For over a week now, a chill had settled over the grand cathedral.
The priests all moved with caution. No one wanted to draw the ire of Archbishop Balua and risk whatever punishment might come.
"Today too?"
"...Yeah. Today too."
The one and only Saintess Candidate, the cathedral's shining face, Elise Aurora de Lua, had secluded herself away. It had already been a full week.
Elise had skipped morning mass and even failed to attend the Sabbath service.
For a Saintess, who should be God's most devoted servant, to shirk her duties like this...
It was an unprecedented scandal.
"What in the world is the Lady Saintess doing...?"
"Wasn't it something from the last monthly evaluation?"
"...Probably."
The finger of blame pointed to the recent monthly evaluation.
Even among the cathedral priests, opinions were divided—the Archbishop Balua's shock therapy had been that harsh.
They all figured the fallout had driven Elise to hole up in her dorm. That was the consensus.
"This is troubling."
For Archbishop Balua, the de facto leader of the academy's affiliated cathedral, his face twisting in anger was only natural.
Too many had witnessed the monthly evaluation for her to simply claim illness. For the cathedral's reputation, Elise needed to show her face at an official event as soon as possible.
"...I must meet with Elise myself."
On the seventh day, Archbishop Balua finally gave up waiting.
"Lead the way."
"Yes."
Balua followed the head maid to the special suite in Ophelia Hall.
The moment he opened the door, a cold draft hit him.
The windows were flung wide open, and there sat a girl with silver-white hair perched on the sill.
Balua's eyes fell on the small scrap of cloth in Elise's hands.
Instead of a holy emblem, it bore a humble embroidery of wildflowers.
"Elise."
"...Archbishop."
At his call, Elise turned. Meeting her golden eyes, Balua frowned.
Something was off.
Against his expectations, Elise looked serene.
'This is strange.'
Balua had assumed she'd be heartbroken.
The excessive assignment and public scolding at the evaluation had all been calculated for that effect.
A Saintess had to be forged properly.
To bear God's power, to resist worldly temptations, she needed the strongest, most perfect soul.
Balua saw Elise as a priceless gem of her generation—one that only shone after ruthless cutting and polishing.
That had been true until now.
Elise Aurora de Lua had obeyed his harsh training without complaint.
He'd thought this path would forge the ultimate sword.
"What is the meaning of this, Elise? Skipping mass for a full week, refusing even official duties—is that the way of a Saintess?"
Balua's voice rumbled low.
From childhood, that tone alone had made Elise tremble. But not now. She merely tilted her head.
"...The way?"
Her voice was calm, like an emotionless doll echoing the question.
"Yes. The way of a Saintess. Do you lack self-awareness? You are to be the symbol of the Church..."
"Yes."
Balua doubted his ears.
Elise had cut him off. Her pale eyebrows arched slightly, as if she couldn't be bothered to listen.
"...Elise, what nonsense is this?"
Balua's brow furrowed deeper.
"Nonsense? I'm simply following your words to the letter, Archbishop."
Even as she spoke, Elise's needle never stopped. A wildflower bloomed on the white cloth.
Looking closer, Balua realized the fabric was holy cloth, bestowed only on high-ranking cathedral officials.
Embroidering secular symbols on it bordered on blasphemy, yet Elise continued undeterred.
"I'm inadequate. You've said it time and again—whether I even qualify as a Saintess is in question."
Balua's face stiffened. Those were his own words.
The sharpest dagger to push her to the brink. Hammers for the forge.
"Just as you said, I lack the qualifications."
Elise stated it flatly. A strange glint flickered in her golden eyes.
"I have no qualifications to be a Saintess. I only became a candidate thanks to my family's prestige. As you said, I'm worthless. All my efforts to become perfect were just futile flailing."
Elise set down her needle.
Despite the scolding, a bizarre peace radiated from her face.
"But that doesn't mean I'll be stripped of my candidacy. Not for the de Lua family's sake, nor the Church's face. His Holiness wouldn't discard the sole Saintess Candidate so decisively."
Balua doubted his ears again.
"I'll become the Saintess anyway. Isn't that decided?"
"...Elise, surely you don't..."
"So, do I really need to try so hard?"
Elise smiled brightly.
That radiant smile left Balua speechless for a moment.
What she said was true, much as he hated to admit it.
Elise was the only one tapped as Saintess Candidate across the continent. Predestined since childhood, political entanglements made reversal impossible now.
In other words...
"Elise, you... dare to play power games with this old man, the Church?"
His voice seethed with rage.
Yet Elise's lips curved softly.
"Everything happens according to the Lord's will."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Elise was broken.
Or rather, corrupted.
It was the very scenario Archbishop Balua had feared most.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Elise, you're under house arrest! Don't even think of leaving this place for a month!"
Archbishop Balua pronounced house arrest. With a bellow, he stormed out.
Alone now, Elise stared at the firmly shut door for a while before relaxing her lips.
"...How peculiar."
Just days ago, Archbishop Balua had been a symbol of terror. His voice alone made her quake; his shouts left her legs buckling.
But now?
Even with direct punishment and fury unleashed, Elise felt nothing.
Moreover, his refusal to even mention revoking her candidacy confirmed it.
"...So that's how it is."
