Chapter 109
Saburo stood amidst the flames.
He lowered his gaze to watch his white sleeves turn to ash inch by inch, the fire soon crawling up to his wrists, scorching his skin.
Why? He remained motionless, still unable to understand the reason.
Protected by a God, Saburo was currently immortal, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel pain. The burning sensation was unbearable, yet he didn’t flee.
Just moments ago, before Wakako jumped, he had repeated to her, “You once showed me kindness, and I promise I won’t harm you. I’ll even speak on your behalf to the God… Let go.”
Saburo thought his persuasion would work this time, but what he saw instead was Wakako’s bewildered eyes.
“When did I ever show you kindness?” she asked, confused.
Saburo opened his mouth.
Saburo opened his mouth, struggling to find words. “You don’t remember? Many years ago…”
He tried to recall, to give voice to the memory, but it stuck in his throat, the words refusing to come.
Miki loathed the Saionji clan, as did Saburo, though for different reasons. The Saint resented the family’s strict constraints and control, while he loathed the discrimiKingdom and humiliation he faced due to his illegitimate birth.
So five years ago, when the opportunity to betray his kingdom for power arose, he didn’t hesitate for even a moment. Even knowing the consequences would mean the death of the entire Saionji clan, he never wavered.
There was only one person he had ever felt gratitude toward.
He had remembered that kindness for years.
That’s why later, when the Saint was trapped, though he had the chance to strike at her old servant and cut off her last attachment, Saburo still did nothing.
He had even helped Wakako escape when she was deliberately captured in the Eagle Kingdom’s palace.
Saburo had told many lies in his life, but every word he said to Wakako was true.
He was prepared to speak well of her before God, and even if she still insisted on staying with Miki, he could have helped cover for them somewhat.
This was his way of repaying that past kindness.
Wasn’t this ideal Both she and Miki would get what they wanted, and he would become the most trusted servant of God.
So why did Wakako refuse?
Saburo stood still as leaping flames touched his face, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Suddenly, he remembered the past.
…
“Cousin? I dropped my pastry… Trade with me.”
At the Saionji clan banquet, Young Master Kiyoshi had looked at him with a smirk.
The gazes of all the young nobles present, whether ridicule or curious, focused on him alone.
He felt like he was sitting on pins and needles, desperate to escape. But he couldn’t. He was merely a cousin of the Saionji clan, born from an affair between a Saionji and a Kiyoshi noble. His illegitimate birth had subjected him to constant scorn. He had no right to defy these “legitimate” nobles.
He remained silent.
Even when Young Master Kiyoshi deliberately dropped the pastry on the ground, he couldn’t say anything.
But did he really have to eat something off the ground? How was that different from their pet dogs?
But… what choice did he have? If he refused, then what?
He began to yield, preparing to swallow his pride and reach for the broken, dirty pastry.
But someone stepped between him and his shame.
Looking up, all he could see was a tall figure in a brown robe. Without a word, she placed another plate of pastries in front of the Young Master Kiyoshi, cutting off his mockery.
He recognized her clothes.
She was the Saint’s servant. He had seen her around the estate, but they had never spoken. Yet, she stood up for him, shielding him from their ridicule.
Young Master Kiyoshi laughed in fury, taking out his whip to strike her. The girl endured at first, but then, as if possessed, she grabbed the whip and struck back.
How could a pampered noble be a match for her? Young Saburo understood for the first time what bloodshed meant as he watched the girl’s whip dance like willow branches, beating Young Master Kiyoshi until he stopped breathing.
He had been caught in the chaos, and only managed to avoid serious injury by feigning unconsciousness.
That girl… had killed Young Master Kiyoshi…
Would they execute her?
He thought anxiously, even preparing to kneel before the family head to beg for mercy. In all these years, this was the only time someone had stood up for him. He didn’t want the girl to die for it.
But he quickly realized how laughable his concerns were.
The Saint arrived and handled everything, smoothing things over with the furious Kiyoshi clan.
That day, she held the trembling girl and softly said, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here… everything will be fine.”
