"Your Highness Aelia, now's the time!"

Just as Aelia seethed with silent fury, Elise suddenly shouted. In that moment, Aelia realized the restraints from the almighty Slime King Rumli had weakened unnoticed, and the barrier magic had mostly failed. She instantly channeled magic inward, bursting Rumli’s body from within and breaking free. The three rushed forward.

"Your Highness Aelia, are you alright?" Elise, worry etched across her face, embraced Aelia and carefully checked her from head to toe, asking if anything hurt.

"…I’m fine. Thank you, everyone."

After answering a few questions, Aelia finally understood. Earlier, noticing Rumli could shift its core to evade fatal strikes, Luke and the others had swiftly devised a plan: weaken the slime so *she* could escape on her own—not out of malice or collusion. Truthfully, it made sense. Rumli was a masterless evolved slime. Though Aelia called herself its master, she’d never signed a contract to avoid exposure, relying only on beast-taming magic. Venturing beyond one’s expertise is risky; forcing unfamiliar summoning magic inevitably led to betrayal. Hardly surprising.

Yet Aelia, who prided herself as the world’s #1 utterly adorable and flawless Saintess, could never be wrong. Any flaw in the summoning magic *had* to be someone else’s fault. Between her devoted maid and the loyal guard playing "stand-in older brother," she pinned it squarely on the stranger: Luke. Even if he did nothing, she’d blame his very breath—exhaling "suspicious" carbon dioxide—for the slime’s betrayal.

(Truly, how willful.)

Luke could only admit: she guessed the method wrong… but not the culprit. Rumli’s betrayal and every prank after? All under his direction. After all, the Slime King could think—and where there’s thought, there’s a "heart." A heart can be read… and controlled.

Sadly, Aelia suspected nothing. She simply threw a tantrum like a willful little fairy, dumping all blame on him—leaving even *him* slightly awkward.

After the outburst, reality hit: she’d utterly humiliated herself. A *Grand Saintess Candidate*, failing in a tiny Rank C dungeon… to a *slime*? Aelia’s mind flashed with the continent laughing. Deeper still: The Church questioning her competence, stripping her title; the Messiah Kingdom expelling her from the palace… ending up destitute on the streets.

Terrified, she knew she couldn’t erase their memories. Her only move? Thank them sincerely, never mention it again, handle it quietly, and let time fade the shame.

Overthinking? Perhaps. Elise and Charles were loyal—but to the *perfect* Saintess Aelia. After such a crushing failure, would their loyalty hold? Even if their faces stayed calm… who knew their hearts? Aelia had zero confidence. And Luke? A witness she’d known less than a month…

Just then, Elise hugged her again, expression sharpening. She shot a warning glare at the two men and whispered, "Your Highness Aelia, let’s step over there a moment…"

Aelia’s inner self turned pale.

(No, no, NO! Is she dragging me to a corner to threaten me?! Or quitting her post and leaking my shame?! PLEASE NOOO!)

Screaming inwardly like a certain Titan-shifter from *Attack on Titan*, Aelia helplessly let Elise escort her behind a protruding rock.

"Elise, I really am fine."

The setup looked *exactly* like pre-punishment prep. She had to resist.

"Your Highness Aelia, please stop lying!" Elise snapped, voice tight with anger.

Guilty, Aelia froze.

(What?! Did she see through my act?! Has she suspected all along?! I’M DOOMED!)

Her inner self clutched its head, spinning in panicked circles. Apologize? Run? Knock Elise out and flee? All options died instantly in her mind. She stood rooted, mute.

"Spirit of Flame, emerge! (in Elvish)"

Elise wasted no time. A crimson fairy shimmered into being, circling Aelia with gentle warmth.

(Huh…?)

As the fire spirit’s heat wrapped around her, Aelia slowly realized—she’d misunderstood.

"Your Highness, any discomfort? I brought a spare robe," Elise asked softly.

In this world, unmagic users were ordinary. Trained warriors or mixed-bloods might differ, but human Saintesses like Aelia? Fragile. They got sick. They got hurt. Seeing her drenched yet insisting "I’m fine" made Elise both angry and heartbroken.

She’d pulled her aside because dungeon temps felt like spring. Light clothing for mobility. Aelia wore only her pristine white Saintess robe—which, soaked by slime fluids, had turned translucent, faintly revealing her skin. Hence Elise’s fierce guarding: keeping prying eyes firmly elsewhere.

"I’m sorry, Elise. For worrying you."

"Your Highness need not apologize. Just promise to care for your body."

"I will."

Relief washed over Aelia. If Elise meant harm, she’d have snapped proof of this soaked state—not dried her clothes and fretted over fever.

Still… total calm remained distant.

The moment Aelia, changed and composed, returned with Elise, Charles spoke up:

"Everyone… this feels off. A slime of *this* caliber shouldn’t exist in a Rank C dungeon."