“Now if you’ll excuse me.” 

 …Ugh, she reeks of alcohol. Is she crazy? 

 So vulgar, really. 

 She heard the two noble ladies grumbling behind her but ignored them. Madam Rosalie left the powder room with her head held high. It was time to give that golden child a very special present. 

 ***

 Around sunset, the tea party came to an end. When all the guests had left and only Madam Rosalie remained, Grand Duchess Reinhart approached with a gentle expression. 

 “I hope you enjoyed the tea party.” 

 “Yes, it was fun. Especially since it was the birthday of ‘the perfect son of god.'” 

 Madam Rosalie smiled readily. 

 “Speaking of which, I should give your son his present.” 

 “A present? Please, don’t trouble yourself. Your presence alone was gift enough.”

“I can see a bit of the future. Wouldn’t you be curious about your son’s future?” 

 A strange light flickered in the eyes of the previously composed Grand Duchess Reinhart. 

 She wouldn’t be able to resist asking. What parent in this world wouldn’t be curious about their child’s future? 

 Though she didn’t answer, she had taken the bait. Madam Rosalie’s eyes curved prettily. 

 “Your son will surely grow up to be a perfect son of god.” 

 Even at this blessing, Grand Duchess Reinhart showed no particular reaction. She probably thought it was only natural. 

 That’s fine. 

 The truly important part starts now. 

 Madam Rosalie lowered her body and whispered softly in her ear. 

 “But because he’s too perfect, the one Nicholas Reinhart will love most is himself. Human standards are all the same. Your son will inevitably shine overwhelmingly compared to mere primitive humans.” 

 Now she’s finally surprised. Madam Rosalie smiled leisurely. 

 “Don’t worry. The child will certainly get whatever he wants. However, since everything will be too easy for this perfect child… I’m not sure if he’ll ever want anything.” 

 That concluded her birthday present. It was an absolutely perfect birthday gift, no matter how she looked at it. 

 Madam Rosalie bowed very politely to the shocked and stiff Grand Duchess Reinhart, then turned toward Nicholas. 

 Those golden eyes staring intently at her were quite something. 

 The audacity—he remained perfectly upright even as a daughter of god approached. Perhaps he truly deserved to be called ‘the perfect son of god.’ 

 Madam Rosalie smirked, then lowered herself to meet Nicholas’s gaze. 

 “I’ve told Her Highness what your gift is. You can unwrap it gradually, Nicholas Reinhart.” 

 Then she placed a light kiss on Nicholas’s cheek. 

 “It will be very interesting.” 

 After whispering this prophecy that was both blessing and curse, Madam Rosalie left the Grand Duke’s residence without lingering. As Nicholas Reinhart watched Madam Rosalie’s retreating figure, a crack appeared in his golden eyes. 

 “Disgusting.” 

 Nicholas began furiously wiping his cheek where Madam Rosalie’s lips had touched with the back of his hand. 

 “F*ck!” 

 The crude word he had never uttered with his noble lips escaped. Grand Duchess Reinhart rushed over in alarm and embraced Nicholas. 

 “My little lion cub Nicki, where did you learn such harsh words? Such vulgar language only damned bastards use… Oh my!” 

 Grand Duchess Reinhart covered her mouth in shock at the crude words that had escaped her own lips. 

 Nicholas pushed away his mother and said, 

 “I want to wash. I feel dirty.” 

 That day, Nicholas Reinhart didn’t leave the bathtub for nearly 2 hours. 

SECRET 03# 

 The Temple’s Biggest Pushover

 20 years later, Madam Rosalie was feeling deep in her bones why living in a human body was a punishment. 

 Her body wasn’t what it used to be. When she became bedridden and unable to get up, even her family gave up and left her at the temple. 

 Though she would return to the celestial realm when the promised time ended, it seemed she would spend the rest of her life trapped in the temple. 

 Who could she blame or resent? 

 Human time was short and finite. Aging and falling ill with time was the natural order. 

 She used to wonder why everyone struggled so hard for trivial things. Now she understood why—given how short their time was. 

 To think she would understand such primitive beings as humans. They say humans grow wiser with age. 

 Madam Rosalie briefly wondered if she had finally grown wise too. 

 Unlike before when she had to grumble and sneer at everything she couldn’t understand to feel satisfied, now she could let small things pass with a “I suppose that’s possible.” 

 Except for one—Rarien Claude, that pushover. 

 “You don’t seem to have slept well last night. Is your bed uncomfortable? Should I change your pillow?” 

