The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 108

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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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Chapter 108
What if the Emperor knows and is simply allowing it?
The thought sent my head spinning a little.
“……This is giving me a headache.”
Now I was beginning to understand why the Emperor had laid out such extraordinary terms just to hand me oversight of the Grand Duke.
I was supposed to pretend to relay intelligence about the Grand Duke to the Emperor while simultaneously maintaining our alliance with him.
But the Emperor had almost certainly already planted eyes around the Grand Duke. It meant he could cross-verify through other channels—how I made contact with the Grand Duke, every letter we exchanged, even what information I passed to him versus what I reported to the Emperor.
If I leaked false information to the Emperor and it contradicted what Prakti brought back, then I’d face the profoundly irritating prospect of having to contend with the Emperor on top of the Archbishop.
Because the Emperor would naturally conclude I’d sided with the Grand Duke, trying to install him as the next Emperor.
But I couldn’t simply hand over my true ally’s real intelligence either.
Playing double agent while evading the Emperor’s eyes—wherever they might be—was far more difficult than I’d anticipated.
Then again, if this were simple, the Emperor wouldn’t have dangled such extraordinary incentives to hand it to me.
The Emperor is no fool. He’s likely already accounting for the possibility that I’ll try to deceive him.
He must have confidence he can see through me, which is why he’s placed me at the Grand Duke’s side.
Perhaps he’s waiting for the moment I join hands with the Grand Duke, only to tighten the noose all at once.
But if there’s no way forward, you create one. As I always have.
I decided to send the Grand Duke a Doctrinal Text from the Religious Order, framing it as a betrothal gift.
Specifically, one I had personally written during my time as the Third Saint.
A Saint presenting a Doctrinal Text of the Religious Order to her betrothed contract partner—as a commemoration of the betrothal. On the surface, there was nothing amiss about it.
Even if someone at the Imperial Palace scrutinized the letter, there would be nothing to fault.
I slipped a rosary between the pages of the book.
The page where the rosary rested was densely filled with descriptions of heretics’ atrocities and the danger posed by those trying to infiltrate the Religious Order. Anyone reading it would think that page was the intended message.
But what truly mattered was the next chapter.
Flip one page further, and there lay detailed accounts—from my time as the Third Saint—of how I’d rooted out heretic operatives who’d infiltrated the Religious Order, how I’d distinguished the Emperor’s eyes and ears already planted within, and how instead of hastily eliminating the spies who’d already infiltrated, I’d turned them to my advantage.
Croen, the Grand Duke, would flip to that next page. And he would understand what it meant.
Find the eyes that have been planted around you.
Even if you’ve already identified them, now that you know I’m aware of the surveillance, let’s proceed on that assumption going forward.
I smiled slightly as I wrapped the book.
Go ahead and scrutinize it all you like. I’m curious myself what seditious content you’ll manage to extract from a sacred Doctrinal Text.
If this method works, it seemed we could communicate this way indefinitely.
Instead of writing secrets plainly in letters, I’d convey meaning through specific passages in the Doctrinal Text. If the Grand Duke grasped my intent, he’d send his reply using a similar approach.
A rather meaningful betrothal-commemorative correspondence course via Doctrinal Text.
I’d solved the matter of communicating with the Grand Duke. Now came a problem I truly could not delay any longer.
The greatest of all the karmic debts I’d accumulated: the Indulgence business.
Whether before or now, Indulgences remained the Temple’s largest source of revenue.
Five hundred years of institutional continuity had built up such a tangle of vested interests that I could easily predict any attempt to touch it would provoke fierce resistance.
Misstep, and the backlash would be severe.
And that backlash wouldn’t merely topple a single Saint—it could shake the entire Religious Order. I had to approach this with extreme care.
But at the same time, I understood this system better than anyone alive.
I’d introduced it knowing full well how Indulgences had become corrupted in my previous life and what catastrophe they’d ultimately unleashed.
That’s why I’d built tight regulations from the start. The others might have buried those rules so deep they didn’t dare let them see daylight, but I knew them better than anyone—every last detail.
