The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 9

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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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Episode 9
“If you’ll wait inside, I’ll fetch His Holiness.”
Cecilia nodded and walked alone into the Prayer Chamber.
Thanks to Miguel withdrawing with Knox, the chamber fell silent.
“Nothing’s changed here.”
A dome ceiling filled with images of God, brilliant Stained Glass through which sunlight shattered in fragments, and a marble statue of building height positioned at the front.
The Prayer Chamber was the first place she’d opened her eyes after the Possession.
Why Cecilia, who was said to have suffered from fever, had been in the Prayer Chamber rather than the recovery ward or healing room remained a mystery.
Cecilia, recalling the bewilderment and despair of that time, made her way to the foot of the statue.
She gazed wordlessly at the God standing with eyes bound, smiling benevolently, and then slowly knelt.
And instead of clasping her hands together, she raised both middle fingers.
‘If you are the cause of this ridiculous nightmare, I forgive you your sin—now please return my identity to me.’
It was an audacious prayer, but she’d been irreligious in her previous life, and this world’s God was even less her concern.
Besides, He was the being most likely responsible for this unwanted miracle.
If she’d had ten middle fingers, she would have raised all ten.
“God?”
……
“Nothing.”
She hadn’t expected some divine manifestation annoyed enough to explain the way back.
Cecilia, her enthusiasm spent, rose from the floor and began brushing off her knees.
Or rather, she would have—if she hadn’t spotted something wedged between the floor and the dais.
Half-risen, she reached down and pulled out whatever jutted from beneath the platform.
An old notebook wrapped in yellowed parchment.
‘Does this belong to His Holiness?’
This Prayer Chamber was granted only to the Cardinal, the Pope, and the Saint.
She was just reaching for the first page when—
“Saint.”
At the gentle voice, she spun around.
An extraordinary figure stood at the chamber entrance.
The Pope stood there—the heart of the Temple and God’s representative—with long white hair like a bird’s feathers, smiling with refined grace.
“Blessed be God’s grace. I greet Your Holiness.”
She placed a hand over her heart and bowed lightly, and the Pope quickly closed the distance.
“Forgive me. Have you been waiting long?”
“Not at all. Time passes quickly when praying to God.”
Though it was closer to blasphemy than prayer.
Cecilia answered brazenly, lifting her head to meet his gaze.
A being as noble as an imperial emperor.
Though she bore no crown, she understood well the Pope’s greatness.
Born once in a century with such immense Holy Power.
Nearest to God in position, yet seeking the lowest places to serve and serve again—a saint for this age.
Above all, he was the godfather who cherished Saint Cecilia dearly.
She held no memories of her biological father, so naturally she carried no memories of her godfather either.
Yet merely seeing him put her at ease, which suggested Cecilia held him quite dear.
Indeed, right after the Possession, when she couldn’t accept reality and fled like a madwoman, it was the Pope who removed his own shoes and put them on her bare feet; it was the Pope who spent the night pouring out his Holy Power to aid her recovery.
“Oh, I invited you here to pray together after so long, but I’ve come too late. I should have prepared your favorite tea.”
“No, tea can wait anytime—”
As Cecilia continued the conversation, she suddenly fell silent.
‘Hmm?’
She felt an intense gaze from somewhere.
Finding the source was not difficult.
A small, thin girl was peeking out from behind the Pope’s back.
“Your Holiness, who is that child?”
“Ah, I forgot the introduction. This is a child I encountered while on charitable work in a region struck by severe drought. She recently awakened her Holy Power and now serves as a novice priest. Her name is Sena.”
The girl’s dark eyes sparkled like obsidian.
“Sena is so fond of you that she’s been pestering me to take her along.”
Apparently too shy to step forward, the girl twisted her body bashfully.
Most people would smile at such an adorable sight, but Cecilia could only sigh.
Inside this shell dwelt not God’s beloved, but surely a cursed modern soul.
Still, she couldn’t shatter the child’s innocence, so she hastily rifled through her pockets.
All she found were two candies she’d hidden from Knox to eat on the way home.
“Hello there, little one. Would you like some candy?”
The Pope added his words awkwardly as he extended the hastily procured gift along with a gentle smile.
“Ah, well—Sena is actually five years older than the Saint.”
“Ah.”
Five years older than Cecilia meant she was fifteen.
An age that didn’t swoon over candy or answer to “little one.”
