Episode 87

‘…Is she trying to say that I didn’t win on merit, but just because I managed to sell something for a high price?’

If she was hoping to provoke me, it was a shameful failure.

After all, her father, the Marquis, had already scratched at that itch plenty, so it didn’t bother me much.

‘For the wealthy, high prices are everything, you idiot.’

As someone steeped in the ways of capitalism, I knew consumer psychology well, and Diana’s words just seemed amusing.

“Yes, that’s right,” I replied cheerfully, nodding with a smile. She seemed a little crestfallen at that.

“If I had only earned ten more talents, that would’ve been mine…”

‘Not really.’

I gave her a wordless smile in response to her mumbling.

Though it was true that the original plot had influenced my pricing strategy.

If she’d earned 20 talents, I would have undoubtedly found a way to steal 200 through Ismail. If she’d earned 30 talents, I would’ve raised it to 300, and if 40 talents, then 400.

Even without Ismail’s help, I would have found some other way to secure victory. This year’s selection as the Saintess was that important to me.

“…Will you try something other than healing next year?”

Diana, who’d been watching me with a slightly awkward expression, suddenly asked.

“Hmm, I haven’t thought about it yet…”

Of course, I had no intention of participating next year.

But I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of hearing that.

Instead, I decided to get under her skin a bit in return for what she’d said to me.

“To be honest, I’m a bit scared that your marquis daddy will try something funny again, so I might have to consider it.”

“That’s…!”

“….”

“…I’m sorry.”

Diana’s expression darkened instantly.

“I didn’t know the Marquis would act that way. He’s really such a good person… why did he do that…?”

“It’s fine, Diana!”

I shrugged my shoulders and added, “And I’m sorry too.”

“Huh? Sorry… for what?”

“For not feeling the least bit sorry toward you.”

For taking your place and stealing the attention that should’ve been yours today.

For trapping the man who would one day become your foster father, and for making things difficult for you.

And because if you ever mess with me again, I won’t hesitate to retaliate twice as hard.

‘I’m sorry that I don’t feel the slightest bit sorry for any of that.’

As I held her gaze with all these meanings unsaid, her eyes wavered for a brief moment.

“What… what do you mean by that…?”

“Belze!”

Just then, someone interrupted us.

Looking up, I saw Grandpa Gordon struggling toward us, a large sack clutched to his chest.

“Grandpa!”

Startled, I dashed over to him.

“Oh, isn’t that too heavy for you?”

“Heavy? Bah! I’ve got so much strength to spare it’s a nuisance!”

Despite the sweat trickling down his face, he replied cheerfully.

‘Will Grandpa be okay? He’s really pushed himself today.’

I looked at him with concern.

“The priests said they’d help take it to the carriage…”

“And trust those temple scoundrels who’ve been leeching off us? Not a chance!”

“But still…”

“It’s fine. This young lad helped me out.”

Only then did I notice a small figure a step behind Grandpa, walking over.

“I-Ismail…?!”

“You know him?”

“Oh…”

Did I know him? Of course I did!

‘Did this kid use his manipulation skills on Grandpa too?’

Those clear, brown eyes stared right at me.

“Whew, this is heavy! Go ahead and finish saying your goodbyes! I’ll take this to the carriage!”

With that, Grandpa resumed his steps toward the carriage.

Now it was just me, Diana, and one of the male lead candidates left standing.

Realizing that only the two of them remained in front of me, my pupils trembled slightly.

‘What is this? Are they supposed to have some fated encounter now, or something?’

Feeling flustered, I looked between the two of them before turning around abruptly and running off.

“Sorry, Diana! See you later! You too, Ismail!”

I chose to make a run for it.

‘Yes! Don’t get caught up between them and end up triggering a death flag. From now on, my rule is to flee in these situations, no questions asked!’

According to this damned story, I’m the clueless villain who barges into encounters between the heroine and male leads, criticizing and hindering the heroine.

Which, admittedly, was something I did often enough in my past life.

‘Though, to be fair, it was usually only with Edwin.’

Regardless, avoiding dangerous situations is always the safest bet.

Tap-tap-tap!

With that thought, I hurried down the spacious temple corridor.

Tap-tap-tap-tap!

But then, I noticed another set of footsteps overlapping with mine…

Whoosh!

Suddenly, someone overtook me and blocked my path.

