As Jesina spoke, she shuddered at her own words—her overactive imagination freezing her mid-sentence in sudden fear.

But with Yifia beside her, the mood wasn’t truly eerie. Maybe only the bloody-tears part was unsettling. Jesina quickly pulled herself together and continued.

“After that, her eyes seemed completely blind. She’s still in treatment, but rumors say Saint Tiffany’s sight is beyond healing. Every time she appears at church, her eyes are covered with a white silk blindfold.”

“During services, Saint Tiffany always shows up in full ceremonial robes, looking perfectly composed.”

“Yet, according to an anonymous noble… Saint Tiffany is dangerous!”

Yifia thought: *Even if Jesina isn’t nobility, she could make a killing telling stories on street corners.*

How did she gather so many rumors?!

And stop dragging it out—Yifia was bursting with curiosity!

Seeing Yifia’s eager, gossip-hungry expression delighted Jesina. Past the scary bits, her storytelling urge surged. She launched in with renewed gusto:

“I heard Saint Tiffany’s room echoes every night with terrifying screams—wails so inhuman they sound like a demon clawing up from hell!”

“Once, a noble sneaked near her residence while priests weren’t looking. Hiding in shadows… he saw a demon!”

Jesina paused again, sneaking a glance at Yifia’s impatient face to amuse herself.

Yifia had enough. With a tight, forced smile, she chose words over action: “Jesina, pause one more time, and I’ll badmouth you to Amelia.”

“!!!”

Mentioning Amelia instantly straightened Jesina right up. No more teasing:

“Per the noble’s account: the demon stood three meters tall, limbs unnaturally long, pitch-black and skeletal—ribs visible beneath taut skin. One look could haunt your dreams for ten days. Its mouth gaped open, revealing six dense rows of fangs. Drool sizzled holes into the floor where it landed.”

“Blindfolded with white silk, Saint Tiffany stood before it. Several clergy assisted as they began a perilous demon-slaying ritual.”

“The demon was cruel, cunning. Sensing Saint Tiffany was formidable, it turned on the clergy—snapping a head off in one bite. At the critical moment, Saint Tiffany intervened!”

“She removed the blindfold… and then…”

Jesina’s face fell with frustration, but before Yifia could prompt her: “The noble claimed he fainted the moment the ribbon came off. When he woke, he was in the church’s resting room.”

“A priest waited there. When asked about Tiffany and the demon, he just smiled: ‘It was only a dream. Saint Tiffany has been in the confessional all along, listening to the faithful.’”

“And that’s all. No one knows what happened after she removed the blindfold. This mystery once topped noble gossip circles as the most frustrating cliffhanger ever!”

Yifia nodded in agreement. It felt like a novel cutting off at its peak, ending with *“Part One Complete. Await the sequel…”*—with no guarantee Part Two would ever arrive.

Still, Jesina’s overly detailed description made Yifia suspect the demon tale was pure fabrication. If an ordinary person saw a demon, fainting on the spot would be the miracle—not calmly counting its fang rows!

Poor Saint Tiffany. Becoming an urban legend while still alive? Rough.

“That’s why nobles stopped seeking her blessings. Too risky—who knows when a demon might pop up? So they turned to alternatives. Witch divination suddenly became all the rage.”

“If I ever get the chance… I’d love to see Saint Tiffany’s eyes~”

Jesina embodied “all talk, zero skill.” Watching her eager face, Yifia couldn’t crush her spirit. *This world has no demons anyway.*

Besides, Saint Tiffany’s residence wasn’t exactly easy to approach. That “noble sneaking near” story? Likely made up to set up the demon bit…

Compared to fictional demons, Yifia worried more about eccentric people—who might stab you when you least expect it. Meidaini, the recently discharged mental patient, was a memory etched deep in her mind.

“Enough demon talk. Time to accompany me shopping.”

Yifia cut off Jesina’s daydreaming, grabbed her hand, and hurried out of the fortune-telling shop. They strolled Corifine Street, carefully selecting until they found a well-reviewed blacksmith. Yifia placed a custom order for cookware.

Unlike Westis Empire’s flat pans and baking sheets, she requested a deep wok.

Jesina peered at the blueprint, gesturing at the depth with wide eyes. “Whoa—this iron pot’s nearly as deep as a soup pot!” What did Yifia even need it for?

Yifia watched the blacksmith sketch the final design, relief washing over her. *Finally.* Her plan was moving. Soon, she’d showcase her skills!

She even paid a rush fee.

The wok would be ready in two days.

Next: scout fresh-produce and spice shops. Only the finest ingredients for the debut.

Imagining Amelia’s shocked face sent eager anticipation coursing through Yifia. *If only the wok finished today—I’d run straight to her with it!*

Brimming with excitement, Yifia dragged Jesina around until afternoon. Only when Jesina was utterly exhausted did they reluctantly call it a day.

Back at the dorm, roommate Eileen was nowhere to be found—a quiet relief. Since Yifia claimed top rank and George got expelled, Eileen hadn’t turned hostile. She’d even smiled, congratulating Yifia in the dorm, demeanor unchanged.

Yet the calmer she acted, the warier Yifia grew.

But the useless system offered no spoilers or dorm swaps. Yifia could only stay vigilant, waiting to counter whatever move came next.

Still—winning Amelia’s favor mattered far more than guarding against the female lead’s schemes!

*Meow!*

Just as a tired Yifia headed for bed, a familiar, pitiful cry echoed outside the window—*tap-tap-tap* against the glass. Yifia froze. *Why is Amelia’s cat here?*