Chapter 112: Diverging Fates

“I say…, Tiya, I have a plan.”

“Mmh.”

Archbishop Amelius had long since departed. Kritiya sat alone on the wooden bench of the monastery’s chapel, responding with a quiet murmur.

Before we knew it, too many earth-shattering secrets and revelations had come rushing in—and what was more, every single one of them was tied to herself and the people she knew.

I knew that her mind must be a tangled mess right now. But even so, I had no time to spare for her to sort out her thoughts.

“I say…, go ahead and become a Saintess Candidate.”

“Why? Just a moment ago, you were advising me not to fall for their trap,” Kritiya said flatly.

“That was then, this is now.”

I felt slightly embarrassed, but I knew—I absolutely had to say this.

“Listen, something has happened to Diya. We can’t just leave her to her fate.”

Kritiya did not answer immediately, but in that silence, I could feel the worry surging deep within her heart—a genuine, unfeigned concern. Sensing this gave me a bit more confidence to persuade her.

“Diya is now in the hands of the Holy See, secretly accused of being the Pope’s assassin… That is by no means a charge that can be easily dismissed. Right now, we don’t even have a way of knowing where she is being held.”

“I’ve thought this through, and only by temporarily agreeing to their terms and becoming the so-called Saintess Candidate will we have any chance of saving Diya’s life…”

“If it were a public execution, there would at least have to be a trial and a public announcement. Even if we had to cause a massive scene in court or break into the execution grounds—no matter how absurd and ridiculous that sounds—it would ultimately be something we could find a way to pull off.”

“But now that information about Diya has been completely locked down, there is no doubt that what awaits her is a secret execution… dying quietly like that in some dark, unknown corner of this magnificent Royal Capital, without causing so much as a ripple.”

“But if you are a Saintess Candidate, you would at least hold some sway within the Radiant Church, wouldn’t you? By then, finding out her whereabouts or finding a way to see her might no longer be entirely hopeless.

This isn’t a very difficult choice. All it takes is for you to nod your head and agree to the Archbishop’s proposal. Even if there is a price to pay in the future, at least… we can buy her a slim chance of survival right now.”

“Ah… seriously. Even though I was prepared for this mentally, I didn’t expect things to turn into such a troublesome mess…”

I couldn’t help but recall the original novel from my past life—it was only after the protagonist, Nolan, painstakingly investigated every clue that he finally discovered his sister’s death was no accident.

In the original story, Diya, as a top student at the Preparatory Knight Academy, had caught the attention of both the Emperor and the Holy See, which in turn drew the jealousy of the noble students at the academy.

It was a trap laid by the heir of a prince; his original intent had only been to disqualify her, but through a twist of fate, it cost her her life. Under the cover of power, the error snowballed further and further.

My original plan had been to find an opportunity to contact Diya and warn her to steer clear of danger. After all, in the original plot’s conspiracy, that prince’s heir had also utilized Kritiya without her knowledge.

I had planned to merely give the trajectory a gentle nudge at the critical juncture…

But now, Diya had been swept into a massive, earth-shattering case like the Pope’s assassination.

Thinking about it closely, the only variable in this life was that she had taken the highly influential Grand Knight of the academy, Kaswin, as her mentor.

On the timeline of the original story’s opening, his name had barely made a phantom appearance, and I had assumed he was merely an insignificant character.

“Anyway, becoming a Saintess Candidate is the best way to catch wind of the Holy See’s internal news. Or, if you have a better idea, I’m all ears.” Putting away my chaotic thoughts, I spoke to Kritiya once more.

The previous private discussion with the Archbishop had sent away all attendants and nuns, leaving the chapel so empty it felt almost transparent.

Kritiya leaned quietly against the back of the bench, completely silent. The silence seemed to carry weight, pressing down heavily, until one could almost hear their own heartbeat echoing in their chest.

“Why… are you so obsessed with that child?” she suddenly asked softly, her voice seeming to drift in from a great distance. “What is she to you, anyway?”

I wanted to say some beautiful words about friendship or justice, but as the words welled up to my lips, they froze.

“Uh… well… no matter what, she is still our… friend, isn’t she?”

