“Ugh…uhh, hic…”
In the VIP room of a grand cathedral, decorated tastefully and elegantly.
On a velvet-covered bed, a girl lay face down, crying.
“Why… why…? Why is everyone going this far…?”
Her eyes were swollen red from crying for so long.
She looked like a complete mess—so much so that anyone who saw her would’ve run to fetch a healer in panic.
But this was nothing.
She hadn’t eaten properly for days and had been sobbing in grief the entire time.
Swollen eyes were the least of her problems.
“Has everyone gone insane…?”
How did she—the Holy Maiden, the representative of the goddess—end up like this?
The reason was none other than the catastrophic failure of her continental tour.
“Why is everyone so desperate to kill each other!!”
Saint Joan Ayendénara had traveled across the continent, preaching peace and unity.
From the Kram Empire to the Hispania Empire, the Navre Kingdom, the Kingdom of Allein, and more.
Wherever her feet touched, she passionately called for an end to this madness-driven war.
She had never given a speech in her life, but she still did her best.
She poured out all the mental shock and sorrow she felt upon witnessing the suffering of the people.
However.
•“What the hell is she talking about?”
•“I came to hear the Saint speak, and she just wasted my time.”
•“Is she out of her mind? The pigs from Helvetia and Allein are coming at us with guns, and she’s talking about morals?”
•“I get that she’s a religious figure, but she should at least say something that makes sense.”
No one cared.
Worse, they mocked her, criticized her, and reacted with disgust.
Despite her heartfelt pleas, people didn’t empathize.
They just saw her as a naive brat who didn’t know how the world worked.
Of course, from a geopolitical perspective, their reaction wasn’t incomprehensible.
Tensions between nations had escalated so much that a war of annihilation was seriously being discussed.
To people steeped in nationalism, statism, absolute monarchy, and totalitarianism, values like peace and mercy held no appeal.
•“N-no one is responding positively. They’re just insulting me. What should I…”
•“P-please, Saint. You must retreat. It’s dangerous to remain here any longer.”
But that was the background context—it didn’t mean Joan, barely out of her teens, could fully understand or accept it.
From her perspective, she had only spoken what was morally and religiously right.
Yet she was bombarded with insults like “ignorant idiot” or “brainless wench.”
“…I want to give up.”
Failure is tolerable once or twice, but after getting cursed out in every single country she visited, Joan’s spirit was already in shreds.
No matter how hard she tried, nothing changed.
So what was the point in trying?
The kindness and hope she once held dear had long since vanished.
Only fatigue and despair now filled her heart.
“Should I leave the church?”
For the first time in her life, she even considered abandoning her religious order.
She felt that staying would do the world no good whatsoever.
Maybe she should pass the titles of Saint and Holy Sovereign to someone else and live a secluded life in the countryside somewhere.
[Hey, you. You’re listening, right? Can you talk now?]
It had been a long time since she last heard the goddess’s oracle.
And it happened just as Joan was seriously contemplating giving everything up.
‘…Goddess?’
[Yes, it’s me. I don’t think my last oracle was delivered properly, so I’m contacting you again.]
Was she referring to the command to find a professor named Leamis at the academy?
That order had been fulfilled.
Joan had even received direct instruction from him for a short time.
She learned some useful knowledge, but since it didn’t help in finding Ishmael, she assumed she had misinterpreted the oracle.
[You still haven’t caught that bastard Ishmael?]
“I’m sorry. There were just too few clues…”
[I already gave you the answer! I told you where he lives and what he’s doing—how could you miss him?!]
The goddess, clearly frustrated, scolded her for a moment before getting to the point.
[Listen carefully. Go back to the academy and secure the instructor named Leamis. He is—]
Unfortunately, the oracle failed to come through in its entirety once again.
Considering the lack of divine power and the time wasted getting angry, it was no surprise.
Still, this time Joan understood the goddess’s intent and objective clearly.
“Secure? You want me to capture that man and bring him here?”
What was she supposed to do with a perfectly normal man?
She had already confirmed that he was of no help in catching Ishmael.
Did he have some hidden information?
