Thomas stood frozen for a long moment before snapping out of it and walking to the blackboard.

“How many times was this photo magnified?”

“Ten times!” Galiton pulled out a magnifying glass and declared with conviction, “At this resolution? Nothing escapes my eagle eyes!”

An awkward silence fell over the room.

“Alright, thanks for the intel. Next up… Bibis, your turn.” Thomas quickly ushered Galiton off to tidy up, hoping to ease the tension.

“No problem. What I’ve got runs far deeper than surface-level stuff.”

Bibis strode to the blackboard with quiet pride. Instead of a photo, he unrolled a magical recording. “Before we begin—let’s establish one fact: Saintess Aelia has a strong aversion to filth. Her spotless appearance is proof enough. Keeping that in mind… let’s watch.”

The recording played. A man tumbled into a foul-smelling ditch. Saintess Aelia witnessed it—but did nothing. She simply turned and walked away.

“Refusing to help someone in trouble, just to stay clean? *Such* is our noble Saintess,” Bibis said with a sarcastic flourish, spreading his hands.

But the others’ expressions grew uneasy.

“I’ve got a question,” Galiton cut in. “Why didn’t the Saintess use magic to help?”

“This was filmed right after she returned from an outside mission. She’d likely exhausted her mana. When physical action was needed… she held back. Honestly—our Saintess *is* a magical prodigy. With magic? She’s unstoppable.” Bibis delivered the praise with exaggerated flair.

“This ditch… I’ve seen this spot before…” Iven, the only woman present, paused, then snapped her fingers. “Southwest 16th Street! It was renovated later—under Saintess Aelia’s initiative, wasn’t it?”

“If she weren’t feeling guilty, why bother with such a thankless task?” Bibis wagged a finger. “Mending the fold after the sheep are lost is virtuous… but some things, once missed—”

“You edited this footage, didn’t you?” Tui the stout man finally spoke up.

Bibis’s expression shifted slightly. He shot Tui a sharp glare. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you know the penalty for slander without proof?”

“There’s a clear jump cut where the Saintess just watches. After it, the background freezes. Then—another jump to her turning away. You really think we’re all fools?” Unfazed, Tui met his gaze with open disdain.

Bibis scanned the room. Seeing the doubt in every face, he sighed in resignation. “Fine. I edited it. But isn’t this exactly the kind of ‘evidence’ you wanted to smear her with?”

“So you had *zero* real proof?” Tui chuckled.

Bibis fell silent.

“No—this might still work!” Galiton stepped forward, dragging the progress bar to the critical frame. He slowed the clip twentyfold, peered through his magnifier, then jumped up. “See?! Her brow furrowed 0.05 centimeters—and stayed tense for 0.06 seconds! Proof of disgust! A *perfect* Saintess shouldn’t feel that!”

“Your turn, Diset.” Thomas pulled Galiton aside.

“Fine. Don’t want my help fabricating? Suit yourselves.” Bibis returned to his seat with a shrug.

Diset, a retired soldier turned adventurer, lacked technical tricks. He could only share rumors.

“The Saintess is cowardly. Danger strikes—she runs.”

He cited time and place. Thomas burst out laughing.

“That’s a rumor. *I* was there. The beast was strong—but trivial for Saintess Aelia. She held back to let our squad train. Result? Zero casualties. She claimed *none* of the loot. We split it all.”

“That’s just an act!” Iven shot back, flushed. “She lives lavishly—indulgent, wasteful…”

Bibis laughed before she finished.

“Don’t project your fantasies onto the Saintess.”

“Fantasy?! You’ve seen her robes! Don’t tell me she lives like an ascetic in the palace!”

“Not ascetic—but frugal.” Bibis produced a document. “Verified source. Check it.”

They crowded around. A report on palace officials’ daily expenditures. The king topped the list. Scrolling down… they found Saintess Aelia’s name—just above the guard captain. Solidly lower-mid tier.

“How?!” Iven gasped. “Forged?!”

True, the sum dwarfed a commoner’s budget—but among nobles? The most modest. As the nation’s spiritual symbol, *less* would’ve shamed the crown.

“The report excludes her quarters’ upkeep. She’s only *lodging* in the palace. That cost isn’t hers.”

“What about the ‘hundred maids’ rumor?” Iven pressed.

“Exaggerated. Thirty-six. Paid by the crown. And every single one? Commoners. Refugees.”

Palace staff were usually minor nobles’ spare heirs—never outsiders.

A beat of silence. Then understanding dawned.

“Good heavens… How *does* someone like her exist?” Iven whispered, utterly disarmed.

“Why do you think I faked evidence?” Bibis shook his head wearily. After digging through every record… fabrication was his only option.

Because Saintess Aelia was simply flawless.

“I disagree.” Tui shook his head. “However virtuous she seems—she serves the Church, the king, the nobles. But Princess Moonshadow? The kingdom, the aristocracy, The Church—all corrupt. *Her* enemies. She is the light for commoners. Hope for refugees. The *only* true voice of justice in this world.”

“Shut it! Want to preach for rebels? Go elsewhere!” Bibis glared.

Even the others shot Tui cold looks.

Luke wasn’t surprised. Through mind-reading, he knew: Princess Moonshadow was a key figure in Shadow Phantom—the continent’s most infamous rebel group.

And every rebellion that had shaken the kingdom? Rumor named *her* the mastermind.