A Fortune-telling Princess

“I’ll handle everything myself, so you just focus on recovering.”

“Father’s right.”

“There’s no need to get pushed around by trash like that.”

Just dealing with the Duke of Sorpel alone was more than enough, but with Ludville and Ravi—and even Arsian—taking turns going out to pressure them, they couldn’t even properly deliver the message that they wanted to see Camilla.

And they couldn’t exactly go back without finishing what the order had instructed them to do, either.

In the end, the people from the temple had no choice but to pitch camp outside for days on end.

Gasp!

Camilla had lifted her head without thinking—and her eyes met Jainer’s, who was standing by the window like he was there and not there at all.

He broke into a bright smile, then flicked his gaze toward the window and dragged a finger across his own throat.

Camilla hurriedly shook her head. She understood exactly what he meant.

Don’t kill them!

He meant he’d assassinate the order’s people who were making a nuisance of themselves outside. A short sigh slipped from Camilla’s lips.

Well, it makes sense they’d act like this.

They were dense, sure. But the way the order was behaving, she could understand it well enough.

Who am I supposed to blame?

This was all something my ignorance caused.

“Ugh.”

After letting out another short sigh, Camilla’s gaze slid toward one spot.

[Nice weather.]

The priest’s ghost was crouched by the window, soaking up the sunlight pouring into the room like she owned it. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Arena Aguilas. The last saintess.

Right. Saintess.

A being praised as a true saint—someone who had saved countless people with overwhelming holy power.

Even now, there were still plenty of people who revered her. When people talked about the greatest clergy, nine out of ten of them named her.

Even Camilla, who had never cared about religion at all, had heard that name in passing often enough to know it—so what else was there to say?

And now that her holy power has been unleashed...

Did anyone really think people would stay quiet?

From what she’d heard, an unbelievable number of people had felt the holy power she’d released that day.

Not just the ones who’d been there—every single person who could sense holy power had felt it.

Some of them even thought a god had descended in person, or something.

[I’m naturally kind of amazing.]

Agreed. Annoying, but fully agreed!

And I told her to just come into my body without knowing any of that, so yeah—this is me smashing my own foot with an axe.

It had been recorded in history books, too. Saintess Arena, blessed by divine protection, had maintained her youth until the day she died.

She just hadn’t expected it to be to this extent. Staring at her like this made it feel like even nonexistent faith could sprout out of nowhere.

“Your Grace.”

The door opened, and Butler Rube hurried inside. For once, he looked a little flustered—nothing like his usual self.

“What is it?”

“A guest is requesting an audience.”

“A guest?”

Who could it possibly be?

The Duke of Sorpel showed open displeasure.

He’d made it clear he didn’t want to see anyone until Camilla had fully recovered.

“The Pope has arrived.”

“...Who?”

“Pope Brissel is requesting an audience with you, Master, and Miss Camilla.”

At the news that Pope Brissel had come in person, the Duke of Sorpel’s eyes widened.

But the surprise lasted only a moment before his brow twisted sharply.

“Ha.”

His warped expression quickly turned ice-cold, and he let out a short laugh—like someone who’d finally found a place to vent.

“Perfect timing. I’ve had a lot I wanted to say.”

As if that sentence had been a signal, everyone there rose to their feet. Had they all been sitting on that much pent-up stress?

No, why are you all picking up swords because the Pope is here? Huh?

They looked ready to start a war with him on the spot.

“Wait!”

Camilla hurriedly stopped them. She really didn’t want a commotion because of her.

And it wasn’t just anyone—it was the Pope himself. It didn’t feel right to keep avoiding him forever, either.

“I’ll meet him.”

*****

“Ahem.”

“Hm. Ahem.”

The order’s people, guided into the reception room, kept clearing their throats over and over. High priests and cardinals alike—everyone’s eyes were trembling nonstop.

The only one maintaining anything close to composure was Pope Brissel. Even so, he kept swallowing dryly to himself.

“Have some tea.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Thank you.”

Even after Camilla offered, no one reached out easily. Under the stares drilling into them, their bodies stiffened on their own.

People who were making it abundantly clear, with their entire presence, that they didn’t even want to talk to them. People who weren’t even sitting, surrounding Camilla like an escort.

The Duke of Sorpel, Ludville, Ravi—and even Arsian—looked like they were about to unleash an attack at any second.

Who is that man, anyway?

No idea.

And in the corner of the reception room stood one more person.

Jainer, wearing a smile that could charm the soul right out of a body, was also radiating a strangely aggravating sense of presence.

I told you not to follow me.

Camilla was just as stuck. She’d said she would handle it alone, so why did they all have to come barging in with her?

“You said you wanted to see me.”

When Camilla spoke with a bright smile, only then did the frozen expressions on their faces loosen slightly.

