Empress Henzela. A woman who utterly despised Edan.

Born into an ancient ducal family, she was a noble lady of innate nobility.

Her family possessed such wealth and power that kings from other nations sought marriage alliances with them.

Thanks to this, even the imperial court treaded carefully around her; it was said she swayed the hearts of nobles and lent considerable strength to help the emperor—a man of considerable charisma—ascend and secure the throne.

Though unmentioned in the original story, given such circumstances, wouldn’t the empress have wanted to kill the emperor for taking a concubine?

Even so, directing that resentment toward the innocent Edan was unforgivable. In the past, Edan had been so obedient that he quietly accepted everything—even when imprisoned in a remote place, facing death.

So that’s why the emperor had to secretly divert potions and deliver them covertly—he was wary of that woman. And Killian’s request to ban temple access? That too must have been granted only with her permission.

“Great Saintess. You will definitely handle the potion preparation, correct?”

I nodded.

“Yes. Potions will be minimally necessary for the gifted individuals.”

“Good. You must also firmly assist with pill production. And just in case—however unlikely—if the timing goes wrong later and the nobles find out, you must take responsibility.”

“What timing?”

“The Great Saintess disappears, yet I continue pill production. To avoid exposure, there must be no gap where the Great Saintess position appears vacant.”

They’re thinking that far ahead?

“So you mean to announce me as successor immediately, without revealing Ivy was a witch?”

“That wouldn’t be bad, would it?”

“You’re quite Machiavellian, aren’t you?”

The High Priest made no effort to hide his displeasure at my sarcastic tone.

“In any case, I’m saying you must take responsibility if things go awry.”

So particular.

“If we’re exposed, I’ll just say I helped you from the start.”

“How would the nobles believe that? I might be branded a fraud.”

What? You’re already committing fraud! You’re already a fraud!

Like Edan, I clicked my tongue and spread my hands indifferently.

“If they won’t believe it, I’ll just put on a performance then.”

I conjured a fluffy pink healing energy and floated it in midair.

“How’s this? Even without an official announcement, I can say I was the Great Saintess—and show them this.”

The slime-like healing energy wobbled and danced softly in the air.

To me, this was nothing special—I’d done it many times before—but the High Priest’s face twisted into pure chaos.

“How… how did you do that?”

“I just did it.”

“I—I mean, how exactly did you do it? How is such a thing even…!”

What’s so hard to understand? It’s just possible.

“Well, maybe because I’m the re·al Great Saintess?”

The High Priest clutched his white hat as if about to tear it apart.

“No one has ever manifested power directly like that before!”

“Oh, really?”

I sent the healing energy blob soaring like a fountain and grinned.

“Guess I’m just exceptionally special. How convenient—now you have one more reason to stay on my good side, High Priest.”

The garden behind the temple had been thoroughly cleaned.

The trampled grass had been fully restored, and the wall Ivy had crashed into was spotless, with no trace of blood remaining.

“You’re also kindly granting my request to assign Maxim as my attendant, right?”

At my words, Ruben nodded.

The High Priest—an opportunist with slippery behavior—wasn’t someone I particularly liked, but his adaptability and efficiency in handling matters were impressive.

When I insisted that if the temple assigned me an attendant, it had to be Maxim and no one else, the High Priest simply nodded.

It worked out well. Though visiting the temple was somewhat inconvenient, I could now comfortably meet Maxim there and study the Archmage’s book together.

In return, I agreed to take a full lap around the temple today, since other priests were watching.

Though it would remain secret externally, the priests who witnessed my power today held high expectations for the new Great Saintess; I was to pretend to care for the temple and reassure them—making it easier for him to silence them afterward.

Since I had to humor at least one of the High Priest’s requests, we leisurely strolled along the garden path before returning to the Grand Ducal Palace.

“Wow! Sir Ruben, look at that—there’s a rainbow! So romantic.”

“Hmm, fake. Clearly conjured by magic. No rainbow could appear in broad daylight without humidity—and it’s suspiciously vivid. The origin point is hidden behind trees, but there’s definitely an artifact generating it from there…”

I’d been smiling brightly at the rare sight, but instantly wiped the smile off my face and cut Ruben off.

“Sir Ruben.”

“Yes?”

“…You’re incredibly pragmatic.”

“Well, yes.”

Ruben had no sense of romance.

The temple was far larger than I’d imagined, with many buildings.

Most structures were white, adorned with golden patterns everywhere—likely to emphasize sanctity and wealth. Architectural styles varied: some featured arched designs along rounded column edges, others bore leaf or floral carvings on square doorframes.

While marveling as if wandering an ancient ruin, I entered a corridor flanked by round spires—when I overheard women’s voices behind a pillar, mentioning a familiar name.

“That’s the person Prince Killian brought, right?”

