After a while, realizing that just standing there blankly wouldn’t solve anything, Aelia quickly decided to leave.

(Never mind… Just go back. Even if he spreads rumors, no one would believe him… Right? Everyone would trust me over him…)

This was undoubtedly the right thought. Between a guard serving a notoriously disgraced count and a revered Saintess—anyone would believe the latter.

Yet… after a brief pause, Luke chose to keep following that trashy pink-haired fan. Sure enough, all the way to her dorm, she remained visibly torn—wavering between murderous intent and cold indifference, yet taking no action.

Eventually, Luke grew tired of listening to her mental spiraling and simply left her to rest.

The next morning, he was surprised to find she’d stayed up all night obsessing over it.

Speechless, Luke subtly snapped his fingers, lifting the illusion magic he’d placed on her—the spell that fabricated false sights and sounds.

Unaware, Aelia finished breakfast as usual while still troubled, then headed to her next assignment with Elise.

Fatigue from sleepless nights?

Of course she’d never show it. Dark circles, weary eyes—she erased every trace with magic and sheer will.

After all, Saintess Aelia was the epitome of radiant, healthy perfection—a superhero who never, ever faltered!

Naturally, she couldn’t afford a single blemish… Ugh, so annoying! She really wanted to erase that guy. Why was *she*, a supremely gorgeous girl, facing this threat? The world was so unfair!

“Good morning, everyone.”

Smiling warmly at passersby—boosting approachability points as always—she spotted a furtive figure.

(So soon? Is he exposing me now? No… he’s waiting for my reply. But how could I agree?! If I refuse… oh no, oh no…)

Her heart clenched. Last night’s worries surged back.

(Huh?)

Strange images flickered into her memory—completely different from before. Novas had praised her nonstop from greeting to farewell, even vowing to be her lifelong fan.

*Hallucinations from exhaustion?* But when she checked the letter he’d given her… the words had changed too.

(W-What’s happening?!)

As she neared the lurking Novas, he beamed like a fan at a meet-and-greet: “Lady Aelia, I’ll support you forever!”

Seeing his utterly sincere face, Aelia instinctively offered a gentle smile.

*Real or not, a Saintess must uphold her duty.* This professionalism—honed over years as a consummate actress—was why so many adored her.

Novas looked as if struck by an angel’s arrow of joy, nearly fainting from happiness.

*So… it was all fatigue-induced hallucination. These new memories are real.*

Huh?

Invisible nearby, Luke froze. He’d expected her to suspect magical deception—but her first thought was self-blame?

(Almost wronged an innocent… nearly ruined my reputation. Mustn’t overwork… Wait, workload’s normal. It’s *him*—that damn Hero stealing my focus! All his fault!)

Three seconds of guilt later, she dumped the blame squarely on *him*.

After ten minutes of mental ranting: *If not Novas spying… then who—? Huh? More memories?*

New recollections surfaced: no tea had been served. Pure paranoia. And honestly… Count Lecherly was there for *private matters*. Why would he allow spectators?

(Nope. He’s *exactly* the type who’d enjoy an audience.)

His silent retort never reached her. Realizing fatigue was the true culprit, she swiftly redirected blame.

(Damn it, why don’t you just die already, you damn Hero!)

Thankfully, the next few days passed without sighting that detestable Hero. Aelia finally rested properly during lunch breaks and quiet evenings.

A week later, fully recovered and workload nearly cleared, she sighed in relief—ready to energetically resume her campaign against *him*—when the Church of Holy Light arrived with a new assignment.

Church assignments were non-negotiable. Since this involved inspecting an orphanage—a publicity stunt—Aelia accepted readily.

But when she saw the location wasn’t one of the city’s reputable orphanages, but the slum-side one beyond the walls… her inner self’s face instantly darkened.

Admittedly, Bibis’s smear campaign had one truth: the Saintess *did* have an obsession with cleanliness.

To Aelia—a modern soul reborn—hygiene was normal. Daily baths? Essential.

Truthfully, she’d lowered her standards far below modern norms. Yet to these medieval-raised natives, her habits still seemed excessive.

She held no prejudice against slum dwellers… but willingly approaching streets littered with waste? Never.

Just imagining the stench made her stomach churn; her inner self dramatically vomited.

(I’ll make it a quick in-and-out.)

She resolved to go through the motions and leave.

Unbeknownst to her, every thought was witnessed by the one who saw her inner self.

The moment she summoned Elise and arranged a carriage—something she hadn’t done in ages—a black-haired, red-eyed uninvited guest strolled over with effortless grace.

“Lady Aelia,” he murmured, “long time no see… Where are you headed?”