Teaerik awkwardly avoided Anael’s gaze.

While he could maintain a thick skin when dealing with all sorts of schemes in social circles, he had no immunity to such pure expressions of goodwill.

“Do you usually enjoy snow tea, Your Grace?”

“…Though I can’t brew it with melted snow like they do in the North, I do enjoy it. Perhaps because it’s made from leaves that survived without freezing in the cold, it has almost no bitterness or astringency.”

At those words, Anael brightened and smiled radiantly.

“If you ever have occasion to visit the North, I’ll serve you snow tea.”

“Really? Ahem…, thank you.”

Teaerik, who had unconsciously lit up at the prospect of tasting proper snow tea, quickly regained his senses.

‘Tsk, she’s just being polite. Don’t get carried away, Teaerik Rabius.’

Given the Emperor’s behavior, it wouldn’t be surprising if he took the saint as his Empress within months.

Therefore, the chance of him drinking snow tea served by Anael in the North would clearly never happen.

Teaerik avoided her violet eyes that held such warm light.

Indeed, getting more deeply involved with this woman would surely become troublesome.

Finally, he decided to directly ask about her purpose.

“If it’s not too rude, may I ask what brings you here?”

He intended to grant her wish if it wasn’t too difficult and send her on her way.

‘It must be about Callia.’

Teaerik was prepared to appropriately compensate for emotional damages if the saint claimed to be hurt by Callia’s insincere apology.

If that could completely suppress the social circle’s interest, it would be worth it.

‘From our conversation, she doesn’t seem like the type to make unreasonable demands…’

Anyway, Teaerik waited with an expression that invited her to speak freely.

But this time, who knows what he’d done wrong? As Anael seemed to carefully choose her words, transparent tears welled up in her eyes again.

‘Why is she crying?’

Teaerik’s pupils trembled slightly in confusion.

Seeing his agitation, Anael hurriedly apologized.

“I’m sorry for showing such an embarrassing side again…, and for taking up your time.”

“Actually, I’m quite idle. Time is something I have in abundance, so please speak freely.”

Teaerik, who had blurted out anything to prevent her tears from falling, fidgeted as he watched Anael.

Fortunately, Anael soon collected herself and looked straight at Teaerik.

Her subdued voice flowed carefully after some hesitation, as if confessing a sin.

“…I wasn’t originally a ‘saint’.”

***

The North is Anael’s homeland, and the Harnelia Grand Temple is her home.

Parents who couldn’t endure the cold wave, famine, and magical beast attacks secretly abandoned their babies at the Divine Temple with tears in their eyes.

“I was one of them.”

The priests took in the freezing newborn wrapped in tattered blankets.

And gave her ‘Anael,’ the name of an archangel, and ‘Francideum,’ the surname given to those belonging to the Divine Temple.

“It was too grand a name for me. While many pity my misfortune, I think I was fortunate.”

Thanks to her parents’ hearts, who climbed to the temple high in the snowy mountains, hoping their baby wouldn’t die, she grew up safely in divine care.

Though they weren’t wealthy, she learned about living in the world and philanthropy from the frugal priests who ran poorhouses and orphanages.

Magical beasts threatened them by crossing the deteriorating walls they couldn’t afford to repair, but with her talent in holy power and swordsmanship, she could protect her precious ones as a holy knight.

“But as magical beast attacks became more frequent, the situation in the North grew increasingly dire.”

More babies were abandoned, while the orphanage struggled to provide even rice porridge.

The faithful, driven to the edge of survival, went beyond blaming the gods to losing their minds.

Holy knights died or were severely injured fighting magical beasts recklessly without proper food or rest.

“Other northern territories were in similar situations, so even donations gradually decreased.”

“Couldn’t you request manpower or supplies from the Imperial Palace?”

“We did, countless times. But we were repeatedly rejected, told to handle it ourselves since it was the Divine Temple’s autonomous territory.”

