The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 110

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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 110
Arden’s hands stilled as he lifted another stack of books, the motion interrupted mid-gesture.
“The current Saint, you mean?”
The librarian caught the flicker that crossed Arden’s blue eyes. He’d broached the subject deliberately, knowing full well that this Holy Knight served as the Saint’s sworn protector.
“Yes, though I’ve only worked here a few years myself, I’ve heard she was already quite famous in the library before taking her vows. Apparently she spent nearly a decade searching for records about the Third Saint alone.”
Could her thorough knowledge of the Third Saint stem from reading those materials as a child?
If she’d simply absorbed every scrap of historical record related to the Saint over all those years, it would explain things.
It was entirely possible that the Third Saint had indeed left her name in records she herself had written.
Arden’s suspicion receded, if only slightly.
“That does account for it—she certainly seems to grasp every aspect of the Third Saint’s accomplishments. Though I confess I didn’t expect ten years of archival research to be behind it.”
Arden replied smoothly and gathered the books together.
“Return them whenever you’ve finished reading, please.”
After leaving the library, Arden made his way directly to the Holy Knight Barracks.
His room was, as always, immaculately kept—not a garment out of place, with only essentials arranged with precision on his desk.
Arden sat at the desk and spread open the remaining records.
He finished one volume and moved to the next, then the next after that.
Night deepened around him, the candlelight noticeably lower in its holder.
By the time he reached the final page of the last book, the name he’d been searching for never appeared.
From beginning to end, not a single record mentioned Wilson.
Arden closed the book and let out a hollow laugh.
Ciela—his Saint—was lying to him.
***
I handed the letter intended for Count Lebon to Arden. “I’m counting on you. It seems the safest way to get this to the Count while avoiding Temple scrutiny is through your hands.”
“I’d be happy to handle it,” Arden replied, accepting the sealed envelope without question or hesitation.
He’s remarkably convenient in moments like these—never asking about origins or contents, simply moving exactly as I need him to.
But as Arden reached to tuck the letter into his chest, his hand suddenly stopped.
“Your Highness.”
“What is it?”
“Where did you come across the record stating that the Third Saint’s mace was named Wilson?”
I answered with deliberate indifference.
“I don’t remember exactly, but supposedly it’s written in records the Third Saint herself left behind.”
Surely Arden wouldn’t scrutinize every single record I’d written. There were hundreds of documents spanning centuries, and the Holy Sanctuary’s library alone held a vast collection.
No matter how suspicious Arden might be, he wouldn’t have the leisure to investigate all of them.
I tried to brush past it casually, but Arden said nothing for a moment.
Instead, his gaze fell on my hand—precisely on the ring adorning my left ring finger.
“Is that… an engagement ring?”
I lifted my hand absently to look at it. The Blue Diamond caught the light, its deep azure glow still uncomfortably luminous.
“He sent it, so I can hardly refuse to wear it.”
I shrugged slightly.
“There’s value in making my betrothal to the Grand Duke somewhat public knowledge anyway.”
Arden regarded the ring briefly, then nodded slowly.
“I see. I’ll deliver any reply as soon as it arrives.”
“Much obliged.”
With that, Arden turned and left. I watched his retreating figure for a moment before turning my attention back to the tasks ahead.
Saint Benia’s Holy Day was approaching.
Had it already been a year since Benia’s passing?
Benia had been like my right arm in life, and she’d done more than anyone else during the Temple’s expansion. Her later canonization and the designation of her death-day as a holy feast were thoroughly deserved.
Still, it wasn’t a celebration that stirred the entire empire the way my own holy day did. It was more of a feast maintained by the Temple authorities and the faithful.
But the preparations were nonetheless extensive. The Temple grounds bustled with activity—ceremonial rites honoring Benia’s accomplishments, relief distributions, commemorative masses, and preparations for pilgrims.
Watching it all, I found myself missing her suddenly.
No matter how sincere and perceptive Deacon Rilette might be, she fell far short of Benia’s caliber—in experience and ability both.
It wasn’t even fair to compare them.
Benia understood what I needed without being told and brought it without hesitation. When I caused trouble, she’d scold me while handling the aftermath flawlessly.
When political disputes arose, she’d give precise counsel on which side to support, and when I rushed off with Wilson in hand, she’d first ask where I was going, then clear the path for me.
She’d been my most reliable right arm, the foundation that let me act freely. I doubt I’ll ever find someone like her again.
Yet Saint Benia’s Holy Day did give me a chance to see Vivian after a long while. She too had been mobilized for the preparations.
“Is it all right for me to rest?”
Vivian asked, munching on grapes. After her brush with poison, she hadn’t so much as glanced at apples. Apparently even Purification couldn’t erase the trauma the fruit itself had inflicted.

I felt a little guilty, as if I were the one who’d planted that trauma in her.
“There’s no help for it. If I brought all the orphans here, they’d just use that against me and attack me for it anyway.”
Of course I wanted to give all my younger siblings a rest, but if the orphans all disappeared at once, it would be obvious what was happening.
“But the First Prince visited the Temple a couple of times while you were away.”
Vivian told me what had happened at the Temple during my absence in the Grand Duke’s Territory.
“And some noble ladies around your age came too. They were all blonde.”
So while they’d sent me away to the Grand Duke’s Territory, they were still searching for a new Saint candidate.
Everyone had witnessed and spread the story of how I’d transformed from blonde to silver hair through God’s selection, and it was absurd how they kept trying to find my replacement among fair-haired women.
What, were they planning to keep dyeing someone’s hair periodically?
Come to think of it, I’d heard that considerable protests had come in about casting the Third Saint’s understudy as a blonde woman on the Feast of Saint Ciela.
Those who’d obsessed over the Third Saint like fanatics had poured out massive complaints, saying the Third Saint wasn’t a laughingstock, asking how they could cast someone so unlike her, and demanding that at minimum they ensure historical accuracy with her hair color, even if they had to dye it.
When I first heard that story, I’d laughed because it was so ridiculous, but thinking about it now, they were actually quite useful people.
Humans who dug into my past with the devotion of fanatics. That meant they would have scrutinized every record I’d left with equal tenacity.
The guidelines I’d established regarding the Indulgence System were a precious historical document they could use. But what if they found out that the upper echelon of the Religious Order had concealed it, ignored it, and altered it at will?
There was no way they’d stay quiet. History fanatics are the most terrifying people, after all.
If people who would rise up over a single historical inaccuracy discovered that the upper echelon of the Religious Order had distorted the will of the Third Saint—whom they worshipped—for hundreds of years, what kind of reaction would they show?
It was rather pleasant to imagine.
My ultimate goal was the abolition of the Indulgence System.
At first, I thought it would suffice to reestablish the guidelines and strengthen regulations. But I was wrong.
No matter how rigidly I set up rules, I’d seen with my own eyes that they could be abused.
Then there was only one answer: eliminate it entirely.
I’d been far too arrogant. Knowing why I’d failed in the past, I’d thought things would be different if I did it.
I’d believed that if I made the regulations tighter and warned more forcefully, future generations wouldn’t make the same mistakes.
It was an oversight born of underestimating human greed.
So, Valente. You were right. A system that depends only on the conscience of future generations shouldn’t have been started in the first place.
I closed my eyes firmly, then opened them slowly.
I couldn’t undo the past. But it wasn’t over yet.
Since I was the one who started it, I would be the one to finish it. And before that, while it’s being abused anyway, I might as well squeeze some money out of those who’ve been abusing it.

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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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