“How is it?”
With her soft pink hair elegantly braided and adorned with light floral decorations, she looked like a beauty that could belong in the gardens of the gods.
“Beautiful.”
The madame answered sincerely, without hiding her honest feelings to Mikaela’s question.
Mikaela had heard the word “beautiful” countless times, but it never got old; it was truly enchanting.
“If only you would remove that dark veil, you would be beautiful enough.”
Mikaela suggested to the madame, reflecting no selfishness or falsehood. Although Mikaela had an exceptionally high standard of beauty compared to others, the madame’s grace was outstanding enough to meet her criteria.
“Beauty can be a great weapon for an assassin, but sometimes, it’s a light that needs to be concealed.”
The madame hinted at her attitude of refusing to discuss herself further, but Mikaela was not bothered at all, focusing instead on her own appearance.
After all, it wasn’t a matter of friendship or love but merely a cooperation based on mutual interests.
If Prince Oliver was to lose his mind and order Mikaela’s assassination, the madame’s violet butterfly would pierce the nun’s heart without a moment’s hesitation.
“Then I shall take my leave.”
Mikaela left her vanity, satisfied with a smile after inspecting her beautiful appearance once more.
Her makeup was just right, not overly extravagant, perhaps even a bit plain, but considering her position as a saint, too much would have been a minus.
A suitably natural makeup accentuated her extraordinary beauty. It wasn’t too difficult for a beauty like Mikaela.
Although the madame couldn’t accompany her as an outsider, she would hide in the shadows of the cathedral and always keep an eye on Mikaela.
“You’ve arrived.”
One of the paladins waiting for the saint candidates greeted her.
The chapel of the cathedral, where today’s speech would take place.
There were so few people gathered that it felt quite modest, but even if the chapel was empty, many eyes outside would be on the screens installed all around Batian.
Cough.
Tsk.
Sigh.
As soon as the bishops and paladins who were already seated cast their eyes on Mikaela, they clicked their tongues and sighed.
‘Ah, could one be so foolish?’
Despite being blatantly looked down upon, Mikaela responded with a bright smile, showcasing her beauty.
Did they treat her like this when she was about to become a saint?
The stubborn folks of the cathedral seemed to think that their position was guaranteed, no matter the situation.
Was it because it was a position ordained directly by the gods?
Unaware of just how foolish their delusions were.
‘The one chosen by the gods is none other than me.’
Rolling her tongue, which was marked with an imprint, Mikaela struggled to suppress a hearty laugh.
What do you even have?
Though you claim to serve the gods more than anyone else, what has the gods given you? Absolutely nothing. Just ignorant fools who blindly cover their mere luck or efforts with divine providence.
‘Look at the imprint on me. This is evidence that I am chosen by the gods, that the gods are with me.’
A life’s treasure, gifted directly by Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love, signifying her as the messenger of the gods.
Mikaela headed toward the place where the saint candidates were seated.
One candidate naturally began to clear the way, and the other nuns subtly began to attend to her, bringing chairs and drinks.
This was something Mikaela had orchestrated on purpose, strongly reaffirming that no matter who becomes a saint, they would still be under her influence.
“Ah, you’ve come.”
“Thank you for your support today.”
Moreover, the archbishop, who had been preparing the event at the podium, approached Mikaela, bowing deeply and requesting a handshake.
All the other nuns were shoved aside, smiling as if it were only natural.
From the perspective of the bishops and paladins, their hearts were likely overwhelmed with pain, suffocating under it.
‘Fools, always swayed by their own arrogance despite the teachings. Today is the day judgment will be delivered upon you all.’
With a smirk in her heart, Mikaela closed her eyes to gather her thoughts, and soon after, the archbishop’s voice boomed from the podium in Batian.
“It is truly a wonderful day, dear citizens of the continent beloved by the gods.”
It was a long yet tiresome opening address. Mikaela even contemplated using her imprint’s powers halfway through.
Nonetheless, once the opening speech concluded and the archbishop stepped down, a young paladin took the microphone and appeared on the screen.
“Now, allow me to introduce the first of the five saint candidates. Serving the mighty god of water and the sea, Poseidon… ”
The speeches given by the four preceding nuns passed far too quickly, which only meant they left no impression.
Of course, it was natural. How could mere puppets reading a script have any impact while falling under the sway of Mikaela’s abilities?
It was obvious that citizens outside were already murmuring. They were criticizing that none among this group of nuns had the potential to become a saint.
“And now the next saint candidate, the nun personally ordained by the goddess of beauty and love, Aphrodite: Mikaela Romers.”
Although the paladin’s expression was smiling, the tone and introduction were far meager and modest compared to the other nuns.
But that was fine.
In fact, it would serve to highlight her presence as an additional flavor.
Removing the veil that had been concealing her face, Mikaela unveiled her charming beauty to Batian.
