A Painting of the Villainess as a Young Lady

The true appearance of the god was unknown, but the statue created by human imagination was exceedingly beautiful.

Violet stared blankly at the sculpture.

It must have been carved long ago, and it was astonishing that such techniques existed hundreds of years ago.

“……”

Violet quietly observed the statue in the prayer room before moving on.

As befitted a place with such a long history, traces of the past remained throughout the temple.

Stained glass, ceiling murals, and intricately beautiful sculptures.

It was, quite literally, a living history of art.

She slowly walked, observing the remnants of history.

Among these, what captivated Violet’s interest the longest was the mural.

Depicting a scene from mythology, the mural bore the wear and tear of time, with signs of retouching evident. Yet, even after centuries, it boasted a majestic grandeur.

In those days, there wouldn’t have been any alchemical paints—each color must have been created from individual pigments.

As the era of legends passed, and the first emperor, the son of the Sun God, descended to the land infested with monsters to end the dark age and establish the nation, the divine bloodline had continued for over a thousand years.

Whether it was a legend passed down through oral tradition and scriptures, there was no way to verify its authenticity, but the historical evidence inspired by it was extraordinarily beautiful.

For Violet, who had only ever painted on slightly larger canvases, such a colossal painting was simply magnificent.

Soon, a mix of ambition and inferiority welled up inside her.

Inferiority from the thought that she would never be able to create such a painting in her lifetime.

Yet, ambition from wondering if, with time, it might be possible.

Of course, Violet had no intention of painting stories of myth. Her faith consisted solely of believing that a god existed.

“…Someday.”

She murmured this single word, holding meaning even she did not fully understand.

As she was exploring the interior of the temple, Rajaden, having finished his conversation with the archbishop, came to find her.

“I did tell you to look around the temple, but I didn’t expect to have to search for you like this.”

He had a lot to say for someone who had left her behind. Violet greeted Rajaden with an impassive face.

“Did you finish your conversation?”

“Yes. We had a very enjoyable time discussing theology.”

“Indeed. The depth of Your Highness’s theological knowledge is truly astonishing.”

A voice she didn’t expect to hear interrupted. Violet finally noticed the archbishop standing behind Rajaden and greeted him lightly.

“May the Sun God protect you and grant you peace always.”

“…I hope that peace and tranquility shall always dwell in a world protected by the god.”

Rajaden’s voice was tart as he received the greeting. Though his expression was still smiling, compared to his usual demeanor, there was a noticeably subdued air about him.

“Let’s leave now.”

It was uncharacteristic of him to be so impatient. Violet said nothing more to him and started walking slowly.

Only after they had distanced themselves from the archbishop did Rajaden speak first.

“…It seems you enjoyed your tour quite a bit.”

“I regret not coming sooner.”

“Haha, then I’m glad I asked you to accompany me. You didn’t seem interested in theology.”

“I do have academic interests.”

“So, you don’t have faith.”

“……”

“That’s alright. I’m not a devout believer either.”

The conversation was casual.

“…It’s been centuries since a pope was elected, hasn’t it?” Rajaden started.

“A pope… you say?”

“No, never mind. Has anyone suspicious approached you?”

“I haven’t seen anyone strange.”

“…I see.”

The conversation didn’t flow well. Violet was certain something had happened to him. She quietly tried to gauge what Rajaden wanted to say, but it was hard to grasp.

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