Chapter 20: Punishment

“The saintess candidate, you say.”

I was able to track down her whereabouts quickly.

Thanks to the incident at the examination hall, the saintess candidate—now able to control her magic—seemed to be touring the streets of the imperial capital, offering medical services. Probably to further solidify her position.

Wherever I went, I heard rumors: she visited wounded veterans, elderly people living alone, orphans—those neglected by society—and healed them with magic.

It was, truly, saintess-like behavior.

“Look, this arm! The arm that was cut off by an orc more than three years ago—healed this cleanly, you see?”

Regenerating a lost limb required a great deal of magic.

Unlike injuries or diseases, which could be treated by removing the damaged tissue and repairing it, a severed body part needed to be recreated from scratch.

For an ordinary priest to use regeneration magic, they’d either need expensive magic stones or offer their own lifespan to the god Mehren in exchange for power.

Even that was difficult for most priests.

“I can’t thank her enough, even a thousand times.”

Cecilia, they said, possessed magic far beyond what even the top mages at Norndeasel Academy could handle.

So limb regeneration must be easy for her.

Still, she seemed to have limits—healing only around thirty people per day.

I wondered if her actions would undermine the Mehrenia Church, which profited from selling healing magic.

But that wasn’t my concern.

The ones receiving Cecilia’s grace were mostly people who had worked hard all their lives. Even if they attended church services, they couldn’t afford to spend their savings asking for divine aid.

For such people, getting a small blessing under the saintess’s name—and managing her public image—was more meaningful than being exploited for coin.

“But why are you asking about her?”

“My mother is unwell. I was hoping to see her face, if only once.”

“I see. Well… I wish you the best.”

From what I’d gathered, Cecilia was on Borein Street today.

Her promotional work followed a pattern, and many people followed her day to day to receive her blessings.

Some wounded veterans had followed her for more than a week. They said so proudly.

That must be the place.

I left the academy district and headed straight for Borein Street.

As expected, the usually quiet street—lined with historic automatons—was now overflowing with people.

Normally, it was silent and still.
But I’d been here before, for Therese’s errands.

“Compared to yesterday’s headache, that was easy.”

Cecilia was there, healing a woman with leprosy.
Her whole body was glowing.

Maybe because the woman had severe damage and decay, Cecilia was pouring massive amounts of magic into her. Enough that a normal person could’ve lasted a year on that alone.

As the treatment ended, Cecilia stood—and stumbled.

The priests around her rushed to support her and began dispersing the crowd.

The people looked disappointed, but retreated surprisingly quietly.

“Is she headed to the church…?”

Borein Street was home to a clockwork church built at the founding of the Empire.
Made of brass and gears, with a massive steampunk organ and a mechanical doll programmed to play it.

I slipped away and followed her quietly.

While thinking of a way to scare her properly.

Violence wasn’t ideal, but—it was the simplest.

Am I doing the right thing…?

Cecilia soaked in the large bathtub of Borein Church, her thoughts a murmur under the sound of hissing brass pipes.

A young deacon had offered to assist, but she refused.

I like being alone.

The sound of steam from the pipes above was oddly calming.

If possible… I don’t want to be hostile to the Jurden family.

She’d thought so ever since realizing her situation.

The original Cecilia—this world’s protagonist—was full of righteous conviction.

She had exposed the villainess Therese’s misdeeds and, in many endings, ousted the Jurden family, rising as the true saintess and ending up with one of the capture targets.

But that was in the game. And only in routes that reached the ending.

Until then?

She died. Many times. Depending on player choices.

Killed by Eileen, who acted under Therese’s orders.

Several times. Over and over.

Even though the one by Therese’s side now wasn’t the original Eileen…

It’s scary.

She’d almost died once already—blown up by Therese.

If not for Cecilia’s bond with Edwin—earned before her memories returned—she would have died.

The first dead end.

The CG was titled “Everyone, accept my selfishness.”

Cecilia shuddered at the memory of that blackened corpse image that still flickered in her mind.

Why did I reincarnate into a game so close to ryona…?

Still… if I just stay away from Therese, I can live quietly.

She was almost guaranteed to become a saintess now.

Her life mattered more than anything.

That’s why she’d encouraged Therese to at least meet her fiancé, Edwin.

They’d met once. That was enough.

She was thankful Edwin had saved her, but… maybe his favorability had gone up too much.

Clang.

The door burst open.

Cecilia jumped, whipping around.

“What! Why are you coming in!?”

“S-Saintess candidate!! Run—ack!?”

“……What?”

The bloodied deacon fell.

Not from slipping.

A severed leg.

Someone was standing behind him.

A crying boy.

“S-Saintess candidate… sob… L-Lady Cecilia…”

“W-Who are you!!”

Cecilia shot up, pointing at the intruder.

If not for the dying deacon, she might’ve screamed and slipped backward into the water.

She clung to that moment of composure.

But—this wasn’t part of any event.

Her mind raced.
Nothing.
No memory of this.

Her heart pounded beneath the arm she used to cover her chest.

Scared.
Scared.
What the hell is this?

The attacker said nothing.

He stepped forward, then kicked the deacon in the back of the head—knocking him out.

White hair tinged with black.
Blue eyes.
Still a boy.

He wore a black suit and a holy knight’s sword and cape—but it all looked too large on his frame.

Did he steal it?
Was he pretending to be from the Mehrenia Order?
Or was he from there?