‘I thought there’d be at least a ten-year gap! Is she just so thin?’
The moment Cecilia moved to hastily withdraw the candy in embarrassment at her own misstep—
“Th-thank you!”
Sena snatched the candy away with impressive speed.
Then, apparently overcome with shyness, she ducked behind the Pope.
“There are quite a few people who admire the Saint as much as this child does.”
The Pope continued, gently stroking the flushed child’s hair.
“Which is precisely why I was hoping you might consider concluding the ceremony in my stead at this Relief Festival. What do you think?”
She did not think well of it.
A woman who believed gods were merely creatures of another species standing in a sacred ceremony—
This time, an insulted god might actually make an appearance.
‘Wait, actually that sounds rather appealing.’
The proposition was intriguing, yet any rational person with sense ought to decline it.
“The honor is tremendous, but I haven’t yet received a formal appointment……”
The Pope would have heard of Knox’s failure as well, so it was a fitting excuse.
Yet the Pope merely shrugged lightly, as if it were no matter.
“What matters is only that you are one whom God Himself watches over with compassion. The will of a mere creature can hardly be of such consequence.”
In interpretation: the Emperor’s opinion was utterly unimportant—a cutting remark veiled in courtesy.
Unable to find a better excuse, Cecilia answered with an awkward smile instead.
Whether the Pope took that smile as assent, or simply chose to interpret it so, he began moving forward on his own.
“I must announce this joyful news to everyone at once.”
“Pardon? Now?”
“Yes, let us go to the Main Prayer Hall together. The faithful should just be finishing their devotions.”
“Your, Your Highness?”
“I can hardly wait to see how delighted the believers will be.”
“Your Highness!”
Cecilia, growing desperate, suddenly seized his sleeve.
“Saint?”
“Ah, well……”
‘This is driving me mad.’
Regardless of how intimately he treated her, her interlocutor was the Pope himself.
As Cecilia’s mind scrambled to smooth over the breach in etiquette, she abruptly thrust forward the notebook she’d been holding.
“This! I found it beneath the platform!”
“This is……”
“Does it belong to Your Highness?”
“……Does the Saint not know what this is?”
“This notebook?”
The Pope’s expression grew subtle as he looked down at it.
It seemed like just a shabby bundle of papers. Could it be something quite important?
Observing her bewilderment, the Pope accepted the bundle of papers carefully.
“This is no mere notebook—it is my personal diary.”
Heavens. Not just a notebook, but the Pope’s own private journal.
She would have been in grave trouble had she so much as glimpsed a single page.
Cecilia made haste to clarify.
“I never opened it, so please don’t worry!”
The Pope, the very embodiment of mercy, took her word at face value.
Without another word, he slipped the diary into his long sleeve and turned away.
“Then let us proceed to the Main Prayer Hall!”
As if he hadn’t just been talking about it moments ago……
Cecilia watched his retreating back numbly before trudging after him.
‘This is ridiculous.’
In truth, reciting a sincere prayer before a crowd of many posed no difficulty at all.
The problem lay in what came after.
After hearing from the Marquis to participate in the Relief Festival, she’d sought out records of the previous event.
According to the records, at the end of the ceremony that opened the Relief Festival, the Messenger of God was said to ignite sacred flame upon the altar.
‘Sacred flame, conjured by Holy Power?’
How on earth was she supposed to do that?
Standing beneath the building opposite the Main Prayer Hall, Cecilia watched in bewilderment as the Pope led a flood of worshippers pouring out into the street.
While those bright-eyed believers called her name, she could all too easily imagine herself breaking into a cold sweat, unable to muster a shred of Holy Power.
“Saint!”
“Lady Cecilia!”
‘Yes, they’re shouting like that and… wait?’
Among the chorus of voices calling to her, one sounded strangely familiar.
Between the worshippers, a familiar robe jutted out awkwardly.
That unusually tall frame, that slightly hunched posture—it was unmistakably Lien.
‘…What are you doing here?’
He should have been minding the estate. What was he possibly doing in this place?
That was when it happened.
“Cecilia!”
Lien, his face drained of color, shoved through the crowd and cried out desperately.
“Run!”
‘Run from what?’
In that instant.
Crash!
A sharp, shattering sound pierced her ears.
Cecilia instinctively looked up.
Above her head, shards of Stained Glass cascaded down like rain.

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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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