Chapter 39: Her Holiness the Saintess

“Beccas, why are you leaving in such a hurry! The opera isn’t even over yet.”

Dragged out of the opera house, Vivian Arlene struggled against Beccas’s grip, her tone full of an indescribable frustration.

“Saintess Highness, those two people just now were very dangerous…”

“Dangerous? What’s so dangerous about them? They were just Elves…”

Beccas kept walking, voice tight with vigilance. “It’s impossible for a human to have emerald green eyes… That man just now…”

“Come on, you keep going on and on about it.” Vivian pouted, her dissatisfaction tinged with a hint of unnoticed loneliness.

“Beccas, have you read so many of the Ancient Tomes of the Church that they’ve tied your brain in knots? Aren’t my eyes green too?”

“That’s different.” Beccas stopped in her tracks and gazed at Vivian’s green eyes shimmering with golden mist, her voice filled with reverence.

“Saintess Highness, you are Aetherlan’s chosen one, the closest existence to the Mother of Light. All of Aetherlan’s life and hope rest in your eyes.”

“Then if his eyes are green, doesn’t that mean that man is also one of the Divine Selection?” Vivian said softly, her voice so low it was almost a whisper.

“Could he be a follower of the Aetherlan Divine Church too? Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve seen someone with eyes the same color as mine…”

Vivian closed her eyes, recalling the pair she had just seen. If that man was not a follower of the Aetherlan Divine Church, it was truly a pity.

For the first time, she had met someone with eyes like hers.

Yet the Aetherlan Divine Church was rather exclusionary, allowing only humans as believers.

Other races were not protected by the divine light.

“Saintess Highness, you must not have too much contact with him! The one with him is an Elf…”

“So what! What’s wrong with Elves?” Vivian finally couldn’t help but raise her voice, grievance flooding her eyes.

“Aunt says I am closest to the Lord Aetherlan, so I should inherit Her mercy, shouldn’t I? The Doctrine says that the God of Light created all things—Elves, Merfolk, Dragonkin are all Her children. Why must we reject them like this?”

Beccas hurriedly interrupted, her voice flustered with persuasion. “Saintess Highness, you are still young, you don’t understand. Please, never say things like that again in the future…”

Vivian snapped her mouth shut, her chest heaving violently. Again, it was like this.

Though she was the revered Holy Maiden, she did not even have the right to speak a single heartfelt word.

Every honest thought could only rot inside her, as she played the role the whole world expected—a docile, devout statue who never doubted the Doctrine.

What the Aetherland Theocracy needed was never Vivian Arlene, just a symbol sitting on the Saintess Position.

Who that symbol was, whether she had thoughts of her own, no one cared.

Vivian only felt suffocated. Her Mother, her Aunt, why did they all treat her like this? Every act of rebellion was disregarded.

Even when she wished to help her Mother with something, all she ever heard was, “You’re still too young.”

Vivian was furious, with that kind of desperate crying out that no one ever hears—”I’m already eighteen! I’m an adult! I’m the Saintess, so why don’t I have the power of the Saintess…”

She had felt this same anger and grievance when she was fourteen, sixteen. But every time, it was like punching cotton—she was left only with the lonely task of licking her own wounds.

That kind of solitude, unable to confide in anyone, unable to be understood by anyone, was even more tormenting than being alone.

Beccas sighed, her voice softening, abandoning the formality of “Saintess Highness” and speaking only with the helplessness of an aunt to her niece. “Vivian…”

“Vivian, I understand… My sister was once just like you. We used to not understand, and in the end, we all grew up. Aunt truly understands how you feel now, but please try to forgive us.”

Vivian’s anger was instantly extinguished by the gentle comfort, leaving her feeling utterly powerless.

She looked at Beccas, as if seeing someone separated from her by an invisible wall—her relatives cared for her, yet could never truly understand her.

“Aunt, I don’t blame you. Or Mother.” Her voice trembled, a mist of tears filling her eyes. “I just want to know, what are you still hiding from me? I’m already grown. I can shoulder the responsibilities of the Saintess. I can bear those secrets you’re afraid or unable to tell…”

Beccas shook her head. “Saintess Highness, you are not yet ready.”

Again…

Vivian lowered her gaze, a bitter smile tugging at her lips.

She was like a bird trapped in a transparent cage, with the clamor of believers and rigid Doctrine outside, and only herself within.

Vivian could not truly confide in anyone. Everyone would respectfully address her as Saintess Highness.

Even if she truly wished to make friends, others would only feel awe.

All she could do was play a role contrary to her true self—to become the real Holy Maiden.

Vivian said nothing more. She knew that saying anything else would be pointless.

“Let’s go, Aunt. Let’s go back to the inn.” As she turned away, the light in her eyes dimmed, like stars veiled by dark clouds.

“As you wish, Saintess Highness.” Beccas’s reply remained just as respectful, yet it was like a slender needle, quietly pricking Vivian’s heart.

The streetlights stretched their shadows long—one tall and solemn, the other slender and lonely.

Though only half a step apart, it was as if an unbridgeable chasm separated them.

Today was supposed to have been a happy day…

……

Lying atop Charlotte’s shoulder, Floleen suddenly noticed his absentmindedness.

She wasn’t exactly gentle, but she was somewhat spoiled in her dependence.

She reached out and pinched Charlotte’s chin, forcibly turning his face toward her.

Her crimson eyes blazed with astonishing brightness, a hint of grievance and possessiveness burning within as she stared intently at him.

“What are you thinking about?”

Seeing that Charlotte didn’t reply right away, she pinched his cheek a bit harder, her tone carrying a trace of accusation. “Are you still thinking about other women?!”

Before Charlotte could explain, Floleen leaned down and pressed her lips against his.

The kiss was urgent and domineering, with a fierceness like a declaration of ownership.

Her tongue was bold, almost as if she was trying to pull back all his wandering thoughts.

Charlotte smiled helplessly, not resisting, but instead wrapped his arms around her waist and responded gently.

Only when Floleen was out of breath from the kiss, her cheeks flushed as she snuggled back into his embrace, did she finally let him speak.

“No… I was just thinking about those two women from earlier.”

“You say you’re not…” Floleen no longer had the strength to be angry, only nestling against Charlotte.

“Floleen, you really don’t have to be so hostile toward them… No woman is as beautiful as you are.” Charlotte comforted her.

“I’m just curious who they really are. Normally, isn’t golden hair rare even among the Royal Family?”

“They aren’t from the Kalishi Empire?”

“Probably not… Besides, both of them were wearing hooded clothes. The way they stood out in a crowd, anyone would notice.”

“True. Which country’s people like to wear hooded clothing, anyway?”

“That’s why I’m thinking—maybe I should report this to the Royal Family.”

Charlotte’s voice turned serious, his eyes thoughtful.

“The Empire Capital is about to hold the Emperor’s Banquet. Nobles from all over the Empire will be gathering here, and there’ll be all sorts of people mixed in. If they’re here with a purpose and something really happens, it won’t be a small matter.”

Floleen nodded, her fingertips unconsciously picking at his clothes, her voice muffled. “I don’t want any trouble either. It’s rare to have a few peaceful days.”

Charlotte lowered his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t worry. If anyone dares disturb our peaceful life, I’ll make sure they pay the price…”