the Sacred Tree, speak on behalf of the Alzer Republic and thank you for your visit.”

After the formal exchange, we were escorted to a nearby facility.

The scent of fresh lumber hung in the air—it was the newly built Sacred Tree Research Center.

Here, Noelle oversees the cultivation of Sacred Tree seedlings and leads initiatives aimed at rebuilding the Republic.

“Only authorized personnel may proceed beyond this point. Please wait outside,” Noelle instructed, her tone firm.

The Temple knights, though displeased, obeyed without protest. In diplomacy, discretion is critical.

We walked down a brightly lit hallway and stopped before a door marked "VIP Room."

Inside, the space was modest but clearly furnished with care and elegance.

Only four of us entered—Noelle, myself, Marie, and Carla.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted~!” Noelle groaned like a beast, flinging her hat and coat onto the sofa.

“They’ll wrinkle,” I remarked, slightly amused.

“I never wear them unless I have to. Who wants to dress like that when a friend’s visiting? I need to relax!”

She pulled the ties from her hair, letting soft waves of golden and peach cascade freely.

Gone was the composed Priestess—this was the Noelle I knew: bold, free-spirited, and full of life.

“Come on, everyone, sit! I got the latest trendy snacks and tea—dig in!”

“Noelle-sama, this is an official meeting,” Marie reminded her.

“No need to be so uptight, Marie-chan! We’ve only got a few hours—let’s knock out the work and enjoy ourselves!”

“Is that really how a Priestess should behave? And please stop calling me ‘-chan.’”

“It’s how I show affection! So—have you finally decided to move to the Republic? We’d love to have you, Marie-chan!”

“That’s very kind, but I’m Lady Olivia’s personal retainer.”

As the two traded banter, Carla and I shared a smile.

This was the true Noelle Beltre—blessed by the Sacred Tree, savior of a nation, and my irreplaceable friend.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

“The numbers are increasing steadily. Growth rate remains within a narrow variance.”

“What about magic absorption?”

“It’s rising, little by little. But it’ll be decades before the tree starts producing magic stones.”

“Not exactly the kind of report the Kingdom will be thrilled to hear.”

“Well, even regular fruit trees need a decade to bear consistent yields. This can’t be rushed.”

Despite the casual atmosphere—tea in hand, sweets on the table—the conversation was weighty.

The Kingdom’s support of the Alzer Republic hinges on future returns in magic stones. With no definitive projection on output, the pressure is mounting—especially after the exhausting war with the Grand Duchy of Fanoss.

I serve as the intermediary, reporting updates in a way that tempers the Kingdom’s expectations—but success has been elusive.

“Can’t the Republic develop another industry besides relying on the Sacred Tree?”

“We’ve tried. But the Republic built its entire economy around the Sacred Tree.

 We reached out to foreign companies to move factories here, but they all declined. Said local production is cheaper.”

“Can’t blame them. There’s no real incentive to set up here.”

“Also… the Republic used to look down on outsiders. Its reputation isn’t exactly stellar.”

“Help me, Livia! Marie-chan’s being mean again!”

Noelle looked on the verge of tears at Marie’s blunt assessment.

I wanted to offer comfort, but it was far too late to undo the Republic’s tarnished reputation.

“What if the Republic fully submitted to the Kingdom? Could that be a viable path?”

“If we monopolize the magic stones like that, the other nations will turn on us.”

“The Kingdom’s already exhausted from the war with the Principality. There’s no reason to risk another conflict just to support the Republic.”

“So… we’re at a dead end.”

Carla’s suggestion might’ve worked when the Kingdom still had strength to spare. But now, it was struggling beneath the weight of too many burdens.

Absorbing both the war-torn Principality and the fragile Republic would push its limits, possibly to collapse.

To make matters worse, tension was rising within the Kingdom itself.

If the brewing conflict between the royal family and the ducal house became public, any talk of foreign support would be forgotten. It would become a civil war.

Marie and Carla fell silent, their expressions tightening—perhaps sensing where my thoughts were headed.

“…Is something wrong?” Noelle asked, eyes narrowed in concern.

I hesitated. Should I tell her the truth?

The Kingdom’s future was closely tied to the Republic’s survival. But if its inner turmoil became known, what if the Republic aligned itself with the Duke?

The thought of Noelle—my dear friend—becoming an enemy was too painful to bear.

“…The Kingdom is in a fragile state right now. If I told you more, I’d risk dragging you into it.”

I knew how cowardly that sounded.

But if she would back down with just that, perhaps it was better that way.

“I don’t care if I get dragged into it,” Noelle said calmly. “Just tell me.”

“We can’t involve the Republic in our internal affairs. If things fall apart, even the support we’re offering might be withdrawn.”

“Then that’s all the more reason I should know. The moment we accepted the Kingdom’s help, we became involved whether we liked it or not.”

Noelle casually popped a pastry into her mouth, undeterred by my warning.

“Come on. Just tell me. I might actually be able to help.”

“…I think she should know as well,” Marie added.

“Marie? What are you saying?” Carla asked, startled.

I, too, was surprised—though I kept my reaction to myself.

