Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Ah, I Really Don't Want to See Those Crazy Bitches

After finishing dawn prayers and doing some light training, I took a shower.

The faint scent of soap lingering on my body pleasantly tickled my nose.

I dragged my pleasantly sluggish body over to a chair and dropped into it.

Freshly baked warm rye bread sat on the table.

After slathering it generously with butter and taking a large bite, I picked up the letter lying on my desk.

Judging by the emblem stamped on the envelope, it had come from the Central Temple in Septimoa, the capital.

‘Why are they sending me a letter?’

Wondering about it, I picked up the silver letter opener resting on one side of the desk.

I slipped the sharp blade into the gap of the envelope, firmly sealed with red wax.

Sssrk—

With a satisfying sound of friction, the top of the envelope came away cleanly.

I unfolded the letter and skimmed down it, then stopped chewing.

“Aha, the Council of the Seven Holy Seats... Is it already that time?”

The Holy Empire of Sectia.

Despite calling itself an empire, it wasn't an absolute monarchy ruled by an emperor.

It was closer to a theocratic federation formed by seven great Orders and various smaller Orders joining together beneath the banner of the ‘Holy Empire of Sectia.’

Accordingly, the Empire's policies and overall direction were effectively determined by the leaders of the seven Orders who guided it.

That supreme decision-making body was the Council of the Seven Holy Seats.

In principle, the Popes who headed each Order were supposed to attend.

But there was an obvious practical problem.

It was effectively impossible for every Pope to leave their respective Orders at the same time just to attend a meeting.

That was why the Saintess and Archbishop, the Order's second-ranking figures, usually attended in place of the Pope.

There was, of course, one exception.

The Pope serving as chairman of the Council had to attend personally.

The chair rotated every seven years and was a position every Pope tried to avoid.

You'd think being chairman would grant some kind of authority, but thanks to the written principle that ‘not only the Seven Great Holy Orders, but all Orders must be treated equally,’ it was a purely honorary title with practically no power at all.

Yet the chairman still had to handle mountains of tedious paperwork and mediate disputes between Orders.

‘I wouldn't want that job either.’

Anyway, all that complicated political structure and the chairman's tragic suffering had nothing to do with me.

What mattered most right now was...

“Ah, I really don't want to see those crazy bitches.”

All seven Saintesses would gather in one place for the Council.

The Archbishop was the one who had to bury himself in paperwork and spit flying everywhere while debating policy.

So while a Saintess's attendance was technically expected, there wasn't much consequence if she simply didn't go.

But at some point, the Council had turned into something like a ‘regular gathering’ for the Saintesses.

No one had ordered it.

Yet every time the Council convened, the Saintesses of the seven Orders all somehow dragged themselves there as though they'd made some kind of agreement.

Why was that a problem?

Because every last one of those women was insane.

I don't know whether the Saintesses of this generation all took the wrong medicine as children, or whether the gods collectively screwed up during some drunken party, but except for me, there wasn't a single sane one among them.

‘Ah, there is one other normal Saintess besides me.’

Clarice, Saintess of the Justitia Order and the heroine of the original story.

But Clarice was so softhearted and excessively kind that, in another sense, even she wasn't exactly normal.

Anyway, there was only one reason I was willing to drag myself to a place I hated this much.

I wanted information that might fill in the gaps in my fading memories of the original story.

There was no denying that high-level information could be obtained at the Council.

‘And while I'm at it, I should check whether anything strange is happening with the other Orders.’

In the end, I'd have to meet every one of those crazy women and ask how things were going.

I shook my head at the miserable reality, then looked back down at the letter.

According to the date, about a month remained before the Council.

You might think a month was plenty of time, but it really wasn't.

Traveling from our city to the capital, Septimoa, took around ten days if we gave ourselves a comfortable schedule.

Considering unexpected problems might delay the journey, we'd need to depart at least two weeks in advance.

Which meant I had only around fifteen days left.

And as if the schedule wasn't already tight enough, one troublesome problem had inserted itself into the middle of everything.

Cassian.

“Wow... That bastard's already awake?”

I'd literally driven his head into the floor.

I expected him to spend at least half a year bedridden, but he woke up in less than a week.

I'd heard Hero candidates had unusually sturdy bodies and recovered quickly, but I hadn't expected this much.

“I should at least see what kind of state he's in.”

Reluctantly, I headed toward the healing room.

If he was still flashing those obnoxious red eyes and spouting the same bullshit as before, then I wouldn't care what old Bartolomew or Grandpa Pope had to say.

