Irene Decided to Die - Chapter 38

“I was always a despicable being.”

Garan emerged from the shadows and stood before Irene.

“It seems you will reject their offer. Well, if it could even be called an offer. ‘Show mercy because you are a Saintess,’ that’s all there is, right? Foolish ones. Isn’t a Saintess not a human?”

“You know well.”

“Becoming a Saintess doesn’t change one’s original nature. It’s just that those who are like Saintesses become Saintesses. Except for you, though.”

“Is that so?”

“Well then, how about my proposal? Have you developed an interest in revenge?”

“What if Ramiel is among those I seek revenge on?”

Irene pointed a finger at Garan’s heart.

“Is it still valid?”

“Oh. I do like Ramiel. She was a kind woman who seemed destined to become a Saint. But, you, Saintess, she did not become one. Now, she is just a lady of a duke’s family. She would be happy enough, I suppose, but if you wish it, there’s nothing I can do.”

Garan reached out his hand to Irene. Disinclined to place her hand on his, she only clenched her fist, and kissing the air, he continued,

“I can drive even her to ruin.”

“You’re trash, aren’t you?”

It seemed he had never truly loved Ramiel.

“Please, call me rational rather than trash.”

“But you also agreed to be my tormentor, didn’t you?”

Rational? That’s nonsensical. Garan smirked in response.

“At that time, I was certain Ramiel would definitely become a Saintess. So, what will you do? Burt will be here in a flurry soon, so please give your answer before then this time.”

“Let’s see what happens.”

“Very well. Look forward to it.”

With those words, Garan disappeared, and immediately after, a knock sounded from outside. Just as Garan had said, it was Burt.

“Again?”

“What is it?”

Burt gazed at Irene and then shook his head.

“It’s nothing. But as I said before, do not trust Garan.”

“Burt, do you know this?”

Irene whispered.

“I trust no one, not even you.”

“That’s a relief.”

Burt smiled ambiguously and snugly covered Irene with the blanket.

“Please continue to trust no one.”

“Of course.”

Irene responded and closed her eyes.

As her body gradually began to heal, the preparation for the Saint’s appointment ceremony progressed rapidly.

Naturally, Irene began to study the procedure of the appointment ceremony. Her teacher was one of the High Priests, Grein.

“The appointment ceremony of a Saintess also involves a demonstration of power.”

“A demonstration of power?”

“It could be raining, blooming flowers, or shining light. There are various powers, but usually, one miracle occurs.”

“What if it doesn’t happen?”

Irene asked, to which Grein answered firmly.

“That won’t happen. There has never been such an incident. The words of the Goddess are absolute.”

But could it sometimes be wrong? It was said that being a Saint was certain, and all that remained was the demonstration of power.

Yet, Irene couldn’t fully believe in all of it. Her life had been filled with misery and pain.

Perhaps she hadn’t actually heard the voice of the Goddess. Such anxiety crept up, gripping her heart.

‘No, everyone heard the voice of the Goddess.’

Despite knowing this, the unease did not dissipate.

Even if she was a Saintess, what if she possessed inadequate powers? She might end up being condemned by people again.

As the appointment ceremony of the Saintess drew nearer, she found it harder to sleep deeply. And on such nights, it seemed as if whispers reached her from somewhere.

You don’t deserve to be a Saintess. You’re a vile woman who stole Ramiel’s place.

“Saintess!”

Each time, it was Burt who called for Irene.

“Are you alright?”

“I am fine.”

She just had a nightmare. Avoiding his gaze, Irene brushed it off like that.

Burt watched Irene for a moment and then handed her a warm cup of tea. It was filled with frothy, white milk.

“Why milk?”

Blinking in confusion, she asked, and Burt replied,

“Warm milk is best when you can’t sleep.”

“Do you drink milk when you can’t sleep, too?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, she found herself inexplicably smiling. What was this stern and indifferent man thinking, bringing her warmed milk?

“It’s a story from my childhood.”

A story from his childhood. He must have been loved as he grew up. Thinking this made her heart twinge a bit.

“Thank you.”

For the first time, Irene expressed her gratitude and drank the milk. The slightly sweet and rich milk suited her taste well.

Somehow, she felt she could fall asleep without any worries tonight.