<Episode 17>
'Of course, this isn't just for revenge. It's also about doing my job.'
I rationalized it belatedly, wondering if I was acting too much on personal feelings.
Yes. While dismantling the Temple alongside Theodore, my task was to uproot the fabricated faith.
To shift the faith and attention focused on the High Priestess toward the gods. That way, I'd gain more abilities too.
Well, at first, it couldn't be helped if it centered on the saintess rather than the gods.
[Lady Agatha. Help me out right now-]
I whispered a request to Agatha. It was impromptu, but it seemed good.
[Yes?! With so many people here?]
[That's exactly why. The more witnesses, the better.]
I scanned the crowd.
Desperation toward the Temple from those scammed by it filled the air. Irritation surged.
People cried out to the High Priestess and me—not the gods—offering money.
Looking down, my chest tightened oppressively. Scammed, yet so desperate—what was there to like?
Since coming to this world, unlike my past life, I'd interacted more with others, empathizing with their emotions more too.
So seeing people freed from pain after my readings felt pretty good.
It was odd, thinking about it.
In my past life, I'd been shunned by so many. Bullied plenty as a kid.
Having lived that way, I wasn't overflowing with humanity... so why did it feel good?
And now, witnessing the human suffering the Temple created right before my eyes stirred pity too.
Mom's words came to mind.
'A shaman must have compassion. Seon-nyeo, pity people and help them.'
I'd dismissed it as nonsense—who needs to help when everyone's shunning me anyway?
Apparently, I'd absorbed Mom's nagging after all.
Or maybe...
Seeing people who didn't shun me, calling my name and wanting me, thrilled me.
I shook my head to dispel the complicating thoughts.
This was just helping someone incidentally while landing a blow on the High Priestess. If it improved my image, all the better.
[Dorothy, ready?]
[Yes, Lady Agatha.]
Agatha asked at the perfect timing, and I replied solemnly.
My body floated up with a whoosh.
"Wh-what...!"
Surprised voices erupted from the crowd. A natural reaction.
"Th-the saintess... is flying!"
Yes.
What I'd asked Agatha was to carry me from this high balcony to that woman and set me down. And to lift me as high as possible while airborne.
"She's descending—gasp!"
"F-faster!"
"Like... a bird!"
With only 30 seconds of flight time, the rapid descent from this height was terrifying.
Born into a thrill-seeking nation in my past life, I'd endured the 180-degree Viking at Wolmi-do. I held my breath and widened my eyes.
[We can maintain it now!]
[Then keep me floating there!]
Once at the height Agatha could hold long-term, I hovered in place.
It was showmanship, in case some missed the quick descent.
"No... way."
"A person... floating."
We couldn't float as high as the Grand Temple's ceiling, but from the plaza, everyone could see me clearly.
The entire plaza buzzed. Amazement, bewilderment, awe.
Every emotion fitting 'shock' swirled through the crowd. I gave them time to calm until my words could reach them.
"So beautiful..."
"Ahh, Saintess!"
"Truly divine!"
From the high balcony, even if visible, details wouldn't be clear. Now closer, I felt more tension under their massive gazes.
The overwhelming stares from nearby felt burdensome.
Should've asked the goddess of beauty for a blessing, I regretted pointlessly.
"Quiet, quiet. She seems about to speak."
"A person floated. This can't—"
"Be quiet. Can't hear the saintess!"
As I felt embarrassed, voices calming each other rose from the crowd. Once quieter, I spoke.
"Marianne."
I used the gentlest voice possible. Saintess-like, saintess-like.
"S-Saintess—hic! How do you know my name...!"
The one I called was the woman I'd seen from above.
"Is your child... okay?"
"Ahh, Saintess...! I... I have no milk because I haven't eaten. My b-baby hasn't eaten for two days."
Marianne collapsed to the ground, tears streaming.
"So pitiful...!"
"The saintess will save you. Hang in there!"
"Saintess!"
The infant in her arms whimpered weakly, too weak to cry properly. A tiny sound.
I approached her. I'd asked Agatha if she could amplify my voice to spread across the plaza—she said she'd try. Crucial moment.
"Lady Agatha, the goddess of the hearth who protects families, Vesta—They will watch over you."
I emphasized, hoping the gods' names would be remembered again.
Indeed. Not hugely amplified, but my voice echoed multiple times across the plaza.
"R-really? Saintess. Our child..."
Marianne's tear fell on the baby's cheek. The baby stirred its limbs briefly, annoyed. But only for a moment. Too weak.
"The Temple will care for you. Priest, guide Marianne. Prepare milk and food the child can eat."
I called a priest stationed at the entrance to control the crowd.
The priest looked startled, eyes wide, glancing up at the Grand Temple. Very natural. Like habitually checking the High Priestess.
"Priest, what are you doing?"
"Ah, y-yes. Saintess."
Urging him, he hurriedly approached and guided Marianne.
The Temple outwardly claimed to serve the faithful, saving devotees. Refusing here would tarnish their image.
No such cases before because the High Priestess cracked down to prevent anyone stepping up.
Helping one meant helping all Empire believers.
"S-Saintess. My husband had an accident yesterday, no money for hospital—"
"Saintess. Save us. We'll starve."
Like this situation. Never ends with one.
Helping Marianne, people rushed like they'd waited. Expected sequence.
I extended my hands sympathetically.
"Don't worry. The Temple will step up. Urgent patients, see the Grand Temple's infirmary first."
I sent a few more severe cases inside, then,
"God wishes to be by your side. Come to the Temple, everyone. Lady Agatha awaits."
Declared relief loudly.
The High Priestess must've demoted or pressured priests silently for even hinting at relief.
Relief happened briefly, minimally, only when image or opinion soured—under her schemes.
Declaring relief impromptu before this crowd without consulting her would flip her stomach.
It meant returning much of the donations fleeced from believers.
In the chaos, I glanced at the High Priestess curiously.
Her face remained serene, but I knew.
Her eyes pierced murderously. Like 'How dare you stab me in the back?'
How horrific to see wealth piled in her secret vault slip away on a saintess's word.
And soon, a voice stabbing from behind.
"...Indeed, Saintess."
Turning, the High Priestess smiled forcibly at me.
"You overflow with compassion."
Mom told me to have compassion, but the High Priestess said 'How dare your compassion touch my wealth?' Shamans and High Priestess both serve gods, yet think so differently.
"Isn't it right to return the devotees' sincerity offered to God?"
I replied softly.
[‘That crazy bitch...’ she says.]
"Lady Agatha taught: Temple practitioners go to the lowest places, devotees to the highest. Right, High Priestess?"
I asked boldly on purpose. The Temple stands on people's faith. Her biggest weakness isn't the secret vault—it's the masses.
"...Yes. Saintess."
I felt her grit her teeth answering.
"Those suffering, needing help—come to the Temple, anyone!"
I shouted once more. Cheers erupted.
Prayers not reaching, faith not ascending—all the Temple's interference.
To draw faith to the gods—not the Temple—first make the Temple busy, chaotic, unable to misuse overflowing donations.
Like swarms of relief-seekers, for example.
"Waaah!"
"The saintess has returned!"
I bowed respectfully to the crowd, then finally descended. Agatha taught bowing here signifies respect.
"Saintess, Saintess!"
"Lady Agatha watches over us!"
With cheers behind, I returned to the Temple.
[Dorothy! No High Priestess mentions!]
Good. All spotlight on me and my gods.
