Chapter 110
When Hua Yumu returned, the restaurant had already been reduced to ashes. The building had collapsed in the inferno, though fortunately, none of the nearby residents were harmed. The restaurant owners fell to their knees in shock, breaking into tears as the reality of losing everything sank in. The city guards could only offer sympathetic pats on their shoulders – beyond extinguishing the fire, there was nothing more they could do.
Muna squeezed through the crowd and, unnoticed, slipped a few gold pieces into the owners’ pouches. Though they weren’t responsible for the fire, the incident had occurred because of them…
“What took you so long?” Lin Lin frowned, finding it unusual for her captain to delay. “Did something happen? And where are the leaves?”
Hua Yumu sighed softly. “The leaves… it’s gone.”
“What happened?”
“It was Captain Jing…” Hua shook his head heavily. “From the very beginning, someone had been impersonating him.”
“What?!”
“It’s my fault. I should have realized it sooner,” Hua continued. “Siruo may have been a bit unpredictable, but she was never careless. Her sudden punishment was suspicious. It seems one of them could disguise themselves nearly as well as she could, avoiding detection by isolating her. We weren’t very familiar with Captain Jing, so we didn’t notice the switch. He was replaced back in the capital.”
“Then…”
“The leaves in the warehouse had already been secretly switched out by the fake ‘Captain Jing.'”
Wakako added, “Even so…” She pointed to the ruins of the restaurant. “Those leaves were in the pouches, and I watched them burn with the building.”
“Tonight marks the third day of our trial…”
Now that the leaves capable of inducing hallucinations had been completely destroyed, how should the winner be determined? Or was it a draw?
She didn’t know, and in truth, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
The group stayed in Jinxin Port for ten more days afterward, but received no word from God. Saburo and his team vanished without a trace, as if they’d been erased from existence. Despite exhaustive searches across every harbor and secluded dock, no clues surfaced.
During this time, the Saint locked herself away, refusing to see anyone, not even Muna, leaving her companions deeply troubled.
Wakako was particularly confused. She hadn’t expected Miki to react this way, especially since they had just recently confessed their feelings to each other…
“Why don’t you go see her?” Lin Lin suggested delicatel.
Even when Wakako knocked alone, Miki responded only with silence. No matter what she asked, Miki did not reply.
That night, Wakako stood outside her door for hours, only to hear Miki’s weary whisper: “Please go away.”
Only after hearing the footsteps retreat did Miki’s heart settle. She burrowed deeper into her bedroll, wrapping herself tightly, shutting out every inch of space until her breaths grew muffled and heavy.
The echoes of the previous night still lingered in her ears.
A small wooden statue of the God sat on the table, its presence, even outside the temple, as potent as the God itself, its gaze fixed on her with an unreadable expression.
— You have won.
Miki looked into those eyes, seemingly benevolent, yet also filled with pity.
— As you said, she trusts you completely, reveres you, loves you, and is willing to give up everything for you.
— Since this is what you desire… I grant your wish.
— Miki, you are no longer the Saint.
Twenty-two years. She had waited her entire life for this. The outcome she had yearned for was finally within reach. She thought she would be happy, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile.
Why?
“Bang.” The window slammed open from the outside.
Miki shot upright, startled, watching as someone climbed through the window, having used too much force and broken the entire frame.
Black hair, now shorter, was dusted with splinters; she looked slightly disheveled, but Wakako paid it no mind, standing in the window and blocking the night breeze from creeping in.
Though the Saint health was fragile, this was a summer evening. Even a bit of cool wind wouldn’t harm her.
Yet Wakako stood there as always, as if shielding Miki had become an unconscious habit ingrained in her very being.
She looked at Miki and asked earnestly, “Are you hiding from something?”
Miki lowered her head, carefully tucking stray hair behind her ears as her other hand gripped the covers until her knuckles turned white.
Finally, she whispered, “No…”
“Yes, you are,” Wakako remained rooted to the spot, her certainty unwavering. “I can feel it.”
Her gaze fixed on Miki’s slightly messy hair. The Saint had always been meticulous about her appearance, checking repeatedly for even the slightest imperfection. She would never allow her hair to remain unkempt.
Unless something had troubled her so deeply that she forgot even these basic habits.
