The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 78

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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 78
In response to Croen’s question, I answered with calculated courtesy.
“This land will become uninhabitable. For your information, the people won’t be driven out—they’ll become Raum’s meal.”
A flicker of shadow crossed Croen’s eyes. I held his gaze and continued.
“You’re no exception. Great Demons don’t discriminate between human blood or rank.”
The drawing room fell silent.
Imperial bloodline or not, ducal title or not, a string of baptismal names and ancestral titles or not—before a Great Demon, one remained nothing more than edible flesh. In a world profoundly unfair, monsters sometimes proved excessively equitable.
After a moment, Croen spoke again.
“Can it be stopped?”
This time, his question held genuine weight. I lifted a shoulder. “I’ll need to survey the territory first.”
Obviously, this was excuse enough to remain here.
I had already thwarted the Ecclesia Order’s schemes twice—once in Lebon County, once at the Norbaldt Viscount Estate. So I could hardly claim their efforts to awaken Raum were proceeding smoothly.
But there was no need to lay all these facts bare before Croen. What I needed now was his cooperation, and cooperation required a pretext to stay.
Croen abandoned the sardonic smile he’d worn since our first meeting. In its place bloomed something far too bright, far too practiced.
“I beg your assistance, Your Eminence.”
The shift was almost as shameless as a bribed Priest.
Not that I could fault him. Who desired to lose their land, their home, their wealth, their very life? Even if he’d been fortunate enough to escape with his neck, Croen’s situation—now lacking a father to purchase him a new fief—could only worsen, never improve.
Should Raum awaken and ravage the Croen Territory, the Duke would be left with nothing.
Would the current Emperor grant his half-brother a better fief? At the cost of alienating the nobility? We’d be fortunate if he didn’t simply hand over some desolate wasteland instead.
And I, too, would find it exceedingly inconvenient if Croen was ruined.
Ah, I’d need to renounce that betrothal to the Second Imperial Prince. I required a counterweight—for him, yes, but for myself as well.
Croen now displayed something approaching genuine cooperation, and I accepted the shift with quiet satisfaction.
Indeed, men became remarkably rational once their property was at stake. Where divine warnings failed, where a Saint’s words fell flat, where ecclesiastical authority meant nothing—a single real estate disclosure moved mountains. He transitioned to full cooperation instantly.
Whether to call this a failure of faith or a triumph of property rights, I couldn’t say. But the invincibility of real estate transcended nation and age alike.
Soon after, the housekeeper of Croen Castle arrived and led us to our guest quarters.
The castle’s interior, despite its austere façade, was surprisingly cold. Croen’s earlier quip about poor heating hadn’t been entirely false; each corridor carried a sharp chill along the thick stone walls.
Still, it was far superior to the damp, musty reek of the Norbaldt Viscount Estate. This, at least, was a castle where people actually lived.
The housekeeper was courteous but couldn’t entirely mask her curiosity. An unexpected Saint and her entourage, a guest received by the Duke himself, staying for days—it was precisely the sort of gossip castle staff thrived upon. I let the glances pass without acknowledgment and entered my quarters.
The guest room assigned to me was not quite as spacious as my chamber at the Temple, but generous nonetheless.
Though the air carried a chill, the hearth along one wall burned steadily enough to ward off true danger.
I moved toward the window and drew back the curtain slightly. The snow-covered courtyard of Croen Castle lay below.
The distant ridgeline and the sprawl of territory beyond the castle walls formed a landscape of profound quietude—so quiet, in fact, that the thought of a Great Demon slumbering beneath it felt almost unreal.
“Nothing has changed here at all…….”
I murmured softly as I took in the view, so like the one I’d beheld five hundred years ago.
A knock sounded at the door.
The moment I granted permission, my attendant Priests streamed in. I removed the White Fox Fur Cloak and formal dress I’d been wearing, changing instead into a simpler indoor gown.
Croen’s cold was bitter, but not so severe that I needed to remain trapped in thick ceremonial robes indoors.
Truth be told, much longer in that garb and my shoulders would have given out first. Outwardly elegant and holy as those vestments appeared, they were damnably uncomfortable to wear.
I’d assumed that once bearing the title of Saint, my wardrobe would simplify—plain as a Priest’s habit. Instead, the current Order treated me less as a divine vessel and more as a walking reliquary on display.
In my day, Saint dresses came without a single thread of embroidery or ornament. White cloth, simple tailoring, and that was the end of it.
Though, to be perfectly honest, I only wore such austere robes when money was scarce. Once my coffers filled, I upgraded under the guise of ecclesiastical dignity.
After I’d finished changing, I summoned Arden to my room.
He froze the instant he saw me in the thin indoor gown. His gaze dropped, and he bowed.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
He turned to leave almost immediately.
What? I’d barely processed his departure when he returned, shawl in hand.
With practiced ease, he approached from behind and draped it across my shoulders. The gesture was so familiar that I stiffened without meaning to.
“This cold is nothing, truly.”
“Nonetheless, there’s no need to expose yourself unnecessarily.”
Arden was unyielding.
I looked down at the shawl and decided to let it remain. Removing it would only invite further argument, and his duty as my guardian included attending to my health. I’d accept it on those terms.
I cleared my throat and moved to business.
“How well does this room hold sound?”
“I’ll verify it.”
Arden left immediately and returned a short while later. He closed the door and approached.
“The soundproofing is adequate. Noise doesn’t carry significantly into the corridor, and the distance to the windows makes eavesdropping difficult.”
“Is that so?”
“However, complete security cannot be guaranteed.”
“I know that already.”

I settled onto the sofa, absently working the edge of my shawl between my fingers.
There was no telling where the Archduke’s eyes and ears might reach. Even if the room was well soundproofed, I had no intention of speaking carelessly. Soundproofing was, at best, a minimal safeguard.
Within these castle walls, I was a guest—but equally, an intruder. From the Archduke’s perspective, I was the Saint who had appeared without warning to file a property defect notice, claiming a Great Demon slept beneath his territory. He would be more than justified in keeping his guard up.
I knew it was premature to judge him based on a few words of conversation. But from what I could see, the Archduke was not the sort of man to lower his guard and trust me simply because of one hexagram on a map.
If anything, his sudden shift in stance just now was less a matter of genuine trust and more a calculation to appear cooperative while keeping his assets and life intact—a way to observe the board while the stakes were in play.
I lowered my voice further, speaking almost as a whisper.
“The Archduke doesn’t trust us.”
Arden nodded quietly.
“That was my impression as well.”
“And he won’t commit to outright hostility either. Now that he’s heard the name Raum, he can’t simply ignore the danger.”
“But if the Archduke fails to witness the signs of Raum awakening within his own territory, the threat he perceives will diminish considerably. He’ll end up dismissing it all as a false alarm.”
Arden had struck at the heart of the matter.
He was right. If our opponent didn’t feel the danger in his bones, he wouldn’t see the necessity of a bargain either.
“Then how do you intend to draw out a deal in such circumstances?”
If the Archduke decided the benefits he’d gain were smaller than the risks he’d have to bear, no negotiation would take place.
The real problem, then, was making him understand the gravity of what we faced.

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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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