(Damn you, Goddess! Why does that damn Hero get such a perfect divine blessing, while someone as stunningly beautiful as me gets absolutely nothing?!)
Considering Luke’s uncanny intuition, Aelia didn’t dare wander and headed straight back to her chambers.
But the moment she stepped inside—before she could even cast a healing spell—a commotion erupted outside.
“Lady Aelia, are you alright?”
“Her Ladyship is resting! I saw no suspicious person near here!”
“Step aside! We must see the Saintess!”
*They’re here already?*
Aelia’s face paled instantly. In exactly three seconds, she changed into pajamas, hid the thief outfit, and adjusted her expression: one part drowsy, three parts forcing alertness, six parts deeply worried. Only then did she leave the bedroom.
“Everyone, what’s happening?”
Stepping into the hall, Aelia saw the guards led by Luke had already barged in. She quickly wore an anxious look.
“Lady Aelia,” the guard captain explained hastily, “the Hero was just attacked by a rogue from Shadow Phantom… We feared she might target you next.”
“Thank you for your vigilance, but my chambers are warded. I sensed no intruders.”
The captain visibly relaxed.
“Since Lady Aelia detected nothing amiss, we shall take our leave…”
“Wait.”
Luke stepped forward.
“The rogue is cunning and elusive. She may already be hiding here, lying low due to our numbers,” he declared with solemn conviction, casting a subtly concerned glance at Aelia. “Lady Aelia, permit us to search. With my ability, I’ll root her out effortlessly.”
*He can’t even spot me standing right here and still boasts?* Aelia rolled her eyes inwardly. Seeing no risk of exposure, she didn’t refuse—refusal would seem suspicious.
The guards began searching. Revering their Saintess, they moved with careful reverence, avoiding any disturbance.
Except Luke. With dead seriousness, he ransacked every cabinet in sight—even tiny ones too small to hide a person, even those already checked.
*(Damn it! Can’t you learn basic manners from the others?!)*
As Aelia seethed, Elise couldn’t stand it either. She nudged Luke’s arm lightly and whispered, “Hero, what are you doing? How can you handle Lady Aelia’s belongings so roughly?”
“My apologies,” Luke replied, voice carrying clearly, “but the thief distorts direction and perception. What we see may be illusion. For Lady Aelia’s safety, please bear with us.”
His earnest worry melted the maids’ objections. After all, a man fiercely protecting the woman he cares for is always strikingly handsome.
Aelia had no idea the maids were swooning—but her own panic slowly settled.
Her illusion magic *had* worked earlier. Only Luke’s Goddess-granted tracking ability caused her slip-up.
But if the magic targeted *objects* instead of her… he’d see nothing.
As a flawless Saintess, her chambers held only one secret: the box with thief gear. Now, she stood untouchable. She could simply watch them fail.
Then—pain surged from behind, sharp and relentless.
*(Ow ow ow… Damn you, Hero! I’ll make you pay for this someday!)*
Just then, a guard turned to the black-haired Hero:
“Lord Luke—if we find someone, how do we confirm it’s her? If she twists sight and sound…”
“I can’t break illusion magic,” Luke said calmly, “but she took my ‘Soul-Crushing Palm.’ Untreated for thirty minutes? Her rear tears open, bones shatter. Only someone casting mid-tier healing magic or higher can save her.”
Relief flashed on the guards’ faces.
The Church allocated resources shrewdly: in Dickden Royal City, Aelia was the sole Grand Saintess Candidate. No official Saintess existed; Novice Saintesses maxed at low-tier healing. Unless a bishop or court archmage intervened… Princess Moonshadow was doomed.
*(No way such magic exists… Is he bluffing?)*
Aelia’s pulse quickened.
She could cast mid-tier healing blindfolded—but healing *here*, under all eyes? That’s confessing.
Worse: anyone unable to sit due to rear injuries? Prime suspect.
“Let’s sit and wait patiently,” Elise suggested, guiding maids to chairs.
Soon, only Aelia would remain standing.
*(No… I’ll become the scapegoat!)*
They wouldn’t think *she* was Princess Moonshadow—they’d think *she* was the fake. Fleeing to heal? Then where was the “real” Saintess? Every excuse would unravel, exposing her. Stripped of title. Wandering destitute. Not even a daily bath guaranteed… *Never!*
The only move: erase doubt immediately.
Aelia glided to the softest sofa and lowered herself with graceful slowness.
*(AAAAAH!)*
No caution could hide the truth—her rear was shredded. Even feather-light contact with the cushion sent white-hot pain flashing through her.
*Unafraid of being crushed to dust, I leave my purity in this world.*
In that searing moment, Aelia finally grasped why the great Mr. Lu Xun spoke those words… Every noble hero in history must have paid a price just as bloody as hers.
