Abundance City. Saint Martin’s Academy.
Splash!
A small pebble skipped across the pond, sending ripples outward. The splashing water soaked the thin girl standing by the water’s edge.
“Haha, look! That wild brat Alice looks hilarious!” “Wow, look at her face, like she’s about to cry. Maybe that dress is the only thing of value she owns~” “Slum-born vermin are all the same. Just because you attend the same school as us doesn’t mean you’re one of us.”
Several children stood behind her with mocking grins, pointing and making jeering noises. The girl didn’t respond. She simply stared with reddened eyes, quietly stroking the dress now ruined by the murky water.
“This was… a gift from my Godfather…” she murmured through her tears.
“Hey, Alice, aren’t you always first in every exam? Didn’t the teachers praise you?” A pudgy boy in suspenders spoke up loudly. “First in swordsmanship, wanting to be a Paladin… A slum idiot like you thinks she’s worthy of competing with us?”
He pointed to his companions, bragging proudly, “My father is the Consul of Abundance City. His grandfather is the President of the Chamber of Commerce. Her mother is the Chief Magistrate. Alice, who are your birth parents?”
Hands on his hips, the boy acted like a cold-hearted judge, his voice dripping with a worldliness that didn’t fit his age. “I heard my mom say that many mothers of stray kids in the slums are… ‘selling it.’ Do you guys know what ‘selling it’ means?”
He turned back, scowling and twisting his mouth as he asked his friends. “No idea~” the children surrounding Alice replied in unison. “Hehe, my mom said it means letting random men touch your body whenever they want~”
As if showing off some profound knowledge, the boy laughed delightedly, and like a virus, the mockery spread through the group.
Facing their heartless ridicule, Alice remained silent. Her expression didn’t even flicker. Consul, President, Chief Magistrate… These titles, though she didn’t fully grasp their weight, felt like heavy boulders crushing her heart.
She didn’t want to cause trouble for her Godfather. She was lucky enough just to attend this luxurious, expensive school. So, she endured the cold stares and the filth spewing from their mouths.
Seeing Alice’s lack of reaction, the boy frowned. Then, struck by a “brilliant” idea, he grinned wickedly. “Come to think of it, why would that Paladin gentleman adopt an unknown stray like you? Could it be… that Green guy has some weird fetish?”
Boom—
That sentence snapped Alice’s sanity. In an instant, status, trouble, and restraint lost all meaning.
“Do not… do not insult my Godfather!” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was terrifyingly suppressed.
“Haha! The wild brat is angry! Did I hit the nail on the head?” “How disgusting! Aren’t Paladins supposed to follow the Way of the Light? Should we report that pervert Mr. Green?”
Bang!
The moment the words left their mouths, Alice moved. She was fast—so fast their eyes couldn’t track her. In a heartbeat, she had her hands locked around the boy’s throat.
“Ah… guck… ack…” The boy’s eyes bulged. He never expected Alice, the girl who usually let them bully her without a word, to actually strike. More importantly, he didn’t realize she was… this strong.
“Let go of the young master!” “Alice, are you crazy? He’s the Consul’s son!” “Go get the teacher!”
The onlookers rushed forward to pull her off.
Thud, thud, thud!
With a few precise strikes, Alice knocked the other children down before they could even react. “I’ll kill you… I’ll kill you…” Her eyes were hollow, her face contorted like a vengeful spirit from the abyss. “How dare you insult Godfather… you must die…”
Whoosh—
A gust of wind blew past. “What’s going on? What happened here?” “Alice, let go, now!” “Notify their parents!”
Just as the boy was about to take his last breath, several teachers who happened to be passing by rushed in to intervene.
“That is the gist of the situation.”
Inside the academy, a dignified old nun took a sip of tea, pointing at Alice expressionlessly. “She nearly killed the Consul’s son.”
Alice stood with her head bowed in silence.
“Mr. Green, I know you dote on this girl, but I’m afraid this time…” The old nun’s eyes flashed with a hint of disgust. She looked up at the bandaged, crying children and their furious parents standing behind them. “I hope you can take this girl home.”
The nun crossed herself. “Saint Martin’s Academy is a school of our Lord’s light and justice. We cannot tolerate such sin.”
“Godfather, I’m sorry,” Alice whispered, her voice trembling with guilt. “I’ve brought shame to you.”
