Chapter 81

Chapter 81: Home Visit (1)

Silver Truth Church, Bishop Assembly.

It was being held at the grand Imperial Headquarters.

Seated around a massive round table were bishops in charge of each region.

Saint Istina also attended the meeting as the representative of the Nord region.

“Then, let us conclude the council here.”

One of the archbishops was the first to rise from his seat.

Thomas, one of the twelve bishops who led the faith of the Empire, adjusted his glasses.

“And now, I was thinking we could take a brief moment for a celebration, if that’s alright with everyone?”

The archbishop personally announced that there was something to celebrate.

That was quite an unusual occurrence.

No matter how favorable the situation, the spiritual anchors of the faith always maintained their composure.

For them to feel something was worth celebrating—it must have been significant.

The bishops nodded to one another, showing clear interest.

“The person we are celebrating today is none other than Saint Istina.”

Archbishop Thomas turned his gaze toward the silver-haired woman.

In response, the Saint forced a smile, her eyes expressing genuine surprise.

“I’ve heard that you’ve been showing remarkable achievements in Nord recently.”

“No, Archbishop. I’ve simply been fulfilling my duties.”

Istina maintained her humility with a calm voice.

“Duties, you say? What you’ve accomplished goes far beyond mere duty.”

Thomas looked around at the twelve archbishops seated at the round table and continued.

“From the arrest of the Nordique Deputy Director who had been harassing the staff, to helping a forgotten singer make a comeback through the hotel you’ve supported.”

“Ah, yes. I heard about that. It was Sir Bennet Tolkien, wasn’t it?”

Another bishop seated nearby chimed in.

A man in his forties, someone of his generation would certainly know Bennet Tolkien’s songs.

“Thanks to that, I visited Nord myself this month. The performance I heard at the Erian Hotel was excellent.”

“Oh my. If I had known you were coming, I would’ve arranged a proper welcome.”

A warm atmosphere filled the room.

Within it, Archbishop Thomas gave a benevolent smile to the Saint.

“No need. The hotel’s manager took such good care of me that I didn’t even think to trouble you.”

“The hotel manager—you mean Roger, perhaps...?”

As the archbishop mentioned a familiar name, Istina showed keen interest.

“Yes, that’s right. That gentleman said that the only reason he was able to build such a performance hall was thanks to Saint Istina.”

The Saint herself had merely written a credit recommendation letter.

Yet, he had attributed the entire achievement to her.

‘She evaluated a believer not by money or property, but solely by faith. Thanks to her recommendation, I was able to realize this dream. I, too, want to guide this city with a positive influence like the Saint.’

Generally, most bishops did not hand out recommendations easily.

If anything went wrong, their reputation could be damaged, and they could be dragged into troublesome matters.

So ordinarily, such mercy was granted only to those with sufficient wealth and a reputable family name.

“You evaluated him fairly, without prejudice, solely based on his character, Istina.”

“I merely followed the teachings of Your Grace,”

Istina placed a hand gently over her compassionate heart.

And then, she offered a polite bow.

“Thanks to that, I’ve heard this manager named Roger now regularly hosts charity parties for the underprivileged.”

Somehow, he had obtained a pamphlet all the way from the capital and pulled it from his pocket.

A promotional leaflet titled Erian Charity Party.

“They say even Sir Bennet Tolkien was discovered at one of these events.”

“The grace granted by the Saint is being repaid like this…!!”

The bishops smiled warmly at the miracle that had started from a single letter of recommendation.

But.

Among them, one man gave a smile that was far from pleased.

“Indeed. I suppose all of this must be the will of the Divine.”

It was none other than someone of the same rank as the Saint, positioned just below the archbishop—

Bishop Alves, who oversaw the cathedral in the Imperial Capital.

Though not to the same extent as Istina, he, too, was a young man in a high position, having achieved his role in his mid-thirties.

“To have accomplished so much with just a single recommendation—how commendable the young man must be.”

