Nine Summers of Divine Punishment

“Who is that Omega girl?”

Was she still on this mountain?

These were the questions that plagued Miki’s mind, her rationality consumed by a mix of anger and frustration. She almost wanted to rush up the mountain immediately and see the girl’s face. Just how much more beautiful was she than Miki to make Wakako so infatuated?

Wakako knew she was in the wrong, so she chose to tolerate Miki’s attitude for now. She turned to Lin Lin, signaling for her to step aside.

Lin Lin wasn’t foolish. She immediately guessed who was on the mountain.

However, Wakako’s past with the Saionji clan was a secret, one that Miki, being from a different squad, was unaware of. Lin Lin, not wanting to expose the matter directly, awkwardly tried to walk away, only to be stopped by Miki.

“Lin Lin doesn’t need to leave,” she said. “Senior, I’m not trying to fight with her, and I certainly don’t want to break you two apart. I’m just too frustrated and want to know what kind of person could win you over.”

Those who could join the mercenaries were the best of their peers, each with exceptional talent. They were less tolerant of failure than ordinary people, even in matters of the heart.

Miki’s feelings were less about jealousy and more about the refusal to accept defeat.

Wakako suppressed her impatience and said patiently, “I have important matters to report to the Crown Princess. We shouldn’t linger here. I promise to explain everything to you when we return, alright?”

If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t matter, but she knew deep down that she absolutely couldn’t let them meet. Miki wouldn’t be a problem, but the Saint could never see Miki, whose name had the same pronunciation as Wakako’s “fiancée.”

Otherwise, she couldn’t even begin to imagine what might happen.

Miki raised her voice. “Senior…”

She looked disappointed. “You’ve always been my role model, but now you’re neglecting your duties as a mercenary for the sake of that person. Whether it’s as your fiancée or as a fellow mercenary, I must see her today.”

Lin Lin tried to mediate. “Senior Miki, there must be some misunderstanding. We should still…”

Miki suddenly shifted her gaze, her mercenary instincts alerting her to something. “Do you know who that person is, Lin Lin?”

Was she the only one left in the dark?

…

“Lord Saburo, shall we depart now?”

The servant outside the carriage asked respectfully. The person inside didn’t even lift the curtain, only tapping the window frame with a finger and arrogantly saying “No.”

The servant didn’t ask any further questions.

Inside the carriage, the elegant Omega man withdrew his finger. Despite the long wait, there wasn’t a trace of impatience in his expression. He asked softly, “Aren’t we leaving yet?”

The Saint didn’t even look at him, sitting silently with the grace befitting a noblewoman.

They were cousins who shared a slight resemblance in appearance. However, the Saint had delicate features, like someone who had stepped out of a painting, untouched by worldly concerns. Saburo was also handsome, but he always looked at people with a sideways glance, his eyes filled with a calculating eyes, unlike a proper scion of a prestigious family.

No one could overpower the Saint when it came to Omega pheromones. The sweet yet sharp scent of cherries emanated from her, causing Saburo to break out in a cold sweat.

But he didn’t show it on his face. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch your little servant…”

“As if you could even if you wanted to,” the Saint’s smile turned cold.

Saburo spoke unhurriedly, “I can’t do anything to Wakako, but They can.”

Based on his previous status in the Saionji clan, he wasn’t even worthy of lifting the Saint’s skirt. But now, with a powerful backer, he naturally felt emboldened.

“And I have you to thank for that. I owe my current position entirely to you.” Saburo chuckled. “If you hadn’t insisted on running away with your servant that day, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to pledge my loyalty to Them.”

The Saint glanced at him emotionlessly, her gaze as cold as if she were looking at a dead man.

Five years ago, she had miscalculated, pouring all her efforts into carefully crafted plans, almost succeeding in deceiving God.

But Saburo had ruined it all.

The Saint would never forget how this bastard, who had appeared out of nowhere, knelt before the statue of God and prayed.

And then she had been plunged into a divine punishment of agonizing pain and blood.

Saburo’s voice had echoed through her suffering:

“I will never be as foolish as the Saint, betraying Your Grace. I am willing to be God’s eyes in the human world in her place. I beseech You to grant me even a sliver of Your mercy…”

His flattery and hypocrisy were nauseating.

Previously, the Saint hadn’t even considered this illegitimate, impure-blooded cousin. She didn’t know when he had set his sights on her, or rather, on Wakako.

