The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 56

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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 56
I recalled the faces of those who had been set up as my stand-in at the Saint Sierra Festival, held every year.
Back then, they’d at least brought someone with silver hair, or forced through a candidate with teal eyes.
But this? This is completely different! There’s not a single resemblance!
I pressed my forehead, wondering if they’d simply exhausted the pool of similar-looking people from scraping together candidates year after year and finally given up.
If I presented someone who bore no resemblance whatsoever as Saint Sierra, then naturally all the criticism would fall on me, the one with authority to approve it.
Whether it was because the Saint Sierra Festival was held so grandly each year, or because my achievements were so extraordinary, the followers of Saint Sierra—a woman from five hundred years ago—were quite numerous. Even at the Main Temple alone, there were several.
Of course, there were critics like Arden who argued that I was essentially the source of corruption within the Temple, but then again, every true star needs both detractors and admirers.
“Ciela!”
Vivian entered through the door, her arms full of cleaning supplies. It had been a long time since I’d seen her face. The warmth of reunion washed over me first.
“Did you get my note?”
The way she asked the moment she stepped inside told me her personality hadn’t changed one bit.
“I did. Thanks to you, I got through it without slipping up.”
Despite the sudden confrontation, I’d been able to respond calmly—and that was entirely thanks to Vivian.
Because I’d been forewarned that the Temple was trying to entangle me with the 2nd Prince, I was able to calculate every word carefully before speaking.
Vivian exhaled in relief, carelessly tossed her cleaning supplies to the floor, and threw herself onto my bed.
“Phew, thank goodness. If it were you, I thought you’d have charged right in and told the Archbishop and His Highness the 2nd Prince to their faces what nonsense this all was. Then you could’ve been dragged away on charges of insulting the royal family.”
I told Vivian the truth about her pointless worry.
“I wouldn’t be charged with insulting the royal family even if I cursed in front of the Emperor himself.”
“Wow, your authority is insane.”
My shoulders rose involuntarily at Vivian’s exclamation. But if an enraged Emperor commanded that I be handed over, the successors of our order would readily trade me away for land to build a new temple.
“Is this a candidate for the Saint Sierra Festival Parade stand-in?”
Vivian mimicked crying about how the orphans were being exploited for labor again, then quietly approached to examine the portrait.
“Huh? This doesn’t look anything like Saint Sierra?”
Because “cleaning the Saint Sierra statue” appeared on the Temple labor roster four days a week, not a single orphan in the Main Temple’s attached orphanage was unfamiliar with Saint Sierra’s face. They’d memorized it naturally through frequent cleaning. Even by that standard, the figures in this portrait were nowhere close.
“You actually look much more like her.”
Vivian said it quietly, but there was no hesitation in her words. Inwardly, I nodded in agreement.
Of course. The reason my current name became Ciela was precisely because I resembled Saint Sierra.
The caregiving priests of the orphanage who’d spotted traces of the saint’s image in an infant’s face were quite remarkable indeed.
To be honest, even the statue of Saint Sierra now standing in the Temple didn’t fully capture my face from my past life.
So I’d never received the evaluation of being “the perfect doppelgänger of the Third Saint.” At best, I’d heard “truly resembles her.” But compared to the figures in that portrait, the weight of that “truly” was entirely different.
“As the current Saint, I need to stand beside whoever I choose. So I have to pick one of them.”
The moment I said that, Vivian’s expression froze.
“Sister, you don’t mean…”
Vivian’s words trailed off as she looked up at me carefully.
“The Temple isn’t trying to choose a successor saint right now, is it? If you stand alongside these people in the parade, everyone will naturally perceive you as Saint Sierra’s stand-in, not the current Saint. With how alike you look.”
It was a rather sharp deduction. Under the name of a festival, within the production of a parade, people’s perception could be guided however one wished.
I kept my gaze on the portrait as I answered.
“And yet they gathered all these people and held a Saint Competition and an Enthronement ceremony. Would people really not know I’m the Saint?”
I said that, but I knew the truth myself. Those in the Church were perfectly capable of playing dumb if it meant driving me out.
If the Temple deliberately muddied the waters, public perception was more easily twisted than one might think. Especially at an event like the festival.
I also told her what had happened to the person who’d poisoned the apple.
When I said that Arden had handled it, Vivian—someone who’d nearly died from eating the poisoned apple—didn’t hide her smugness for a moment. Her mouth corners rose and her eyes gleamed. It was genuine, needing no performance whatsoever.
“Ah, that’s so satisfying.”
“You nearly died, though.”
“Exactly why it’s so satisfying.”
After saying that, Vivian suddenly tilted her head. Now that she mentioned it, throughout our entire conversation, there had been only the two of us in this room.
Vivian glanced around, then looked back at me with the expression of someone who’d only just realized something was odd.
“But sister, you’ve been talking about Arden this whole time.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
I paused for a moment, then answered casually.
“Outside. I didn’t call for him.”
“Oh, on purpose?”
Vivian’s eyes narrowed. There was something probing in that gaze, so I gave a slight shrug.
“He’s busy with duties. There’s no need to keep calling him in.”
“Hmm.”
Vivian nodded, hesitated for a moment, then spoke.
“So you’ll introduce me to him later?”
“If you want?”
“Then if I don’t want to, you’ll keep us from meeting?”
“Of course. What else can I do? I can’t exactly force you.”
Vivian let out a soft laugh at that.
“Just like you. Still, I should see his face at least once.”
“Should I?”
I rose from my seat and opened the door. Then I left a brief message with Rillet—to summon Arden here.
And so the three of us found ourselves face to face.
Arden bowed with his characteristic composure, and Vivian returned the greeting with equal propriety, mindful of her station. On the surface, it was an unremarkable first meeting. At least, on the surface.
“Arden Howelin. I serve in the Holy Knight Order as the Saint’s guardian knight.”
To his courteous introduction, Vivian gave him a measured look up and down before nodding.
“I’m Vivian. I grew up in the same orphanage as the Saint.”
Arden regarded her for a moment, then nodded.
“Ah, you’re the one who left the note.”
His gaze lingered on her for just an instant—weighing something. Vivian caught it; she straightened almost imperceptibly and glanced up at me. It was the kind of look that said, *This man’s sharper than I expected.*
“Thanks to you, Her Grace was able to avoid unnecessary danger.”
“No, I simply relayed what I’d heard.”
The reply was matter-of-fact. Arden didn’t press further. Instead, he offered another formal courtesy.
“I hope you’ll continue to be of service to Her Grace.”
Vivian hesitated slightly, as though weighing his words, before nodding.
“Within my means.”
The air grew taut in that brief exchange. Then Arden turned to look at me.
“Your Grace, I have some urgent matters to attend to. I’ll take my leave.”
He bowed formally as always and left. Before the door had even closed, Vivian tugged at my sleeve.
“Damn, he’s handsome. Isn’t he exactly your type?”
“I won’t deny it.”
I laughed lightly, turning over his reason for leaving. Though if he were busy, shouldn’t he have said he had work to do and would visit later? Felt a bit like we’d dragged him away from his duties just to entertain ourselves.
Then Vivian added one more casual observation about Arden.
“But the way he looks at you… it’s kind of odd.”
I raised an eyebrow at the word “odd.”
“Odd? What do you mean, odd?”

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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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