Bessie couldn’t contain her joy, her shoulders shaking up and down.

“Hehehe. Her position as mistress was already precarious, but now she’s become a complete scarecrow, so she won’t last much longer! Haha! Will I ever have another day as entertaining as today in my life? Hehehe!”

Even though Lucilia had lost her status as a saint, they had still feared her because her sacred power remained.

Viewed positively, with her abilities gone, she had become an ordinary human and could now blend comfortably into the baron’s household.

But Bessie couldn’t let such a good opportunity slip away.

“What if I spread rumors that she was barely holding back impure energy with her sacred power, and now that barrier is gone, calamity will truly begin…”

All she needed to do was interpret things negatively.

If that worked, they wouldn’t need to go to much trouble to drive out a powerless witch.

Bessie abandoned any trace of conscience and blamed everything on Lucilia.

“I tumbled down because I was startled when I ran into that witch. If she hadn’t had those abilities in the first place, I wouldn’t have been frightened. That woman herself is a curse.”

Her limbs were still sore, and her scrapes hadn’t healed yet.

Bessie pouted her lips and glared at the wall as if looking at Lucilia somewhere in the mansion.

“You bragged that your father was the Marquis of Caldman? And told me to know my place if I didn’t want to die? Ugh! Thinking about it again makes my blood boil.”

Not a noble lady from a marquis family, nor a pure saint!

“My lady? How ridiculous. Who’s calling her ‘my lady’?”

Though she shared a room with the young baron every night, no one had ever seen stained bedding.

Of all things, how could they overlook bloodstains symbolizing the wedding night?

The servants’ attention was all focused on the night life of the young baron and his wife, so it was impossible not to know.

Gossip about intimate matters was as addictive as gambling. Interest clung stickily, captivating people’s minds.

Bessie savored the rumors that would spread from her lips.

The corners of her mouth twitched, unable to contain her excitement.

* * *

After returning from her second purification ritual at the prayer room outside the south gate, Lucilia changed from her modest dress into casual clothes.

Throughout the change, Lucilia’s gaze never left the mirror.

Karen spoke dryly to Lucilia, who couldn’t hide her distressed appearance.

“You look tired. There’s time until lunch, so please rest.”

As she bowed and turned to leave, Lucilia called out with a voice full of moisture.

“Mrs. Miriam.”

“Please call me Head Maid.”

Though her response was stiff, Karen carefully examined Lucilia’s complexion. She seemed to be scrutinizing whether her sacred power had truly vanished.

Lucilia had no intention of telling anyone that this was all a lie.

Not even Aaron.

Since Aaron also regarded her as a witch and kept his distance, she planned to use this opportunity to reduce that gap. She wanted to let him know she was just an ordinary human, no different from him.

Without changing her expression, Lucilia expressed her troubled feelings.

“I’d like to have wine with my meal.”

“…Understood. I’ll have it prepared.”

Karen couldn’t bring herself to ask Lucilia about her sacred power. Seeing her changed behavior was confirmation enough, so she left the bedroom, allowing Lucilia to compose her troubled mind alone.

Click.

As soon as the door closed, Lucilia wiped her wet cheeks and took out the hidden piece of paper.

She had passed a note to Sister Mannea last time.

There was something she desperately wanted to ask. She wanted to confirm at least once whether her father had truly severed their father-daughter relationship forever.

And today she had secretly received a reply.

Lucilia quietly locked the door and unfolded the note.

<It is certain that your relationship with His Excellency has been severed. But he ordered me to become the Saint’s person from now on, so isn’t that the last remaining trace of fatherly affection?>

“Yet you still call me ‘Saint.'”

A bitter smile seeped into her dejected face.

She felt sorry that the nun seemed unable to return to the capital because of her, stuck in Tudra. And she was so grateful that her head bowed involuntarily at the thought of having one last ally.

She should tell the nun to think of her own life first, that she would be fine, and that the nun should return to the monastery, but she didn’t want to.

It was selfish, but she couldn’t let go of her only genuine ally.

“The temple people will surely disapprove of me. They all belong to His Holiness the Pope, so they won’t care about someone like me.”

They might dig a trap and push her in, but they would never help. Therefore, keeping Sister Mannea close was necessary to prevent any potential crisis.

The anxiety that the Pope wouldn’t simply back down remained. In reality, the Pope had nothing left in his hands.

The Marquis Teneri’s power had fallen away, and the King had never been on her side to begin with.

But now those two had joined forces, so how furious they must be.

Lucilia intended to use Mannea’s help to protect herself from the temple’s threats.

* * *

Today marked the fifth day since Aaron’s departure.

Occasionally, feelings of missing him would suddenly rise, making her flustered.

They hadn’t been particularly close during their time together, nor had they lived as husband and wife. Yet his absence left such an emptiness that she felt chills.

Then suddenly, worry swept over her that she might be living too complacently while Aaron was away.

She had no means to handle finances or various castle affairs since they had never been shared with her in the first place.

But family was a different matter.

Shouldn’t she fulfill her human duty?

Even she thought she had been too neglectful of the baron, the master of the castle. Enough to deserve criticism.

She was confused whether it was right to truly stay away when told not to visit.

Thinking one way made one approach seem right, while thinking another way made the opposite approach seem correct.

It felt like a half-chewed piece of bread stuck in her throat.

Even at the risk of being driven out, shouldn’t she visit once more?

If she would be criticized either way, she should at least ease her guilt.

Lucilia stared at the end of the corridor.

Her father-in-law, whom she had never met since the wedding, lay there.

Although she lacked the skill to entertain him, she could at least pray for his health recovery—it wasn’t something she should ignore.

Carrying her wavering heart, she took one step at a time toward the opposite corridor.

But during the short walk, her thoughts changed several times again.

She scolded herself that she should fulfill her family duty, but then worried immensely about irritating him by forcing something unwanted.

While she was deliberating, she had already reached the baron’s room.

Lucilia stood for a long time, staring at the door from which the smell of medicinal herbs seeped.

The baron’s health condition stirred in her mind.

‘His comfort probably comes first, right? If he feels disappointed that I didn’t visit, I can apologize then—it wouldn’t be too late.’

Not knowing the baron’s true feelings, acting on her own judgment might lead to worse results, which would be truly disastrous.

She hesitated to reach for the door, fearing that visiting just to ease her own mind might provoke him and worsen his condition.

Lucilia looked at the doorknob with mixed feelings.

She turned away, believing there would be another opportunity to meet him and pay her respects.

She had to accept that she couldn’t exert any influence on family matters, just as she couldn’t on estate management.

The barrier surrounding her was too tough to penetrate.

All she could do was console her gloom at tomorrow’s purification ritual.

Although the priest belonged to the Papal Office, his solemnly delivered sermons were sweet to her ears.

Meeting Sister Mannea was also incredibly supportive.

Though they couldn’t openly converse or ask about family, the warmth emanating from Sister Mannea melted her heart.

In truth, the purification ritual was merely an excuse for Lucilia. That’s why she wasn’t particularly offended at being classified as impure.

She was grateful just to get some fresh air and see the villagers’ aversion toward her gradually softening.

Lucilia prayed to God with hope.

‘You have taken pity on me, who was destined to be discarded like frost-stricken crops. There must be a reason you transplanted me here when I should have been uprooted already. I earnestly beseech you to protect me from being scorched by fire and to provide me with streams of water so that my future life may be enriched.’

As her collapsed will rose again, it seemed her prayer to God would also be fulfilled.

Filled with hope, she believed her prayer had reached God.

But…