My Nerdy Neighbor Is the Master of the Magic Tower
Chapter 28
It was Miguel, the Holy Knight who had been silently guarding her from behind.
“Sir Miguel!”
“Rest easy. As you can see, the floor is within reach for the faithful.”
Despite her startled cry, the water barely rose past Sir Miguel’s waist. The bottom had clearly been invisible before, yet it seemed those with holy power truly did not sink.
But would it work for her? She wasn’t the real Cecilia, and her holy power flickered on and off like a faulty lamp.
As she stared down at the lake—the absolute height of unscientific phenomena—a wet hand suddenly entered her field of vision.
“If you are still uneasy, would you like to verify it for yourself?”
“Ah, well…”
“I will hold onto you. I won’t let go, so do not worry.”
Cecilia stared blankly down at the holy knight standing in the beautiful lake.
Clean droplets of water trailed down his sharp jawline; his forearms were accentuated by the damp fabric clinging to them; his eyes were filled with a certain resolve, as if recalling their previous accident; and finally, there was that gentle smile gracing his usually blunt face.
It was the moment she reached out, as if pulled by an irresistible force, to grasp his large, firm hand.
Grind.
The sound of teeth gnashing reached her ears from somewhere. Cecilia whipped her head around to scan the area, but there was only the Archbishop, a few of his assistant priests, and Sena and Liri waiting a few paces away.
‘What was that? Did I mishear?’
Tilting her head in confusion, Cecilia eventually dipped her toes into the water. Though she didn’t understand the principle—nor did she want to—she expected to be submerged up to her waist just like him.
However, the moment her other leg entered the water, the floor beneath her vanished.
“Ah!”
Startled and losing her balance, she felt a firm hand catch her by the waist.
“Are you alright?”
At the soft voice near her ear, Cecilia finally calmed down and steadied herself. Even after Miguel’s hand pulled away, the water level remained only at her chest.
“Has your doubt been cleared now?”
A snide voice popped up from above as if it had been waiting for this moment. Was it just her own inferiority complex, or did she catch a glimpse of mockery in the priest’s hollow eyes?
She opened her lips to retort, but the opponent’s strike was faster.
“Since your clothes are wet, you must go and change immediately.”
“Pardon?”
“It works out perfectly. The alterations to the ceremonial robes have been completed.”
The Archbishop’s usually dry lips twisted into a meaningful smirk. Only then did Cecilia realize that the suggestion to enter the water had been part of Kiar’s grand plan.
“Then, let us go for a fitting.”
Regrettably, by the time she realized it, everything was already over.
‘I really should escape.’
Cecilia finally made a decision as she repeated the same thought for the ninety-ninth time.
She had endured kneeling for hours to recite prayers, reading records until her eyes felt like they would pop out, and listening to endless explanations on beautiful sunny days.
But the manual labor of changing in and out of ceremonial robes dozens of times!
This was all the fault of the robe-obsessed Archbishop.
To make matters worse, the robes all looked so similar that her eyes couldn’t distinguish what was supposedly different about them.
Eventually, unable to take it anymore, Cecilia flung the new robe onto the floor.
“I really can’t do this anymore!”
If they were going to make her do physical labor, they should at least feed her! They clearly had no idea how much stamina it took to change clothes.
Furthermore, the ornaments placed on her head were so heavy her neck felt like it would snap, and the trailing cloak weighed down her shoulders so much she felt like she might faint.
“At this rate, I’ll go to God’s side before the ceremony even begins!”
When she shouted in a burst of frustration, the Archbishop clicked his tongue softly and corrected her.
“I will be the one going to God first.”
‘Why are you even competing over that!’
A surge of irritation rose within her, but she no longer had the energy to express her emotions.
Kiar glanced down at the unresponsive Cecilia and let out a deep sigh.
“It can’t be helped. Since your stamina seems to have dropped, I shall bring some Holy Water.”
What? Holy Water?
He was undoubtedly going to bloat her stomach with Holy Water—which was no different from plain water—and then make her continue this hellish cycle.
“N-No!”
Terrified, Cecilia hurriedly reached out, but she couldn’t even graze the shadow of the Archbishop’s robes, let alone the man himself.
Click.
Cecilia stared desolately at the closed door.
As a thick layer of despair settled over the room, the priests who had been assisting her began to slip away one by one.
“I-I forgot to bring the shoes.”
“O-Oh, right! I’ll go get them quickly before His Eminence the Archbishop returns!”
Left behind in the room were Cecilia, who had neither the strength nor the will to move, and Miguel, who remained to guard her side.