Instinctively, I halted and hastily hid behind the pillar.

“Shh! Sir Ruben, over here!”

“…”

Ruben paused, eyebrows twitching as he looked at me. But when I frowned seriously and gestured, he slowly moved behind me.

“The person who came today is the same one as last time. Her hair color is so beautiful—I recognized her instantly!”

“You mean the day Ivy the Great Saint… no, that witch got caught?”

“Yes! That day, the Northern Grand Duke also came—you remember, right?”

“Of course—I remember the commotion. The garden behind was guarded so tightly that Holy Knights couldn’t even peek in. How did you see anything?”

“I didn’t see—I heard. A girl who was off-duty that day had entered the garden.”

“Why?”

“She was delivering a pen and oath document to the witch. That’s when the real Great Saintess was revealed—and she had pink hair. They say her face was stunningly beautiful.”

The maids—all dressed in brown one-pieces with neat white aprons—sighed in unison, “Ahh…”

One quieter maid, who’d been listening silently, suddenly poked the talkative maid’s side.

“You’re talking like you saw it yourself, even though you didn’t?”

“Fine, fine—I exaggerated a bit. But today confirmed it: the real Great Saintess really is beautiful.”

“That’s true.”

I felt a little embarrassed. Yep, I’m pretty. Especially since Edan confirmed it for me. Okay, I’m pretty.

“But I heard Prince Killian and the Northern Grand Duke argued over her… Could something like that happen again?”

“Maybe.”

“Didn’t the Grand Duke win last time?”

“Hmm. Since he ultimately didn’t marry Princess Ciela, maybe he wasn’t really the winner?”

“Hmm. True?”

I’d been listening smugly—but froze instantly.

The “Grand Duke” they mentioned… was it the one I knew?

I turned toward Ruben with a creaking motion.

“…”

Ruben scowled deeply, then strode forward toward the maids.

The maids, startled by Ruben’s sudden appearance, stared at him with bewildered confusion—as if puzzled why a knight had shown up.

Then, upon spotting the Northern emblem embroidered on his black cloak, they all gasped and bowed deeply.

“We—we’re so sorry!”

Apologizing in near-unison, they scrambled away like frightened rabbits.

The relationship between Edan and Killian—unmentioned in the original story. All I knew of their past came from Edan’s own accounts and snippets Maxim had let slip.

Past information: Killian had loved and even proposed to a princess from a minor kingdom—but was rejected.

But Edan won? Marriage? Was that princess… Princess Ciela?

“Ruben, what was that about?”

Once everyone had fled, I stepped out from behind the pillar.

Ruben, standing ahead with his back turned, didn’t move an inch—as if turned to stone upon hearing my voice.

I darted in front of him and locked eyes directly.

“Explain. What happened between Edan and Prince Killian? Did Princess Ci… no, Princess Ciela once promise marriage to Edan?”

Ruben lowered his eyelids, avoiding my gaze, and spoke with visible discomfort.

“That’s not it.”

“Then tell me. What happened?”

“I’m sorry.”

“…Is it a secret?”

Ruben gave a small nod.

“It has been, until now. If you ask Lord Latieana directly, he might tell you himself. But I cannot speak of it.”

His firm stance left me no room to press further.

Just this morning, he’d been my invaluable right-hand man—but now he was infuriatingly loyal only to Edan.

But that’s exactly why he stands beside Edan. He’s that trustworthy a subordinate.

“Understood.”

Pressuring Ruben wouldn’t help, so I nodded and turned away.

Then I’ll just ask Edan directly.

Back at the Grand Ducal Palace, a visitor had arrived. An unfamiliar flag fluttered above a carriage parked before the bridge, and the knights’ attire bore designs I’d never seen within the empire.

“Someone’s come. Do you know who?”

As our carriage passed the strangers and began crossing the bridge, I couldn’t take my eyes off them—so Ruben murmured quietly, as if to himself.

“People from the Eastern Empire. We definitely sent a letter of refusal, yet…”

“The Eastern Empire?”

Could it be… Princess Ciela?

I practically leaped from the carriage upon entering the palace and scanned the surroundings.

Near the annex building, I spotted a knight bearing the Eastern Empire’s insignia.

“Lady Latieana!”

Ruben hurried after me.

I sprinted toward the small courtyard behind the annex—and the moment I rounded the corner, I saw Edan and a woman.

“…!”

At that exact moment, the woman reached out to grab Edan’s arm.

Her long, slender fingers swiftly neared his sleeve—just as I grimaced and bit my lip.

Edan sharply dodged her touch.

Huh? The woman momentarily lost balance and swayed; Edan furrowed his brow deeply and took another step back.

Quick reflexes…

At that moment, Ruben—who’d followed behind—spoke flatly, as if reading my thoughts:

“Never underestimate the Grand Duke’s agility.”