Chapter 17
The divine temple in the capital of the Eagle Kingdom had a rich history, dating back nearly a thousand years. Perhaps due to the absence of a Saint for several generations, despite constant maintenance and offerings of fruits and flowers, it had always carried an air of neglect.
Recently, with the royal palace’s decision to have the Saint perform the ritual, the temple was inspected thoroughly, both inside and out, to ensure that everything, including the divine statues, was in perfect order.
Inspired by this news, the craftsmen worked with joyful smiles on their faces. Perhaps this contagious joy had breathed new life into the temple itself.
Servants knelt silently outside, waiting and praying for the Saint. Despite the winter cold, they remained motionless without complaint.
It was truly wonderful—
The excitement in the servants’ eyes was unmistakable. The Eagle Kingdom finally had a legendary Saint… It must have been the countless sins of Mios that led the Saint to their side.
And these servants, considered lowly servants in the eyes of the nobility, were fortunate enough to accompany her in performing the divine rites. This was the highest of honors, a glory that would be passed down through generations!
Each person held different thoughts in their hearts, and no one knew the extent of the Saint’s communication with the divine.
Inside the temple, sunlight was completely blocked out, leaving only the flickering candlelight to illuminate the beautiful sheen on the wooden statue of the God. Not long ago, the craftsmen had polished it with oil, and now it looked its finest.
God had created humanity and bestowed upon them different bodies, male and female, Alpha, Beta and Omega. Their own image, however, bore no sexual characteristics, existing in a subtle state between the four.
Kneeling on the wooden floor with her sleeves gathered and head bowed was the Saint, Miki.
The statue towered, three or four times the height of an ordinary person. The Saint appeared incredibly small before it.
God was naturally proud, communicating with the mortal world only through the Saint. But even the Saint couldn’t directly hear God’s words; she could only communicate through God’s will.
For example, at this moment, it wasn’t that Miki didn’t want to rise, but that she couldn’t.
Every inch of her body was in agony. In fact, the word “pain” was too mild a description—it was more like having her bones slowly pulled out and her tendons snapped, as if being boiled alive in searing oil.
This was the taste of divine punishment.
Sweat dripped from Miki’s delicate face, soaking the collar of her white ceremonial robe.
She knew exactly why God was angry. On the eve of the sacred ritual, she, the Saint, had dared to spend three consecutive nights in the bed of an Alpha in heat.
Every inch of her skin carried Wakako’s scent. It might fool others, but it could never fool God. This was undoubtedly an affront to God’s authority.
—Have you realized your mistake?
Miki was in such pain that she was nearly unconscious, yet her expression remained composed and respectful, an instinct ingrained in the noblewoman of her upbringing.
“I understand my mistake,” she whispered softly, her lips barely moving, though a defiant light still flickered in her eyes.
—A rotten piece of wood that cannot be carved! A Saint, consorting with a lowly slave…
“How could she be a lowly slave?” Miki smiled weakly, her face pale. “I am the Saint chosen by God, and Wakako is the servant I chose. To call her a divine servant wouldn’t be too much, would it?”
—…
God didn’t acknowledge her twisted logic, only intensifying the punishment.
Drops of blood trickled from the corners of Miki’s lips, falling onto the hem of her white dress, blooming into small, flower-shaped stains.
If this continued, she would likely die. Nonchalantly, she murmured, “In light of my service in leading the Eagle Kingdom to war, I implore you to grant me forgiveness.”
God couldn’t kill her. There was only one Saint per generation, and their lifespans were inherently short. Whenever one perished, a century would pass before another emerged. This rule, once established, was unbreakable, even for God.
The pain finally began to subside.
Divine will was always unfathomable.
If God was heartless, why would God create humanity, grant them life, and allow them to thrive and flourish through generations?
But if God was compassionate, why would God take pleasure in war, watching humans slaughter each other and rivers run red with blood?
Perhaps, in God’s eyes, this was merely a game of chess. The pieces were unimportant; what mattered was the strategic interplay that brought God amusement.
Miki clearly sensed its confusion.
—Why?
Gpd still couldn’t comprehend why a Saint of such esteemed status would willingly lower herself, entangling with a servant and engaging in forbidden acts.
