Chapter 89: The Saintess Is Vulgar

The Saintess. The Goddess’s appointed representative on earth.

But in reality, she was nothing more than a fabricated symbol of faith, created by the Holy See.

Just like her twisted identity, her life was filled with hardship and suffering.

“From today onward, this will be your home.”

“Your only family from now on is the Goddess. Forget your worldly life—it is meaningless.”

“A name? You must abandon it. The Goddess’s representative should not have a personal identity.”

“You will read and memorize the scriptures four times a day. There will be weekly tests, and if you slack off, you will be punished.”

At the age of four or five, before she even had the chance to form her own sense of self, she was taken to the Holy See.

Torn away from her family, she was forced to live among adults, some decades older than her.

Her daily life consisted of near-abusive, relentless training.

She had no name.

No identity.

Only obedience, prayer, and faith.

“You want to play in the garden? Where did you learn such wicked thoughts?! Go back to your room immediately!”

“The Saintess exists to serve His Holiness. If you are to fulfill your duty, you must never neglect your studies, even for a moment.”

“Engrain faith and obedience deep into your mind. No matter the situation, you must submit and follow orders.”

This was not proper education—it was systematic abuse.

Even by medieval fantasy standards, let alone the 21st century.

A child raised without friends, forced to absorb only theology and doctrine—it was nothing short of unnatural.

Yet, the Saintess accepted everything without complaint.

She had no choice but to accept it.

A lifetime of suppression and control had left her incapable of even considering rebellion.

She had grown used to it.

Her mind had been shackled for so long that resistance no longer seemed possible.

And even when she did attempt to resist, nothing ever changed.

The environment around her was unyielding, merciless.

A few days of beatings and confinement were all it took to break her fragile will.

“From now on, you will tend to the sick directly. Always remember to smile when you do so.”

“His Holiness requires your blood. Offer your arm and hold still. It will be over soon, just endure it.”

“Such pure divine power… To think all our training—ahem, I mean, teachings—have borne fruit.”

By the time she reached adulthood, even her blood was harvested like that of livestock.

Enduring both physical and emotional suffering, the Saintess prayed desperately every single day.

“Please, save me. I can’t live like this anymore. If I am truly your chosen representative, then shouldn’t you help me?”

Desperate for salvation, she clung to the faith she had been taught her entire life.

She prayed to the Goddess she had believed in so fervently, hoping for an answer.

But no matter how desperately she pleaded, the response she longed for never came.

In the end, abandoned even by her god, the Saintess turned to find her own path to salvation.

And yet, was it fate’s cruel joke?

Because just at that moment, salvation found her instead.

And it came in the form of a soldier from the Kingdom.

“Um… Could you help me? You don’t seem to be from the Holy Kingdom.”

Her first meeting with him was, admittedly, a bit embarrassing—what with her lower half stuck in a wall and all.

But that didn’t change the fact that Carolus was, in every way, an ideal figure for her.

His appearance, his personality, his abilities—everything.

It was enough that he had saved her from the hellish Holy See, but to also be such a captivating person?

And on top of that, he even promised to help her get revenge.

How could she not fall for him?

Her gratitude, however, soon blossomed into something deeper.

All because of the events that followed.

“There are several ancient techniques passed down in the Holy Kingdom. One of them involves extracting divine power from the body of a god and implanting it into the Saintess.”

During the war, when the Holy Pope revealed the truth to her, she had nearly lost her mind.

But just before she could break, Carolus had held her in his arms.

He comforted her.

He told her he would help her.

That he would stay by her side and support her until the very end.

Not the false Goddess, who had abandoned her after bestowing divine power.

Not the Holy See, who had used her like a golden goose.

Carolus was the only one who had given her the comfort she had been denied all her life.

For the first time in her twenty-something years of pain, she had heard words of genuine encouragement and support.

And to a girl who had spent her whole life crying out in agony, those words were sweeter than anything she had ever known.

“Your Excellency… No, Carolus. My savior.”

Providence exists for those who cannot live without it.

And for a Saintess who had lost the god she once served, she needed something new to cling to.

And conveniently, the perfect pillar of faith was standing right in front of her.

“From now on, I will serve you.”

Her emotions changed in an instant.

From admiration to affection.

From affection to devotion.

From devotion to faith and worship.

The Saintess, reborn not as a follower of the Goddess but as a disciple of Carolus, vowed to serve and assist him in any way she could for the rest of her life.

