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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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Lying on the luxurious king-sized bed in our room, Ophelia stared at the golden ring on her left ring finger.
“Heh.”
A small chuckle escaped her lips. No, it wasn’t a chuckle. It was just a breath of air. She wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t happy.
Well, maybe she was a little happy.
“Because it’s expensive.”
The ring was an artifact. Not just any artifact, but the Morningstar Ring, the only one of its kind on the continent.
Even Ophelia, who had been confined to the Holy City, had heard of its fame. Its value was astronomical.
If she were to sell it, she could probably buy an entire town. And that precious item was on her finger.
Ophelia, despite being a Saintess, was quite materialistic. Of course, she was happy about that. But…
“That bastard… why did he…?”
Elliot, who was just as materialistic as she was, had given her this ring. Of course, the Morningstar Ring was far more useful to her than to him.
She could feel her divine power surging just by wearing it, and a smile crept onto her face. But there were plenty of other artifacts in the Reudenstein vault that Elliot could have taken.
He had ignored them all and chosen the Morningstar Ring for her. Without a moment’s hesitation, as if he had already decided. And he had put it on her finger himself. Her left ring finger.
“….”
As a Saintess, she had officiated countless weddings for high nobles. She knew what the ring on her left ring finger signified. Eternal love.
Love. Yes, love.
“Ugh…”
She couldn’t contain her excitement any longer. She rolled around on the bed, kicking her feet in the air. It was incomprehensible.
Elliot, her nemesis, had given her a ring. A wedding ring, no less. There had been no signs.
“No…”
Or had there? There had been signs. Elliot had rescued her from the punishment room. He had endured excruciating pain to protect her from the Shadows of God. He had come to her rescue. From all this, Ophelia could draw only one conclusion.
“That bastard… he’s a man, after all.”
Elliot, the unshakeable mountain, had finally succumbed to her charms.
“Ophelia… you sinful woman…”
She muttered, stroking her cheek. It felt unreal. She had never done anything to make Elliot like her.
“Is he… just a pretty face kind of guy?”
She looked in the mirror. A beautiful woman stared back at her. Ophelia was undeniably one of the most beautiful women in this world. But she didn’t think Elliot would fall for her just for her looks.
What else could it be? As she pondered, she heard footsteps in the hallway. Heavy, confident footsteps, unlike Elliot’s usual stealthy movements.
“Ugh.”
She quickly composed herself, straightened her clothes, and sat up straight. She didn’t know why. She had shown him her disheveled state countless times before.
Elliot entered the room, looked around at the messy room, and cleared his throat.
“Ophelia, I brought dinner. Let’s eat.”
They ate in silence. Cod. Ophelia quite liked fish. She ate, her gaze fixed on Elliot.
“…Eat up.”
“O-oh.”
Elliot deboned the fish with his fork and gave her the flesh. His thoughtful gesture confirmed her suspicions. After a while, he spoke.
“I met Azar.”
“Yeah. That bastard. I heard he came to the capital. What did you talk about?”
“We talked about transmigrators.”
“….”
Transmigrators. Ophelia didn’t know much about them, only that they were souls from another world, serving the Demon King.
“Why?”
“I was just curious. What do you think about transmigrators?”
“I don’t think about them.”
It was true. Elliot seemed to consider her answer for a moment, then put down his fork.
He seemed… agitated.
He was trying to hide it, but Ophelia could tell. She had known him for years. She could read his subtle expressions.
“Um, Ophelia.”
“Yeah?”
“I have something to confess.”
“….”
Ophelia’s mind raced. The expensive ring on her left ring finger, and now a confession. It could only mean one thing. Ophelia gulped.
She sat up straight, her hands neatly folded on her lap. She had to respond appropriately.
‘Hmph. You’re aiming too high.’
No, that was too harsh.
‘As a Saintess, I can’t accept your confession… yet. I’m sorry.’
That was better. She had to leave some room for hope. Hope? Why was she leaving room for hope? She was confused. Cold sweat trickled down her back. As she struggled to find the right words, Elliot took a deep breath.
“Ophelia, I’m actually…”
“Y-yes?”
“I’m…”
He continued, and Ophelia, unable to contain her nervousness, blurted out,
“I’m sorry, but as a Saintess, I can’t…”
“I’m a transmigrator.”
A chilling silence filled the room.
“….”
An eternity seemed to pass in that moment. Ophelia stared at me, looking like she had been hit by a truck.
It was to be expected. The person closest to her had just… come out as a transmigrator. I would wait. And I would accept her reaction, whatever it was.
“…You…”
Ophelia finally spoke.
“That’s… your confession?”
“…Yes.”
“That you’re a transmigrator?”
“That’s right.”
“….”
Ophelia trembled for a moment, then…
Thwack.
…threw her cod at me.
“…I’m sorry.”