“Noelle-sama won’t back down unless we talk. And if we’re going to involve her anyway, we should at least hear her thoughts. She might have a useful idea.”

“That may be true, but still…”

“Lady Angelica said she’d arrange a place for negotiations. We don’t have the luxury of waiting around.”

“…Marie, you’re brilliant,” Noelle beamed. “You should really consider moving to the Republic.”

“I’m not going. Give it up.”

As Noelle kept trying to recruit Marie, her cleverness became even more evident.

Since reuniting with Lady Angelica, I’d been searching for a way forward—but I was still at an impasse.

I had to choose: keep silent as a diplomat, or confide in a friend and seek her wisdom.

In the end, I chose the latter.

Noelle listened in silence as I shared everything.

It wasn’t something I should’ve told the symbolic leader of the Republic. But as a Saint burdened by uncertainty, I clung to even the smallest sliver of hope.

When I finally finished, Noelle stared quietly at the ceiling. There was nothing there—just a place for her eyes to rest as she processed the truth.

I drained the last of my now-lukewarm tea in a single gulp.

Its bland warmth soothed my dry throat in a strangely comforting way.

Only when Carla reheated a second cup and handed it to me did my nerves begin to settle.

Yet guilt swept in soon after—had I just betrayed the Kingdom?

“…So what’s the Duke’s stance on supporting the Republic?” Noelle asked at last.

“I’m not entirely sure. He doesn’t trust the royal family, but I don’t know how he views foreign policy.”

“There’s a good chance he’ll cut support to gain favor with the nobility. The war has left the Kingdom’s finances in shambles—even rewards are being delayed.”

“In a situation like that, it’s only natural they’d prioritize domestic nobles over funding a tree that doesn’t even produce magic stones.”

“That’s the worst possible outcome!” Noelle exclaimed, nearly shouting.

To her—and to the Republic—the Kingdom’s support was a lifeline.

If it was withdrawn, other nations would swoop in to carve up what remained.

“…But is the Duke really wrong to think that way?”

“I don’t know. I know he’s angry with the royal family, but how deep that resentment goes—I’d have to speak with him directly to know.”

“Wait. You haven’t even spoken to him? Even with a marriage proposal involving his son?”

“We’ve attended a few events, but never exchanged words. I’ve only seen Lord Gilbert from a distance. Besides… I was the one who destroyed Lady Angelica’s engagement. I’m sure they despise me.”

The fallout from Prince Julius and Lady Angelica’s broken engagement had ignited the tension between the royal and ducal factions.

Naturally, as the root cause, I was hated by the Duke’s household.

Even this proposed engagement between me and Gilbert wasn’t my doing—it was orchestrated by the Temple and the Duke’s faction for their own purposes.

“So basically, everything you believe about them is just speculation?”

“Yes… you’re exactly right.”

“Then why not speak to the Duke and his son directly?”

We all turned to her, confused.

It was an idea none of us had even considered.

“If you’ve never talked to them, then maybe there’s still a chance. You’ll never know unless you ask.”

“But I’m a commoner. I doubt I’d be granted an audience.”

“You’re the Saint of the Kingdom now—and the official envoy to the Republic. Stop underestimating yourself, Livia.”

Noelle’s voice held no trace of sarcasm—only sincerity.

“You should talk to them while you still can. I’m saying this from experience.”

She held out her empty teacup. Carla silently moved to refill it.

Through the rising steam, I glimpsed something in her eyes—a glimmer of sorrow, perhaps imagined… or perhaps not.

“There was a boy I loved once,” she said softly. “My childhood friend. My fiancé. I truly believed I was the happiest girl in the world, certain I’d one day marry the boy I adored.”

Noelle's easygoing demeanor often led people to underestimate her, but she was far from an ordinary commoner. She had once confided in me that, despite being raised as one, she was actually born into one of the Alzer Republic’s most prestigious lineages—the Lespinasse family.

Her father had once been a commoner, which perhaps explained her lack of prejudice toward those of lower status. That openness was likely the reason we became friends in the first place.

“Everything changed after that boy died,” she said, her voice distant, smile brittle. “His family adopted someone new and started treating me coldly. My once-loving parents were killed by rival nobles, and I lost my noble title. As a child, I hated them all.”

The story Noelle shared with that faraway look in her eyes went beyond anything we had imagined.

Even Marie, who had suffered abandonment by her own parents, had never experienced something so cruel.

“When the Republic fell into civil war, I ended up opposing those very people. Deep down, I think I just wanted revenge. I convinced myself they were villains corrupting the nation. It wasn’t until after they died that I learned the truth.”

“What happened?” I asked softly.

“They were fighting to save the Republic. They clashed with the corrupt nobles and searched for a way to restore the nation. They had more conviction and honor than I ever did.”

I could guess who she meant.

They were likely among the nobles who had resisted to the bitter end during the Republic’s collapse. Their strength stemmed not only from military might but from true dedication to their country.

“But the most twisted part?” Noelle’s voice lowered. “It turns out my parents were the root of the problem. My mother betrayed her fiancé and chose my father instead. Then they tried to manipulate both that boy and me into a political marriage. When he died, they called it off—no wonder his family turned against me.”

