Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - Chapter 192

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Side Story 9
Side Story 3. What Happened at the Grand Temple
“What? The Pope is coming to the Capital in person?”
On a day when the biting cold had begun to soften and sleet drizzled gently upon the earth, I received unexpected news.
‘At his age, no less?’
I had consistently refused the Temple’s persistent invitations over the past months. The Temple had been utterly useless from beginning to end, and the likelihood of that changing was slim. Moreover, my current unstable state of holy power had also factored into my decision to decline.
‘If they start whining about demonstrating my holy power, it’ll become a nuisance. I should avoid getting entangled.’
I had rejected letters from bishops all the way up to the Pope himself, so I assumed he would withdraw out of wounded pride. I was mistaken. The Pope sent word of his direct journey to the Asteia Capital not to our unresponsive side, but to the Imperial Court itself.
While openly stating his reason for the visit.
‘Why would he humble himself so much just to meet me?’
The fact that he had been repeatedly rejected by me—an unpleasant truth now made public—suddenly made me curious about his true motivation for coming to the Capital.
“Isidore, why is the Pope willing to take such a risk just to see me?”
I went directly to Blanche and consulted with Isidore, and he furrowed his brow slightly.
“….”
“Could it be that the Temple’s reputation among the Empire’s nobility has suffered, and he’s trying to use me to recover from it?”
“…Of course, such ulterior motives aren’t entirely absent, but my suspicion is that it stems from an internal problem within the Temple.”
Isidore seemed to know something.
“An internal problem?”
“Last month, high-ranking priests who had been dispatched to various regions secretly returned to the Grand Temple. Not just the senior priests, but even those undergoing fasting practices.”
“Was there a major internal ceremony? Something like a New Year’s Mass?”
“Even if there were a major ceremony, priests undergoing fasting rarely leave their posts. If they abandon their training grounds, they must start their fasting from the beginning.”
He tapped the desk slowly and continued speaking.
“The Temple’s movements seemed suspicious, so I cornered one of the priests and got him to talk. It appears there’s been a problem with a sacred relic the Temple has been safeguarding.”
“A sacred relic? You mean from Hyanghwa….”
At his words, I straightened my posture involuntarily.
“Yes, that white rosary the Cardinal brought during Hyanghwa is the sacred relic in question.”
“Ah.”
I let out a short sigh.
If the Pope is coming to ask me about the sacred relic, then he’s coming to the right person. Only I, who possesses the memories of Saint Naila’s past life, would know the true meaning and value of that white rosary called a sacred relic.
First, to explain the relic, I must address the misconception the Empire’s people hold. They believe that Saint Naila divided her own body into six pieces to establish the Barrier, but this is an exaggeration and embellishment added by later generations to emphasize the Saint’s sacrifice—it’s not what actually happened.
‘A fool… No, though she did have a strong spirit of sacrifice, it wasn’t to that extent….’
However, it wasn’t entirely a fabrication either. Saint Naila gathered her remaining holy power for the Empire’s future and her dear friends, creating a Barrier to oppose the Demon.
‘She didn’t divide her body into six pieces. Rather, she divided her holy power into six portions and placed each one within the beads strung on the rosary….’
That white rosary came into the hands of the Temple, which had been managing Saint Naila’s affairs, and the priests began calling it a sacred relic. The relic was normally kept in the Grand Temple, but was only displayed outside during major Masses conducted by the Pope himself or during the Hyanghwa ceremony honoring Saint Naila’s sacrifice.
The reason I was able to awaken such tremendous holy power at the last Hyanghwa was because that white rosary was a particularly special object—one capable of stimulating memories of my past life.
‘…Because it’s stained with the blood of Rocke Visconti, who was Saint Naila’s beloved.’
As I recalled the white rosary, the harsh desert wind and the thick metallic scent of a man’s blood seemed to pierce my nostrils. The image of Isidore’s chest being pierced through flashed before my eyes simultaneously. As similar memories overlapped, cold sweat beaded on my palms.
I pushed aside the anxiety born from trauma and pondered what could possibly be wrong with that rosary to cause all the priests to gather and the Pope to come here.
‘Though I’m reluctant, I suppose I must meet with the Pope.’
Just then, as if reading my thoughts, Isidore firmly grasped the back of my hand and his eyes blazed with determination.
“You’ve done more than enough, Lady Deborah Simour. Not once, but twice. Let the Temple handle these troublesome matters on their own.”
“I was trying to ignore it, but the Pope himself is coming to visit.”
“The Pope is only human—shake him and something will fall out. The Temple seems to be on a downward slope already. Don’t you wonder how much faster it would tumble if we gave it a push from behind?”
Isidore spoke casually about blackmailing the Pope and further damaging the Temple’s reputation.
‘Sometimes I can’t tell who the villain is.’
I felt reassured by the people around me—generous to their allies but mercilessly harsh to their enemies.
