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The cult is a theocratic state.

The cult adopts clerical politics and absolute monarchy as its political structure, but surprisingly, its election process is quite democratic. One could compare it to the conclave of the Vatican City.

A week before the elections, the Pope summons all priests with voting rights from dioceses scattered across the continent. On the day of the elections, the electorate is taken to the Basilica of Saint Pascalina, located three blocks away from the National Affairs Council building, where voting is conducted indefinitely under the strict surveillance of the Inquisition and the Knights Order until a winner is “determined.”

In essence, it’s confinement. Even if it’s for the safety of the electorate, throwing only water, salt, and blessed bread at them and telling them to vote is hardly something a person should do.

Of course, it doesn’t matter to me whether they vote, do drugs, or have an orgy there.

What’s important is whether Lucia becomes a saint or fails to do so. Both outcomes have their clear pros and cons, making this election a nail-biter for everyone watching.

I have no idea how the results will turn out. I’m not a shaman, so how could I know?

But one thing is clear: regardless of the outcome, I would have to face the consequences.

Because I am a hero’s companion and an operative.

So I waited for the results with the same feelings I had while waiting for the outcome of the US presidential election.

And finally,

The results came in.

“Today, the Saint will be arriving here.”

“…What happened?”

“The morning star has risen.”

Lucia won.

Episode 4 – Why Is It Always Me?

A new saint has been born.

Once a servant under Veronica, Lucia is now someone who stands shoulder to shoulder with her. Thus, she has become the new 59th saint, succeeding the 58th.

I heard the news at my lodging.

In the dim light of dawn, an Inquisition agent who arrived with a cautious knock informed me that it’s been 43 years since two saints of the same gender were born consecutively.

A historically unprecedented election in which the former saint was still alive, and a candidate who overcame all sorts of controversies and smear campaigns to ultimately be elected as a saint. Although Lucia hasn’t undergone formal canonization yet, the news is sensational enough to be reported immediately.

“Lucia has become a saint.”

“Wait, is that true?”

“Yes.”

Camila Lowell, who was eating toast, glanced at the TV, then at me, and back at the TV, before picking up the newspaper.

She quickly flipped through the politics, society, international, editorials, and cartoons sections and stated, “There’s no such article!”

News of the new saint’s birth was nowhere to be found in the morning papers or the morning news. It was as if someone had cast a spell.

Of course, I knew the reason. Given the difficulty of the current nationwide public security situation due to several large-scale spy incidents just a week prior, each government needed time to sort out its political interests surrounding the birth of a new saint.

In short, everyone needed a moment to catch their breath. Right now.

The problem was who would speak up first…. People were playing a silent game, fearing that mentioning it might embarrass their government, which made it frustrating. So the cult stepped in and asked all media outlets for an embargo.

Of course, I couldn’t say whether the media obeyed the embargo request willingly or if they were forced to shut up after receiving warnings during investigations. I didn’t care.

But that didn’t concern Camila Lowell. She shouldn’t care.

I smiled and mumbled, “They haven’t made an official announcement yet. An article will probably come out today.”

“Well… It’s good news, right?”

“Why do you think that?”

“A saint refers to someone with virtue in religion, doesn’t it?”

“I guess…?”

“Then that means Lucia is quite an amazing person.”

“Is that so…?”

It’s a bit hard to say that someone who drinks and smokes has virtue. The cult doesn’t restrict priests from smoking or drinking, but them hiding and doing it secretly suggests they aren’t very proud of it. Whether it’s Veronica or Lucia.

“…….”

I paused for a moment, contemplating which was less qualified to be a saint between Veronica, who engaged in espionage for the royal family, and Lucia, who enjoyed alcohol and cigarettes as a minor. It was an impossible comparison, akin to the classic enduring rivalry.

As I was lost in thought, Camila Lowell, as always, cheerfully approached me.

“Saving lives isn’t something just anyone can do, right?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t you remember? When you collapsed last time, the people who saved your life were Lucia and, um, uh…?”

“Veronica.”

“Oh right. It was Saint Veronica.”

Hmm.

Now that I think about it, that did happen. It was quite impactful, but after a series of important events, I had forgotten it. Had Camila not mentioned it, I wouldn’t have bothered remembering, and planned to brush it off quietly.

Honestly, that was a shame.

Camila looked at me with a teacher’s gaze, as if she were staring at a student telling a lie.

“…You didn’t forget, did you?”

“Of course, not.”

“I figured as much. Oh, by the way, when can we meet Lucia?”

I checked the time. Then stood up.

“Right now.”

