This was, of course, Luke’s doing. Since that pink-haired scum was wracked with guilt, he might as well keep the scare going—see if he could push her into some extreme move, something to use as leverage later.

So Luke deliberately made the threat feel impulsive, unplanned. Just enough to make her believe silencing the witness was an option.

To be fair, Aelia did pick up on his meticulous setup.

She kept the letter to herself. That night, after smoothly leaving a Holy Light clone behind, she slipped alone to the meeting spot near Evergreen Grove in the wealthy district.

Though evergreen year-round, on a cold winter night nobles rarely wandered here. Patrol guards had slacked off and gone home. Commoners were banned—violators faced instant execution, no trial, no compensation. …Not a single soul stirred from the woods to the streets.

Seeing no one, Aelia withdrew her senses and waited. Soon, a furtive figure crept through the trees.

"Lady Aelia?"

A hesitant voice came from behind the bushes—clearly a man.

"It's me," Aelia replied calmly.

Just as someone predicted, she sensed the threat felt spur-of-the-moment. She even considered silencing him.

But reputation. Her future comfort. The word "maybe" was unacceptable. After weighing it, she chose to play dumb—for now. Observe. Decide later.

Objectively, solid move. Her actions stayed consistent. Anyone trying to trap her with recordings or photos would leave empty-handed.

Too bad the mind-reading troll lurking in the shadows wouldn’t let it stay that way.

"You actually came."

The man stepped out. Under faint moonlight, blessed by Holy Light, Aelia clearly saw his face.

She recalled his file instantly.

"You're… Mister Novas?"

"To be remembered by Lady Aelia is an honor," he said, flashing a nauseating smile rivaling Count Lecherly’s—like a fan meeting their idol.

She’d memorized attendant lists to seem approachable. Thanks to that calculated effort, she confirmed: this was the guard who’d hidden in the secret room.

"What brings you out so late?" she asked.

Novas flustered instantly—nervous, fumbling, exactly how a starstruck fan would act. (To a certain invisible troll, it was genuine.)

Novas was real. He wrote the letter.

But he’d never worked in the secret room. He guarded Count Lecherly’s young son.

Luke hadn’t been there physically, but his "psychological presence" made others feel he was—and imagine conversations. Logs saved. Easy to edit later.

So when Novas asked Luke that afternoon to arrange a meeting with the Saintess, Luke agreed at once. Coached him on drafting a fan letter brimming with admiration. Secured the reply: she’d meet him tonight.

Overjoyed, Novas stammered the whole time: "Y-You… really came? I-I must be dreaming!"

Huh? Why did that pink-haired scum hear something else?

Guilty conscience breeds paranoia. A little hallucination? Totally normal. Don’t worry—he’d "treat" her again later with his mind-reading.

Sure enough, Novas’s earnest, trembling praise twisted in Aelia’s ears into:

"Drop the act. I saw what you did at the Count’s. Tsk, tsk. The revered Saintess—beloved by all—actually a lowlife who toys with hearts and twists wills? If this leaks… how many dreams shatter?"

Aelia’s mood darkened.

Every word struck her deepest fears.

Even—

"I’ve watched you awhile. That personality shift eight years ago? 'Enlightenment'? A lie. You became someone else…" Novas grinned, face deceptively innocent, words dripping malice. "And originally… you were a man."

"Thank you for your support."

Not clarity. Not breaking the illusion. Hearing her secret exposed, her mind went blank—pure autopilot. The canned line she used for overly intense fans.

*(How is this guy so lucky?)*

Someone pondered, then poured more fuel on the fire.

"Still playing dumb? Brain frozen? Don’t panic. Only I know. Obey me, and I’ll stay silent."

Under manipulation, Novas’s anxious worry about disturbing her rest warped into a blatant threat.

"Think it over. Answer me tomorrow."

Only one thing stayed true: Novas’s utterly defenseless back as he turned to leave.

Watching him, Aelia snapped clear. A murderous glint flashed in her eyes.

*(End of the line.)*

Luke drew the humble village sword at his waist, ready to block the pink-haired scum’s strike.

One second. Two. Three…

Novas vanished. Aelia never moved.

She’d considered silencing him. But trusted none of his words.

If it were her? Timed email sent beforehand. Or a will to expose everything upon death.

And this "empty" place? Someone might be watching. One misstep—ruined. Reputation shattered. Name dragged through mud. Forever losing the Saintess’s gilded life… No. Never.

*(Stop it. No one’s here. He’s just a lowly guard with no backups. Take him out!)*

Someone, exasperated, forged the thought to push her.

Aelia wavered—less than a second—then shut it down.

*(N-No. I visited the Count’s manor today. A death right after? Suspicion falls on me. Even if the household stays quiet, his family would hunt the killer. Bring in the High Priest… a mage to reconstruct the scene… I’d be exposed…)*

Someone finally got it. This pink-haired scum had zero killer instinct. Just endless excuses.