She was certain that she had created enough of a stir from the outset. With a small parting of her lips, she began.
“Dear beloved citizens, I am Mikaela Romers, a humble servant of the goddess of beauty and love, Aphrodite.”
She bowed her head and spoke cautiously again. Her slightly slow yet gentle movements exuded a noble aura.
“So many of you, serving numerous gods. Starting with Helios having the most believers, fishermen living in the sea serving Poseidon, those coexisting with the forest serving Artemis, and those enforcing the law serving Athena.”
Moving her gaze smoothly from the left edge of the mirror, she shifted it naturally to the right, as if she were watching each person beyond the screen.
“So many gods have graciously bestowed their mercy and blessings upon us. This is a miracle beyond any words— just a miracle.”
The bishops and paladins could be seen sighing, pressing their foreheads. It was a pitiful act, openly showing their acknowledgment of defeat.
“But everyone, there’s one precious word that all these gods uniformly cry out from the depths of their hearts. A word that cannot be absent between countless gods and us humans.”
With a smile, Mikaela benevolently unveiled the answer.
“Love.”
“No matter what god exists in this world, they whisper love to their believers. We, too, howl that we love them in return.”
Tears blurred her vision.
The tears, like magic, gently trailed down her fair cheeks.
“But why are we fighting?”
Struggling to suppress the tearing pain in her heart, she called out with a slightly cracking voice.
“What makes us envious and jealous of one another, leads us to point fingers and slander each other, and creates an unending cycle of violence and conflict?”
“Those who serve the god of family kneel and weep, proclaiming their love to their deity, yet turn their backs to point fingers at those serving Zeus.”
“Those who serve the god of thunder offer thanks and love to their god but grumble toward those serving Hera the very next day.”
Mikaela steadied her breath.
The traces of tears still clearly marked her cheeks, but her expression was no longer one of distress.
It was a resolute determination, the proclamation of a true saint.
“This cannot continue. Nowhere do the gods tell us to fight among ourselves. They urge us to listen and teach their teachings, to love each other!”
“Why is it that we see and contemplate all these teachings, we pray, memorize them, and yet fail to put them into action? Why? Why on earth?”
“I will no longer stand by. I, Mikaela Romers, will not allow it to happen.”
The fierce and violent conviction felt from her pink eyes poured out onto the 17 screens set up in Batian, reaching the citizens.
“The love that pierces through all gods and men. I, Mikaela, will become the servant of the goddess of love, Aphrodite, and I will reach you as her Cupid.”
“Are you fighting? Are you envious and jealous of one another? Are you writhing in animosity and murderous intent? I will go to you. I will tell you.”
“I love you.”
“I simply love you.”
“You may throw stones at me, call me a hypocrite, despise me, and accuse me of acting freely in the name of the gods.”
Slowly but surely, Mikaela smiled at everyone beyond the screen.
“Yet I will still love you. Because that is the greatest gift bestowed upon us by the gods and what they desire from us.”
Mikaela clasped her hands tightly and closed her eyes.
“Please, through me, I wish that you could feel at least a handful of the love given by the gods.”
The mirror screen turned off, and the paladin who resumed moderation appeared again. As Mikaela descended from the podium, she wiped her tear-streaked face with the handkerchief handed to her by the other nuns.
Feeling the cheers echoing outside with every fiber of her being, Mikaela was enveloped in a thrilling shiver and sense of satisfaction.
She had won.
Though she had planted her imprint in the minds of the citizens, this was also the decisive moment of overwhelming victory.
Depending on how deeply she touched the citizens’ hearts, she could incite a natural rebellion if the bishops forced a selection of another saint.
“I did it.”
It was an overwhelming victory and the support of the citizens.
With so many believers of various gods, the speech had effectively penetrated deep enough to rally them all.
Finally, once the archbishop, bishops, and paladins entered the council room to cast their votes, everything would come to a conclusion.
That was what she thought.
But then, the paladin in charge stated solemnly,
“Normally, the voting would proceed immediately after all five saint candidates finish their speeches, but due to a misunderstanding and confusion, I must inform you that there is another saint candidate.”
“Suddenly?”
Mikaela quickly turned her head to check the bishops and paladins, but their expressions showed neither surprise nor bewilderment.
“They knew?”
It occurred to her that they were aware all along but hadn’t mentioned it during the introduction of the first saint candidate.
“Are they up to something?”
But was there something that could turn this situation around?
After all, the candidate…
“Ah.”
As the chapel doors swung open, a slender nun with a white veil covering her face stepped in.
She was being pursued as a suspect in the murder of the goddess Demeter’s nun, but in reality, she was a lady trapped in the underground of the cathedral.
The nun of the sun, serving the light that illuminates the continent:
Lucia Bright confidently walked toward the podium.