The saint will arrive soon.

*

“…Control. This is Army 207S, are we receiving clearly?”

“Army 207S. This is Deso Control, the reception is good, about three or four.”

“Control. Requesting direction change to 255 degrees.”

“Permission granted, Army 207S. Swing to the right and head for 255.”

Only military wizards were flying in the sky above the capital, probably because the airspace was closed. In the control tower, controllers were ensuring that the wizards flying through the sky wouldn’t collide.

“The train will arrive shortly. Estimated time of arrival: 1 minute.”

“Prepare the magic disruption device.”

“Outer security team, rooftop sniper team, report any situations.”

The police and the capital’s security command began to block nearby roads at the train station. Police set up barricades to prevent citizens from approaching, armed police and military police guarded the area with weapons, and plainclothes officers mingled among the citizens to watch for suspicious movements.

A finely dressed honor guard saluted at the train station. The only person they awaited was Lucia, who was visiting to meet her companions.

The government of Abas treated her as a state guest. While some might wonder if it was excessive protocol for one person, Lucia was a candidate to be canonized as a saint.

Not just anyone can become a saint. Only those with a high moral character can ascend to sainthood, and they must be nominated through elections by key figures within the cult, becoming a powerful figure alongside the Pope.

If such an individual were not treated as a state guest, it would cause significant repercussions in diplomacy.

Furthermore, Lucia was not visiting as an individual but under her nun status and led a delegation that included multiple high-ranking cardinals, so the Abas government had to bestow honors commensurate with a state visit.

Just then, the clear sound of bells echoed from the most famous church bell tower in the capital.

“Oh, here it comes!”

“The feed isn’t showing, hurry and fix it!”

“Oh, what is this.”

Amid the noise of journalists, it seemed like the broadcast transmission was interrupted due to signal jamming. They had scrambled signals to prevent bomb threats, and, well, I’m sorry about that.

As the train approached, the military band began to play. The honor guard fired a salute. I turned to Camila Lowell amid the booming sounds of the salute.

“Isn’t it loud for you?”

“Eh? What are you talking about?”

“The cannon fire. I’m asking if it’s loud.”

“Eh.”

She smiled brightly as she replied.

“What’s so loud about this?”

“…?”

Even I could feel a bit of ringing in my ears, yet she claims it isn’t loud. Is she tough, or is she just pretending? Come to think of it, she seemed oddly unfazed even when a bomb exploded right in front of her. Of course, she was secretly grimacing inside, but the fact that she didn’t show it suggests she was tougher than most.

Just then, the train slowed down with a horn signal as it entered the station.

The band continued to play, and the honor guard turned to face the train.

Eventually, the train doors swung open, revealing the expected figures.

Her companion, soon to be a saint, Lucia.

She tossed aside her drab black priest robes and appeared wearing a pure white ceremonial robe. Under the warm sunlight, she walked toward us, her presence illuminating the area. It felt like she was reminiscent of the saints from an icon I once saw in an Eastern Orthodox church long ago. It wasn’t weird since she’d officially become a saint after the canonization ceremony.

Lucia approached us with the same gentle smile as always, and we greeted each other warmly with handshakes.

“It’s been a while.”

“We meet the saint. It’s nice to see you, Saint Lucia.”

“I’m glad to see you, Saint!”

“Just call me Lucia comfortably.”

She leaned in closer so her voice wouldn’t reach the surroundings and whispered to us.

While Camila and Lucia enthusiastically exchanged greetings, I approached another figure behind them.

Lucia wasn’t the only one in attendance from the cult.

With a smile on my face, I extended my hand for a handshake.

“It’s been a while. We’ve met again.”

“…Yes, it’s nice to see you, Cardinal Bernard.”

The Inquisition’s head of the safety division, Bernard, was visiting briefly to ensure the safety of the saint and her entourage.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Ah? What a coincidence.”

“Yes, I’m here for work.”

“But why are you in a nun’s outfit…?”

“……”

Suddenly appearing in a nun’s outfit was Priest Rebecca, the secretary of the Inquisition.

And then,

“Excuse me….”

While we were exchanging greetings, someone stopped me.

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you saying anything to me?”

“Who are you to—… Oh?”

A cascade of ebony cascading down her shoulders.

Attractive beauty spots and endless black eyes.

Tall stature and long legs.

A voice that sounds charming yet grows tiresome when face-to-face,

“Ah, uh….”

“I’m glad to see you.”

“…Why are you here?”

She smiled at me mischievously and said,

“Weren’t you looking for me?”

Veronica.

That mad woman has come.

 

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