"You little brat..."

Lea had just gracefully disappeared into the crowd when Pink Bear sidled over, slung an arm around Moen's shoulder, and teased with a mischievous tone:

"Spill it, buddy. What exactly did you do back in that forest with her? I mean, I saw the way she acted toward you... Something's not adding up, am I right?"

"I think it's your brain that's not adding up."

Moen brushed off Pink Bear's paw with a look of disdain and retorted irritably:

"You're imagining nonsense. Lea and I are just regular friends—nothing more."

"Really now?" Pink Bear cocked a skeptical brow. "Since when do 'regular friends' throw themselves into each other's arms like that?"

"Throw themselves into each other's arms? She barely even let my hand touch a single hair on her head, for crying out loud."

"Don't try to weasel your way out of this! With my twenty years of singles' experience evolving into a hyper-accurate romance radar, I can say for sure—there's something fishy going on between you two!"

"The only fishy thing here is you. You should stop reading all those sleazy books—you'll end up losing your hair."

Moen rolled his eyes and casually said, "If I ever really had something improper going on with Lea, you can say someone would stab me with a firewood knife—actually, scratch that. Make that multiple firewood knives."

"Ha! You liar. Let's see if—"

Pink Bear snorted dismissively and was just about to shoot back with something, but the words caught in his throat. His sharp wit was abruptly silenced as the atmosphere around them shifted.

The crowd stirred, voices growing louder in excitement before quickly falling to quiet murmurs. All eyes were drawn toward the convergence of shimmering light. From golden strands of hair to the sacred mark upon her forehead, and even the gentle yet confident poise she carried—it was a figure embodying every essence of the word "saintess." As she stepped forward from behind the curtain, the entire room seemed to hold its breath. With each elegant stride, she commanded not just the spotlight, but everyone's undivided attention.

The current saintess had arrived.

"It's starting, huh?"

Even the usually nonchalant Moen straightened up instinctively, shaking off his laziness. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement. Though he wouldn't directly participate in today's ceremony, this marked a rare occasion where all five saintess candidates would take the stage. It was a spectacle worth anticipating.

Still, amidst that anticipation, Moen couldn't resist tossing a sidelong glance toward Pink Bear. There had always been something peculiar about this guy's demeanor when it came to the saintess—eerily quiet, which was completely unlike him.

Could it be…?

Moen felt a shiver as a wild thought flitted through his mind. Maybe Pink Bear really did have a thing for her and was secretly obsessed with those pristine white stockings beneath her gown!

"Looks like everyone's here now," the saintess spoke with a voice as warm as sunlight breaking through the coldest frost. Her serene gaze swept across the congregation gathered in the grand cathedral hall, her smile as gentle and pure as ever, capable of melting even stone.

Today, she wore a solemn ceremonial dress, with only her lower legs, clad in white stockings, peeking out from beneath the long hem.

Moen barely spared a momentary glance before losing interest entirely.

Hmph, we're not even close to being on the same wavelength!

"Now that everyone is here, I won't prolong things with unnecessary words. The purpose of today's gathering is clear to all, so let us proceed directly to the matter at hand."

The saintess nodded slightly, her calm contemplative expression lasting for only a moment before her gaze landed firmly on one spot in particular. Her soft voice resonated across the room:

"Would you please step forward first, my child, Margarita?"

At her beckoning, her voice imbued with a strange enchantment, the crowd parted instantly. From amidst the lights, a girl adorned in an ornate, resplendent gown stepped forth.

Her platinum-blond hair was intricately styled in an elegant updo. Her skin was pale as snow, and her flawless features bore the distinctive sharp contours of Northern Slavic heritage, including a high-bridged nose that lent a striking depth and sophistication to her already frosty countenance.

"Isn't that the Platinum Princess of the Slaval Kingdom?"

"She's breathtaking..."

"I've even heard of her reputation down in the south. She's becoming more and more renowned every year."

"As expected of a saintess candidate—how could she not excel?"

The assembled crowd buzzed with hushed discussion.

"A princess?" Moen was momentarily taken aback. "And she's the first one up? Starting things off with such a heavyweight, huh?"

While he vaguely recalled mentions of the saintess candidates' appearances from the original novel, these minor supporting characters had such sparse page time that it was impossible to remember them in detail. He could only cross-reference the information before him with his limited memory.

"The Platinum Princess, huh..."

Pink Bear, now returned to his usual cheeky self, casually scratched his nose as he remarked, "She's no small fry, that's for sure. At least in terms of fame across the continent, I'd say she rivals your household's beloved icy tsundere."

"And what about other areas?" Moen asked flatly.

"I did say 'in terms of fame,' remember?" Pink Bear shrugged nonchalantly.

"Alright, fair enough," Moen muttered.

So, in other aspects, his frigid tsundere fiancée still held the upper hand, by a larger margin, no doubt.

His gaze wandered over the princess's ice-flat chest, and Moen couldn't keep a look of pity from creeping onto his face. Good thing Ariel wasn't here at the moment, or else...

"You've matured beautifully, Margarita," the saintess said, her expression as endlessly tender as always as she looked at the girl who had kneeled gracefully before her.

"Did you learn much from your trials in the mortal world?"

"Yes, teacher. I have gained much," Margarita replied respectfully.

"Is that so?" The saintess nodded lightly. However, before proceeding further, her gaze softened, and she posed a question with utmost sincerity:

"Permit me to ask you one more time—do you truly wish to forsake everything you once were, your identity, your position in the world, in order to embark on this harsh path?"

"Yes, teacher," the Platinum Princess replied without a moment of hesitation. Reaching out her hand, she declared, "I vow to forge ahead with unwavering resolve."

"Very well."

Sacred light gathered within the saintess's outstretched palm, condensing into a crystal of purest clarity. She placed it delicately into Margarita's hands and spoke:

"Summon your knight."

"Understood."

Margarita turned, her alabaster neck arched like a swan's, as she called out softly, "Come forth."

The crowd stirred again.

Yet, unlike the initial excitement and curiosity elicited by the unveiling of a saintess candidate, this time what rippled through the onlookers was wariness—an uneasy vigilance, almost as if anticipating a lurking predator among sheep.

After all, while the saintess candidates often lacked prowess in combat, their knights—the ones bestowed with the title "Knight of the Sacred Servant"—were a completely different story. These individuals pledged to secure victory in the candidates’ stead and were often the true subject of envy, doubt, and fear.

"A Knight of the Sacred Servant, huh..." Moen murmured, rubbing his chin. "To be honest, it kind of baffles me."

"Oh? What's got you baffled now?" Pink Bear replied casually.

"This whole ceremony—the 'Anointment of the future Saintess,' or whatever you call it. If the saintess candidates need knights to fight on their behalf, why not just assemble a troop and let them duel it out directly? All this pomp and ceremony seems completely unnecessary."

Moen criticized the process, repeating the same frustrations he'd had while reading about this event in the novel from his past life.

"Hmm... Well, you have a point, but choosing a saintess isn't as simple as you think," Pink Bear said, surprisingly patient this time, his interest seemingly piqued by the atmosphere around them.

"The Anointment of the future Saintess ceremony originated nearly a thousand years ago, during the era that followed the Great Continental Chaos—a period when the church was solidifying its supreme authority. Back then, this wasn't just some ceremony. It was—" Pink Bear's tone deepened, his expression turning unexpectedly somber—"The War of the Saintess."

"A war?" Moen repeated thoughtfully, rolling the word around in his mind.

"That's right."

Pink Bear's voice dropped lower, carrying an unusual weight.

"Back then, it was nothing less than a war."