I couldn't kill him, but I'd beat him badly enough that he wouldn't leave the bed for a year.

But Cassian wasn't in the healing room.

“...He's not here?”

“Yes, Saintess. As soon as he felt a little better, he got right out of bed.”

“He's already recovered enough to walk around? Seriously?”

I let out a disbelieving laugh.

I smashed his skull apart and a week later he's taking a morning stroll?

From beginning to end, that bastard kept defying my expectations.

“Do you know where he went?”

“I'm not sure. He asked where he could train, so I told him about the training ground... I imagine that's where he went.”

“Thanks, Lisa.”

I gave a small wave to Priestess Lisa, who was cleaning up the healing room, then headed straight toward the training ground.

“What the hell is that bastard planning now?”

Did he run?

Was he hiding somewhere plotting revenge?

Was he planning to start with our Holy Knights?

Nothing came to mind.

Shaking off the unpleasant feeling creeping over me, I hurried toward the training ground just as Lisa had said.

The closer I got, the more clearly I heard sharp, rhythmic sounds cutting through the air.

It wasn't part of the Holy Knights' official schedule right now, nor was there supposed to be training at this hour.

‘...Don't tell me that's Cassian.’

Was he screwing around with a sword in the training ground?

Judging by the pathetic swordsmanship he'd shown in the audience chamber, he hadn't seemed remotely interested in proper practice.

Apparently he did train after all?

“Huu, huu...”

When I stepped into the training ground, what I saw was completely different from what I'd expected.

Cassian had stripped off his shirt and was repeatedly swinging a wooden practice sword.

Bandages were still wrapped around much of his upper body from the beating I'd given him, but there wasn't the slightest hesitation in the movements cutting through the air.

“...Huh.”

I stopped walking and narrowed my eyes at him.

Sweat ran down his back and glimmered in the sunlight.

Well-defined muscles shifted every time he brought the wooden sword down, while his rough breathing filled the training ground.

Fine.

I'll admit what deserves admitting.

His personality might've been that of a delinquent, but his body really was as perfectly sculpted as a statue someone had painstakingly carved.

And his face was annoyingly handsome too.

But the shell wasn't what mattered.

When I'd first seen him, his swordsmanship had been pure ‘street thug.’

Fast, sure, but without any foundation, aimed only at an opponent's vital points.

The kind of swordsmanship some third-rate mercenary would use.

Yet now, his sword was painfully honest.

Nothing but the same simple downward slash, repeated over and over.

‘...He's doing training that basic?’

The Cassian I'd seen before had wielded a style so lacking in fundamentals that you'd struggle to find even a single proper basic technique.

I watched for a moment, then swallowed a disbelieving laugh.

I'd never seen such an unstable downward slash in my life.

Even considering he hadn't fully recovered, this was terrible.

A random three-year-old swinging a tree branch could probably do better.

Is this bastard really a Hero?

Aren't Heroes supposed to be naturally gifted?

And yet even his fundamentals are this awful?

“Hey.”

With that question in mind, I approached and called to him quietly.

Cassian's shoulder visibly flinched.

He stopped swinging the wooden sword and slowly turned his head.

“...Saintess.”

The moment our eyes met, I frowned instinctively.

The murky red eyes I'd found so unpleasant were gone.

In their place were deep, sunken black eyes.

“What happened to your eye color?”

Having some life return to his eyes was one thing.

But how the hell did red eyes turn black?

“My eye color? I'm not sure... When I woke up in the healing room, they were like this.”

“Uh... Hmm... Right.”

I had nothing to say.

Well, I'd beaten his face until it caved in.

Maybe that kind of trauma could change your eye color?

The human body is mysterious.

“Come to think of it, I think my eyes may have been black when I was younger.”

“What, are your eyes some festival magic lamps? They just change colors whenever they feel like it? And what do you mean ‘may have been’? Did you spend your life without ever looking in a mirror?”

“...My memories from before are rather unclear.”

“...”

Right.

His head had gone straight through a marble floor.

A little memory loss wasn't exactly impossible.

He should probably just be grateful he survived at all.

Still, this bastard had a strange talent for leaving me with nothing to say.

“So what are you doing here?”

At my question, Cassian wiped his sweat with a towel and set down the wooden sword.

Then he looked at me with a serious expression.

“I realized how lacking I am, so I'm trying to improve.”

“...What?”

“I'm weak.”