The North, lacking proper resources and powerful noble influence, had long been outside the Imperial family’s interest.

There were no more places to seek help or ways to overcome the crisis on their own.

“The day my master, who was like a parent to me, collapsed unconscious after facing magical beasts with their aging body, I felt desperate enough to grasp at straws. Since I couldn’t join battles due to injury at the time, I came to Rainfeld thinking I might at least collect donations.”

Teaerik, who had been listening to Anael’s calm voice, suddenly frowned.

“You came to Rainfeld while injured? Wasn’t that too reckless? Don’t tell me you’re still unwell…”

As he was about to call for the physician immediately, Anael hastily waved her hands.

“I’m completely healed now. Even then, I just had difficulty wielding a sword, but daily activities weren’t affected.”

“That’s a relief. …Ahem, please continue.”

Upon reaching Rainfeld, Anael realized how limited her experience had been.

Rainfeld, where the Imperial Palace stood, was beyond prosperous—it was luxurious. So much so that it felt like a different world from the North.

And Anael Francideum, the promising holy knight of the Divine Temple, was utterly useless in Rainfeld.

“The gatekeepers who asked which family Francideum belonged to drove me away as soon as they learned I wasn’t nobility.”

The symbol that had given her pride as a child of the Divine God was nothing more than an ugly, worthless mark of a commoner orphan here.

“Though some occasionally showed interest when I mentioned my ability to handle holy power, that too was short-lived.”

Anael’s innate holy power bore the nature of ‘insight.’

Thanks to this, she could accurately detect magical and holy power and quickly find and destroy magical beasts’ cores.

“Since magical beast threats were only frequent in the northern snow mountains and southern seas, my ability—which wasn’t even healing power—held no value to the people of Rainfeld.”

While Anael wasted time without meaningful results, her unconscious master and comrades at the barrier were surely drawing closer to death.

Consumed by anxiety, she almost fell victim to a scam by an unsavory character she would normally have avoided.

“It was His Majesty the Emperor who helped me then.”

Anael recalled her first meeting with Friedrich.

The mysterious man who coldly killed the person trying to lead her to a suspicious alley told Anael, who was holding her sword defensively, about the scammer’s vicious methods.

Then he grabbed the chin of Anael, who was apologizing in embarrassment and confusion.

“You’re too beautiful to be a holy knight from the North who’s usually covered in magical beast blood.”

When Anael bristled at his words mocking her calling, regardless of his help, the man sneered, asking if she still had pride left.

“Revealing himself as the Emperor, he proposed a deal to me. Though I cannot share the details—”

“He offered donations in exchange for you becoming a saint, didn’t he?”

When Anael’s eyes widened in surprise and wariness, Teaerik gave a bitter smile.

“I haven’t planted any spies, it’s just a guess.”

The Emperor, lacking support, must have sought to strengthen imperial authority by keeping high nobles in check, but found it difficult to devise an effective strategy.

“He probably thought of using religious authority the moment he recognized your existence.”

Anael was speechless at how Teaerik accurately deduced what she had only realized later.

However, she soon nodded heavily.

“…Yes. And I sold my name for money.”

The Emperor orchestrated a dramatic situation for her rebirth as a saint.

The contemptuous and pitying gazes directed at the poor commoner holy knight from an orphanage instantly transformed into admiration and reverence.

“Many things changed, and His Majesty said it was natural and I should get used to it.”

It seemed all Rainfeld nobles lived wearing masks.

And Anael, too, had to wear the mask of a saint according to her deal with the Emperor.

The nobles who had ignored her now lowered their brows, offered apologies, and invited her to their mansions.

They served all sorts of fragrant and precious foods.

Thinking of the children she could save with their donations, she acted like a fool who didn’t understand their subtle mockery.

And the Emperor was satisfied watching such an Anael.

“You’re doing very well, Anael. Indeed, you’re worthy of being the saint I chose.”