Emotionally, it would be cleaner if that flashy wretch died. Silphiel had no desire to save her.

But under everyone’s watchful eyes—with so many young knights of the Knighthood staring—failing to act risked crumbling the ‘gentle and kind,’ ‘compassionate’ Holy Maiden image she’d built over years.

Rodrika, why did you throw such a huge problem at me?

Reason easily won over emotion.

Silphiel forced a ‘gentle’ fake smile. “Rodrika, her life force is extremely weak. I can heal her wounds and remove the curse effects. But the drained life force… I’m afraid it can’t be restored.”

Rodrika’s eyes dimmed slightly. She nodded. “Unavoidable. Saving her life is enough. My Divine Art level can’t lift her soul-burning state.”

Rodrika truly thought Silphiel was good-hearted!

Lelia was a Heretic. She’d even clashed with Silphiel at the banquet. Yet Silphiel saved her. What magnanimity!

What kindness.

“Lay her on the grass.”

What choice did Silphiel have? Even healed, this woman would only have half a life left.

House Lindbergh had fallen on hard times, but as saint-descendants, if she apologized properly, that old man Gregory would likely spare her—to save face and gain reputation.

Lucky you.

Silphiel closed her eyes, chanting the highest-level healing Divine Art.

Instantly, holy golden light spun into countless threads. A massive Divine Art array formed beneath Lelia, rotating.

Breathtakingly beautiful.

In divine-grace light, the beautiful maiden clasped her hands. Her song floated with golden rays. Above, a golden angel phantom hovered in the clouds.

Onlookers were entranced.

This was Silphiel’s deliberate performance.

The true ‘Hymn of Divine Grace’ lacked such flashy effects. She’d added drama—since she had to save Lelia anyway, why not gain fans?

It felt less of a loss.

Besides, Lelia wouldn’t dare flirt with the Hero again.

The hymn faded. Silphiel exhaled deeply, wiping sweat. This super-tier Divine Art drained her completely.

“She’ll survive, but her life force is severely depleted.”

Rodrika hurried to thank her. Silphiel waved a hand. “Thank her, not me. Stop pretending, Lelia. I know you’re awake.”

Lelia slowly opened her eyes, sitting up from the grass.

“…”

Her dull gaze met Silphiel’s. After a brief silence, she spoke. “Silphiel, you saved me. I should thank you… but I can’t.”

Boos erupted.

The Knighthood knights, moved by Silphiel’s hymn, were furious. How could she disrespect such a gentle, kind, merciful Holy Maiden?

An ungrateful wretch!

Ignoring the crowd, Lelia’s hatred for Silphiel didn’t fade.

Silphiel retorted coldly, “Because I forced you to kill your attendant and butler?”

Lelia’s voice choked. “They were my master and senior brother! Like family!”

“Foolish!”

“What?”

Before Lelia finished, Silphiel slapped her hard. Lelia stared, confused.

After the slap, Silphiel felt better. She glanced at the Heretic Inquisitors and beckoned. “Bring that notebook. Let her see it—”

“You’ll understand after reading.”

Lelia took the notebook. Her expression shifted. Her hand trembled uncontrollably.

“…Impossible. Forged. My master couldn’t have killed my parents!”

Silphiel’s eyelids lowered. “You know their handwriting. Your parents lured outsiders home, torturing them to death. To your master, it was divine justice.”

Lelia tried to deny it. But the handwriting—and signatures—were genuine. The yellowed paper proved it wasn’t forged.

Her hand shook. Tears welled. “Then… what have I done…”

Silphiel snorted. The notebook, found while tracking fleeing Heretics, might’ve been left by Shirley or forgotten.

“Your parents deserved death. You inherited their cruelty. Grace’s side holds proof of your crimes. No need to deny.”

Silphiel turned away. “You have half a year left. Repent for your sins.”

She spoke righteously, perfectly timed. Silphiel felt great.

As she left, Lelia’s heart-wrenching sobs followed—filled with regret.

Heh. The hated enemy was actually the one who avenged her parents?

The Divine Court she despised held no grudge… even forgave her?

Had her life been meaningless?

Rodrika, ever considerate, added, “When I caught them, I heard plans to kill you after assassinating the Hero.”

This made it worse.

Her master and senior brother—family to her—were her parents’ killers. Their kindness was just using her to infiltrate the Holy Capital. The enemy she hated for six years had forgiven her.

How could she accept such disparity? Hadn’t her life become meaningless?

This hurt more than death. At least then, she wouldn’t know.

Sometimes, living is a greater torment.