“I know. So?”

“I'm far from worthy of the title Hero candidate.”

Cassian lowered his head and spoke while staring at the ground.

I scratched the back of my neck as I looked down at him.

‘What the hell. Did he actually lose his memory?’

I was a little bewildered.

The Cassian I knew from the original would've died before behaving like this.

He was arrogant and cruel.

Yet the man in front of me looked like a huge dog trembling because it was terrified its owner might abandon it.

“First of all, I'm sorry, Saintess.”

Cassian suddenly dropped to his knees.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“...Honestly, I barely remember it. But Vice-Captain Leonid told me everything about how disrespectfully I behaved toward you.”

“Yeah. And if you know you were disrespectful, why don't you leave on your own? That would be better for both of us.”

“I cannot.”

“...What?”

Cassian slammed his forehead against the ground hard enough to make a thud.

“I've heard that a Hero is someone who defeats demonic beasts and demons, bringing peace and safety to the people.”

“...That's not wrong.”

As I'd said before, a Saintess only needed to dream.

A Hero, on the other hand, was obligated to directly enter the Demon Realm and defeat demonic beasts and demons, ultimately even aiming to subjugate one of the Great Demons of the Seven Deadly Sins if possible.

“That is why I cannot relinquish my position as Hero candidate.”

“...”

“If I abandon that position, more civilians will suffer.”

...Oh, so you're going to hit me with the righteous argument?

I swallowed my irritation and sighed.

There was a reason they were called righteous arguments.

There was absolutely nothing I could say against that.

“But you're inadequate. You're weak. Your personality's trash too.”

“I know.”

“You're unfit not just to be a Hero, but even a candidate.”

“I know that as well.”

“Then why don't you give up?”

“I cannot. Now that I have been given the duty of a Hero, I cannot abandon my responsibility.”

“But you're weak. You probably couldn't even easily beat an ordinary Holy Knight.”

“I know.”

“Then give up. The most important thing for a Hero candidate is combat strength. Judging by that training you were doing, you don't have much hope.”

“I cannot. Because if I abandon my position as Hero candidate, more civilians will suffer.”

Fuck me.

I could already feel this conversation turning into an endless loop.

“I have no intention of acknowledging you as a Hero candidate.”

“I'll accept that.”

“I don't intend to forgive you either.”

“I'll apologize until you do.”

“Haa...”

My head throbbed.

So now that he couldn't openly scheme against me, he'd decided to turn my stomach this way instead?

If this was some kind of strategy, I had to admit it was working fairly well.

Fine.

Old Bartolomew and Grandpa Pope had already allowed him to stay.

No matter how much I argued now, I'd only tire my mouth out.

Just...

Ignore him.

“Continuing to beg forgiveness from someone who has no intention of forgiving you.”

“...”

“That can become a kind of harm in itself. Got it?”

“...Yes.”

“Then disappear from my sight... No, I'll leave. Fuck, this is irritating. If I hear even a rumor that you're pulling some kind of shit inside the Order, I'll cut your head off immediately, so keep your head down and behave.”

“If you do not forgive me, Saintess...”

I stopped and looked back at him.

Cassian remained on his knees, staring at me.

Those irritating black eyes were filled with a degree of stubbornness that was almost nauseating.

“I will not rise from this spot. If I do that, will you trust me even a little?”

“Bullshit.”

It wasn't even worth answering.

I immediately turned my back on him.

Leaving the training ground, I looked up at the sky.

It was cloudless and blue, so clear it almost hurt my eyes.

“...Damn, the sky's clear.”

My mood, on the other hand, was fucking awful.

I thought that would be the end of it.

But the next morning, something happened that made my mood even worse.

“What brings you all the way to my room?”

The one unexpectedly knocking on my door early in the morning was Leonid.

I opened it and tilted my head at him.

“Um... Saintess.”

“What? If you've got something to say, say it.”

Seeing Leonid hesitate in a way unlike his usual self, I urged him to get to the point.

“...Did you order it?”

“You leave out that much and expect me to understand? Use a subject and an object.”

At my words, Leonid groaned softly.

That was his habit whenever he had something difficult to say.

“I'm talking about Cassian.”

“What about that bastard?”

The moment his name came up, my brows naturally furrowed.

Seeing my reaction, Leonid let out another long sigh.

“He's still kneeling in the training ground and refuses to get up. Says it's because you haven't forgiven him.”

“...That motherfucker.”

The curse slipped from my mouth naturally.