The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 96

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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 96
“It was an order from the Second Imperial Prince!”
The shattered voice echoed through the underground dungeon.
My suspicion proved correct. Croen, the Grand Duke, showed little surprise—he must have anticipated as much. His green eyes merely grew colder, sinking into a glacial stare.
“What order, precisely?”
“To monitor the Saint’s movements, Your Grace. Specifically… to observe whether she grew close to you, whether there were any instances of private contact, and to report any signs of a cooperative arrangement between you.”
So it was surveillance designed to contain the Grand Duke.
I bit back a curse internally. From the Second Imperial Prince’s perspective, the image of the Grand Duke and me joining forces must have been rather galling.
I was a Saint whom he could wield like a chess piece through the promise of betrothal, and the Grand Duke was the only elder of the Imperial Court capable of restraining him.
Of course he would move to check such a threat. If we two joined hands, his position would become considerably more precarious.
The very fact that the Second Imperial Prince had deployed Prakchi—a spy—was proof that his anxiety was no mere paranoia. The troublesome scenario he feared had already come to pass.
We had gone far beyond merely growing close; we had already drawn up a Contract Betrothal Document.
I pressed further.
“Anything else?”
Prakchi’s lips trembled. But the moment I raised my finger again, he flinched and immediately confessed.
“If deemed necessary… there was also an order to eliminate the Saint. Should you judge a cooperative arrangement to have been established, I was instructed to stage it as an accident in the Northern Region…”
Excellent. This was more than sufficient to free me from the Religious Order’s coercion over the betrothal. I lowered my hand.
Prakchi hung his head, breathing in ragged, labored gasps. His entire body was drenched in cold sweat.
“So this is what they mean by the Saint Power of Confession…”
Beside me, Croen nodded with the expression of someone arriving at understanding. Then, as I stepped closer, he reflexively retreated a pace.
I stared at him pointedly.
“Why are you backing away?”
“My apologies.”
The Grand Duke cleared his throat awkwardly. Prakchi’s ordeal had apparently looked quite painful. In truth, it was—which is why he’d kept his mouth shut before finally breaking down and confessing.
The Grand Duke must have realized something as well: Saint Power could manifest far more physically than he had imagined.
I looked down at Prakchi at my feet, brushed out the hem of my dress, and stepped beyond the iron bars.
“We’re done here. Keep him alive—a corpse becomes a nuisance.”
“You needn’t worry on that account.”
A familiar, languid smile played at the corner of the Grand Duke’s mouth.
“I understand well enough that a living mouth is far more useful than a dead one.”
This man was far too calculating to simply play the role of an innocent victim.
Escaping the dungeon—that bone-chilling vault where damp cold clung like tar to the marrow—I could finally breathe. The Northern Region’s air was cold enough, certainly, but it lacked the suffocating, penetrating dampness that permeated the underground depths.
The Grand Duke naturally made his way toward his office, with Arden and me following behind.
Silence accompanied our walk through the corridor. What we had just heard was too weighty for casual conversation.
The moment we stepped into the Grand Duke’s office, I seated myself and spoke.
“We may have to confront the Second Imperial Prince directly. Are you prepared for that?”
The Grand Duke took his seat opposite me, studying my face. I continued, choosing my words with care.
“I’ve heard your territory depends on the Imperial Court for grain supplies. I’m asking because if you provoke the Second Imperial Prince unnecessarily, he might fabricate charges against you or cut off your provisions—and that would bring hardship to your people.”
In truth, this was less about genuine concern for him and more about protecting my own position. Yet the outcome remained the same, didn’t it—I was worried.
Croen regarded me silently for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh.
“The very act of sending an Imperial Court spy to this place shows my youngest nephew’s true nature, does it not?”
His green eyes flashed with a chilling brilliance.
“If he ascends to the throne, how much more contemptible will he treat me? The roots must be severed before they take hold.”
Resentment long accumulated spilled forth.
He had lived under the Previous Emperor’s shadow, granted only the barren Northern Region while the Imperial Court held the strings of grain supplies.
