"Lea... where is your knight?"

The saintess gazed into Lea's eyes, her voice soft as she asked the question.

Her tone was gentle, and even though it carried a rare trace of seriousness, it never came across as offensive.

This was not meant to be a difficult question, nor was it intended to trap her. On the contrary, it was a question the saintess would pose to every candidate vying for saintesshood.

Yet, despite its simplicity—a question that shouldn't require any hesitation—Lea remained silent.

She didn't know how to answer.

"I..."

Lea lowered her head, her fingers instinctively clutching the hem of her skirt with nervousness.

Of course, she had a knight—a divine knight sworn to serve her.

From very early on, there had been a girl, strong and capable, who stood before her. This girl shielded her from the winds and rains, clearing paths ahead.

And also, from a young age, Lea had grown accustomed to watching behind the girl's back, following in her shadow.

By the original course of events, that strong and courageous knight should still be standing before her now, scattering every shadow like a shining beacon of light.

But that girl was not here.

Now, in this place, there was only her.

And so... Lea could only...

"Moen..."

Suddenly, a soft call escaped from the deep of her heart, surprising Lea herself.

She quickly inhaled deeply, forcibly driving away the golden-haired figure that inexplicably replaced the original knight in her thoughts.

No, Lea.

You’ve already troubled Moen enough. You’ve already received much help from him.

You cannot, absolutely cannot drag an innocent person into your vortex again.

You can’t.

Moreover...

Lea bit her lip, a trace of determination gradually emerging in her eyes.

You can do this, Lea Angel. You can.

Even without a knight sworn to serve you, you can manage alone.

You’ve grown. You’re not that weak individual anymore, the one who needed to live under someone else’s shadow.

Even if facing terrifying adversaries—enemies as fearsome as Disaster itself—you can summon the courage to confront them directly.

Being alone is nothing to be afraid of.

And so...

"By the way, who is that saintess candidate?"

Suddenly.

After the saintess spoke, the once-quiet cathedral hall, stilled out of respect or propriety, erupted with a few hushed murmurs.

The voices, subdued like whispers shared among companions, were nevertheless so clear.

"Yeah, who is she? I’ve never heard of her. Have you?"

"The other candidates—though their identities remain veiled—have already earned a name for themselves. But this Lea Angel? Never even heard of her."

"What’s she been doing during her mortal trials these past years? She’s so cute; even doing just a little would make her famous. Don’t tell me she never considered how to properly fulfill the role of a saintess."

"Shh, stop making wild guesses. Maybe she’s just not interested in this at all."

"Hah, disinterested? And yet she qualifies to stand here?"

"....."

The hand clutching her skirt tightened further, her knuckles turning white.

Lea, who had just tried to lift her head, suddenly found it unbearably heavy, as though weighed down by a thousand burdens.

Her chest felt suffocated, as though something obstructed her breath. Speaking, or even finding the strength to answer, seemed impossible.

The eyes fixed on her from the assembly—like an overwhelming tide—all but drowned her...

...

...

"Ah, I see now."

Moen abruptly clapped, his eyes lighting up as though enlightenment had struck.

"This is exactly one of those story moments, isn’t it? The classic trope where a beautiful girl falls into an impossible crisis, shunned and belittled by everyone, driven to the brink. But at the last possible second, the protagonist swoops in, makes a dazzling entrance, and smashes every obstacle in their way, winning the girl’s heart in one fell swoop."

Undoubtedly.

That had to be it.

Just like in those epic tales where the true hero always arrives precisely at the right time!

Which would explain why Ariel hasn’t appeared yet—it’s all part of the setup.

"Though honestly, Ariel ought to be here by now."

At this thought, Moen craned his neck, eyeing the doors of the cathedral, waiting for that figure—the one who should descend like an angel at precisely this moment—to appear.

But as he strained to find Ariel against the crowd, he instead met the bewildered stares of several nearby attendees—all wearing peculiar expressions.

"You don’t know, do you?"

"Know what?"

Moen frowned, turning toward Pink Bear, the speaker.

"Well..."

Pink Bear hesitated and scratched his bear-shaped face with rare embarrassment.

"Your Ariel... is probably not going to show up."

"...What?"

Moen’s breath hitched. "Why not?"

"Because..." Pink Bear stammered, a hint of awkwardness flashing across his bear-like face. "She hasn’t even arrived at Holy City yet."

"Impossible!"

Moen’s voice instantly rose.

Still not in Holy City? Ridiculous!

Deathbane Forest, for all its size, had been traversed by him and Lea in mere two days—even while being pursued through its depths.

Now, how many days had passed since Ariel entered the forest? It had been nearly ten.

With her skills and speed, how could she not have reached the city by now?

Suspicion clouded Moen’s expression as he glanced at the surrounding upperclassmen, Fannie included.

Without hesitation, he reached for his communication stone, deliberating momentarily before activating a specific frequency.

After several seconds, a voice—rigid and formal like a soldier’s—responded on the other end.

"Moen, young master, your orders?"

"Eller, Earl Eller—I need to ask... Any news on Ariel’s whereabouts?"

"...My deepest apologies, young master Moen, but no—nothing."

Eller paused briefly, then continued:

"Due to the threat posed by Disaster's awakening, we haven’t been able to send another search party into the forest. However, we’ve established patrols and magical detection barriers outside the forest, with support from the Adventurers' Association. By all accounts, if she left the woods, we should’ve detected her instantly...

But unfortunately, as of now, there has been no trace of her."

Moen didn’t say a word. He cut off the communication, his chest heavy with frustration.

Damn it.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

Why was it that the one person he thought least likely to falter—Ariel—encountered unexpected trouble at such a critical moment?

If Ariel wasn’t here now, then Lea...

