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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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“Ophelia Meredith.”
Ophelia lifted her head at the sound of her name. A blinding light filled her vision. From within a pillar of golden light, an old man emerged, looking down at her.
With his snow-white hair and golden robes, he exuded an aura of divine authority, clearly a servant closest to God.
“I hear the words of His Holiness the Pope.”
“Ophelia, Saintess. What have you seen and learned on your pilgrimage through the Empire and the continent?”
This was the Papal Office. The old man before Ophelia was the master of the Holy City and the leader of this religion, Pope Eudor Meredith. He had summoned her as soon as she returned to the Holy City.
“….”
Even the free-spirited Ophelia had to maintain decorum in front of the Pope. A forced smile, an elegant posture, the dignified air of a Saintess.
Not a single misstep was allowed. Here, in the Papal Office, Ophelia had to be the perfect Saintess before being Ophelia. That’s how she had been raised.
And on the days she failed to meet his expectations, she was denied food and sleep.
“I…”
Ophelia slowly began, reciting the lines she had prepared, maintaining a practiced smile.
“I have learned that there are still many places and people untouched by God’s light.”
“And so?”
“Even if I must burn myself as a holy sacrifice, I will spread the will of the Heavenly God and bring light and prosperity to the world.”
She hadn’t stumbled over her words. Her expression hadn’t faltered.
Ophelia’s worries were dispelled by the admiring gasps of the high-ranking clergymen lined up around the room. Applause erupted.
These were fanatics who would gladly die if Ophelia commanded them to.
Ophelia suppressed the urge to flee and carefully maintained her expression. A benevolent, yet not seductive, gaze. The perfect curvature of her smile. Her hands clasped in front of her chest, pinky fingers slightly raised.
Every smile, every gesture, meticulously calculated.
“Hmm.”
Pope Eudor looked down at Ophelia and nodded slightly. The light intensified.
“Excellent, Ophelia.”
“This too is God’s grace.”
“Indeed. Continue your efforts. Defeat the Demon King and bring light to the world.”
Eudor knelt and lifted Ophelia’s chin, forcing eye contact. Cloudy pupils. Ophelia fought to keep her expression neutral.
“Ophelia, you are God’s representative, my avatar. Your actions are God’s will, and your words are my words.”
“Yes…”
“Do not disgrace God’s will. Always remember that you are a servant of God. There are things more important than life itself.”
Eudor abruptly released Ophelia’s chin.
She stumbled, barely managing to keep her balance.
“I will keep that in mind.”
With that, her business at the Papal Office was concluded.
“…Ugh.”
Ophelia retched in the lavatory. She hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday, knowing she would throw up the moment she saw the Pope.
This was why she hated coming to the Papal Office. Even Ophelia had to set aside her true self and play the role of a perfect tool in front of the Pope. It was sickening.
“….”
Ophelia washed her face and looked in the mirror. She had only been at the Papal Office for a few hours, but she looked haggard, like a corpse.
The Ophelia in the mirror smiled. A mischievous, playful, impish smile. A genuine, unadulterated smile. She had been smiling like this more often lately.
“What am I doing?”
She chuckled and left the Papal Office, ignoring the high-ranking priests who tried to engage her in conversation. Only after reaching the plaza and pulling her hood low did Ophelia finally feel free.
She had a lot of free time. Normally, she would be having swordsmanship lessons with Elliot at this hour, but…
“Old man, how’s that bastard Elliot doing?”
“There’s been no word from him.”
Ophelia clicked her tongue at Belwin’s response. It had been almost a week since they returned from the Empire. Elliot had given a brief report, then locked himself in his room. He had been holed up there for five days.
Naturally, her swordsmanship lessons had been canceled. Ophelia, with her mornings free, was bored out of her mind.
“It’s been five days. He hasn’t even eaten anything. Is that idiot going to die?”
She had heard that he had been refusing food and water. It was driving Ophelia crazy.
“Or is he hoarding all the good food for himself?”
“Ophelia, not everyone is like you.”
“What did you just say?”
Belwin coughed and averted his gaze when she glared at him.
“So, what exactly happened in the Empire?”