When Miki didn’t answer, Wakako took the brush from the dressing table, wiped it with a handkerchief, and gently began to comb Miki’s hair, restoring its usual smoothness.
But the once dark locks were now as white as snow.
Wakako moved slowly and carefully, remembering to apply a few drops of hair oil to the ends, filling the room with a delicate fragrance.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, fingers combing through Miki’s hair. She spoke as if sharing secrets between newlyweds, her tone intimate. “Did we lose the trial?”
After a long pause, Miki said, “No.”
“Then why so troubled? Has the third trial already arrived?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
Miki remained silent, and Wakako didn’t press her.
She simply picked up a clean handkerchief and began wiping the back of Miki’s neck, ensuring no hair oil had touched her skin. Miki disliked that feeling.
When Wakako moved to slightly pull back Miki’s collar to wipe further down, Miki suddenly turned away, creating distance between them.
Further down… was the Omega’s scent gland.
Wakako knew Miki didn’t like her touching there, even back at the Saionji estate. Though she often helped bathe Miki, that area was strictly off-limits.
She didn’t fully understand what an Omega felt when touched there, but perhaps… it was uncomfortable.
As always, Wakako obediently withdrew her hand. But when she saw Miki’s face, she realized tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“Don’t cry.” She felt a surge of panic, uncertain and unsteady. “Did I hurt you?”
She wiped away Miki’s tears with the cloth, but the red-tinted traces remained.
Wakako didn’t know what to do. She didn’t understand these things… Maybe she should call Muna?
But as she started to stand, Miki grabbed her wrist. Her voice was hoarse, likely from her throat not being fully recovered: “Don’t go.”
A quiet moment passed before Miki spoke again, “The deity granted it.”
The statement was cryptic, and it took Wakako several seconds to process its meaning. Just as the joy started to bloom on her face, she saw Miki’s tears flowing like a spring.
“Don’t cry…” She grew more panicked. “What’s wrong?”
Miki’s expression remained blank, but the tears continued to fall like broken beads.
Wakako was hesitant to even use the handkerchief again, fearing it would hurt Miki’s skin. She could only helplessly place her hands against Miki’s face, trying to comfort her in this clumsy way.
After a long while, she finally heard Miki’s voice.
“I don’t have to be the Saint anymore.”
Wakako nodded gently. “Yes.”
She knew this was what Miki had always wanted.
“But…” Miki’s voice faltered, the words lodged in her throat. “I…”
For over twenty years, she had longed to be free from these shackles. But now, at the final step, she realized the fear in her heart far exceeded her imagination.
Since birth, she had been the Saint, the streets filled with fresh blooms in her honor, gifted the sacred name “Miki.”
Admired for her beauty, showered in treasures others only dreamed of, her life was filled with endless blessings—tutors, luxury, rare gifts, and an unparalleled sense of foreknowledge and wisdom.
Miki had never lived a single day as anything other than the Saint.
If she were no longer the Saint…
Without that title, her beauty would fade with time, her face would wrinkle, and one day she’d grow old, becoming a toothless old woman like any other.
Without divine blessing, the wisdom she’d taken pride in would eventually slip away. Let alone her enhanced senses and prophetic abilities she had grown to resent…
The Saionji clan was gone. Without a noble title, she was no one—without name, home, or destination.
Miki had thought she cared for nothing, but when this night finally arrived, she discovered how cowardly and weak she truly was.
If she lost everything… if even the name “Miki” were stripped away, who would she be?
Had she not been the Saint, she and Wakako might never have met. She would have had no reason to bring Wakako home or to make her her servant.
If she weren’t Wakako’s master, Wakako would have no reason to treat her with such gentle care. She wouldn’t carefully brush her hair or attend to every detail of her well-being.
Without her authority, she could no longer selfishly expect Wakako to follow her every command or to hope that Wakako’s world would revolve around her alone.
Because she would become ordinary, no longer the revered Saint admired by thousands.
Only now did Miki realize that everything she had for the past twenty years came from being the “Saint.”
She thought she could give up anything. But…
If she gave up everything, what would she become?
Just another weak Omega who couldn’t manage daily life?
Or perhaps… a burden?
She had always wrapped herself around Wakako like a vine, yet never realized that the vine had long since entwined her own heart as well.
She was simply afraid… afraid of no longer being special in Wakako’s eyes.