Normally, she would have struggled with the awkward silence, but now she didn’t even have the luxury to care.
Cecilia dragged her heavy body and collapsed unceremoniously onto the hard sofa.
‘Ah, I want to eat something spicy and greasy.’
As she thought of the tteokbokki or braised back ribs she used to order whenever she was stressed, she felt like she might burst into tears from the sorrow of it all.
‘Did I sell out my country in a past life?’
Otherwise, there was no reason for her to be in this mess when she hadn’t done anything wrong.
If only she hadn’t been possessed into this world where she couldn’t tell what was real or fake. If only Cecilia hadn’t been the Saintess. No, if only the Pope hadn’t suggested they perform the ceremony together!
Over the past week, Cecilia, who had accumulated nothing but anger instead of reverence for God, muttered gloomily.
“Is he perhaps dumping the ceremony on me because he doesn’t want to starve?”
“If you are referring to His Holiness the Pope, he is also currently purifying his body.”
“Is that true? Then why haven’t I seen a single hair on his head?”
Miguel blinked in bewilderment at her sharpened question.
As expected of a Vice Commander, he quickly regained his composure and replied calmly.
“He is currently staying at the infirmary, personally bestowing God’s grace upon the laypeople who require healing.”
‘He’s doing volunteer work in a situation where even breathing is exhausting?’
Cecilia was momentarily lost for words.
It was behavior befitting the owner of a character people praised until their lips were dry.
‘Right, whining won’t solve anything.’
If even the Pope, the highest figure in the Temple, was starving, a mere Saintess-to-be couldn’t very well throw a tantrum for food.
It was just as she was reluctantly forcing her weak upper body upright.
A young apprentice priest approached Miguel with a bright, beaming face.
“Vice Commander, a meal has been prepared! I will escort you to the dining hall…”
And of all things, he had to arrive to announce mealtime.
The priest, belatedly sensing the chilling atmosphere, quickly trailed off.
“……Should I not escort you?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
Miguel, who had been gauging Cecilia’s reaction along with the priest, nodded stiffly.
“Just go. It is lunchtime, after all.”
“No. I am fine skipping a meal or two.”
“You’ll lose muscle mass if you do that.”
“Pardon?”
“Just go and eat my portion too.”
She knew all too well that sharing pain didn’t cut it in half—it only added to it.
Cecilia gestured vaguely toward the door and flopped back down.
She thought he would leave quietly since she had gone that far.
Thump, thump. The heavy footsteps didn’t recede; instead, they grew closer.
In the end, it seemed the knight couldn’t shake his pity and had decided to share in her suffering.
Dropping to one knee in front of the sofa, he spoke tentatively.
“Shall I carry you to your room?”
“No.”
To be honest, it was a tempting offer. She could escape before that devilish Archbishop returned with a bunch of Holy Water.
But she wasn’t a child who shirked her responsibilities. No matter how many hundreds of times she contemplated running away, she would ultimately stay in this spot.
So, her only option was to conserve what little energy she had.
She was just beginning to find stability through steady breathing when something suddenly touched her hair.
Cecilia snapped her eyelids open. Miguel, who had approached without a sound, was carefully tucking her stray hair behind her ear.
When his deep blue eyes met hers at close range, he flinched and pulled back.
“I apologize. You looked uncomfortable…”
Because he was flustered, she became even calmer.
“I’ve wanted to say this for a while, but you don’t have to treat me so formally. I’m not His Holiness the Pope, and even if I’m called the Saintess, I’m still nothing more than a fake.”
“You are not a fake.”
Miguel asserted, his hand clenching tightly where it had touched her hair.
Cecilia opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally falling silent.
Being under that upright gaze—whether it was admiration or faith—made her feel like she had become the most noble person in the world.
“To me, Saintess-nim is…”
BAM!
The intimate sentence was shattered in an instant. The strange atmosphere vanished at once.
“Saintess-nim!”
The one who appeared with a loud noise was Liri. She was supposed to be at the laundry room with Sena, handling the wet clothes at the Archbishop’s request. Her breathing was ragged, as if she had rushed here in a hurry.
More than anything, it was the first time the usually quiet Liri had shouted so loudly, so a startled Cecilia sat bolt upright.
“What’s wrong? Did something big happen?”
The child scurried over, wedging herself between Miguel and Cecilia, and gripped Cecilia’s robe tightly.
“N-No, it’s not that, a g-guest has arrived…”
No sooner had the child finished speaking than a familiar voice rang out through the wide-open doorway.