“Ahhh!”

Startled, I let out a reflexive scream as I stopped in my tracks.

It was none other than Ismail standing in front of me.

I glanced around quickly with wide eyes, confirming we were alone before I blurted out,

“What’s this about? Why are you following me?”

“What about you…!”

Ismail’s face contorted in frustration, and he snapped back, only to quickly clamp his mouth shut.

‘Oh, right. He’s pretending to be mute.’

Just like I had done earlier, Ismail glanced around cautiously, then—

Whack!

He grabbed my hand.

And without a word, he started pulling me toward a quiet corner.

“Oh, uh…”

Only after we reached the edge of the corridor did he finally release my hand, his face now clouded with irritation.

‘Why are you running away?’

I barely managed to read his lips, feeling a little guilty.

“Well, you see…”

I just thought you two could say your greetings, you know.

After fumbling for words, I ended up muttering in a small voice, “I was… just trying to head home quickly…”

Ismail gave me a peculiar look, as if I’d just said something ridiculous.

Then he let out a long sigh.

Whack!

Before I could react, he reached out and grabbed my hand again, the same one he had just let go of.

“Uh…?”

While I stared in confusion, he gently spread my fingers and began writing on my palm with a soft touch.

― At least say goodbye. Don’t you think it’s a bit rude?

“Hehe! I-it tickles!”

I burst out laughing and tried to pull my hand back.

But despite his wiry appearance, Ismail’s grip didn’t budge an inch.

As the ticklish sensation subsided, I awkwardly mumbled in response to his blank yet insistent gaze.

“Alright… Here’s my goodbye. Take care.”

“…”

Though I gave him what he wanted—

Why did Ismail’s eyebrows twitch in annoyance?

― So, was it worth it? Are you satisfied now?

He scribbled on my palm again.

― Just as I said, you became the Saintess.

As I suppressed the urge to pull my hand away from the tickling sensation and focused on his writing, I began to understand what he wanted to know.

‘Come to think of it, I did leave after just seeing the Marquis hand over the talents, without saying a word to him.’

Even if it was just repayment for the healing.

In any case, it was true that his help had been a major factor in my becoming the Saintess.

“Yes! Thank you, Ismail! You were amazing!”

― I didn’t get the chance to tell you, but I’m three years older than you, you know?

“So?”

― That means… call me Brother.

At that, I felt a bit of an odd sensation.

‘Aren’t most boys averse to being called Brother?’

I’d made a point of calling him by his name because Edwin, in particular, despised being called that…

But it seemed that wasn’t always the case.

Since, technically, I was younger than Ismail, I shrugged it off and nodded.

“Okay, got it. Thanks, Brother Ismail! You’re the best!”

Only then did the furrowed lines on his forehead begin to smooth out.

I could tell he was truly curious about the effects of his actions—

Whether his powers had worked as intended, if anything had gone wrong, if there were any unusual side effects.

Even though I was now officially recognized as the Saintess, I could understand why Ismail felt the need to confirm it directly with me.

It was a type of insecurity known only to those who’d been close to losing their powers while trapped in the Chamber of Repentance.

Although Ismail hadn’t lost his abilities, he must still crave constant reassurance.

And I, who had completely lost my powers once, had spent years repeating the same need for validation.

Unlike Ismail, however, I had no one to confirm it with.

There was no way to explain the sudden disappearance of my healing ability, no one to provide the answers I needed.

“…Alright, Brother.”

Maybe it was a misplaced sense of kinship, but I couldn’t help feeling a certain solidarity with him.

I felt a slight softening of the bitterness I held toward him from his previous life as the Pope.

And I finally voiced the thought that had been lingering in my mind throughout the Saintess selection process.

“Earlier, you asked me to save you.”

“…”

“I’ll try to find a way.”

At my words, Ismail’s eyes widened briefly. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, and then he quickly scribbled on my palm.

― What way?

I knew, of course, that Ismail would eventually find a way on his own.

‘…But if I help him, maybe he’ll find happiness a little faster.’

And maybe that would also pull me a bit further away from the looming death flags.

I placed my hand over his, the one holding my palm, and said softly,

“A way for you to escape… even just a little sooner…”

“Belze.”

At that moment—

A voice sliced through the stillness, startling me into looking up.

“What exactly… are you doing?”

There, watching us with a tense expression, was Edwin.