Chapter 448: Aftereffects

Dawn rose from the depths of the earth, drawing a pale white streak across the vast sky.

Morning had come.

This was the garden beside the Grand Cathedral of Aimier—called the Sacred Grove.

Under the merciful blessing of the Goddess, the grove was forever spring. Blossoms of every vivid color bloomed at all times, untrimmed, their lush growth naturally forming the most perfect of shapes.

Beyond the statue of the Goddess, the first ray of sunlight from the mortal world always fell here. Priests, nuns, and even noble bishops would often come to stroll, converse, or read sacred scriptures—relaxing hearts long strained by the battle against distortion and impurity.

But at this hour, the Sacred Grove was naturally deserted.

Only one small, slender figure stood upon the highest terrace, letting the morning breeze brush her face as she gazed into the dawn.

Like a sculpture, she had stood there the entire night, hands clasped behind her back. Reflected in eyes touched by dancing rays of light were longing, sighs, and—after self-affirmation—a loneliness born from the heart.

Too strong. I’m too strong.

She sighed softly.

As expected of me—who has read countless books on emotion, distilled them into my own theories, and mastered the art of employing every related trope to perfection.

Ariel Bugaard!

Even though a string of accidents had delayed her plans for more than a month, in the end... hadn’t the frog in her pot still boiled to completion?

Even before she realized it, that feeling had already reached the level of taking the initiative—

The initiative to confess.

Yes.

A proactive confession.

In her mind echoed every word spoken in that room overflowing with pink bubbles—every conversation between the three of them.

Each word, each syllable, every tone rolled again and again through the sea of memory, until it froze on the sight of Liya’s bashful face ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ (from Ariel’s perspective), her hesitant stammering (also Ariel’s perspective), and, finally—driven by helpless courage—pouring out her feelings together with that simple little word, “yes.” (still Ariel’s perspective).

“Terrifying... I can’t believe that without even realizing it, my skill at toying with a girl’s innocent heart has reached this level.”

Ariel shook her head, wearing the expression of a sinner, and muttered to herself:

“Right, Professor?”

“......”

The voice in her mind remained silent.

But not wanting to spoil her disciple’s rare good mood, it finally responded with reluctant indulgence:

“Y-yes... I suppose so. After all... with ten years of effort, even the hardest steel softens under warmth.”

“That’s not the same thing!”

Ariel straightened, chest out, speaking proudly:

“This time I bent a perfectly straight, proper girl all the way to my side! That’s hell-level difficulty, okay? And, Professor, haven’t you seen how so many long, gentle relationships end up losing to a moment of thrilling reality? That’s exactly how those so-called ‘cuckold-edition’ story anthologies came to be.”

“Y-yes... true. But...”

“But?”

“...Forget it.”

Ariel’s teacher let out a faint sigh.

Though she dared not act within the church herself, her powerful soul sense had faintly caught something the previous night.

In that room, there seemed to be a fourth person.

But she could not be certain. The Grand Barrier prevented her spiritual power from leaving Ariel’s body; at most, she had brushed the surface, like a dragonfly skimming water.

It might even have been an illusion caused by the barrier’s interference.

After all, the idea of Saintess Liya secretly hiding someone in her room—if spoken aloud—would be taken by fanatics as blasphemy against the pure and holy Saintess, and the speaker would likely be burned alive.

And knowing that innocent girl—who blushed for half a day whenever Ariel told a slightly indecent joke—such a thing was surely impossible.

Better to assume the most peaceful explanation.

“Since Liya mustered her courage, I can’t let her down. At times like this, it’s up to me to declare my own feelings openly!”

Ariel’s eyes grew firm, her expression solemn, and she could not help but proclaim toward the newborn sun—her declaration as the goddess of pure love herself:

“Wait for me, Liya!”

Then—

“Who goes there!”

The knight guards suddenly shouted, jolting awake. Shadows flickered along the outer edge of the grove.

Ariel’s face changed.

“Damn it! They found me already? I almost forgot I came here to pick flowers! I need to grab a bunch and get out of here—ah, there are so many, Professor, help me pick which ones look best!”

“......”

......

At dawn, High Sister Lin drew open the curtains, bathing in the warm, gentle sunlight.

In the bright light she stood before the mirror, arranging her attire one last time.

Her black veil gathered the hair at her forehead, falling naturally behind her shoulders. The white shawl collar embroidered with fine gold edges marked her rank as High Sister.

Her long gown reached the ankles—strict and solemn. The Holy Light cross upon her chest caught the dazzling sun, gleaming as though the Goddess’s own grace had descended.

Only after confirming that not a single hair was out of place did Lin nod in satisfaction, wearing a smile that held a trace of authority but not harshness.