The Saint’s acute perception and prophetic abilities had been entirely focused on deceiving God’s watchful eyes, causing her to completely overlook the insignificant ants beneath her feet.

That was the first time, at eighteen, that Miki truly understood the meaning of “pride comes before a fall.”

“And so?” she asked now, lowering her gaze with a slight smile. “You groveled and offered your loyalty. What did God give you in return?”

The Saint’s expression remained unchanged, still the image of a gentle and refined lady, but her words were as sharp as ice shards.

“If you want to be the Saint so badly, go castrate yourself and offer it to God as a token of your sincerity.”

A wave of anger spread across Saburo’s face, his fists clenching, his complexion turning ashen.

The Saint’s words had struck at his deepest insecurities. Whether it was in the Saionji clan or before God, he had always been overlooked.

In the Saionji clan, his birth was a symbol of his parents’ infidelity, bringing shame upon the entire family. Before God, the favored ones were always female Omegas. The very term “Saint” excluded all others.

If there were a way to eliminate these obstacles, Saburo would spare no expense. Unfortunately, they were insurmountable barriers that he could never overcome. No matter how hard he tried, he could never reach that level.

For a moment, his face twisted in rage, but he quickly regained his composure, lifting his eyes with a sinister gaze. “It seems the Saint’s divine punishment hasn’t been severe enough. You still have the time to concern yourself with me.”

“Caring for commoners is part of the Saint’s duties.”

The Saionji clan had once been nobility, but Saburo had personally brought them to ruin. After arriving in the Eagle Kingdom, his status was indeed nothing more than a commoner.

Her words cut deep.

Saburo took a deep breath and barked an order to the servants outside, “Move out!”

The servants outside obeyed, securing the carriage and slowly guiding it along the winding mountain path.

Miki closed her eyes, letting go of everything else, allowing her thoughts to drift back to the recent dusk.

The clumsy Wakako rarely cried, and even when she did, it wasn’t because of pain. She would simply let the tears well up in her eyes, staring at her master, and ask, “Can I really never see you again?”

It really might be impossible, Miki thought.

A proper master should be strong, capable of providing protection, but she was far from that. She was barely holding on after shielding Wakako from all the divine punishments. How could she manage anything more?

She had made a vow to Wakako, and if things continued this way, that vow would eventually be broken. God, and even Saburo, wouldn’t spare Wakako.

It had taken Miki a long time to reach this decision, and each word she uttered felt like stepping on a blade, cutting her feet until they bled.

Go and be a mercenary, live a life without a master, and meet… the fiancée the Queen has bestowed upon you. Even the deepest marks will eventually fade. When that day comes, it might be better to forget everything that happened before.

When that day comes, it might be better to forget everything that happened before.

If her seventeen-year-old self had heard these words, she would have sneered and dismissed them. But now, at twenty-two, with only a few years of life left, she had gradually lost her willingness to take risks as time slipped away.

Because if she were gone, it would be Wakako who would bear the consequences—Wakako, her only weakness. She couldn’t afford to lose.

Miki dug her fingernails into her palm, nearly drawing blood. For all her pride, she had never felt so desolate and defeated as she did in this moment. To be driven to such a corner made her feel unworthy of the title of Saint.

God had given her life, bestowed upon her a position of supreme authority, yet He also tormented her to this extent. How laughable, how absurd.

The night wind gradually blew into the carriage, and soon, Saburo’s voice cut through the silence. “Have you heard? Your little servant has a fiancée.”

He wore a malicious smile.

“They reunited at the foot of the mountain after being apart for so long, and were quite affectionate. Don’t you want to see them?”

Along with divine protection, God had granted Saburo a negligible gift of perception, allowing him to occasionally sense the presence of others.

Back in the Saionji clan, the Saint had guarded Wakako as closely as a prized possession, allowing no one to touch her. What would happen if she saw Wakako entwined in a loving embrace with her fiancée? Would the Saint’s porcelain doll-like facade shatter on the spot?

Saburo could hardly wait to witness such a scene.

With a cruel spark in his eyes, he lifted the curtain for the Saint without waiting for her response.

Below the mountain, three figures stood. Beside Wakako was a young girl, her junior, Lin Lin, while the person across from them…

“Senior!” The voice was clear, sounding like an Omega girl throwing a tantrum at her beloved—impatient, yet flirty. “What are you hiding from me?”