He subtly insisted that all the credit belonged solely to Roger, not to the woman who had given him the recommendation.

“Indeed. He’s achieved things even the Nord cathedral couldn’t, and all on his own, no less.”

“We of the main church should reflect on this as well.”

Other bishops who supported him echoed his sentiments.

“Exactly. Truly admirable.”

However, Istina paid no mind to the tone of the room.

She was already well accustomed to the checks and opposition from Alves and his followers.

“It would be wonderful if more such cases emerged from other regions as well. I'm almost embarrassed that all the good news seems to come from Nord alone.”

Whether Roger’s efforts were being praised or not, everything had begun with her recommendation.

As if to make that point crystal clear, Istina continued in a bold, unwavering voice.

“I hope others here might also consider giving young entrepreneurs a chance.”

“She’s right. The Saint has shown great generosity.”

Indeed, Archbishop Thomas didn’t seem inclined to reduce this entire achievement to the work of the man who had merely received a recommendation.

“With this opportunity, I’d like to meet the president of the Erian Foundation here in the capital.”

Istina knew well why the archbishop remained supportive of her.

“If you permit it, I’ll make the suggestion.”

It was all due to the internal factional strife within the church.

Her main adversary: Bishop Alves.

A distant relative of the Imperial family, he was drawing other bishops to his side.

As a result, the pro-imperial faction within the church was steadily growing in power.

To oppose this, the archbishop was lending his strength to Istina.

However, although Istina attended the meeting, she was not actually a bishop.

The Saint possessed power equal to that of a bishop, but as an honorary position, she could not hold the privileges the bishops enjoyed.

That was what made Istina’s influence all the more remarkable.

She was a woman powerful enough to aim beyond her honorary role, even toward the position of the thirteenth bishop.

But to become a bishop, she would need the majority approval of the twelve bishops.

Alves was well aware of this—hence his ongoing efforts to keep the Saint in check.

By rallying support from other bishops and applying pressure through a majority.

“……”

That said, it wasn’t as if the majority of bishops were on Alves’s side.

Including the archbishop, several upright elders maintained a neutral stance.

And so, Istina and Alves remained locked in a cold war, each trying to draw those neutrals to their side.

“A dinner with the Archbishop—what an extraordinary honor for that hotel manager.”

Alves, with his brilliant blond hair parted cleanly to both sides, smiled softly.

“I’m curious to see if he’s truly as devout as the rumors say.”

At her powerful rival’s relaxed attitude, Istina didn’t respond for a few seconds.

Instead, she quietly brought to mind the image of a certain man she had been observing for some time.

“……”

The power of a bishop typically came from their sponsors.

The financial support and influence those patrons provided symbolized a bishop’s strength and connections.

Of course, the man in Istina’s thoughts wasn’t yet on par with the heavyweight backing Alves.

However, in this world where faith was used as a pretext for politics, Istina—who had risen to this position at a young age—understood one thing clearly.

If he were given clear and proper support, he had every potential to grow into a major figure.

“Of course, Bishop Alves. I’m certain you’ll be satisfied.”

The Saint gracefully tucked her long silver hair behind her ear.

And at last, she revealed the glacial chill she had kept hidden in her eyes.

“I’m thinking of raising Nord to become a place on par with the capital.”

“……”

Her firm response, uncharacteristic of the usual Saint who rarely reacted to his remarks,

Momentarily made Bishop Alves drop his expression into something icy and stern.

But like Istina, he soon recovered and wore a benevolent smile once more.

He brought his hands together in prayer and spoke again.

“Very well. I shall pray earnestly that Nord receives the divine’s blessings.”

Istina offered a light bow to the elders of the church.

Then, alone, she descended from the highest meeting chamber with dignified grace.

All along the corridor on her way back, she was greeted by countless priests.

Yet Istina neither appeared pleased nor arrogant about it.

She was too busy pondering how to bring down that arrogant man, whose blood carried a trace of royalty.