“Tch, a wild child is a wild child. Slum-born trash will always reveal their true nature, even if they’re adopted into the Upper District.” The Consul rubbed a brilliant gem on his finger, looking at Alice with disdain before hugging his terrified son. “Mr. Green, I suggest you throw that brat back into the slums.”
Back to… the slums? Alice turned pale. She didn’t want to go back to that stinking, dark place without a warm bed or her father’s smile. She subconsciously gripped Green’s hand.
“Oh.” Green spoke.
Facing the Consul’s suggestion and the Headmistress’s accusations, he replied flatly: “I understand what you mean. However…”
“I do not agree.”
Green pulled Alice close and whispered in her ear, “Stand up and hold your head high, Alice. Do not look down.”
Don’t look down?
Alice instinctively looked up. For the first time in her life, she didn’t look up with reverence, but with a level gaze at these “great figures.” The Consul—with his aged, sagging skin—didn’t seem majestic at all. He wasn’t even one-tenth as noble as her gently smiling father.
“Mr. Green, please stop shielding her,” the nun sighed. “Saint Martin’s may accept many, but a slum-born girl who committed such a grave error—”
“Grave error?” Green interrupted her. “Are you mistaken? I don’t see any error on Alice’s part.”
He took Alice’s small hand and shielded her behind him. “The ones in error are you, Headmistress, the Consul, and the children of these ladies and gentlemen.”
“Mr. Green, that wild child almost killed my son!” the Consul roared.
“And?” Green countered. “I haven’t asked you yet, Lord Consul—I heard your son was gossiping about my character. Shall we check the Ecclesiastical Heresy Regulations to see the penalty for slandering an Inspector?”
“And Chief Magistrate, I heard there was a suspected conflict of interest in your last Maritime Guild case?” “Oh, and President, your import tax rates seem to have some… discrepancies according to our investigators…”
Green pulled out a small notebook and smoothly read the contents.
“Ah, and Madam Headmistress.” Green looked at the stiffened nun. “Saint Martin’s annual expenses are sponsored by the Temple of Light, correct? As a Paladin Commander, I have a decent relationship with Archbishop Lawrence. It seems this year’s approval…”
Gulp.
The fury in the room evaporated instantly.
“Ahem! Come to think of it, my son was also at fault.” “Yes, how dare he speak behind an Inspector’s back? I’ll educate him properly at home.”
The Headmistress’s glasses slipped off her nose. She stood up tremblingly, not to pick them up, but to serve Green tea. “Commander, this is fresh tea from a famous farm nearby. Would you like a taste?”
Green took the tea but handed it directly to Alice. “Here, have some to refresh yourself. We’re done here today. I’ll come back later to ‘discuss’ things with you all further. Goodbye.”
Without a backward glance, Green led Alice out of the academy.
“Alice,” he looked at the girl’s bruised arms, “why didn’t you tell me about school?” “I… I didn’t want to cause trouble. And didn’t you say the Way of Light is about tolerance and forgiving the sins of the wicked?”
“Ah, Alice, it seems I didn’t explain clearly.” Green patted her red ponytail. “What I meant was: forgiving sinners is the Lord’s job. Our job as Paladins is to send them to the Lord for judgment.”
So… that’s how it is? Alice’s eyes began to sparkle.
Whoosh—
A massive fire roared.
“Ah! You’re the Hero?” A man dressed in finery with a family crest spoke tremblingly. “I… I know I was wrong! Please, give me another chance!”
“Colluding with slave traders is unforgivable.”
Slash!
The figure known as the Hero sheathed her sword, staring coldly at the rolling head. “Besides, my job is simply to send you to the Lord for judgment.”
Pulling up her hood to hide her face, the Hero walked toward a snow-white steed.
“Lady Hero,” a girl in plate armor asked, “we’ve rescued the victims kidnapped by the Viscount. Should we notify the Inquisition?”
“Yes, handle that. I’m going to Raven Town first.”
“Raven Town?” the knight asked, puzzled. “Why hold the Hero’s Party selection there?”
The Hero didn’t answer. She nudged her horse forward.
The Elven Saintess’s prophecy says Godfather is likely there. The Hero gently stroked her horse. “Snow-wind, maybe we’ll see him soon. This time, let me be the one to protect you.”