Their voices mingled, making it difficult to discern. Soon, Lin Lin said anxiously, “Sister Miki…”

Miki?

The Saint’s eyes widened in disbelief. Had she misheard?

But then she heard Wakako say, “Miki, we’ll discuss this matter further when we return. You’ll understand when I report everything to the Crown Princess…”

Why were they all calling that person “Miki”?

Saburo watched her as her expression shifted from confusion to realization, finally seeing the torment he had longed for reflected in her eyes. His chest swelled with satisfaction, finally releasing the malice that had been festering within him. Leaning close to her ear, he explained with cruel precision, “Wakako’s fiancée is named Miki, written with the characters for ‘future’ and ‘chronicle,’ which happen to have the same pronunciation as your name.”

Miki, the Saint’s name, sounded the same as Miki, the fiancée’s name, in both countries’ official languages.

Trembling. The Saint felt a tremor that started from her fingertips and spread throughout her body. She thought she had prepared herself for never seeing Wakako again, but only now, witnessing this scene with her own eyes, did she realize how foolish she had been.

The carefully maintained facade of the calm and gentle Saint, with her soft heart and delicate bones, was beginning to crack, piece by piece.

Miki?

What right did that Omega have? She wasn’t even worthy of kneeling before her, let alone sharing the same name.

What had transpired between them? Had they played together on the ice? How many times had Wakako looked at her? Was the walking stick truly carved for her?

The countless times Wakako had called out her name in bed during moments of passion—Miki had always thought it was her name she was calling. But now, who was she really calling out to? Her master or her fiancée?

When Wakako looked at her fiancée, did she ever think of her master? Did she see Miki as a substitute for her master?

Or was she the one who was the substitute?

How dare she?

Tears welled up in the corners of the Saint’s eyes, turning a delicate shade of red. Her gaze remained fixed, unblinking, as if frozen. After a long silence, she finally said a single word, “Fake.”

A cheap imitation, far inferior to her, yet she could stand beside Wakako without shame, while she could only hide inside a carriage on the mountain, watching helplessly.

At that moment, Miki knew she had made a mistake.

She had resolved to let Wakako go, to swallow her pride and sacrifice herself, to bargain with God for mercy for both of them… But now she realized it was impossible. As long as she lived, she would never allow this to happen.

It was as if she saw her seventeen-year-old self standing before her, smiling.

“Go,” the seventeen-year-old Saint said with a bright smile. ” You’ve always known, haven’t you? You are the Saint, and the Saint will never be weak or submissive. That has never changed.”

“Lost for words?”

Saburo’s mocking voice echoed in her ears once more.

He was about to taunt her further when the dagger hanging from his waist was suddenly snatched away. The delicate and frail Saint, without a moment’s hesitation, plunged the blade deep into his abdomen with all her might!

“Ugh—”

Saburo couldn’t even scream, collapsing inside the carriage in disbelief.

The Saint had taught Wakako how to read, paint… many things. But in one aspect, Wakako had been Miki’s teacher—how to kill.

Lack of strength didn’t matter. As long as you held a weapon and stabbed with all your might, it would pierce through. Whose flesh could be harder than a blade?

Although Saburo had divine protection, it wouldn’t kill him, but the pain from the wound would be enough for him to suffer.

Blood splattered across Miki’s face, staining her once pure features with a haunting, almost seductive redness, just like the crimson moon that had silently risen.

Sacrifices to God required blood and sacrifices to the Saint naturally required blood as well, the more the better. Her pale hair, weakened by blood loss, was revitalized, returning to its deep black color in an instant.

The scent of cherries, her pheromones, spread rapidly through the air, carried by Saburo’s blood. With an innate dominance, it covered the entire mountain. In an instant, all the animals that had benefited from her favor emerged from their hiding places, surrounding those at the base of the mountain.

The Saint lifted the curtain. The servants outside were paralyzed by her pheromones, collapsing to the ground. Only one remained conscious. She emotionlessly smeared the blood from her fingertip onto his forehead and commanded coldly, “Go down the mountain and bind those three for me.”

She had changed her mind.

She was the Saint, born to stand tall with pride, to never bow to anyone, not even God.

Wakako was not allowed to leave. Once a servant, always a servant. If they were to die, they would die together.