 She was just pretending to sleep because it was bothersome. What was there to worry about? Again with the fussy care. 

 “Please tell me freely if anything is uncomfortable.” 

 Rarien whispered kindly while pulling up the blanket. 

 Rarien Claude. You’re the most uncomfortable thing. 

 Madam Rosalie wanted to die quickly. Enduring this aged and sick body was painful day by day. She wanted to use it as an excuse for an early return, saying she couldn’t keep the promised date because her body couldn’t hold up. But this overzealous nun made that impossible too. 

 Goddess Arne had said suicide meant starting over from the beginning. The only options were accidental death or natural death. Accidental death was impossible since she couldn’t get out of bed. Intentionally causing an accident would count as suicide, so that was even more impossible. 

 But this frustrating nun was preventing her from dying naturally. 

 Rarien Claude, that damn push… pushover! 

 “I’ll come by again before bedtime. Sleep well, Madam.” 

 Ahhh!! F*ck–!!!!!! 

 She wanted to scream in frustration, but she knew that would just trigger a barrage of “Are you alright? Are you hurting somewhere? Don’t worry. I’ll stay by your side.” So she suppressed it hard. 

 She deliberately acted badly toward the nuns. She thought if she made them throw up their hands in defeat, they would abandon her and let her die. She thought Rarien Claude would be one of them. 

 But that was Madam Rosalie’s mistake. 

 Rarien was a formidable opponent. No matter how badly she treated her or caused trouble, she endured steadfastly like a weed. 

 Click—

 Only after hearing the door close and quite some time passing did Madam Rosalie snap her eyes open. 

 And looked around. 

 ‘She’s gone. Finally.’ 

 Haah…. As she sighed deeply and tried to pull up the covers, a notebook caught Madam Rosalie’s eye. 

 “Is there anything you particularly dislike? And what about things you like?”

“How are you feeling today? Was the medicine too bitter?” 

 It was definitely the notebook she had been holding while asking all those probing questions. Madam Rosalie, who was about to just go to sleep, picked it up as if enchanted. 

 Then she carefully examined its contents, which were quite something to behold. 

 It started with her own preliminary investigation before receiving the handover from another nun. 

 She had contacted her niece who had left her at the temple. Everything from personality to food preferences, even tiny habits from before falling ill, was written in minute detail. 

 From the day she began caring for her, she had recorded changes in condition and progress very meticulously. 

 She seemed to be mainly contemplating how to make things more comfortable. Just when she needed to die quickly and was feeling annoyed that her body seemed to be improving—it appears it was all because of Rarien. 

 “You’re going to die anyway. Why go this far?” 

 Madam Rosalie clicked her tongue. 

 “How foolish.” 

 She kept dropping by whenever she had a chance. Life in the temple was quite busy from what she knew. Did she even have any personal time? It was questionable. 

 She was so busy taking care of others that she couldn’t take care of herself. Human life was short and finite. It was utterly pathetic. 

 Of course, she did feel some pity and sympathy. 

 “……Why care so much about someone like me?” 

 Pushover, fool. 

 Perhaps because she was always rushing around, the worn-out shoes she wore kept bothering her mind. 

 As Madam Rosalie was about to close the notebook, she found something interesting in the back pages. 

 There was a portrait of a young man, and coincidentally, it was a very familiar face. 

 [The Perfect Son of God, Nicholas Reinhart] 

 Her drawing skill was quite good, enough to recognize who it was at a glance. She had even kindly written the name. 

 “So she’s human after all. Even a pushover fool like her has desires.” 

 It was clearly a one-sided love. 

 “Of all people to fall for……. Her taste is……” 

 The more she thought about it, the more her head throbbed. Of all people, why desire the ‘perfect son of god’ whom she had personally cursed 20 years ago? 

 That detestable human was beyond salvation, unable to love anyone but himself. 

 On the last day of her punishment agreed with the celestial realm, Rarien Claude brought a flower pot, saying it was a flower that blooms for 100 days. 

 She was returning tomorrow, yet to think she was being told to live 100 more days…

 Though surely she meant well, to her it was nothing short of a curse. 

 Time was running short. 

 So Madam Rosalie decided to give Rarien Claude, who had voluntarily suffered for her sake all this time, a curse that was also a blessing. 

 Rarien Claude would die within 100 days. 

 Hoping this curse would give that pushover fool some courage, Madam Rosalie gave her final gift on earth and returned to the celestial realm.