Belwin asked, looking towards the knights’ quarters. Ophelia shrugged.
“If I knew, would I be asking you?”
“You didn’t cause any trouble, did you…?”
“Old man, do you have a death wish?”
“Um…”
Belwin quickly excused himself when she glared at him. Ophelia scratched her cheek, lost in thought.
She couldn’t shake the image of Elliot’s distraught expression. She also remembered his hand trembling as he held the pendant in Loren.
‘I have a hunch…’
Loren was probably Elliot’s hometown. And the skeleton with the pendant… could it have been a relative?
She couldn’t be sure. It was just a guess, but she couldn’t think of any other reason for Elliot to be so distraught.
Ophelia wasn’t exactly good at comforting someone who had lost a loved one.
‘This is troublesome.’
Ophelia sighed. She considered asking Belwin for advice, but decided against it. She didn’t want to tell anyone about this. Gossiping about other people’s misfortunes was Ophelia’s specialty, but she didn’t want to do it this time.
She didn’t know what Elliot would do if she did, and she strangely enjoyed sharing this secret with him. But…
“I’m so bored…”
No Elliot meant no swordsmanship lessons. She should be happy about not being hit with a wooden sword, but she felt strangely empty.
“….”
What was wrong with that guy? He had been teasing her for almost two years, and now he was suddenly holed up in his room…
“Argh, damn it. Am I losing my mind?”
The thought made her angry. Elliot had slapped her dozens of times. And hit her with a wooden sword twice as many times.
He was a complete bastard, so why was she worried about him? She couldn’t find an answer, and Ophelia wasn’t the type to dwell on such internal conflicts.
“Hey.”
She called out to a Holy Knight passing by. A man with black hair. The Holy Knight who had taken Elliot to the Papal Office last year. His name was…
“Dick.”
“With all due respect, my name is not Dick. It’s Rowan Dictus.”
“Yeah, Dick.”
“….”
Rowan looked at her, dumbfounded, but Ophelia ignored him and got straight to the point.
“Are you… close with him?”
“Sir Elliot?”
Rowan hesitated for a moment.
“Sir Elliot spends most of his time with you, Saintess, rather than at Holy Knight headquarters, so we don’t have many opportunities to interact. He’s also excused from our regular training because he’s in charge of your swordsmanship lessons.”
“So, you’re not close?”
“I believe we have a sense of camaraderie. That’s all.”
“So, you’re not close.”
“The bonds between knights are not so shallow as to be defined by a single word…”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Get lost, Dick.”
“Yes, Saintess.”
Ophelia dismissed Rowan and fell into thought. It was true. Elliot didn’t seem to have any close friends in the Holy City, other than herself.
She had never seen him talking with other knights, and after their training sessions, he would lock himself in his room until the next morning.
“Is he… lonely?”
She voiced the obvious question. Who would want to be friends with an ill-tempered knight like him?
“He’s kind of cute.”
Then, it wouldn’t hurt for her, to offer him some comfort. Hadn’t the Pope said that spreading God’s love was part of a Saintess’s duties? So, this wasn’t for Elliot; it was for her, to fulfill her role as Saintess.
With that self-justification, Ophelia knocked on Elliot’s door.
Knock, knock.
“Hey.”
Knock, knock.
“I know you’re in there.”
Knock, knock, knock.
“Open up.”
Despite her threats, the door remained closed. She pressed her ear against the door.
She couldn’t sense any presence. But Elliot was always good at concealing his presence.
She tried turning the doorknob.
Creak.
The door opened easily. Ophelia illuminated the dark room with divine magic.
“Where is he?”
Elliot was nowhere to be seen. She checked the closet, but there were only a few sets of clothes.
Under the bed as well.
Nothing.
Then, she saw it. A note on the desk.
Ophelia’s face hardened.
“….”
She quickly picked up the note and read it.
Two sentences, written in Elliot’s handwriting.
[I’ll be back in about a month.]
“That crazy bastard…”
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Hi Lord Fourth here!
I’m still new to translating as this is my second novel to pick up, so if you find some mistakes or inconsistencies let me know about it on the dedicated channel on discord.
LMAO
ROFL