Miki gently touched her chest, propping herself up, her eyes as clear as a spring in the forest. “Wakako was born for me, wasn’t she?” she asked, her voice like that of an innocent maiden.
“A healthy body, inexhaustible strength, an obedient nature…”
Miki smiled, a blush of happiness returning to her cheeks as she spoke these absurd words with an air of certainty.
“How could it be such a coincidence that someone perfectly fills all my voids? You must have created her just for me. So what if I do as I please with her? I saved her life. I gave her a name. She recognizes no one but me as her master. She belongs to me.”
—Is she only yours?
God asked slowly, striking at the heart of the matter.
Wakako was no longer a lowly servant guard; she was a decorated mercenary, with comrades by her side and a fiancée bestowed upon her by the Queen herself.
Compared to the Saint, who held more weight in Wakako’s heart?
God was suddenly intrigued by this question, eager to see what choice Wakako would make.
It was a little game to pass the time, a diversion from God’s boredom.
The smile on Miki’s face vanished instantly, as if the previous shyness and vulnerability had been a mere illusion.
She wanted to look directly into the eyes of the statue and declare, You will surely lose, but she lacked the confidence. The Saint, who always proclaimed herself as Wakako’s sole master, also harbored fears deep within her heart.
She feared that, to Wakako, she might not be so special after all.
***
At dusk, the Saint’s carriage paraded through the long streets.
It was the grandest scene in years, even more so than when the ruler himself had once married his queen.
The entire capital gathered—people of all ages, from a hundred-year-old elder to a two-year-old child—to witness this breathtaking spectacle.
Servants clad in maroon robes tossed white petals moistened with holy water into the air. The petals swirled and danced chaotically like fluttering white birds, and the crowd eagerly scrambled to snatch them.
The guards struggled to maintain order, unable to calm the surging crowd. But soon, a miraculous silence fell upon them.
The wind gently lifted the curtain of the carriage, revealing the Saint’s figure.
Her skin was as white as snow, without a trace of makeup, as pure as jade and as steadfast as a pine tree, radiating an aura of sacred inviolability.
This was how the world saw the Saint.
Wakako stood at the very back of the crowd, far from the carriage. Thanks to her excellent eyesight, she didn’t miss this fleeting glimpse.
She suddenly felt a sense of unreality. Could this immaculate Saint truly be the same person as the alluring and enchanting Miki, who exuded the fragrance of cherries in the night?
Or was one of them a facade?
By the time she snapped back to reality, Wakako had already caught a white petal, a symbol of good fortune, in her palm. With her skills, she had no trouble securing one.
The entire city had gathered here, the air thick with a mixture of scents. Yet, the faint jasmine fragrance of the petal cut through it all.
In truth, it was no different from any ordinary petal. But having the chance to witness the ceremony and catch it herself gave it special significance.
Wakako carefully tucked the petal away, then left the crowd without lingering. She mounted her prepared horse and galloped towards Port Hert.
By the time she reached the port, it would be nearly time to board.
Wakako was now in disguise, appearing as an ordinary Alpha who would blend into any crowd without a second glance.
The port guard examined her ship’s pass, then smiled slightly. “Just came from the ceremony?” he sighed. “Lucky you, we’re stuck here on duty.”
Wakako didn’t understand how he knew she had come from the streets where the ceremony took place. She worried that her disguise had failed.
Just as she was about to raise her guard, her gaze fell upon the item the guard handed back to her. Her eyes widened in surprise, her tension melting away.
Inside the pass was a white petal, pressed flat by a small paper roll, was a white petal. It had clearly been placed there intentionally.
It wasn’t the same petal she had caught herself.
It appeared before her eyes so suddenly, without warning or expectation, that she almost thought she was seeing things.
It reminded her of the times at the Saionji estate, when she was ineligible to attend the ritual and could only anxiously await the Saint’s return.
Her young master would meticulously select the largest and most beautiful petal from the bunch, bringing it home and secretly placing it under Wakako’s pillow, allowing her to fall asleep surrounded by its fragrance.
“I want to give you the rarest of good fortune, one in ten thousand.”
And now, it was the same.
