Spring Tide stared at her palm, dazed, warmth lingering like sun across wet sand; the soft give haunted her fingers, and as thrill ebbed, a cool clarity circled her heart.
“Strange…”
Every smack that met that softness sent a soothing wave through her, fatigue rolling back like a receding tide.
She’d blamed it on excitement, yet the feeling only grew, like a bud forcing itself to bloom.
Her spent strength refilled in a blink, water poured into an empty cup.
“Could it be… an ability?”
Spring Tide frowned and glanced at Cerqin, free again, draped over the table, sobbing with a wounded-kitten whimper and clutching her backside.
“So you’re actually awakening a bloodline ability?”
“Mmh… ugh… it hurts…”
“Answer.”
Spring Tide hummed, voice calm but newly edged; it rattled the pink‑haired girl more than any shout.
“Uh… ability‑user? I don’t know…”
Her brows pinched. She set her hand atop Cerqin’s and moved to pull Cerqin’s hand away.
The full, gentle surge rushed in, clearer than before; it hadn’t felt like this when she first grabbed her hand.
“Is this a sign of awakening?”
Curiosity flitted through her whisper. Bloodline abilities weren’t learned like magic; they showed after birth. Late awakenings were rare, like stubborn seeds sprouting out of season.
It was her first time seeing this, and from the feel, it was something rare—an aid‑type that refilled power in a spill of light.
A few quick questions cinched her guess, knots pulled tight.
Watching Cerqin tremble on the table, Spring Tide’s eyes warmed; curiosity shouldered aside the last of her restraint.
She turned, fished a few garments from her wardrobe, and tossed them to Cerqin, whose clothes were already wet through.
She wore a playful look as she spoke, slow and sweet as honey.
“From now on, you’re my personal Nun. Keep at it until I forgive you. You won’t refuse, will you? Mm‑hmm?”
“Huh?”
“You won’t refuse, right?”
Only moments ago, Spring Tide had pondered how to keep the pink‑haired girl close; the method differed from her first plan, but the excuse fit like a glove.
Cerqin sat on the table, clutching the offered clothes. She froze, eyes glassy, tears refusing to fall.
She’d walked herself into it. Her chance to run was shrinking to zero, like a sand path swallowed by rising surf.
This was the Radiant Sanctuary—one of the continent’s strongest powers, devoted to the Radiant God; believers countless, reach vast, a giant among churches.
It was a bishop city with one of the four regional Archbishops presiding. Even the Holy Maiden of the Eastern Diocese lived here; in Eastern Sea City, that sprawling shore-bound metropolis, the Sanctuary reigned.
The Nuns and Divine Officers serving here were handpicked, seasoned; any one of them outclassed Cerqin, who was only Third Rank…
Cerqin could guess why Spring Tide wanted her nearby, even naming a “personal Nun” post.
The key was in those two words—personal.
“Nuns in Eastern Sea City… don’t they need at least Fourth Rank? I’m only Third…”
She wanted to refuse; even knowing it was futile, she wanted to flail once. The Holy Maiden was beautiful, but she didn’t want to tie herself to one branch and dangle.
And staying by her side, becoming that “personal” Nun… who knew how she’d be treated?
It felt like one yes would net her, no room to turn over.
But if she became a Nun, she wouldn’t live the adventurer’s meal‑to‑meal life anymore…
Either way, this was a coveted seat others begged for and never got.
A small spark of desire flickered like a firefly, then she snuffed it.
The Holy Maiden’s voice flowed on.
“Standards don’t matter for you. I’m a Holy Maiden, nominally equal to an Archbishop. You’re showing signs of awakening; holders of bloodline abilities can be specially recruited.”
She paused, eyes narrowing toward a certain pink little undergarment she’d forgotten to put away yesterday.
“If you refuse, I’ll send you to the Law Enforcement Hall.”
Absolutely not that.
Cerqin shivered. With what she’d done, she could be sent there; agreeing felt like the only path left.
“You have three seconds to choose…”
Spring Tide’s pretend door‑creak sliced through Cerqin’s hesitation; she blurted fast, humiliation burning like a blush.
