The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 55

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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 55
“I have no wish to become an enemy of Saint Sierra. If possible… we need not be allies either. I simply hope we might remain the sort who do not ruin each other’s games.”
I turned from the doorknob of the reception room, hand still gripping its cold brass.
The Second Prince, still seated in his chair, smiled with eyes narrowed at the corners.
“Then I would ask that you demonstrate through action, not merely words, that I might trust you sufficiently.”
With that warning delivered, I withdrew from the space.
Only after the door closed did I exhale.
Caritas above, as if shoring up the spirits of those incompetent fools weren’t burden enough, now I must play power games with the Imperial Household trying to break our authority!
The wretched boy dares use me as a means to topple the Caritas Church?
Arden waited steadfast outside the reception room and escorted me at once. I spoke not a single word to him until we climbed into the Temple carriage.
Once the carriage door shut and the Imperial Palace’s spires vanished entirely from view, my thoughts finally cleared.
Within the rhythm of wheels grinding against stone, I held silence for a time before speaking to Arden across from me, the words tumbling out almost carelessly.
“I’ve been proposed to.”
Arden’s gaze snapped toward me immediately.
The shock was plain enough, yet it did not scatter into panic. After a moment’s silence, he asked carefully.
“By the Second Prince?”
“Yes. He means to wrap me in Imperial protection through the form of marriage. It sounds noble enough, but the truth is transparent.”
I continued, gazing out the window. Beyond the Imperial Palace, the Capital’s splendid landscape came into view.
“More precisely, it’s a scheme to use me to bring down the Religious Order. If the Imperial Household moves against the Temple directly, the backlash would be severe. So they’ll place me at the forefront, manufacture legitimacy through me. Does the Order know this and push me toward the Second Prince deliberately?”
Arden’s brow furrowed. He hesitated before my question, then nodded.
“The possibility cannot be dismissed. The Temple’s true backing, beneath the surface, is the First Prince.”
Ah, as I suspected.
I let out a short laugh—if one could call such a deflated sound laughter.
“Then I’m a weapon for the Household and bait cast by the Temple both.”
“…It appears Your Holiness has positioned yourself too much at the center.”
Arden’s voice dropped lower, threaded with concern.
“Refusal now is not the answer. The next move would come swiftly, and then I’d face two hostile powers at once.”
The Second Prince, having laid bare his hand before me, would never leave me unscathed. Before I could be won over by the Temple, he would surely seek to eliminate me. From now on, each move would demand greater caution.
Days after that visit to the Imperial Palace, I received another summons from the Archbishop.
The reason needed no asking—I could guess it readily enough. The upper echelons of the Order had been uncommonly busy of late, and I had always stood at the heart of their movements. The moment I opened the door to his office, my suspicion hardened into certainty.
The Archbishop was waiting for me.
Or rather, it would be more accurate to say he was savoring the moment. Making no effort to hide the smile playing at the corners of his mouth, he opened his lips slowly the instant he saw me.
“I have joyful news, Saint Sierra.”
If you’re grinning like that, I can only imagine how cheerful this news will be for me, you serpent.
“The Second Prince has sent you a formal Proposal Letter.”
The Archbishop’s smile deepened as he spoke—the face of a man whose carefully laid scheme has finally come to fruition.
In that moment, I thought of the Second Prince, absent from this room. The calculation that sought to corner me with a scrap of paper sickened me.
“A Proposal Letter?”
I swallowed the rising anger with effort and answered as calmly as I could manage.
“A union between the Imperial Household and the Temple carries great symbolic weight.”
The Archbishop continued as though delivering an oration, speaking with the air of one long prepared.
“Should Saint Sierra become a member of the Imperial Household, the standing of our Order would be fortified considerably. His Highness appears to value that prospect highly.”
“I would lose the position of Saint if I became a member of the Household.”
“It pains me to lose such talent, yet since it benefits both the Order and the Household alike, I can only send you forth gladly. Should a former Saint ascend to the position of Empress, what greater glory could there be for our Order?”
Empress, he says. As if I don’t know you back the First Prince. I’d not be Empress—I’d be kindling for the pyre.
Now you’re being brazenly obvious, practically shaming me into death. I drew a slow breath and met the Archbishop’s gaze directly.
“Then this is not a seat to ask my wishes, but to report what has already been decided?”
The Archbishop’s eyes glinted briefly. His look did not deny it.
“Of course, the final decision rests with Saint Sierra. During the betrothal period with the Second Prince, you may retain your position as Saint—do consider it.”
In that case, to rid themselves of me once entangled with the Second Prince, the Order would certainly work to elevate the First Prince to the throne and demand the Second Prince’s purge with force.
I wonder if either the Second Prince or the Order realizes they are both watching for each other’s moment to strike.
I ground my teeth. My anger rose first toward the Second Prince, absent from this room.
You spoke of protection as mere management, and now you send word through the Archbishop that my opinion is utterly irrelevant?
Not even facing me directly to persuade me further, sending a Proposal Letter through the Archbishop’s mouth instead!
“I shall deliver my answer regarding the Proposal Letter directly to the Second Prince myself.”
The time for a definitive answer has not yet come—this I must handle personally.
Before leaving the Archbishop’s office, I spun about and left one parting remark.
“And it seems the Imperial Household has a rat inside the Main Temple. If you mean to use the Household, at least do not be pulled about by them.”
Seeing the Archbishop’s serene expression, he had already known of the informant. He may have arranged this entire game with that knowledge.
So the Second Prince, like me, is ultimately resting in the Archbishop’s palm.
Still, by saying this much, the Archbishop must have become convinced that I’m squarely on the Church’s side, prioritizing the Religious Order’s interests above all else. I have no idea how a single informant can set two factions scheming against each other.
***
At last, idle hours had found a worthwhile use.
Saint Sierra’s Feast Day was drawing near.
Yes, Sierra—my name from my past life.
I closed my eyes having asked them to make my death anniversary into a saint’s feast day, and here they’ve actually done it.
This was the first official Saint’s Feast Day since I became a Saint in my thirties.
Reports poured in from the Main Temple and each branch. Added to that were requisition documents that arrived crammed full of donation schedules bearing the feast day as their pretext, ceremonial procedures, and attendance confirmations from nobles and Imperial Household officials alike—the Temple was in constant commotion.
Saint Sierra’s Feast Day was celebrated more grandly than any of the five major saint feast days held at the Main Temple throughout the year.
Still, it seemed they were properly aware of just who had brought in all the money they were lavishly spending now and who had laid the foundation for the authority they enjoyed.
If only they’d show such reverence and gratitude to me in this life as they do to me from my past life.
“You’re asking me to select the woman who most resembles Saint Sierra from among these?”
“Yes, Your Holiness must approve this.”
I flipped through the documents that had reached my desk. Five portrait sketches in total.
There was a tradition passed down through the generations at Saint Sierra’s Feast Day.
A woman eighteen years of age or older who most resembled the previous Saint would dress as Sierra and stand alongside the current Saint in the parade.
As for me, I had always been the one the priests clicked their tongues over, saying, “If only she were old enough, we could have put her in the parade,” and their earnest instruction was that once I turned eighteen, I should be sure to take on the role of Sierra in the parade.
Looking at even the statue erected in the temple, it bore a fair resemblance to my face from my past life, so I had no doubt that once I turned eighteen, I would be able to stand in the parade as Sierra.
I never imagined I’d be standing as the current Saint beside that role instead.
In any case, I carefully examined the five portrait sketches to select my past self’s stand-in.
None of them looked like me at all. What exactly are the selection criteria supposed to be?

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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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