Taming the Evil Saintess

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“Ophelia Meredein.”

Ophelia lifted her head at the sound of her name.

The light was blinding, as if a thousand suns were shining down. Amidst the golden pillars that filled her vision, an elderly man emerged, looking down at her. With his white hair and golden holy garments, he radiated an aura that made it clear he was the closest servant of God.

“I am here to heed Your Holiness’s words.”

“Ophelia, Saintess. What have you seen and learned during your pilgrimage across the imperial territory and beyond?”

This was the Holy See.

Naturally, the old man in front of Ophelia was Pope Yudor Meredein, the master of the Cathedral, and the leader of the Church. As soon as Ophelia returned to the Cathedral, the Holy See summoned her.

“….”

No matter how free-spirited Ophelia might be, she had to maintain her composure before the Pope, presenting a crafted smile and graceful posture to show her dignity as a Saintess. No hint of distortion was permitted. In this Holy See, before being Ophelia, she needed to be a perfect Saintess.

She had been taught that way since childhood, and on days when she faltered, she was denied her meals. She was even deprived of sleep.

“I….”

Ophelia slowly began to speak.

Consciously keeping her smile, she recited the lines that had been prepared.

“I realized that there are still many places and people in this world that have yet to feel the light of God.”

“And so?”

“Even if this body shall be immolated by sanctification, I wish to spread the will of the divine and bring light and goodness to the world.”

She hoped her words wouldn’t tremble.

She prayed her expression wouldn’t decay.

Her concerns were put to rest as the high priests surrounding her broke into applause, their admiration ringing in her ears. These were zealots who might genuinely sacrifice their lives if Ophelia were to demand it.

Ophelia suppressed the urge to dash away and managed her expression to the best of her ability. Her gaze was benevolent yet did not look overly flattering. The angle of her lips formed a beautiful curve. Her hands, clasped in front of her chest, had her pinky subtly raised. Everything was a carefully calculated smile and gesture.

“Hmm.”

Pope Yudor looked down at Ophelia and gently nodded.

Suddenly, the light intensified.

“Excellent, Ophelia.”

“This is also the grace of God.”

“Indeed. Continue to strive harder. Defeat the Demon King and bring light to the world.”

Yudor knelt on one knee and grasped Ophelia’s chin, forcing their gazes to meet. Her pale pupils trembled slightly. Ophelia fought hard to keep her expression from darkening.

“Ophelia, you are the agent of God and my avatar. Your actions are the will of God, and your mouth is my mouth.”

“Yes….”

“You must not tarnish the will of God. Always remember that you are God’s servant, no matter where or when. Keep this in mind—there are values in this world greater than life itself.”

With a somewhat rough motion, Yudor released Ophelia’s chin. She barely managed to steady herself from almost falling over.

Ophelia bowed her head without showing her emotions.

“I will keep that in mind.”

With that, her business at the Holy See concluded.

*

“…Ugh.”

Ophelia retched in the washroom of the Cathedral.

She had intentionally refrained from eating the day before. She had known that facing the Pope would undoubtedly make her spill everything.

This was the reason she had dreaded coming to the Holy See. No matter how carefree Ophelia was, she had to lay everything down and act as a tool before the Pope. As for the priests and Cathedral Knights, they only praised Ophelia’s outward appearance.

That fact sickened her to the core.

“….”

Ophelia washed her face and looked in the mirror.

She had only been at the Holy See for less than a day, yet her reflection appeared haggard, as if she were staring at a corpse.

The Ophelia in the mirror smiled. It was a playful, mischievous grin, a little devilish smile.

An unadorned, genuine smile.

Recently, she found herself smiling like this quite often.

“What am I doing?”

She chuckled lightly and left the Holy See.

Even on her way out, high priests approached her, trying to exchange a word with Ophelia, but she brushed them all off.

Once she reached the Plaza of the Saint and pulled her hood down low, she finally felt free.

It was surprisingly quiet.

At this time of day, she would usually be getting swordsmanship lessons from Elliot, but…

“Old man, how’s that brat Elliot doing?”

“It seems there’s still no response.”

At Belwin’s words, Ophelia clicked her tongue.

It had been nearly a week since she returned from the Empire. Elliot had only finished the basic report and shut himself in his room. He had been holed up for five days already.

Naturally, the swordsmanship lessons were completely canceled, leaving Ophelia with too much free time, bordering on boredom.

“Five days already. He hasn’t even eaten. That idiot’s gonna die at this rate?”

Rumor had it he was doing nothing but fasting, which struck Ophelia as ridiculous.

“Or maybe he’s hiding away some fancy food for himself?”

“Ophelia, not everyone in the world is like you.”

“What did you just say?”

Ophelia shot a sharp glare, and Belwin cleared his throat, shying away.