Family pressure, her position in the Church. The title of Saintess Candidate.
Until recently, it had all been suffocating—like shackles binding her.
But now? It was a weapon she could wield. As long as she bore that unique label, no one in the academy could touch her recklessly.
Not even the Archbishop—house arrest was the limit of what he could impose.
"...All thanks to you, Father."
Gazing at the finished embroidery, Elise's lips quirked up.
That priest from the confessional—had he seen this far and given her that advice?
Insight like that was what the word meant.
His affirmation had let her recommit her heart.
No need to obsess over perfection.
Love even the flaws.
Be true to her heart.
Elise resolved to live by the priest's words.
"...Breaking the rules feels this good?"
Just talking back to Balua had filled her with unmatched thrill.
What if she committed a greater transgression?
"If I sin... can I go to confession again?"
She replayed her own words and startled herself.
To sin deliberately for confession?
Blasphemous. Selfish.
"..."
Yet she couldn't shake the liberating rush or the echo of his gentle voice.
She knew neither his face, age, nor personality.
But to hear that voice once more...
"R-right. The offering... I didn't make an offering."
Elise hastily shifted her thoughts.
She was confined to this dorm room for the next month.
That didn't mean total isolation from the outside.
"Little one, could you do me a favor?"
She reached toward a white bird beyond the window. Faint holy power threaded from her fingertips.
"Good bird."
Elise beamed.
This smile was utterly different from her previous forced ones.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Heh, people really need that grease on top to thrive."
Priest Lowen wiped grease from his mouth. I silently tore bread, soaked it in stew, and nodded.
Since the offering, my meals had become surprisingly lavish.
The rickety wooden bed in the attic was replaced with a feather-stuffed one, and the drafty outer wall patched.
"By the way, heard the news, Father Leo?"
"What about?"
"Lady Elise de Lua."
"...Ah, the Saintess Candidate? Is there a problem?"
Lowen gave a wry smile.
"Well... she's been neglecting her duties lately. Drew the Archbishop's wrath and got a month of house arrest."
"House arrest?"
I echoed without thinking.
The Saintess under house arrest.
Nothing like this in the original story.
'What? Some event I missed? Nah, unlikely.'
The first arc of Throne of the Academy focused on key characters gathering at the academy, bonding through big and small incidents.
Like the protagonist-to-be claiming a demon sword from the academy basement, or the magic department eccentric blowing up part of a tower in an alchemy mishap.
I casually asked Lowen,
"Hmm. Come to think of it, the academy's been a bit chaotic lately. Nothing serious? I heard rumors of an accident in the magic department..."
"Oh, a small explosion at the tower, I think. But those guys blow something up every other day."
Lowen shrugged it off.
Good—the main story flow hadn't changed yet.
So the Saintess's house arrest was just some minor event I didn't know.
'Fair enough. I'm no developer; can't know every side quest.'
Throne of the Academy had branching paths galore.
Most importantly, none of those events involved me.
'The academy stays relatively peaceful until Act 3 at least.'
Time to enjoy this brief calm.
That was when,
"Speaking of, Father Leo."
"Yes."
"How's the confessional going?"
"Oh, uh... fine..."
I mumbled vaguely.
"Only one penitent so far, though."
"That's a start. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."
'Wonder if she's doing alright.'
This feast was all thanks to that young lady.
She hadn't visited since her last confession—a week ago.
'She's probably fine.'
Her voice had sounded stable at the end.
Better that way.
As I thought that, Lowen piped up.
"Glad you're not swamped. I worried I was foisting too much on you."
"Pardon? Foisting what?"
I tilted my head at his sudden words.
A request. Ominous vibes.
Lowen smiled sheepishly.
"See, with Lady Elise under house arrest, the events she oversaw got canceled. Students seeking simple counseling or prayers are flooding the cathedral—it's a mess."
"...And what does that have to do with me?"
"Your chapel's still quiet, right? Mind taking the less urgent ones, or those wanting quick confessions?"
"..."
This little chapel was perfect for laying low.
Students here? Hard pass. Absolutely not.
As I recoiled, Lowen grabbed my arm and grinned.
"What do you say? Not a bad deal—you'll rake in more offerings too."
"Ah... well, sure, but..."
I scrambled for an excuse.
But Lowen was firm.
"I'll let the higher-ups know."
"N-no, I can't..."
"No need to refuse! Humility's a virtue, but excess becomes pride."
"I'm still inexperienced..."
"Bah! Experience comes with time! We're all servants of the Lord—we help each other!"
Lowen slapped my shoulder cheerfully.
'This crazy old coot.'
He just wanted to dump his workload. My opinion? Irrelevant.
The plight of the lowly.
I sighed and nodded in resignation.
No major incidents to shake the academy until Act 3 anyway.
Might dodge trouble till then.
Right after Lowen headed back to the cathedral,
Tap, tap.
"Hm?"
Something pecked at the small chapel window.
A white bird perched on a branch outside, pecking the glass.
Locking eyes with its golden gaze...
Thud.
It dropped something from its beak onto the sill and flew off.
"What the...?"
I opened the window to check.
A white handkerchief. Embroidered with golden thread flowers.
"...What's this now?"
I tilted my head.