Chapter 49: A Reunion and a New Face

An Unexpected Invitation

It took a full day to see Agnes again.

After afternoon classes ended, no less.

“She was looking for you two again.”

Orphe relayed her invitation, just like last time.

We’re not strangers anymore, so why the roundabout method?

No reason to refuse, so Erdike and I headed to the religious club room.

On the path from the main building to the annex with club rooms and facilities, I casually asked about Agnes.

She didn’t appear in the novel, so I knew nothing.

“How do you two know each other?”
‘How’d you get mixed up with that nutcase?’

“Sister Agnes? We’re from the same temple, so we’d run into each other at the main sanctuary. Both being saintesses helps.”

Fair point. With only three saintesses in the order, and one holed up in the Pantheon, they were practically the only two around.

It’d be weirder if they didn’t know each other.

“But she’s improved a lot.”

“…What?”
‘What?’

Erdike hesitated, lowering her voice as if someone might overhear.

“It’s not a nice story. You know what the Saintess of Ruin’s power is, right?”

“…Even the Pantheon, where all stories converge, has its blind spots.”
‘No clue.’

Erdike gave me an incredulous look.

“Your bishop didn’t teach you the basics?”

Vincent, the Jealousy temple’s bishop at the Pantheon, was hard to even glimpse.

Unlike Dominique, who was always on the move, Vincent was the opposite—holed up in a dim room.

He’d pop out occasionally, spout weird predictions, and vanish.

Oddly, his words always came true, earning him the nickname “Prophet Vincent” among temple folk.

Why only temple folk?

His prophecies never extended beyond the Pantheon.

He’d tell passersby stuff like, “You’ll fall asleep during prayers today!”—useless predictions.

He was the one who blessed my beloved “Iron No. 7.”

Said I’d use it someday, and sure enough, I’m swinging my mace daily.

A man with 100% prophecy accuracy.

“Well, I barely saw Vincent myself.”
‘Hard to learn when I can’t even see the bishop.’

“He’s the Pantheon bishop?”

Erdike nodded, understanding.

“No wonder I haven’t seen him at the sanctuary. Holed up that long, huh?”

Sighing, she continued.

“Tch, a bishop and still hasn’t fixed that habit. Anyway, the Saintess of Ruin’s power is fixed, unlike ours…”

Her words were cut off.

A fully armed man ran up to us.

“Are you Saintess Erdike and Saintess Isidora?”

“Yes, what’s up?”
‘Yup, that’s us.’

“You’re here to see Saintess Agnes, right? I’ll escort you. Come with the patrol.”

The Patrol’s Plight

The patrol.

A student council-affiliated armed group.

Not for campus security or shows of force, but formed to eliminate magical beasts around the academy.

In the novel, they often played the canary in the coal mine, begging Orphe for help after being mauled by a beast early on.

Their role here wasn’t much different.

“Argh!”

Opening the patrol’s infirmary door, the stench of blood hit first.

Only one person lay on the bed, but the blood loss was significant.

Agnes sat beside him, tightly holding the groaning man’s hand.

“Isidora, Erdike, you came! We were supposed to meet at the club room, but can you come here?”

Up close, the man’s condition was dire.

His body was covered in wounds, the worst on his thigh—torn so deep the bone was visible.

Most of the bleeding came from there.

“You both can use healing blessings, right?”

Agnes spoke urgently.

We nodded.

“Can you focus on his thigh?”

“With wounds this bad, will a healing blessing even work?”
‘A basic blessing won’t cut it.’

“You’re right, Isidora, but we can’t give up.”

Agnes’s face, unlike our first meeting, was set with determination.

“I won’t ask for possession. Can you at least use a healing blessing?”

“Sister…”

Without waiting for our reply, Agnes began praying.

“You who gained all and lost all, here lies a lost lamb.”

Eyes closed, holding the patient’s hand, she looked almost holy.

“Your servant pleads: let us weep and laugh as one.”

No one spoke.

Agnes finished her prayer softly.

“Balance of Pain.”

The patient’s face eased, but Agnes clutched her head.