He felt both admiration and envy.
The Saint was his cousin, yet he had to bow to her. Though they were “family,” one received the world’s praise and could do whatever she wanted, while the other lived like a rat in the gutter, only able to watch from corners.
He had the blood of nobility, yet was seen as lower than a dog. And this servant, who had defended him, remained untouched solely because she was under the Saint’s protection.
The Saint’s servant held a higher status than he did.
From that day, he began to hunger for power and status. Heritage was irrelevant—only by standing high could he live freely.
It was also then that he started to fixate on his cousin, studying her every move. Whatever books she read, he would read too; when she played the koto, he would secretly listen from outside. He even made a makeshift koto with a few pieces of string to mimic her.
He noticed her bond with that servant grew ever more intimate, clearly more than what was typical between a master and servant.
At first, he had been jealous, but that jealousy later transformed into bitterness.
Due to his birth, even his own servants looked down on him, slacking off whenever possible. He had never known master and servant could be so close.
However, admiration eventually turned to jealousy.
They shared the same blood, so why was the Saint destined for a life of reverence, while he was the family’s shame? Why did she get everything she wanted, even a loyal servant like Wakako?
Why did no one treat him with such sincerity?
Nurturing seeds of resentment, he decided to betray her. The Saint was bound by an oath of chastity; he planned to report her secret affair to the temple.
But the day before he planned to do so, he experienced his presentation.
All the servants had taken the opportunity to slack off, leaving him alone as his body emitted the telltale scent of Omega.
Weak and vulnerable, he had no one to call for help.
Though illegitimate, he was still a noble… no one was supposed to witness his state except for a doctor…
He slowly collapsed by a small path in the estate, thinking he would die, when he heard a familiar voice: “Young Master Saburo?”
It was that girl again.
She threw a cloth over his head and pulled him by the collar, dragging him to a secluded corner before fetching a doctor. She kept his humiliation hidden from everyone.
Before he could even thank her, she was gone.
In his fevered, delirious days of recovery, gratitude tangled with resentment in his mind. After he had regained his strength, he had stood before the temple all night, ultimately choosing not to expose them.
He had thought he had no heart left to care for anyone, but her figure had reminded him that perhaps, just maybe, someone didn’t see him as a mere insect.
***
Later, during his days of watching the Saint, he accidentally discovered she seemed to be preparing some kind of escape from the Saionji clan.
In that moment, the impulse suppressed in his heart could no longer be contained.
If the Saint didn’t want to be Saint anymore, then could he take the position of divine servant? Could he become the one beloved by God?
So he knelt before the divine statue and swore to dedicate his life to serving God.
Even when he sensed God’s mocking gaze, he stood firm, unmoved.
It didn’t matter. He had endured worse. So long as he achieved his ambition in the end, that was all that mattered.
…
But now, Wakako had asked him, bewildered:
“When did I ever show you kindness?”
Each word echoed endlessly in his mind, lingering like the final notes of a song.
Had he heard wrong? Saburo felt somewhat dazed.
He knew that to Wakako, those gestures of kindness might have been nothing more than routine—a common sight in the estate, helping others was common for her.
The sole debt he had clung to for all these years, for which he was finally ready to repay, yet she had forgotten entirely?
He was now favored by God, and after all this time, he finally had the chance to repay this debt of kindness, yet she had completely forgotten?
A bitter smile crept onto Saburo’s face. For a fleeting moment, he questioned why he was even here.
The fire intensified.
The few men he had brought, though wounded by Wakako, had managed to survive. From the ground, they staggered to their feet, determined to drag him away, or they would all perish in the blaze.
Saburo allowed them to move him, showing no reaction.
He only thought, if another person had been humiliated that day—anyone, even a lowly servant—would Wakako have intervened just the same?
As the thought crossed his mind, he already knew the answer.
His breaths grew labored. It didn’t matter if Miki won. After all, her deal with God stipulated that she would no longer be a Saint.
Win or lose, he would get the position he desired… he would finally, inevitably, be remembered by the world.