I apologized instinctively. It was natural for her to be angry. I had deceived her. But she seemed to be angry about something else.
“I already knew.”
“You what?”
“I already knew you were a transmigrator.”
“….”
I was stunned. Ophelia crossed her arms and smirked.
“Richard, that bastard, told me.”
Come to think of it, she had said something strange when I carried her out of Azar’s castle. Something about what Richard had told her. So, that’s what it was.
“Then why…”
“Why didn’t I tell you?”
Ophelia sighed and stuck out her tongue.
“Are you an idiot?”
“…Excuse me?”
“You didn’t tell me. I figured you had your reasons for keeping it a secret, so I didn’t say anything.”
“Aren’t you… angry?”
“That you’re a transmigrator? I don’t give a damn.”
Ophelia scoffed.
“Well, I might have cared. Back in the Holy City.”
She slammed her fork on the table, annoyed.
“But we’re in the Imperial Capital now. You stood up to the Holy City, to the Pope, and you saved me. Were you just… using me?”
“No.”
“Do you see me as a tool, a pawn?”
“No.”
“Then that’s all that matters. But you seem to think I’m some kind of doll with no thoughts of my own. Did you think I would hate you if I found out you were a transmigrator? That I would feel betrayed?”
“Yes.”
My honest answer made Ophelia sigh deeply.
“At least you’re honest.”
“I told you I never lie.”
I looked at Ophelia. I had always thought of her as a child. But she was a person, with her own thoughts and feelings.
I felt foolish for assuming she would react with hatred and anger. Ophelia seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“You were so worried about that? And you’re the hero? How pathetic.”
“Haha.”
“Don’t laugh like you’re relieved. It’s creepy.”
Ophelia pouted and glared at me.
“I can’t believe I… what a fool I was.”
“A fool?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Hmm?”
Did she think I was going to say something else? She picked up her fork.
“It’s nothing.”
“What is it?”
Thwack. A piece of fish hit my nose. Ophelia’s face was flushed.
“Shut up. Don’t ask.”
She growled, looking ready to stab me with her fork, so I closed my mouth.
“…The food is ruined. Go get some more. No, wait. Let’s go to a nice restaurant.”
“You’re the one who ruined the food.”
“I told you to shut up.”
Ophelia stood up and rubbed her left hand.
“So, why are you suddenly telling me you’re a transmigrator?”
“The… situation has become a bit complicated.”
“Is it serious?”
“Somewhat.”
Ophelia looked at me for a moment, then chuckled. She puffed out her chest.
“Alright. I’ll help you out.”
“….”
“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll kill you.”
I smiled wryly. I felt a sense of relief.
“So, the Sword Saint is the problem?”
A restaurant in the capital. We were alone.
We hadn’t even made a reservation, but the head chef, upon seeing Ophelia and me, had personally escorted us to a private room.
I had explained the situation to Ophelia, and she was tapping her spoon against her plate, deep in thought.
“Wouldn’t it be better to just tell him?”
“I’ve heard he has a deep-seated hatred for transmigrators. He used to hunt them down.”
“That’s just what you’ve heard.”
Ophelia tilted her head.
“What was the Alberich you met like?”
“He seemed like a good person.”
“Isn’t that the same as the Alberich in that… game of yours?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you worried about? Do you think he’ll kill you, the hero, just because you’re a transmigrator? I don’t think Alberich is that unreasonable.”
“Of course, I don’t think he’ll do that. I’m just worried that it will strain our relationship.”
“Your relationship is not that fragile.”
“Not everyone is like you, Ophelia. And he lost his comrades to transmigrators.”
“So what? Are you a transmigrator from the Demon King’s army? No. You’re the hero. What’s there to worry about?”
She wasn’t wrong. Ophelia looked at me and said, “Do you want me to mediate?”
“You?”
“I’m the Saintess, aren’t I? They wouldn’t dare start a fight with me around.”
“Hmm…”
Had Ophelia ever successfully mediated anything? She had a history of throwing the Emperor’s letter on the floor. But I didn’t have any better ideas. I sighed and lowered my head.
“Please.”
“Sure.”
Ophelia took a bite of her food, looking pleased.
“By the way, what were you like in your original world? You’re pretty good with a sword. Were you a mercenary there too?”
“…Well, the world I came from is a bit different from what you might imagine. It’s a long story, but… there weren’t really any mercenaries.”
“Interesting.”
Ophelia didn’t seem interested in my world. She was more interested in me.
“You didn’t have any friends there either, did you?”
“….”
“I knew it.”
Ophelia teased. She looked smug, having found something to use against me.
“You don’t have any friends either.”
“I do.”
Her confident reply made me tilt my head. Ophelia was sipping her water, and our eyes met.
She quickly looked away and muttered, “I have a friend.”
Ophelia’s ears were red.
“A precious friend.”
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Ophelia is the best!!