That question only lingered for a moment.
The sharp-minded saint quickly deduced the answer the goddess had been trying to convey.
“…No way. Could it be him?”
Why would someone personally designated by the goddess be useless in apprehending an international ideological criminal?
She came up with a logical explanation for that contradiction.
And it even seemed plausible, considering the kind of provocative things Leamis had said during his lectures.
“Knights! Someone call the paladins!”
The saint urgently rose to her feet and ran outside shouting.
If her suspicion was correct, there wasn’t a moment to lose.
It would take some time to travel from here to the academy in the Kingdom of Allein.
*****
“A visitation request? All of a sudden?”
“Yes. She came all the way to the academy gate, insisting on meeting you. What should we do?”
“…Let her in for now. I have some free time today, so I’ll see her.”
It was an unexpected visitor just as I was heading home after my afternoon lecture.
They said the saint from the southern region of the Navre Kingdom had come.
Curious, I accepted the visit.
Whatever it was, she must have something weighing on her mind.
Having once been her teacher, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to give her a bit of counsel.
“It’s been a while, Saint Joan.”
“…Yes. It has been a while.”
But something was off.
The look on her face as we met in the garden near the entrance didn’t seem like that of someone simply burdened with concerns.
Rather, she looked troubled, as though she had been emotionally shaken.
“Instructor, I have a few things I’d like to ask you. If it’s not a bother, would that be alright?”
“Please, go ahead and ask anything.”
The saint let out a deep sigh, then pulled a small notebook from her bosom, opened it, and checked its contents.
“I heard that you graduated from Henderland University in the Kingdom of Macao, located in the Far East. Is it true that you moved to the Kingdom of Allein after conducting personal research?”
“Yes.”
That was the cover story for his false identity as an instructor.
Not many people knew what countries existed on the other side of the continent anyway, so he had made it up.
“That’s odd. According to missionaries who traveled to the East, there is no such country. In fact, it seems that they don’t even have a university system over there.”
“That’s…”
He trailed off, not expecting her to dig this deep and press him so persistently.
The saint didn’t let up.
“I’m curious how you even got here, but I’ll let that slide. Whether you hitched a ride on a trading ship or crossed the Dae-Seolwon region of the Artium Empire, there are plenty of ways. Dangerous, yes, but not impossible.”
The saint stepped closer to him.
Her knights moved in as well, surrounding him.
“But your name and appearance are strange too. Your skin tone and features resemble people from that region, but your name follows our western naming conventions. It doesn’t match at all.”
“I-I changed my name after baptism. When you convert through the Church, they give you a baptismal name.”
“If that were true, you would have been given a typical name like Eustiana Marit or Patia! There is no saint named Leamis!”
He tried a clumsy excuse, but it was quickly exposed.
Baptismal names were usually taken from saints or scriptures, and since she was a saint of the Church, such a lie wouldn’t work.
Damn.
This unexpected situation had him stumbling over his words.
It wasn’t like nonsense like that would fool her.
“I verified all this on the way here. And after learning that much, I started to get curious.”
“……”
“What made you fabricate your credentials? Why did you change your name, and what was your real purpose for coming to the Academy? If all your personal information is this fabricated and full of lies—then who were you originally?”
She had racked her brain over the mystery—until she stumbled upon a clue.
She pointed at his faculty ID card.
Specifically, the name written there: Leamis.
“If you rearrange the letters in that name just a little, you can read it as this: Ishmael. The most infamous writer and criminal in the world.”
She closed her notebook.
Then, with reddened eyes filled with tears, she looked at him.
“It might be a coincidence… but honestly, with this much circumstantial evidence, I don’t think so.So please, just confess, Instructor.Are you… Ishmael?”
Her eyes were filled with certainty.
She had already figured everything out, regardless of his answer.
Seeing that, he gave up on resisting.
Yeah.
If she had gone this far to find out, the least he could do was give her the truth.
“Heh heh… hahahahah! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
He laughed.
Laughed like a madman.
Because he was impressed by the student who had cornered him so thoroughly.
Then, with a bright smile, he answered:
“Yes. I am Ishmael.”