“So, what in the world happened in the Empire?”

Belwin glanced at the knight order’s residence as he asked, and Ophelia shrugged her shoulders.

“If I knew, would I be here like this?”

“Don’t tell me, Ophelia, did you cause trouble…?”

“Old man, do you want to end up in a coffin?”

“Uhmm.”

As she said that while glaring at him, Belwin quickly went pale and hurriedly left.

Ophelia scratched her cheek and fell into thought.

Elliot’s distressed expression still lingered in her mind.

She also recalled the trembling hand that clutched the pendant in Lauren Village.

‘It’s not that I can’t imagine…’

Perhaps Lauren Village was Elliot’s hometown.

The skeletal figure who held the pendant must have been his kin, she cautiously speculated.

Though it wasn’t certain. It was merely conjecture, but Elliot’s agitation seemed too genuine for it to be anything else.

And Ophelia lacked the eloquence to comfort someone who had lost their family.

‘What a nuisance.’

Ophelia sighed deeply.

In her role as the elder, she considered seeking counsel from Belwin, but decided against it.

She didn’t want to share this fact with anyone.

While prying into others’ pasts was Ophelia’s specialty, she didn’t want to do that this time. If she did, who knew what Elliot might do. Moreover, she found a certain satisfaction in sharing such a secret with him.

Yet.

“It’s so quiet….”

With Elliot gone, there were no sword lessons.

One would think she should be glad not to be hit with a wooden sword.

But something in her heart felt empty.

“….”

What on earth was that guy doing?

He had spent nearly two years casually toying with her, and suddenly he was holed up.

“Aah, damn it. What’s wrong with him?”

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

She had received countless slaps from Elliot. She had been hit with that wooden sword even more than that.

That guy was the most despicable scoundrel, so why on earth was she concerned about him?

As she pondered the matter, she didn’t arrive at an answer, and Ophelia was not one to linger in internal conflicts.

“Hey.”

She called out to a passing Cathedral Knight.

A man with black hair.

The same Cathedral Knight who had brought Elliot to the Holy See last year.

She was sure his name was…

“Dick.”

“I apologize, but my name is not Dick; it is Rowan Dictus.”

“Right, Dick.”

“….”

Rowan wore a look of disbelief, but Ophelia ignored him and got to the point.

“Are you close with that guy?”

“Are you speaking of Knight Elliot?”

Rowan paused for a moment before continuing.

“In the first place, Knight Elliot spends more time by the Saintess than at the Cathedral Knight Headquarters, so he doesn’t have many opportunities to interact. His daily training is often missed as he is the Saintess’s swordsmanship instructor.”

“So, you’re saying you’re not close?”

“I believe there is camaraderie, but that’s all.”

“So you’re not close.”

“The bond between knights cannot be simplified to a mere term….”

“Got it. So scram, Dick.”

“Yes.”

Ophelia dismissed Rowan and fell into thought again.

Definitely.

She hadn’t ever seen Elliot with anyone else in the Cathedral besides her.

She had never witnessed him talking to other knights, and after swordsmanship lessons, he would lock himself up until the following morning.

“Is he, like, a pariah?”

Ophelia voiced her reasonable doubt.

After all, who would bother caring about a knight with such a ridiculous personality?

It wouldn’t be strange for her to refer to herself as a pariah, but she would never acknowledge that. Ophelia was a Saintess. She intentionally distanced herself from others. There was a world of difference between rejecting the world and being rejected by it.

So, she was different from Elliot.

I’m a bit better.

She nodded to herself, affirming her dissimilarity.

“That brat, how adorable.”

If so, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for this big sister to gently tend to his wounds.

After all, the Pope had said the virtues of a Saintess also included spreading the will of God.

So this was, in a way, not just for Elliot but also part of her duties as a Saintess.

Thus, reassuring herself, Ophelia knocked on Elliot’s door.

Knock, knock.

“Hey.”

Bang, bang.

“I know you’re in there.”

Smash, smash.

“Open up.”

Despite her threatening remarks, the door didn’t budge.

She pressed her ear against the door. There was no movement.

But Elliot was always the type to stealthily hide his presence.

In the end, she grasped the doorknob and gently twisted it.

Creeeak.

To her surprise, the door opened easily.

Inside the dimly lit room, Ophelia invoked holy magic to illuminate the space.

“Where the hell did this brat go?”

There was no sign of Elliot in the room.

In case he might be hiding, she checked the wardrobe, but only a couple of casual outfits and nothing else was inside. The same went for beneath the bed.

Finally, checking the desk, Ophelia’s expression hardened.

There was a single note laid there.

“….”

She hastily grabbed the note and began to read it.

In Elliot’s handwriting, there were just two sentences.

[I am going out. It will take about a month.]

“What a crazy….”