The saintess—Lilia—stood beside the Pope now, hands folded neatly in front of her, posture immaculate. She bowed once more, a gesture practiced to perfection.
Applause followed.
Measured. Respectful. Just loud enough to be proper.
"I am honored to stand before you," Lilia said softly. "I am still inexperienced and lacking in many ways, but I hope to learn alongside the students of the academy."
Her voice was gentle, almost timid.
A harmless little bird.
The nobles melted instantly.
"What humility..."
"So young, yet already blessed..."
"To think the Goddess chose someone so modest..."
I felt a chill crawl up my spine.
Because I knew that voice.
Not as it was now—but as it would be later.
Firm. Clear. Unyielding.
The voice that would calmly suggest dismantling noble privileges "for the greater good," then look genuinely puzzled when opposition followed.
The voice that would encourage revolution with a smile and call it compassion.
’She’s already wearing the mask.’
And worse—she was good at it.
The Pope glanced down at her, eyes filled with unmistakable pride.
"The Goddess’s will is subtle," he said. "Yet it never errs. Lady Lilia is proof of that."
A few nobles nodded eagerly.
Others exchanged looks filled with calculation.
A saintess entering the academy meant influence. Protection. Political leverage.
Every faction in this hall was already deciding how to pull her closer.
The emperor raised his hand once more, and the low murmur in the hall faded instantly.
"Lady Lilia will be enrolling at the academy starting this term," he declared. "I expect every one of you to treat her with the respect befitting her station."
A brief pause followed.
"And remember—she is under the joint protection of the Empire and the Holy Church."
The meaning was unmistakable.
Touch her, and you answer to both thrones.
A dull ache formed behind my temples.
’That was faster than expected.’
In the original game, everything began at the academy. That was the fixed starting point—where the saintess and the prince first crossed paths, where fate slowly began to twist.
Yet here she was, standing in the center of the imperial hall, placed under the spotlight before the story was even supposed to begin.
’This is complicated.’
I shifted my gaze through the crowd, searching instinctively for someone with the same hair color as the emperor.
"Oh?"
As expected.
At the far end of the hall, partially surrounded by nobles, stood a young man watching Lady Lilia with unmistakable intensity. His posture was composed, his expression restrained—but his eyes betrayed him.
Interest.
Not curiosity.
Not courtesy.
Interest.
’So he’s already hooked.’
The prince was scrutinizing the saintess from head to toe, as if committing her existence to memory.
I exhaled quietly.
’How should I handle this?’
Originally, the plan had been simple. Let the two meet at the academy. Let Alice clash with the saintess naturally.
Then, at the right moment, sow discord—slowly, carefully—before things spiraled out of control.
But now?
The saintess had appeared early.
And she had caught the prince’s eye immediately.
’Should I... get rid of the saintess?’
The thought surfaced uninvited.
For Alice’s peaceful life, it might even be justified.
But I dismissed it just as quickly.
’No. That won’t work.’
The power of the saintess was indispensable.
Her unique skill—Ilyana’s Blessing.
A simple increase in stamina, strength, and magic power was only the surface. As the holy artifacts were recovered, the buffs stacked, multiplied, and evolved into something absurd.
It was a skill worthy of a protagonist.
Without it?
The enemies waiting ahead—the ones that hadn’t even appeared yet—would be impossible to overcome.
For now, brute force might suffice, but as time passed, even our strongest attacks would barely scratch them.
To survive this world, two conditions had to be met.
First: prevent Alice’s fall—her descent into becoming a villainess.
Second: prevent the destruction of the world itself.
’Even if Alice avoids the worst-case scenario, it’s meaningless if the world ends.’
That meant one thing.
We had to maintain a friendly relationship with the saintess.
As friendly as possible.
...But was that even feasible for Alice?
My thoughts drifted to a familiar line of dialogue from the game.
—It’s a duel, commoner girl.
If I win, never come near the prince again.
I almost laughed.
’That’s impossible.’
As if on cue, Alice—standing not far from me—shifted her weight slightly.
Her gaze lingered on Lilia for just a moment longer than necessary before sliding away.
But I noticed.
The faint tightening of her jaw.
The subtle chill that seeped into the air around her.
She hadn’t said anything.
Yet.
Alice disliked surprises.
And this saintess was the worst kind.
I leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. "You saw her too, didn’t you?"
Alice didn’t look at me. "Unfortunately."
"She’s protected by both the Empire and the Church," I continued. "Publicly antagonizing her would be... unwise."
Alice’s eyes flicked toward the emperor, then to the prince.
"And privately?" she asked.
I paused.
"That depends on how much you value subtlety."
For a brief moment, her lips curved—not into a smile, but into something sharp and restrained.
"...I suppose," Alice said coolly, "that means I’ll have to behave."
That, more than anything else, unsettled me.
Because Alice behaving was far more dangerous than Alice acting openly.
As applause began to ripple through the hall, Lilia bowed gracefully, unaware—or perhaps pretending to be unaware—of the currents shifting beneath her feet.
The story had already deviated.
And we hadn’t even set foot in the academy yet.
The applause lingered a little longer than necessary before finally dying down.
As it did, the emperor inclined his head toward the Pope, signaling the end of the formal announcement.
The musicians, who had frozen mid-measure, cautiously resumed their performance. Soft strings filled the hall once more, restoring the illusion of celebration.
An illusion being carefully watched by everyone present.
Servants began moving again, trays of wine and delicacies circulating through the crowd.
Conversations restarted—but their tone had shifted. Where moments ago there had been polite chatter, now there was calculation layered beneath every word.
Lilia stepped back half a pace, positioning herself perfectly at the Pope’s side.
Not too close to seem dependent.
Not too far to appear distant.
Perfect.
’She hasn’t lost her touch,’ I thought grimly.
Alice clicked her tongue softly.
"...Already," she muttered.
"Already?" I echoed.
"She’s being measured," Alice replied. "Look."
I followed her gaze.
A marquis approached first, smile warm, bow deep—just respectful enough to acknowledge her status without seeming sycophantic.
He spoke briefly, gesturing toward his daughter. Lilia responded with gentle words and a bow that was humble yet precise.
Next came a count. Then another.
Each exchange lasted only seconds, but every one of them ended the same way—faces brightened, shoulders relaxed, suspicion eased.
She was disarming them one by one.
"Disgusting," Alice said flatly.
I didn’t disagree.
’This is exactly how it started.’
In the game, this phase happened over weeks at the academy—classroom interactions, casual encounters, shared meals. Enough time for friction to build, enough distance for Alice to strike first and be labeled the villain.
But now?
Lilia was accelerating the process.
Compressing weeks into minutes.
---
Author Note;
Thanks for reading the novel.