His nephews had always regarded him as a troublesome branch lacking imperial succession rights—and beneath his own territory, granted by the Previous Emperor himself, slumbered the great demon Raume.
It was hardly surprising that the Grand Duke harbored no goodwill toward the Imperial Court.
I nodded.
“Good then. Lend me your name and your strength to pressure the Second Imperial Prince.”
“With pleasure.”
The Grand Duke smiled. It was the same polite, languid smile as before, yet now the blade concealed within it was far more visible. As long as it wasn’t directed at me, I had no objection.
In the corridor on my way back to my chamber after leaving his office, I finally broached something that had been nagging at me.
“But why won’t you let me speak properly with the Grand Duke, Arden?”
Arden glanced at me, a beat late.
“I feared Your Highness might be swayed or manipulated by such a man.”
“Me?”
“Your Highness lacks sufficient experience dealing with such cunning individuals.”
I looked up at Arden with a flat expression.
This was less jealousy than the attitude of someone casting himself as my protector.
It was an odd feeling.
In my past life, I was Valente’s protector in just this way. Whenever she tried to step into danger, I’d stop her. When a suspicious person approached, I’d suspect them first. Even if Valente said it was fine, I’d insist it wasn’t and block her path.
But now her descendant stood before me, trying to protect me instead.
Time truly was a strange thing—it made people feel peculiar.
“I’m fine. I’m not so naive as to be manipulated by the Grand Duke. You saw that yourself.”
I’d shown I wasn’t easily swayed—not quite controlling the upper echelons of the Religious Order, but close enough—so where on earth had Arden’s misplaced concern come from?
“I’m relieved to hear it, then.”
“And I’m not nearly as ignorant of politics as you seem to think.”
Arden laughed quietly.
“That’s fortunate. I have no talent whatsoever for politics, so the only way I know to protect you is to cut through the talk like this.”
Yes, it was precisely that quality—this mingling of lie and truth so artfully done—that made him impossible to dismiss entirely, even as suspicion clung to him. It was the easiest way to deceive someone.
He’d gradually seized the initiative that Johan had once held, all without seeming to try. There was nothing talentless about his grasp of politics.
Before returning to my room, I informed Johan of the situation. He was still fuming that we hadn’t obtained custody of the Imperial Court’s spy, still locked in the Grand Duke’s dungeon—he wanted the spy transferred to the Temple.
“Your Grace, did you persuade the Grand Duke?”
“Give it up.”
“But Your Grace—”
“The Grand Duke was quite adamant. Since the assassination attempt occurred in his own castle, he refuses to surrender his prisoner.”
Johan’s face twisted. I continued before he could protest further.
“Instead, I’ve arranged leverage to pressure the Imperial Court. We’ve confirmed the spy was ordered to watch me on the Second Imperial Prince’s command—and even to eliminate me if necessary. So the Temple won’t be returning empty-handed.”
Johan’s eyes shifted.
“The Second Imperial Prince dared to… target the Saint?”
“Indeed. The Imperial Court seems to have badly underestimated our Order.”
Once I’d redirected his anger properly, Johan no longer clung solely to grievances against the Grand Duke. His face now blazed with the fury of the Order’s honor having been insulted.
Good. When he returned to the Main Temple, Johan would trumpet loudly about how the Imperial Court had shown disrespect to the Religious Order.
And the anger of those above him would serve as excellent tinder for my pressure against the Second Imperial Prince.
I brushed my hands clean.
“It’s time we returned to the Main Temple.”
Arden picked up my words.
“I’ll have word sent to transfer your belongings to a carriage.”
At last, the hour of my return to the Main Temple had come.
But there was one matter I needed to resolve before leaving.
“Let me see that glass bottle.”
“This one, Your Grace?”
Arden reached into his coat and presented the bottle to me respectfully.
I rolled the glass bottle containing the golden liquid gently in my palm—the one Arden had handed me.
I needed to discover what this mysterious liquid the Archbishop had given me actually was before I returned to the Main Temple.

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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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