We were speechless.

In the world of nobles, alliances are sacred. Betrayal of that trust, like what her parents had done, was unforgivable.

“And as if that weren’t enough, I only recently found out they were killed because they tried to seize control of the Sacred Tree. The Sacred Tree is the Republic’s lifeblood—of course other nobles would retaliate. The only reason I survived was because someone protected me, saying, ‘Children bear no sin.’ And yet, I thought they were my parents’ murderers.”

I never imagined Noelle carried such a painful past.

Perhaps her tireless work as the Priestess of the Sacred Tree was, in part, an attempt to atone for her family’s sins.

“I still regret it,” she whispered. “Why didn’t I just talk to them? Why didn’t it occur to me to listen? If I’d known the truth, maybe we could’ve worked together. Maybe the Republic wouldn’t have collapsed. But now… it’s too late. I killed them with my ignorance.”

To hide the tremble in her voice, Noelle took a loud, exaggerated sip of tea, the sound lingering in the silent room. We followed suit, quietly sipping our own cups.

When she finally wiped her eyes and smiled with forced cheer, she returned to her usual lighthearted self.

“So, the Duke’s not a bad man?”

“He’s not corrupt, doesn’t abuse his power, and he’s no tyrant.”

“In fact, both the Queen and the Duke led the purge of the corrupt noble class.”

“He’s not driven by ambition alone. He genuinely loves his country.”

And that’s exactly why I doubted he would ever listen to someone like me.

Compared to him, my experience and ideals felt so feeble, so incomplete.

Was there even a place for negotiation?

“Well then,” Noelle said brightly, standing from her chair, “how about I show you a little gift?”

She walked over to a small safe in the corner and returned with several bound volumes, which she gently placed on the table.

“What are these?”

“Compiled research. My allies and I collected data on the various issues currently plaguing the Republic—price trends, crime fluctuations, immigration patterns, causes and effects of recent incidents, and so on.”

Just a quick glance showed how carefully the information had been organized.

But I couldn’t understand—why show us something so valuable?

“While compiling this, we came across some suspicious data,” she added.

“What kind of data?” Marie asked, leaning forward.

“Well, I can’t just give that away for free, now can I?” Noelle teased, grinning as she snatched the papers back, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

This was a negotiation.

Even among friends, politics demanded clear boundaries and pragmatic exchange.

“Wouldn’t it be better to hand this over to the royal envoys?” I asked.

“They’d just take it and offer nothing in return. The only one who treats me like an equal is you, Livia. I want to strike the best deal I can.”

“I don’t have the authority to make political decisions for the Kingdom.”

“But you can open the door to talks, can’t you? After that, my comrades will handle it from there.”

There was fire in Noelle’s eyes—a sincere, unwavering conviction.

I saw myself reflected in her—hesitant, weary, and filled with doubt.

When had I started second-guessing everything?

I once approached my duty as Saint with unshakable resolve.

But now, the palace’s political maneuverings, the temple’s schemes, and the lingering guilt from the Principality war had dulled my spirit.

Still, people believed in me.

And there were things only I could do for the Kingdom of Holfort.

I remembered the passion that had once filled me.

With a firm breath, I slapped both cheeks, the sharp sound echoing through the room.

Marie and Carla looked at me in shock.

But it was okay. I wasn’t giving up.

There was still so much I could do.

“Whom do you want to negotiate with?”

“Preferably the Queen—but that’s probably not realistic. The finance and diplomatic ministers will do.”

“And your terms?”

“A formal, decade-long aid package for the Republic—guaranteed and signed, if possible.”

“I’ll try to arrange a meeting. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all I ask. I meant what I said—this is a gift. I want to do everything I can to rebuild the Republic.”

Our hearts lightened, and a smile spread across all our faces.

I no longer saw Noelle as just a friend, but as a true peer—someone who shared the same ideals.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Noelle added cheerfully. “I’d really love it if Marie-chan came to the Republic. Mostly for my sake.”

All six eyes turned to Marie.

Realizing she was being volunteered without consent, her face drained of color.

“Don’t just decide things without asking me!!”

We all burst into laughter.

For the first time in what felt like days, the room was filled with genuine warmth.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

Noelle, Priestess of the Sacred Tree, enters the scene.

To emphasized her role as a capable otome-game-style protagonist, I wrote her to be shrewd and composed.

She was designed as a sharp contrast to Olivia, a very different type of protagonist in the original work.

In the original setting, Kyle and Carla were saved not by Marie but by the true otome game protagonist, Olivia.

The disastrous state of the Rault family is due to the original game setting—not my doing (again).

I briefly considered sparing Leon Rault , but doing so would’ve meant Noel couldn’t take on the protagonist role. So his death was inevitable. (Cruel, I know.)

The otome world is truly unforgiving.

Postscript: Thanks to the commissioner, I was fortunate enough to have artwork created by Shizuka-sama, ruri_, and Banshii-sama. Thank you very much.

Shizuka-sama: Pixiv

ruri_: Pixiv

Banshii-sama: Pixiv (NSFW warning)

Please feel free to share your thoughts and feedback—it would greatly encourage me moving forward.