Moen lifted his eyes, his gaze slicing through the assembly of onlookers.

Finally, it landed on her.

The lonely girl at the heart of it all, abandoned by the world, whose solitude was heartbreakingly palpable.

Now... who would help her?

"Tsk tsk tsk, that little lamb—how truly pitiable."

Pink Bear scratched his bottom as he sighed.

"If her original knight couldn’t make it, she'd at least have had a chance earlier. Some gambler might’ve stepped up, betting big on her potential."

"But no, she’s the last to arrive, just after all the other wolves have revealed their teeth. Now, this sweet little lamb walking alone into the den—who’d be foolish enough to stand behind her?"

Pink Bear smirked toward Moen, teasing.

"Oh dear—you look like you’ve been constipated for seven days straight. Should I call a doctor for you?"

"...No, thanks. I was just suddenly struck by clarity—two things occurred to me," Moen muttered, looking contemplative as he finally let out a deep sigh.

"Oh? What two things?" Pink Bear asked, intrigued.

"First..."

Moen’s expression twisted into a knot of complexities.

Confusion.

Anger.

Self-deprecation.

Disbelief.

And then...

A smile.

"Fate... is a bastard, isn’t it?"

"Nah, can’t argue that. What’s the second thing?"

"The second..."

Moen smoothed out his somewhat messy collar from recent neglect. He twisted his neck and stretched lazily.

Then, word by word, he stated:

"I’m an idiot."

"A dumb idiot."

...

...

"Can’t you hurry up and answer already?!"

A figure seated nearby—Anne, a white-stockinged lolicon—finally snapped. Frustrated, she turned to Lea and barked sharply:

"It’s a simple question: Yes or no. Let’s finish this up, for everyone’s sake!"

"Now now."

Freya, who had been kneeling beside her, straightened slightly. Her soothing voice intervened, conveying kindness:

"A little time won’t hurt, right? Perhaps Miss Lea has her reasons for hesitating."

"What reason could she possibly—"

"Enough. Quiet."

The saintess’s voice cut through, its warmth carrying authority.

But her gaze remained fixed on Lea as she insisted once again, calmly:

"Lea. What is your answer?"

"I..."

Lea inhaled deeply yet again.

Still, she couldn’t suppress the tremble building within her.

The words, the scrutinizing stares—they swirled around her like the frigid depths of an ocean, drowning her, isolating her in the loneliest place imaginable.

She wanted escape.

Desperately wanted to escape.

But...

But...

What use was that now?

This path was her choice. Turning away wouldn't change things.

Being alone... wasn’t it something she’d already come prepared for?

There was nothing...

To fear.

"I’m sorry, Teacher Saintess."

Finally raising her head, Lea summoned every ounce of strength to reply:

"As for the divine knight in question—actually, I... don’t have—"

"Ah, apologies. I’m late."

From the abyss, light broke.

It seemed unreal, like a hallucination. Yet the presence pressing close—the truth of it—was undeniable.

Lea suddenly turned her head and saw that familiar blonde man. Handsome in appearance, tall and upright in posture, he stood unflinchingly in the light, directly behind... her.

"Ah, the communion meal provided by the church was just too delicious, so I couldn’t help indulging a little."

The blonde man looked at the fork in his hand with a troubled expression. He scratched his head, then, with flawless and impeccable etiquette that no one could fault, he placed a hand over his chest and dropped into a half-kneeling position. Under Lea’s stunned gaze, he spoke:

"I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, my dear... Saintess."

"Moen, you..."

Lea's eyes were filled with confusion, as though a misty haze had begun to swirl around them.

"Why...?"

Why did you come?

I clearly didn’t ask you to.

"Because..."

Moen gave a slight smile and suddenly leaned close to Lea’s ear, his voice lowering into a whisper:

"I suddenly recalled that I’ve invested a full half a million in you, Lea. If you can’t become a saintess, wouldn’t I suffer a massive loss?

Hmm, or... are you planning to renege on your debt?"

"I—I wouldn’t!"

Lea stared blankly at Moen, whose strikingly handsome features were so dazzling that nearby girls couldn’t help but let out gasps of admiration. She suddenly showed an expression that was unsure whether it was closer to crying or smiling.

But just as she was about to say something, her words were interrupted by an untimely voice:

"My, my, this knight seems rather unfamiliar."

"He’s quite handsome, though."

"Tsk, tsk. A dashing knight and a saintess candidate who’s good for nothing but her face and figure—what a perfect match..."

Boom—

In an instant.

That annoying babble was abruptly silenced.

Silenced by a resounding noise.

A thunderous, booming noise.

It was like dozens of bolts of lightning striking at once, roaring with furious, unstoppable ferocity, tearing through the frigid air.

But it was... just a fork.

A single fork.

A fork that flew past numerous well-known elites like an unreasonably sharp blade and lodged itself precisely next to the face of a man who had been skulking at the back of the crowd, stirring up trouble since earlier.

The fork still quivered. The plain-looking man’s face was drained of color, and blood trickled down his cheek.

The person who had thrown the fork, meanwhile, casually rotated his wrist and, with a smile so utterly charming that it would make any girl blush and her heart race, spoke with a calm yet chillingly authoritative tone:

"Apologies. I am a staunch devotee of the ample-chest, so... could you kindly refrain from defiling my faith, please?"

"..."

At that moment.

The world fell silent.

And the girl stared at Moen, dumbfounded.

In her field of vision, all the extraneous details vanished.

The shocked faces, the incredulous gazes—they all disappeared.

All that remained was that familiar blonde man and his familiar smile.

She reached out her hand and placed it over her chest.

The heart within her chest was pounding.

Scorching, burning, fervent.

It beat with a powerful roar.

Thump!