I answered hesitantly, my words sounding hollow the moment they left my mouth. Perhaps there were indeed other choices for me—I had also thought about just letting things take their course, letting Diya pass away as her original fate dictated.

Then, Nolan would come to the Royal Capital to uncover the truth, and the story would get back on track… Wouldn’t that perfectly align with the development of the original work?

But…

I wasn’t willing to accept that.

Clearly, her fate had already shifted—she had entered the Knight Academy earlier and earned the appreciation of the Grand Knight.

The process had long since changed, yet that tragic ending of death still clung to her like a shadow, as if all struggles were ultimately in vain.

‘Then what about Kritiya? True, the current her was already a completely different person from the villainous duke’s daughter in the original novel who ultimately became a monster.

But what if all efforts were merely in vain? What if, no matter how winding the path, the ending had already been written, like tens of thousands of loose threads destined to be bound into the exact same knot?’

‘If I couldn’t even change Diya’s ending and just let her die—then what right did I have to believe that I could overturn Kritiya’s destiny of marching toward ruin?’

“…”

I fell silent, and Kritiya said nothing more, merely waiting in the quiet for some answer. After a long while, I finally whispered:

“If you know there is a chance but don’t even try… then in the future, you probably won’t be able to face yourself.”

“So that’s your answer…” Kritiya sighed softly and said, “We really… have very different ways about us.”

“Well, even if I don’t agree, you would probably just take matters into your own hands and act on your own, wouldn’t you? In that case, there’s no helping it.”

With that, Kritiya stood up and turned to walk toward her bedroom. I didn’t quite understand what she meant. Did that ambiguous statement count as an agreement? Lacking any certainty and unable to read her intent, I hurriedly pressed:

“Wait, what did you mean by ‘different’?”

Kritiya’s footsteps paused, and then she spoke to me over the tolling of the bells: “It’s nothing. It’s just that I clearly did such unforgivable things and have already parted ways with Nolan.”

“And yet even now, I am actually still fantasizing… wondering if we ever have the chance to meet him again, whether I would regret not making the right choice today.”

“Are you afraid that Nolan won’t forgive you for failing to extend a helping hand to Diya?” I hesitated for a moment, guessing.

Kritiya responded flatly:

“Don’t worry… I told you it’s just a fantasy. In reality, our paths will probably never cross again anyway.”

“So what you mean is, this is all just to satisfy your own fantasy?” I felt like the topic should have ended there, but I still couldn’t help but pry further.

“Yeah… that’s why I said we’re different.”

While we spoke, Kritiya had already returned to her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she bent down and dragged a long wooden box from beneath the bed.

Creak—creak—

Dust swirled in the air. With a sharp click, the latch holding the lid flipped up, and a gleaming greatsword embedded with a water-blue sapphire was revealed before us.

***

“So that sword was bought by someone while I was away.”

Leyak stroked his beard, staring at the empty sword rack on the wall before him, and spoke without any emotion:

“But then again, this sword was hanging here with a clear price tag. Even if it was bought, you can’t blame anyone else.”

As he spoke, he shifted his gaze, using the corner of his eye to look at the boy behind the counter, taking in his sullen expression.

“I understand your point…”

Nolan Cyril kept his head low. His semi-long, flaxen hair hung limply, looking as listless as if it had been damp from Lolreo’s humid spring rainy season. Letting out an imperceptible sigh, he pulled a commission slip from beneath the counter and pushed it in front of Leyak:

“This is the gold slip left by the buyer—three hundred gold coins.”

Leyak narrowed his eyes, pinching the gold slip and bringing it close to examine it carefully:

“This is the crest of the great northern nobility, Airandil—how strange. Why would they spend such a hefty sum to buy that kind of thing?”

He tilted his head, thinking for a moment, then looked at Nolan and said:

“Whatever, it seems genuine. Go exchange this gold slip. You should be able to cash it at the Union Chamber of Commerce Bank in the city.”

“Alright… I get it,” Nolan said, blinking.

“Wait—wait—but what if it’s a trap? No matter how I look at it, this whole thing feels strange.”

“Then wouldn’t we find out exactly what tricks they have up their sleeves?”

Leyak pressed the gold slip onto the table, speaking calmly.