Midnight. The moon hung bright and cold.

Gao Ying lay on his plush bed, replaying his past two days with Silphiel.

He’d always believed he hated her. But now, in the quiet, he wasn’t so sure. Beneath that hatred stirred something else.

He slapped himself hard.

*Pathetic. After how she treated you?*

*You gave her your heart. Hers was all lies! Do you really want to be fooled again in this life?*

*Yes. She must pay. She must pay!*

*If her feelings were fake, yours must be too!*

He repeated this until his heart finally stilled.

Just as he closed his eyes, a knock sounded at the door.

Gao Ying froze. He rose, opened it—and found Elise standing there.

“What is it this late?”

After the banquet ended and Silphiel left, Gao Ying had brewed alchemical antidotes for them. But haunted by past betrayal, he’d diluted the formula.

He’d lifted about 90% of the potion’s effect. The lingering trace, he claimed, was to maintain appearances for Silphiel.

If the women showed zero reaction when Silphiel triggered the magic, wouldn’t that raise suspicion?

Of course, the residue would only cause mild discomfort—nothing lethal.

“Hero… I… I’m here… to serve you tonight…”

Elise’s face burned crimson to her ears. Gao Ying blinked, finally noticing her revealing attire. From his angle, the swell of her chest was nearly bare beneath translucent fabric, faint traces of crimson peaks visible.

He shook his head. “Don’t force yourself if you’re uncomfortable. Go rest. This mansion’s huge—you’ll help clean tomorrow.”

He had no appetite for this. Not before making Silphiel pay.

As he moved to shut the door, Elise blocked it. Her emerald eyes held a wounded gaze.

“So… you truly like *her*, Hero?”

Gao Ying stiffened. He knew who “her” meant. “Don’t overthink it. It’s not about her. I saved you—not for this.”

Elise lowered her lashes. “To you… are we soldiers, not women?”

He kept his voice patient. “Remember why you became Battle Nuns. Was it to sleep with the Hero? Think clearly. Go back.”

He added firmly, “Just do as I ordered. That’s enough.”

The door closed. Elise stood alone in the vast corridor.

After a long moment, she sighed softly, a bitter smile on her lips. “If only I’d met you sooner…”

—

Two days passed swiftly. The Holy See’s grand welcome banquet for the Hero began under the world’s gaze.

Silphiel stood before her vanity mirror, applying makeup.

As the Holy See’s flawless face, adored by thousands, she must dress impeccably—yet avoid anything overly seductive.

Her gown glittered with embedded crystals, elegant but restrained.

Unlike other noble ladies baring half their chests or entire backs, she wore what resembled a cleric’s ceremonial robe.

Even so, her meticulously crafted beauty stole breaths.

She admired her reflection, unable to look away. “Perfect. As expected of me. Skin like polished jade, lips crimson as berries, eyes bright as stars and moon—truly, this is me.”

*With this face in my past life, I’d have earned so much more.*

She spritzed perfume—a rare blend from the Witch Forest. Its scent was subtle but left deep impressions, weaving unconscious goodwill toward the wearer.

Only Grand Witches could brew it. Ordinary users risked harm—but few could obtain it without special channels.

Silphiel feared no side effects. *Of course not. Who wouldn’t love the ‘Holy Maiden’?*

The reason was clear: her origins, her lineage—all forged. Even the Pope hadn’t uncovered the truth.

Once she turned the Hero into her loyal dog, her plan would begin.

Tonight, she’d remove one obstacle. She’d sent an invitation to that Lindbergh bitch. The woman would surely attend. Then—

A cold smirk curled Silphiel’s lips at the thought of her rival’s suffering.

As Silphiel exited the dressing room, a blond youth in white military uniform waited. He stepped forward, producing a bouquet like magic.

She sighed lightly, taking the flowers while rubbing her temples. “Grace, why are you dressed like this *again*?”

Grace—Silphiel’s closest friend, current Inquisitor of Heresy.

The blond youth—no, blond *girl*—grinned, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. “Not handsome enough? Or do you prefer that Hero type? So bland. Utterly ordinary.”

Silphiel frowned. “Grace, don’t say that! He has merits!”

Grace’s eyes narrowed, studying her friend. “…Silphiel. After days together, have you actually fallen for him?”

Watching their intimate moments had gnawed at Grace’s heart. But he was the Hero—she’d swallowed her jealousy.

Why defend him now, with no one around?

Silphiel paused, clearing her throat. “Impossible. I was acting. Maybe I got too into character.”

*Yes. I like girls. Men? Never interested.*

She convinced herself.

“But why this outfit again?”

Grace shrugged. “While you enjoy the party, I’m stuck as security chief. Patrol duty outside. Just wanted to see you first.”

Silphiel hugged her friend. “It’ll be fine. Did you remember what I asked?”

“Of course.” Grace leaned in, whispering, “I’ll stage an ‘attack’ on the Hero’s return. Plant evidence pointing to the Lindbergh woman. She won’t talk her way out.”

A familiar task. Silphiel relaxed.

“Though spies report the Hero’s been wandering the city these past days.”

“Natural. He’s new here. Just curious.”

After parting ways, Silphiel handed the bouquet to a passing knight. His face flushed crimson as he watched her retreating figure.

At the banquet hall entrance, Silphiel waited for Gao Ying. Each second stretched endlessly. Her yearning gaze would convince anyone: *The Holy Maiden’s in love.*

*Flawless acting. As expected of me.*

Hoofbeats approached in the distance.