“…Haa.”

Istina walked through the vast corridors of the headquarters.

And when she finally reached her waiting room,

She completely dropped the benevolent smile she had been wearing.

As if she had become an entirely different person.

――――――!!

She firmly shut the luxurious door behind her.

And the moment she exhaled deeply to steady her breath—

"……!!"

She tossed aside her composed stride and threw herself onto the sofa.

Like a carefree young woman barely in her twenties.

“That bastard Alves…”

Lying sprawled across the sofa, she lifted one leg up.

Then she rested it on her opposite knee, gently swinging her beautiful foot wrapped in black stockings.

“If he’s royalty, he should be playing around in the palace. Why is he making a scene here?”

Still lying down, Istina grabbed a handful of her now-tousled silver hair.

She pushed it back coolly over her forehead and let out another deep sigh.

“Feels like I could just kill him.”

She dropped the chilling words without a hint of hesitation.

In truth, she wasn’t merely a devout follower of faith.

Istina herself was, after all, a passionate woman in her twenties.

And the reason she so strongly coveted the archbishop’s position was simple.

Only by becoming archbishop could she finally cast off the heavy title of “Saint.”

Sure, the Saint was the idol of the masses and revered as a mystical figure, but in many ways, it was an inconvenient role.

No marriage.

No romance.

No private property.

No indulgence in pleasures beyond gambling.

In essence, nearly everything enjoyable in this world was forbidden to her.

She had managed to hide some personal wealth by converting it into real estate and various valuables, but…

She was still frustrated that she couldn’t spend the money she had saved openly and proudly.

“Hah.”

The truth was, she hadn’t been born a sacred woman.

She had grown up in poverty, and even worse, her own parents had given up on her and sent her off to a convent.

Abandoned even by her family, she chose survival through performance—through being seen.

To prove that she was someone of value, she memorized the scriptures with desperation.

She helped her fellow orphans, comforted them, and accumulated acts of kindness.

Even if all of it was hypocrisy.

That’s how she caught the eye of her mentor and walked the path of sainthood, eventually reaching her current position.

But the pain from that journey had left deep stress embedded in her mind.

As a result, every morning, even after waking, she always felt drained, her head weighed down by that burden.

“…….”

The Saint closed her eyes.

And as she thought about returning once more to her home base in Nord, she let her eyelids fall shut.

She planned to get a little rest before the long journey ahead.

However—

――――――.

She suddenly sat up on the sofa and resumed her elegant posture, befitting a Saint.

Her loyal priests had knocked on the door from outside.

“Come in.”

“Saint, we’ve come to report something.”

Istina quietly adjusted the creased hem of her dress.

Then, as if she had been reading scripture all along, she gently brushed the book lying on the round table.

“What kind of report is it?”

The priest cautiously glanced around the hallway.

Then he approached the Saint and whispered softly.

“It’s about Roger Julius—the one you asked us to keep an eye on.”

The moment that familiar name was mentioned, Istina’s eyes flashed sharply.

“What happened to him?”

“Well, actually…”

The priest covered his lips with his hand.

Then, in a hushed voice right next to Istina’s ear, he revealed the news.

That Roger was no longer affiliated with the Grand Duke of the North’s house.

“Is that true?”

Istina’s red, lush lips curled into a faint smile.

Just for a moment, the holiness faded from her face, replaced by a look steeped in desire.

“Yes. He’s returned to his original family, I’m told.”

Istina lightly rose from the cozy sofa.

“So the fox has finally slipped out of the fence—”

Her blue eyes narrowed half-lidded in a mischievous glint.

She gently stroked her sharp jawline and moved ahead into the corridor.

“Let’s go, everyone. We need to return to Nord immediately.”

Only a short while ago, she had sighed deeply at the thought of returning to the cathedral.

But now, upon hearing the good news, the Saint walked with light, almost carefree steps—like none of that had ever happened.

All to claim the man who might finally bring an end to her dull life of faith.

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