Politics, governance, diplomacy—it didn’t matter.

Whatever she could do, she would do it to support him.

If it was for Carolus, she would gladly give up even her own life.

And if he desired it… even her chastity.

Well, that part was more of a personal wish.

“Adultery is a sin for a married man, but before marriage, it’s fine, isn’t it?”

She knew about Carolus’s relationship with Viscountess Arschach.

She was well aware that they were practically a married couple and that a formal wedding was being planned.

She had heard Carolus mention her name numerous times while they were together—how could she not know?

But she had no intention of interfering.

She didn’t want to break apart a loving relationship or become the cause of discord.

However… a brief moment of indulgence should be fine, right?

“He’s a man too. He should experience something different at least once.”

She was confident in her looks and body.

Where else could you find someone whose chest was bigger than their head?

Carolus was into large breasts, so he surely wouldn’t dislike it.

Like the heroines of the erotic novels she had discovered after coming to the kingdom, she wanted to experience something ecstatic as well.

She didn’t even expect much.

Being a fleeting lover, even just once, would be enough.

To ease the stress and pent-up desires accumulated during the war.

If she could take in his passion and bear his seed, that alone would satisfy her.

And if a child were to be born…

She’d simply claim it was a miraculous virgin birth.

After all, as the Saintess, her word carried divine authority—who would dare question it?

“Hehe.”

For someone who had never encountered the concept of lust until adulthood, her thoughts had become utterly depraved.

“This vulgar wench dares to challenge my position?”

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?), her ambitions had already been detected by her competition.

Meanwhile…

“For fuck’s sake. Why the hell is the Saintess—no, why is she here?”

Lately, Camilla von Arschach had been in an absolutely foul mood.

Everything was going well. Her relationship with her future husband was stable, and she was enjoying success in politics.

But there was one thing that troubled her.

Another woman.

“It was already hard enough dealing with all those other women, but this is just ridiculous!”

Because the man she loved was too competent, women swarmed around him like flies.

Some saw getting close to him as a way to completely change their lives—if not as a wife, then at least as a mistress or lover.

And the range of suitors was vast.

Merchant daughters, noblewomen from families that had survived the purges, distant members of the royal family—every single household that thought they had a chance was eagerly waiting for an opportunity.

Still, she had managed to handle it.

Using her position as both a noble family head and Carolus’s future wife, she had shut them all down one by one.

Since most of them were just after wealth and power, it had been easy to deal with.

Carolus himself wasn’t interested in them, which made things even simpler.

But this time was different.

Because now, her opponent was none other than the Saintess.

“If I take away her family background… do I have anything left where I’m superior?”

Status?

A mere viscountess could never compare to the Goddess’s chosen representative.

Appearance? Both of them were in the absolute top tier—so that was a tie.

Skills?

The Saintess was the foundation of the government’s legitimacy.

Her very existence provided religious and political stability.

And finally, breasts.

Camilla had always taken pride in her large chest… but her opponent was on another level entirely.

How the hell was she supposed to compete with those massive divine orbs?!

If she was being honest with herself, she could only claim an advantage in wealth and political connections.

As both a political partner and a woman, she was being completely outmatched.

“And worst of all… she’s just as serious about him as I am.”

Even from the perspective of a romantic rival, Camilla had to admit—the Saintess’s feelings were genuine.

That level of devotion?

That level of insanity?

It was impossible unless she was truly in love.

Because no sane woman would ever come up with the idea of having an affair before he was even married unless she was completely smitten.

“…In that case.”

After much deliberation, Camilla made a decision.

If she couldn’t win against her…

She might as well join her.

A Few Days Later

“Did you call for me, Viscountess?”

“I thought we could have some tea together, Saintess. There are some things I’d like to discuss with you personally.”

One day, after an ordinary parliamentary meeting, Camilla invited the Saintess to her mansion for tea.

The conversation remained pleasant as they exchanged casual talk.

Several cups of tea were emptied, and just as the atmosphere had relaxed…

Camilla cut straight to the point.

“Saintess.”

“Yes?”

“Do you love His Excellency?”

“Of course.”

No hesitation.

No moment of doubt.

Her response was immediate, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Camilla clicked her tongue internally.

And then, she made her proposal.

“Then let’s split him.”

Not literally, of course.

She meant sharing the title of official wife.

“I’ll take the position of First Wife, so instead of sneaking around with some illicit affair, just become the Second Wife.”