Iris Glindall hated three things in life: unpaid overtime, enthusiastic coworkers who won't shut up, and paperwork.
Especially paperwork.
There was something spiritually foul about filling out Form-38b only to realize it needed to be attached to Form-38a, which had to be signed by a supervisor who was conveniently "working remotely" from a beach in Bali. She hadn't seen a beach in six years. She hadn't seen natural sunlight since the new admin policy installed those blue-tinted LED lights that made everyone look like they had scurvy. This was probably illegal but she needs money and this is the only job that has a good wage
She was twenty-nine, overworked, underpaid, and a hair's breadth away from snapping and filling out all her forms in interpretive dance.
So when she stumbled across a shady pop-up ad while scrolling through otome game forums on her phone during lunch—"Tired of paperwork? Want to live the simple life of a commoner in a new world? Click here, and begin your stress-free journey today!"—Iris didn't even blink.
She clicked(Don't actually do this with your own phones)
Look, it wasn't like she expected it to actually work. She figured worst-case scenario, it'd nuke her phone with viruses and she'd finally have an excuse to throw the damn thing in a river.
Instead, everything went white.
Then gold.
Then sparkly gold with an overwhelming chorus of harp music.
And suddenly she was in a marble cathedral with a bunch of sweaty priests sobbing about how the long-awaited Saint had finally descended. One of them tried to kiss her foot. Another handed her a robe and said something about "blessing the rain" and "cleansing evil." All she heard was: congratulations, you've been assigned more responsibilities that you aren't built to handle!
The moment she fully materialized in this sparkly new realm, her feet touched marble and the chanting started.
"Welcome, oh holy one," intoned a man in overly embroidered robes. "Our prayers have been answered. The Saint has come." another priest said, hugging someone so tight that the poor lad turned blue
Iris blinked.
A dozen sweaty robed men bowed low. Doves literally flew across stained glass windows. The sun was hitting her from a skylight in such a way that sparkles danced around her like a cheesy JRPG cutscene.
Her first words in the new world were: "...I think I'm going to be sick."
Then someone handed her a mirror.
She did not scream. She did, however, make a noise that sounded like a blender chewing on aluminum. Because staring back at her was a woman she didn't recognize.
Long blond hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, like something out of a shampoo commercial that played only in dreams. Bright blue eyes stared back, but they weren't her tired, screen-burned ones. These sparkled. Actually sparkled.
Her face was soft, round, and infuriatingly adorable. There was a subtle glow to her skin, like she was lit from within by the holy power of daily skincare and zero caffeine. She had the kind of cheeks that screamed "squish me," which was exactly what one of the attending priestesses attempted to do before Iris slapped her hand away on instinct.
"I look like the tutorial girl in every fantasy gacha game," she muttered.
"Your form is most divine, Light-Mother!" one of the attendants said with tears in his eyes.
"Yeah? Well I feel like a marshmallow dipped in glitter."
"You are the embodiment of mercy and hope."
"No, I'm pretty sure I'm the embodiment of tax evasion and bad life choices. This is false advertising."
It didn't end there, no...it got worse.
They gave her a desk. A real, solid, wooden desk. And a stack of papers.
She flipped through the first ten and did a sharp inhale as realized—budget requests. Scheduling documents. Sermon schedules. Goddamn formal petitions for divine blessings.
"What..am I supposed to do with...this?" she asked, her voice cracking like a cursed flute as she pointed to the stack of papers like it is carrying a plague.
"Only the most sacred of administrative duties, Your Holiness," the High Cleric beamed as if he wasn't condemning her again. "Your divine signature is required on every matter. You shall bring balance to the kingdoms with your judgement! Unpaid of course since the saint IS expected to be the most giving"
Iris stood in stunned silence, questioning every choice she'd ever made. And possibly insulting every known deity she could think of while she's at it
She tried to run.
They barricaded the doors with velvet rope and polite guards.
She tried to fight.
A healing spell exploded from her fingertips and gave the guard a six-pack.
She tried to curse.
The walls glowed with holy symbols and the room filled with the scent of lavender and fresh bread.
And so began her unholy crusade to ruin her own reputation.
All she wanted was to be a little evil and get excommunicated. Make a mess. Kick a puppy (not really, but, you know, symbolically). And maybe, maybe seduce the Demon King. She's always been a fan of villains and when she learned that there was a Demon king, a handsome one at that, running rampant in this world she knew then and there that this world is meant for her, aside from the paperwork
But no. The universe likes screwing people over.
She was Saint Iris Glindall now, beloved by peasants, nobles, and magical animals alike.
And somewhere, beneath the marble floors of the temple, she swore the paperwork was breeding.
"Being a saint wasn't in the fine print, damnit all!!"