“From now on, I’m the Holy Maiden’s personal Nun! I’ll do anything!”
“Mm‑hmm. First, change out of those clothes~”
Wearing the Holy Maiden’s attire, feeling the other Nuns’ odd gazes, Cerqin clutched her still‑sore rear and fled the Sanctuary like a rabbit bolting for brush.
She’d become a Nun of the Sanctuary; she’d be living there now.
So she was released to pack her things, with a deadline to return stamped like ink across her mind.
Thinking of the days ahead, maybe bullied every day, Cerqin only wanted to rush back to the inn, flop onto her tiny bed, hide her head under a blanket, and play ostrich.
On the bright side, becoming a Nun meant no more pinching coins like plucked petals, no more cheap inns; the Sanctuary’s sisters were all striking, all Fourth Rank or higher—her interests wouldn’t lack for delight, at least for a while…
The Holy Maiden was breathtaking, above them all.
It was just that possessive current, and the twisted, forceful edge under cool gentleness—steel wrapped in silk—that made her a bit afraid.
Aside from that, it felt like a good bargain; Cerqin soothed herself with the thought.
Thinking that way, even daily bullying seemed almost acceptable.
And in some ways, the Holy Maiden fit her taste?
“Mm. Yes. I’m the one who’s winning here!”
Cerqin clenched her fists, pumped herself up, then crawled out from under her small blanket to start packing.
She’d already wasted enough time; if she returned late, she’d be in trouble, thunderclouds gathering over her head.
“But this chest probably can’t go…”
Inside the chest, her gaze fell on rows of neatly folded, brightly colored little undergarments, all different styles.
As things stood, if they were found, she couldn’t claim them as hers with a straight face.
For the safety of her backside, it was better not to bring that chest into the Sanctuary…
She’d store it elsewhere.
She took one favorite piece out and admired it, reluctant as sunset lingering on a window; then she remembered what she currently wore—roughly put on by a Nun’s own hands.
She had tried to step out with nothing beneath and been yanked back; the scene played in her mind like lanterns flickering.
“Seems my original goal’s already achieved… huh?”
Lost in stray thoughts, her fingers brushed, and she let out a small sound.
“It doesn’t hurt?! Did I really awaken a healing ability?”
They said a bloodline awakening marked talent; knowing she was nearing it, Cerqin felt joy rise like morning mist.
Late awakenings were rare but real; when an ability fully awakened, it carried inherited memory.
Spring Tide had said awakening meant an ancestor had once reached demi‑god level; the awakening itself was a legacy, and with it would come base knowledge of how to use the gift.
The only problem was the strange trigger—it only showed passively when she was being smacked.
So mortifying.
She remembered Spring Tide promising to help develop it after it fully awakened; her cheeks flushed, heat flowing like poured wine.
This ability seemed to make her stamina swell after the Holy Maiden “taught” her.
Then her endurance would…
She reeled in the fantasy, shaking her head like a drum rattled by wind. A glance at the time jolted her, and she hurried on.
She didn’t have much to pack; as a small adventurer drifting from city to city, she couldn’t afford spatial gear.
She’d pared down to the bone—some coin, clothes, and that chest of collectibles.
After spending most of her savings to store the chest, she reached the Sanctuary gate, breathless, at the very last moment.
Crimson afterglow washed the solemn white cathedral; overhead, star‑pricks rose like silver seeds. It felt like fate pivoted in that light.
Such a beautiful scene made her pause.
The pause brought its price at once.
“So I gave you an entire afternoon to pack, and you still crossed the deadline?”
Spring Tide looked down at Cerqin kneeling at her feet, face unreadable, heart calm as still water. Cerqin had still been late. About two minutes—because the sunset was too pretty.
That reason… there was no way it would be forgiven.
“So the first order I gave you, you broke. I gave you plenty of time. You tell me—how should I punish you?”
Cerqin didn’t dare speak. Hearing that, her body jerked, her hips instinctively tilting back, like a rabbit expecting the switch.