At least she was welcoming them with a warm atmosphere—what a relief.

“How is your health?”

“As you can see, I’m much better.”

“That’s truly fortunate.”

The one who took the lead with brief pleasantries was Cardinal Stella.

“We’ve come to bring the saintess home.”

Once those words were spoken, the high priests and the other priests also began spilling out everything they’d been holding back, almost as if they were rushing her.

“We’ve already completed all preparations internally.”

“The saintess only needs to come with us to the Papacy.”

“Many people are longing, earnestly, for the day the saintess returns as soon as possible.”

The moment they spoke as if her going with them was a foregone conclusion, the air in the reception room turned frigid again.

The order’s people seemed to feel it too; they flinched and stiffened.

The people standing behind Camilla had released murderous intent all at once.

A quiet silence flowed. The sound of dry swallowing came from all around.

No one could easily open their mouth.

“The saintess is one chosen by god.”

Even so—maybe a Pope really was a Pope. As the others went pale and lost their voices, Pope Brissel broke the silence with a low voice.

A smile that would warm anyone’s heart sat full on his lips. The eyes he turned on Camilla were extremely gentle, too.

“It is a glorious position, and a blessed thing. For you, Lady Camilla—and for our order. You may take pride in it.”

“Pride.”

A smile bloomed on Camilla’s lips, pretty as a painted picture.

As if he took it for a positive answer, the Pope’s expression softened even more.

“When will you begin performing your duties?”

“I’m not going to.”

“...Pardon?”

“You don’t have to call me a saintess. I have no intention of receiving ordination, either.”

The smile slowly drained from the Pope’s face.

Oh.

She hadn’t noticed when he was smiling, but with his expression set like that, his features were sharper than she’d expected.

“S-Saintess!”

“What kind of absurd—!”

The others who’d been quiet began shouting in shock.

To wield that kind of holy power and still refuse to serve the clergy—an unprecedented thing.

“I’ll say it ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) again. A saintess is a person sent down by god. You must, of course, perform those duties.”

The Pope’s voice dropped even lower. With a firm gaze, he continued—almost like he was scolding Camilla.

He’d judged that she was still too young, and didn’t properly understand the situation she was in.

“Do you think I truly qualify to accept the title of saintess?”

“What are you saying, Saintess!”

“Of course you do!”

After pausing as if lost in thought, Camilla swept her eyes slowly across everyone seated in front of her.

“I received a revelation.”

“Pardon?”

“A revelation, you say—!”

At the single word revelation, the air in the room shifted again.

The order’s people widened their eyes.

A divine revelation was treated as more urgent and important than anything else.

The Duke of Sorpel and the others, who had been standing near Camilla and watching in silence, also couldn’t hide their shock.

A revelation? Had she had another prophetic dream?

They all had experience with her prophetic dreams already, so they couldn’t brush it off lightly.

But something about it felt strange.

Until now, whenever Camilla talked about her prophetic dreams, she had never—not once—used the word revelation.

“A revelation... is what you said?”

Once again, Pope Brissel broke the unsettled air. His expression was still heavy.

To be honest, he had never wanted to come here today.

The existence of a saintess itself was deeply uncomfortable.

The same thing as before can’t be allowed to happen again.

Long ago, there had been a saintess who shook the world.

Arena Aguilas.

People had gone wild over her arrival—but the Pope’s side had tensed.

Because the stronger her standing became, the weaker the Pope’s influence grew.

Before anyone realized it, the saintess’s words carried more force than the Pope’s.

People gradually began to believe the Pope stood beneath the saintess.

A saintess was like two sides of the same coin.

She benefited the order, yes—but she was too uncomfortable to keep around without caution.

And yet they could never discard her.

That massive holy power and overwhelming presence were powerful tools to strengthen doctrine and draw people in.

There was only one best method.

Keep her beneath him, and watch her thoroughly.

Make her move only according to his instructions, from one to ten.

That was why he hadn’t wanted to come in person.

For the Pope himself to move first and request a meeting would be the same as stepping down a move.

But when he heard they couldn’t even cross the threshold of this estate—let alone see Camilla Sorpel’s face—he had no choice but to come himself.

Either way, they couldn’t leave a saintess outside like this.

The order’s movements were being watched far too closely right now.

And he had another intention.

Since it had come to this, he wanted to bring her into the order.

If everything Camilla Sorpel did happened under his supervision, and he made it crystal clear that her allegiance belonged not to the order, but to him, that would be good.

But this woman...

From the start, something felt off.

She didn’t look like someone who would accept his instructions easily.

Just watching her reject his first command—fulfill your duty—left a bitter taste in his mouth.

And now, a revelation?

Was she truly hearing a divine voice... one he had never once received?