“Ugh…!”

“Saintess Agnes, you okay?”
‘What’s wrong with her?’

“It’s her power.”

Erdike, unfazed, seemed used to this.

“That’s what I was about to say. Sister shares others’ emotions.”

“…So she can share other feelings too?”

“Sure, but who visits our temple happy? It’s all angry people.”

Half the Jealousy temple’s visitors were there for NTR’d spouses, right?

Even at the Pantheon, some showed up, cursing their missing partners and demanding help.

“She’s too kind for her own good. Taking on others’ pain without finesse—how’s her mind not broken? They sent her to the academy to recover, but she’s doing this here too.”

Erdike’s voice carried a hint of anger.

She rolled up her sleeves, flexing her wrists.

“…Erdike, what’re you doing?”
‘Hey, what’s the plan?’

“What else? Gotta heal him so Sister hurts less.”

Grumbling, Erdike took a stance and spoke reverently.

“Possession.”

A gray halo appeared behind her.

The Jealousy God’s aura softly lit the infirmary.

Her eyes glowed the same hue.

As her hand touched the man’s thigh, the wound healed instantly.

Agnes, sensing it, lowered her hands and looked up.

“Erdike…?”

“You, patrol guy!”

Instead of answering Agnes, Erdike shouted at the man who’d escorted us.

“Bring everyone who’s even slightly hurt, now.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t dawdle! I’ll heal them, so bring them!”

The man rushed out at her command.

Gratitude and Tension

“Thank you!”

“Thank Saintess Agnes next to you. And hold her hand.”

“Thank you, Saintess Agnes!”

A patrol member gripped Agnes’s hand, overflowing with gratitude.

“N-No, Erdike…! I said it’s fine…!”

Erdike just smacked Agnes’s back.

“Stay put, Sister.”

Is this the same Erdike who trembled at Agnes last time?

Why was she so scared then?

After the last patrol member left with thanks, I whispered to Erdike.

“Erdike.”

“Yeah?”

“Weren’t you terrified of Agnes last time?”
‘You were shaking like you had to pee.’

“That was just us then.”

“…That matters?”
‘How so?’

Erdike shrugged.

“She only acts like that with temple folk. As a saintess, she can’t show it outside, so she dumps it on us.”

Considering a saintess’s position, it made sense.

But that’s a problem.

“It’s like a tantrum. A bad one. Get caught, and she’ll ramble forever.”

“Uh, Erdike?”
‘Hey.’

“Once, I snapped at her, and she ran away from home. Caught before leaving the temple, but it was exhausting…”

“Erdike?”
‘Yo.’

“What?”

“You know it’s just the three of us in here now, right?”
‘We’re screwed.’

Erdike gasped, glancing at Agnes.

I followed her gaze.

Agnes was trembling.

“S-Sorry, Erdike.”

“Oh.”

“I’m a bad sister, always bothering you, making you use possession. Sorry, Saintess Isidora, I’m such a nuisance, right? No, I’ll just disappear, that’ll fix everything! I’m going!”

Agnes bolted for the door, like last time.

“Ouch!”

Except a figure blocked her.

The man who’d escorted us and gathered the injured at Erdike’s command.

“Agnes, where you off to?”

“W-Well…”

Agnes’s meltdown mode switched off instantly.

Is that a talent?

She could’ve swept international film festivals.

[The God of Jealousy agrees with you.]

“Come on, let’s talk.”

The man grabbed Agnes’s shoulder, turning her back to us.

We exchanged awkward glances.

After that dramatic exit attempt, she was back, not even making it out the door.

“….”

“….”

Super uncomfortable.

The man gently pushed Agnes to sit, grabbed a chair, and plopped down.

He addressed Erdike and me.

“Sorry for dragging you here so abruptly.”

“It’s fine.”
‘Yeah.’

“Let me introduce myself.”

A polite man.

“Third-year, patrol captain, Philok. No surname, I’m a commoner, so call me casually.”

A familiar name from the novel—Prince Theo’s loyal sword, greeting us.