“There’s no need to stir up trouble. Besides, I think this works out well.”
“Works out well? In what way?”
“The sacred relic the Temple possesses. It was originally mine.”
I had a tendency to separate the Naila of my past life from who I am now, but this time I decided to let it pass.
“So I should get it back.”
Perhaps this was an opportunity to recover the rosary that had flowed into the Temple after Naila’s death.
‘If I’m lucky, I might even find a clue to restore my depleted divine power.’
* * *
“Where does this old man think he can order me around?”
Duke Simour immediately grew irritated upon reading the letter from the Imperial Palace. It stated that the Pope was staying in the Imperial Reception Hall and eagerly awaited the Saint’s visit.
“Still, the Pope made the journey himself from the Heleia Autonomous Region all the way to the Capital, so I should at least go to the Imperial Palace. Out of respect for his age.”
“Why respect an old man who can’t act his age and lacks common sense? If he refused because he was so busy, he should have taken the hint.”
“I have something urgent to discuss with him.”
“What could you possibly have to discuss with that old fool from the papal office? I’ll never accept the Temple forcing you into sacrifice under the guise of sainthood.”
“Well…”
It was the reaction I’d anticipated, so I already had my answer prepared.
“I didn’t want to worry you, so I haven’t mentioned it until now, but my divine power isn’t recovering.”
This was the truth. My recovery had become considerably slow, as if there were a leak.
“What?”
My father’s eyes twitched finely, as if shocked by my words.
“Why didn’t you tell me something so important until now…! You don’t have a health problem, do you?”
“No. My body and mind are healthier than ever. I rest well, eat well, have nothing to worry about, and I’m always with the people I love.”
“Hmph! Then… if you rest and eat well, your divine power should return.”
“When the body has a problem, you go to a doctor, right? Similarly, since there’s a problem with my divine power, wouldn’t it be faster to ask the Pope, who’s the expert in that field?”
“I still don’t trust those Temple people…”
“If you really don’t trust them, should I have Isidore dig up some leverage on the Pope beforehand?”
“That’s a good idea.”
Only then did my father’s stern expression soften, and I finally managed to arrange a meeting with the Pope.
* * *
“I am honored to meet you, Saint. I am Maurice, a servant of the Lord, and I have been appointed Bishop this year, granting me the privilege of serving you.”
An awkward-looking man arrived at the Simour Town House to introduce himself. He was a high-ranking Priest sent by the Pope to escort me to the Imperial Palace.
“I’m the daughter of House Simour.”
I subtly emphasized that I was not a saint, but rather a temperamental member of the Simour bloodline, and observed him carefully.
‘He looks young… already a Bishop.’
The gently drooping corners of his eyes and soft lips curved in a smile conveyed an impression of gentleness. He seemed quite popular among the faithful.
“I am immeasurably delighted to make your acquaintance.”
As Maurice traced the sign of the cross repeatedly, my father standing beside me spoke with a cold edge to his voice.
“To serve my daughter is not merely an honor—it is a privilege so great that gratitude alone seems insufficient. Remember this always, and live your entire life with a heart of perpetual thanksgiving.”
“Yes, Duke Simour. I shall do exactly as you say.”
Despite my father’s excessive remarks, Maurice still wore a smile at the corners of his mouth as he guided me to the carriage reserved for distinguished guests.
“I shall escort you to His Holiness.”
I gazed briefly into his reddish-brown eyes, accepted his escort, boarded the carriage, and shortly thereafter found myself in the presence of the Pope.
“The great sanctity that drove back darkness like the noonday sun has reached even Heleia. I am profoundly moved. What an honor to meet you thus, Saint Naila.”
The Pope I met in the Imperial Reception Hall had hair white as snow, and despite his small frame, his voice resonated with such depth that I thought he was perfectly suited for preaching.
“This is our first meeting. I am Deborah Simour.”
After exchanging the customary pleasantries, I sat across from the Pope. As I sipped my tea in silence, the Pope opened his mouth first with an embarrassed expression.
“I have long been foolish, failing to recognize those who impersonated you, Saint Naila. I responded too slowly even when the Demon was summoned. I am well aware that this caused your heart great pain.”
I smiled faintly.
“Since I harbored no expectations of the Temple, there is no reason for my heart to be wounded.”
At words that contradicted my gentle expression with their sardonic edge, the Pope looked momentarily flustered before quickly regaining his composure.
“As a servant of the Divine, I shall henceforth serve you well, Saint Naila. Our priests shall spare no effort in proclaiming your name so that it may be praised by all generations to come.”
“That is not the answer I sought. Nor was that the intent behind my words.”
I quickly waved my hand in protest.
“What I meant was this: if we approach one another with pure hearts, expecting nothing in return, then neither of us need ever suffer disappointment. Is that not so?”
At my words, the Pope’s lips twitched slightly. I could read it all—he was forcing a smile through discomfort.
‘I was right to ask Isidore about this beforehand.’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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