It was hard to tell. He seemed to both hide and reveal his identity.

“Answer me! Who are you!!”

The boy stepped into the bathtub.

As if his soaked clothes didn’t matter.

Each step he took, Cecilia stepped back.

A madman with a sword.
Anyone would react that way—naked or not.

Then—her back hit the wall.

She slipped.

The boy seized the moment and pressed his foot into her stomach.

She flailed in the water, then he pulled her out—grabbing her by the hair.

“Cough, cough! Cough… ugh, sob…”

“Be aware of your position.”

He’s not going to kill me.

“I-I know that well! I didn’t want to be like this either—”

The boy yanked her hair again—then slammed her head against the tub wall.

Thud.

Cecilia collapsed.

As soon as I left the church, I ducked into an alley, put my bracelet back on, and changed into my maid’s dress.

I burned the suit.

I tossed the holy knight’s sword and cape.

Then re-equipped my old, cheap sword.

Fast. No witnesses.

I’d spent all day preparing. Scouting. Gathering supplies. All for this one moment.

…Was I too harsh?

It was already night. Fires were lit everywhere—searching for the intruder.

If I looked even slightly suspicious, I’d be caught instantly.

I need to return. Not to the inn—straight to Therese—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps. Like a cane on stone.

I turned, tense.

Witness?

“If you knew it was harsh, you shouldn’t have done it.”

At the alley entrance, a girl stood with a cane, blindfolded, wearing tattered clothes.

Her long black hair fluttered in the cold wind.

Even after being drugged countless times, her black hair had never dulled.

Why are you here…?

“The saintess is a good person. Why torment her?”

“141…?”

She paused.

Then stepped forward again, as if unaffected.

“Oh my. A fellow from the facility? What a small world. Or were you sold off that far?”

“W-Wait. It’s me. 17—”

She closed the distance in a blink.

I didn’t even see her draw the blade hidden in her cane.

I instinctively raised my sword.

Steel shrieked as her iris blade met mine.

Ah, I almost died.

“It’s me! 1725!”

“R-Really?”

“Yes! It’s me—”

Shing.

Her blade slid off mine—then snaked around and cut me.

My maid uniform tore like paper. Blood gushed.

A bulletproof vest? Useless.

Not surprising. She was absurdly strong.

Maybe that vest saved me from being cut in half.

“Hauk?!”

“But that scream… sounds like a girl’s.”

Oops.

I stepped back and reached for my bracelet.

But as the blade flicked toward my brow, I blocked it—with that arm.

Crack.

The bracelet shattered.

“Uh…”

But my form didn’t change.

My vision was the same.

Why?

No time to think.

The blade came again.

At least now I could follow it—barely.

I parried.

But it came again—same instant.

How is it this fast?

This was hopeless.

Magic wouldn’t work on her.

There were no variables I could exploit.

“Ugh?!”

Another cut. Not deep—but the first one was too much.

My skirt was heavy with blood.

I made too many mistakes.

141 stabbed me three times—avoiding vitals.

I slid down the wall.

“You haven’t retained anything from the facility, have you?”

“You’re one to talk. But I—I usually kill in one blow. You’re pretty good.”

…That’s why she dared attack the Mehrenia Church?

Conceited. I admit it.

“Your eyes… Can you see now?”

“No. I can’t.”

“…My apologies. So what will you do with me?”

“When the church soldiers get here, I’ll hand you over.”

“Really?”

That’s a problem.

For Therese. And for me.

Still blind?

But she moved like she could see everything.

I sighed—and cast my strongest magic that didn’t require a prayer.

Even knowing it wouldn’t work.

I used the blood all over the alley as a medium.

“Oh? Still got some strength left?”

“I didn’t want to meet you like this.”

Fwoosh.

Fires erupted around us.

The blood ignited.

She couldn’t see—but could she sense it?

The fire flared, large enough to engulf her.

“There’s no way something like fire would work on me.”

She stood in the flames, unfazed.

So did I.

But she hesitated—defensive, no longer attacking.

Sword still pointed at her, I turned—

And ran.

“Oh.”

Eileen muttered.

She gave chase—but was a second too late.

The assassin dove into the canal running through the street.

It must’ve been a deep wound.

“…Why did I think that child would fight back?”

She sounded confused.

Was it because I heard about 1725 after so long?

That suicidal sparring style… like they wanted to die.
Throwing safety aside.

He fought back, even when escaping.
Even in that sparring match long ago.

I had only meant to block—but I got drawn in, broke my sword, and wounded his shoulder.

“Of course, it can’t be him.”

Different gender. Didn’t fight back—just ran.

Similar… but not the same.

“Hey! You there!!”

“Pardon?”

A group of soldiers swarmed Eileen.

They held a torch to her face—then frowned.

“Tch. It’s a woman. And blind.”

“What’s a blind girl doing out at night? Go home!”

“Excuse me… What’s going on?”

“There’s a fire right next to you! Didn’t you notice!?”

Villagers were already trying to extinguish the blaze in the alley.

“No, that’s why I came out—” Eileen began.

“Also, some guy attacked the church. The saintess candidate was injured.”

“…A guy? A man?”

“Yes! Pray that bastard didn’t do something horrible to her!”

They stormed off.

Eileen tilted her head.

But the footprints… there was only one set.

The soldiers left without noticing her frown.