I convened a College of Cardinals meeting using my authority as Saint. It was a gathering where every Cardinal, as well as the Archbishop, was required to attend.
“Is this the first time we’ve all gathered face-to-face like this since the final succession trials and my investiture?”
The problem was that over the past few centuries, the Saint had become essentially a figurehead, and this authority had grown all but obsolete.
Apparently, it had been centuries since a Saint actually convened a College meeting. The expressions of those gathered in the chamber were all distinctly subtle.
The Archbishop was making an effort to maintain a composed face, while the Cardinals eyed each other warily as they took their seats.
Some made their displeasure obvious—that a mere figurehead had summoned them. Others regarded me with evident curiosity, as if they’d never seen a Saint behave this way.
I studied those faces slowly, methodically.
Thanks to a list Kalianna had procured for me in advance, I knew exactly which Cardinals belonged to the Archbishop’s faction and which stood opposed.
In politics, the more people present, the easier it was to make them check and balance one another.
The moment the meeting began, I got straight to the point.
“The Second Prince recently committed the crime of attempting to assassinate a Saint, yet he received absolution for that sin through an Indulgence.”
A subtle stir rippled through the chamber.
Though the Second Prince was ultimately excommunicated, few knew that his attempted assassination of the Saint had been pardoned via Indulgence—that he’d been excommunicated instead on a different charge for which no Indulgence had been issued.
The eyes of several opposition Cardinals immediately turned toward the Archbishop. Subtly, yes, but unmistakably so to anyone with ears to hear.
I didn’t need to directly expose that the Archbishop had tried to use the Second Prince’s Indulgence as a bargaining chip with the Imperial Palace. Everyone in this room had spent enough time in politics to piece it together.
Any Cardinal high enough to have reached this rank would understand that if one Indulgence could pardon an attempted assassination of a Saint, and if the Swallen Plains had somehow transferred to Temple jurisdiction in the process, then they could infer what sort of deal had taken place.
I continued without once looking at the Archbishop.
“After experiencing something like that, a question suddenly occurred to me. Is it truly wise to continue operating Indulgences as they are now? Aren’t we turning the Empire into a nest of crime and evil where Guilt by Poverty and Innocence by Wealth reign supreme? We claim to be the state religion of Arcenia, but are we truly permitted to corrupt the nation itself just to pad the Religious Order’s coffers?”
As expected, the Archbishop’s faction reacted first. One Cardinal opened his mouth, his face distinctly uncomfortable.
“Your Holiness. I wish to present a matter for your consideration.”
The very tone of her voice made it clear she intended to instruct me.
“This Indulgence enterprise represents the will left behind by the Third Saint herself. It is not a matter Your Holiness may speak of so carelessly.”
That Third Saint was me.
And I never instructed them to debase the institution to this degree, damn them all.
Besides, if I left behind such intentions, surely I would know them best of all, you wretches.
If anything, those without the authority to speak are you—who have ignored every safeguard I carefully established and allowed this to decay to such depths.
But outwardly, I smiled with perfect serenity and turned the question back on him.
“Then you understand as well—what the Third Saint’s original intent was in creating this institution, and what measures she took to prevent its misuse?”
The mouth of the Cardinal who had dared oppose me sealed shut. Naturally, he could not answer carelessly.
A wrong answer would commit the very blasphemy of portraying the Third Saint as mercenary.
Yet should I speak correctly about the original intent behind the Indulgence system I created in my time as Third Saint, along with the safeguards I put in place, then any answer but mine becomes blasphemy against the Third Saint’s will.
Whichever way it turned, these men who had involved themselves with Indulgences for decades could not escape the charge of blasphemy.
That was precisely what I had aimed for with this question. Now no one would dare invoke the Third Saint’s intentions so presumptuously against me again.
I leaned back comfortably against my chair and surveyed the council chamber slowly.
I had not convened this assembly today in order to expose the problems of the Indulgence enterprise.

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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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