This was her daily discipline. As the High Sister leading the entire cathedral of Aimier, attendant to the Saintess herself, she had to maintain perfect elegance and composure at all times, in all places.

Indeed, she had done so for over a decade—her grace and composure never once faltering.

And they never would.

Lin pushed open the door and stepped into the stained-glass corridor of the church.

“High Sister.”

Passing nuns and clergy greeted her respectfully. Even the occasionally passing bishops of noble rank smiled and inclined their heads.

She returned their courtesy—graceful, composed.

“Quickly! Gather reinforcements! Catch her!”

“Don’t let her escape—contact the bishop!”

Suddenly noise erupted outside. Powerful waves of magic rolled through, disturbing the serenity of the Goddess’s domain.

Even the bishop who had just smiled at her turned abruptly grim and hurried off.

Lin’s brows knit slightly, yet she did not panic. She caught a flustered young nun by the arm and asked calmly:

“What happened?”

“I—I heard a thief snuck into the Sacred Grove and plucked every single flower Bishop Meredith cherished most—roots and all! The Temple Knights are chasing her right now!” The young nun’s eyes widened, thrilled as if watching a play.

“I see...”

Lin’s lips twitched, but she quickly restored her expression.

“May the Goddess aid Bishop Meredith in catching the thief soon.”

A lovely day, beginning with a small mishap.

But clearly, such a little incident could not disturb Lin’s habitual composure.

—After all, even the Saintess being defiled by some blond swine had happened. What else could surprise her now?

A mere theft in the church was nothing.

After everything that had happened recently, Lin felt her tolerance for the absurd had improved dramatically.

She moved on.

Soon the noise faded away. She entered an area few outsiders could access—no nuns, no clergy passing by.

She walked the familiar path to the corridor’s end.

Then stopped before the single door at its farthest point.

She gazed at it silently. She knew what must have occurred last night after she had gone to bed early, and she knew what scene likely lay within now.

But none of it mattered anymore. It wasn’t her first time witnessing such things—why should she panic?

That bastard wouldn’t possibly do anything even more outrageous, would he?

Drawing a deep breath, Lin finally raised her hand and, with elegant composure, knocked on the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Your Holiness the Saintess, it’s time to rise. You have a morning prayer ceremony to preside over.”

......

Half-asleep, Muen stirred to the rhythmic knocking—and to the hollow ache spreading from deep within his body.

His hands wandered absently; his body shifted.

Mm. The familiar ceiling, the familiar bed, the familiar fragrance and soft warmth, and—

The familiar knocking.

“What... oh, it’s Lin.”

Muen grumbled twice, then instinctively slapped his hand onto the soft mound beside him.

“Time to wake up, little lazy pig. Miss Lin is calling you.”

“Mm—stop it, junior~”

A sweet, drowsy, and very familiar voice brushed against his ear.

“Don’t tease me~”

“......”

Muen woke instantly.

He slowly looked down—to the right.

A mature, alluring senior was resting her head comfortably against his chest, one long pale leg draped across his abdomen, pressing those twin peaks upward, the source of the softness he’d just felt.

Anna.

Then he turned left.

A cute, delicate girl’s rosy face peeked out from the blankets, her arms wrapped tightly around his arm, the deep softness of her curves threatening to swallow his hand whole, while her thighs clamped his tightly like a playful octopus, skin pressing against skin.

That was Liya.

Their heads were so close they could have been loving sisters—but last night’s wild, beautiful chaos told Muen otherwise.

During that battle, the little tricks and jabs between them had never ceased, and that toy of theirs hadn’t stayed in just one warm cavern.

Now for the key point:

Anna on his right, Liya on his left.

And outside the door—High Sister Lin.

Under normal circumstances, even if she disliked it, Lin could do nothing about his and Liya’s relationship.

After all, even the Pope had tacitly accepted it.

But...

Lin might tolerate him and the Saintess “pursuing the path of Life together,” yet she might not accept the Saintess and her pig dragging another woman into a full-blown orgy!

No—think carefully. The Saintess herself not only defiled by a pig, but that same pig bringing another cabbage along to the feast—how could anyone accept that?!

Hiss—dead!

A flood of thoughts hit him at once.

The clearest image: himself condemned for blasphemy, obscenity, and villainy—tied to the stake by the Pope’s own hands, burned alive amid the cheers of countless believers.

Or beaten to death on the spot by an enraged Lin.

At that moment, even the hollow, throbbing pain in his waist ceased to matter.

Muen’s eyes went wide and empty as his mind began racing faster than ever before.

“Heh... perhaps this is the trial the Goddess has granted me.”

Help.