Chapter 12
The Retired Saintess Raises House Prices Episode 12
Episode 12
I prayed in the morning because it was morning, prayed at lunch because it was lunch, and prayed in the evening because it was evening.
Before bed, I even gathered people for a group gratitude prayer for the day.
If they still suspected me after all that, I wouldn't serve you, Mikhail, you bastard.
Fortunately, as time passed, Mikhail's sharp gaze toward me softened bit by bit.
He no longer insisted on riding in the carriage with me. When our eyes met, he'd even give a slight bow in greeting.
He still didn't smile, though.
A few days later, we finally arrived in Floriana before dawn, when the sun hadn't yet risen.
They called it a port village, but I couldn't spot so much as an ant crawling on the streets.
I wondered if ships even departed from here.
But the state of our group—Mikhail and the others—was a bit off.
Even in this empty village, they kept scanning the surroundings vigilantly, as if ready to draw their swords at any moment.
Mikhail wasn't cowering like the other Holy Knights, but the murderous glint in his eyes suggested he was tense too.
What the hell could be here anyway.
“Does Saintess Shuana sense any malevolent energy?”
“It's brimming with utterly wicked things.”
I had to say I sensed it even if I didn't.
My acting skills had improved through repeated regressions.
Mikhail examined me with a stern expression before exhaling softly in relief.
“Even so, since there are residents who can't leave this place, we must perform purification.”
“Of course.”
“Fortunately, evil spirits can't rampage during the day.”
“That's right.”
Is that so? Day or night, I saw nothing, so I wouldn't know.
“So we must offer the purification prayer now, when the ghosts' power is at its weakest.”
“Right here?”
Mikhail actually smiled faintly at my eager stance, ready to drop to my knees and pray on the spot.
“No, we'll move.”
“Why not here?”
“This is the village center. Even with your abilities, Saintess, it would be impossible to summon and exorcise all the evil spirits dwelling throughout the village.”
“Still, I should do what I can.”
Nothing's here anyway—what could go wrong?
We'll just return without incident again.
But Mikhail wouldn't yield despite my calm demeanor.
“Escorting you safely back to the Temple is also my duty. It's good to exert yourself in purification, but there's no need to take risks. Can't you hear the ear-splitting wails of the evil spirits screaming?”
Somehow...
Mikhail had been probing me since earlier.
From asking if I sensed malevolent energy to whether I heard the ghosts' wails.
As if suspecting I couldn't see or hear anything at all.
In times like this, bet on 'faith.'
I clasped my hands and gently closed my eyes.
“On the way here, I earnestly called upon Moandalla, and He answered, 'My soldier, I am always by your side,' sweeping away my fears. I hear no voices of the wicked. Only the call of Moandalla fills me.”
Nailed it.
I could start my own religion back in Korea.
Fortunately, my ravings worked—Mikhail said nothing more.
He led me to some abandoned ruins near the harbor and stepped back, telling me to pray as much as I wanted.
I began reciting the purification prayer, one I could rattle off even half-asleep.
I felt nothing, so I had no idea.
How my serene figure, kneeling calmly in the heart of what they called a ghosts' den, looked in Mikhail's eyes.
After praying for a long while, I slowly opened my eyes to find Mikhail's face ashen white, like a corpse.
As I stood, brushing dirt off my clothes, and approached him, he still looked dazed, not fully compos mentis.
His bright yellow eyes stared blankly at me, trembling oddly.
As if he'd fallen in love at first sight.
Mikhail's yellow pupils quivered like ripples spreading from a stone tossed into still water.
“Saintess.”
“Yes.”
“May I ask for one confirmation?”
Before I could ask what, Mikhail suddenly took both my hands as if lifting water, then slowly knelt on both knees.
“...What are you doing?”
“I've secretly doubted you all this time. Will you forgive me?”
“...Doubted me?”
I smiled faintly, trying to look unperturbed, and Mikhail gazed up at me with moist eyes, as if saved.
“I've never watched you pray up close during purification, so I didn't know how bold and deeply faithful you are. With your always vague expression, hard to read, listening to people distractedly, I thought you'd already been possessed by something impure...”
Ah, damn it.
I thought I'd given my all in acting.
But it was obvious to this cult hunter. What a disaster.
Time to amp up my acting practice.
Mikhail trailed off, shook his head, and continued.
“But just now, seeing you calmly recite God's words amid the evil spirits' frenzy, soothing their grudges and rage—I believe now.”
“...I see.”
“Truthfully, until now I thought you had no holy power at all, unable to sense evil spirits or energy.”
Is this guy a shaman?
Backing away and catching fake saintesses.
“Haha, no way.”
I laughed awkwardly, but fortunately, this shamanic cult hunter was too absorbed in his self-cooked profound感動 to notice.
The purification prayer in those ruins must have been especially moving.
And so, in Floriana, I failed to escape and, clueless why, received an apology from a handsome psycho cult hunter.
* * *
Having grown up in the Temple under the care of saintesses and knights since childhood, Mikhail had never once doubted his future.
He believed he would remain chaste to become a Holy Knight and spread Moandalla's sacred teachings throughout the world.
His parents, who had abandoned him at the Temple's gates, had long been erased from his mind.
Mikhail was Moandalla's servant, disciple, soldier, and son.
Becoming the youngest Holy Knight Captain was only natural.
No knight matched Mikhail Severino's faith, nor staked their life on training like he did.
Mikhail believed that eradicating all evil from the world would leave only the righteous, fulfilling God's will.
Children abandoned at the Temple were nicknamed 'Motan.'
Most Motan left the Temple upon growing up.
Due to the Temple's strict rules and harsh training, they preferred facing the world's hardships alone to build their lives.
But Mikhail did not.
This place alone was where he belonged.
Having grown up in the Temple, he'd seen many fellow Motan children.
Perhaps because they hadn't chosen the Temple themselves, most Motan lacked deep faith.
Girls would become saintesses only to get intimate with Holy Knights and flee, or brazenly remove their Saint's Necklace and sneak away at night.
So Mikhail thought Shuana would be the same.
Her parents had shoved her into the Temple against her will, so he'd assumed she'd just coast by.
He was completely wrong.
At some point, Shuana had been reborn as the perfect daughter of Moandalla.
'A pretty useful saintess, it seems.'
He tried to brush it off casually, but those around him were too noisy.
