The Saint's Delusion
“……What did you just say?”
“It’s not because of the Black Apostles. And the abnormal symptoms the villagers are displaying aren’t madness. They’re simply temporary hallucinations.”
At those words, Rachel’s eyebrows twisted violently.
Not madness? Temporary hallucinations?
No. That can’t be.
Fifteen years. Fifteen people in total, hung upside down from trees and burned alive.
She remembered the pitch-black smoke that had billowed into the sky and the beast-like flames. The screams, the tears, the resentment, the curses—every last one.
They surfaced so vividly that it was sometimes grotesque.
But what?
Everything had been her delusion?
A hollow laugh slipped out. It was a laugh steeped in rage.
“Everything is a delusion on your part, Lady Rachel.”
Each word from Canna’s mouth felt like fingers coiling around her throat, slowly tightening.
“Are you listening, Lady Rachel? I said it’s a delusion.”
Her breath caught.
“I walked through the village today and uncovered the reason. It was never madness.”
She was suffocating.
“This village is an island surrounded by sea, so the humidity is far higher than inland. That’s why—”
“Stop!”
A scream tore through the air like something being ripped apart.
“Stop it, stop!”
Her breath fractured into tiny shards and scattered.
Only after exhaling that frail gasp did she realize the voice had been her own.
“Stop it! I don’t want to hear another word!”
Rachel shook her head wildly. She glared at Canna’s black eyes with savage intensity and commanded,
“Do not try to deceive me with such nonsense!”
The moment their eyes met, the strength drained from Canna’s tongue.
“If it isn’t the Black Apostles, the truth will come out soon enough! What are you so afraid of?”
Canna’s gaze turned icy. At this point, it was undeniable.
This woman has no desire to learn the truth at all.
Even if what she believed and reality were different, Rachel would never seek it out. She would plug her ears and see only what she wished to see.
When lives are hanging in the balance.
Disgust surged through Canna like molten lava.
“Lady Rachel, you possess no ability whatsoever.”
Rachel’s lips pressed into a rigid line.
“Ah, no—actually, if we’re calling the ability to mistake a colossal delusion for truth a talent, then yes, you have one.”
A woman lost in the fantasy that she was special. A woman convinced she wielded mysterious powers.
Because of that delusion, she had killed countless people.
No, she probably doesn’t even consider them killed.
That was what made it truly revolting.
To slaughter innocents and then cling with absolute conviction to the belief that it had been a sacred act.
Not only that—she was ruthlessly severing any seed of doubt. Afraid she might be wrong. Terrified the truth might surface.
“Saintess? Special powers? Even delusions have their limits.”
Canna stared Rachel down and lashed out with biting scorn.
“Because of your feelings, that pathetic whim of yours, countless lives have been lost. You sensed demonic energy? Wrong. You simply singled out the people who displeased you most.”
No. Rachel shook her head.
No, no, that can’t be. It can’t be.
“You are the Saintess, my lady.”
“Thanks to the Saintess, this village can know peace.”
“Everything is thanks to you, my lady.”
“You are a special person.”
That voice.
The moment Jerome’s voice echoed in her mind, the turbulent ripples in her heart instantly stilled.
“The Purification Ceremony will prove everything.”
Rachel’s heart had grown eerily calm.
“If I am correct, the madness will vanish once more. I will prove it. Therefore, Duchess, I ask that you also attend the rite and prove you are not a Black Apostle.”
With that, Rachel shot up from her seat. The conversation was over.
“The High Priest has already given his consent. God Himself is watching, so please refrain from any futile actions.”
At last, Rachel left the room.
The instant the door clicked shut behind her, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion crashed down.
What the hell is that woman?
As she let out a heavy sigh, tap tap tap. A knock sounded at the window.
“……Sir Claude?”
A blond man, drenched to the bone, was clinging outside the window.
Duchess.
Standing in the pouring rain, Claude mouthed the words silently.
Shall I kill her?
“You’ve arrived?”
Orsini appeared around that time. Jerome quickly fell into step behind him.
“Sir Orsini, you’ve labored hard. How did it go today? I haven’t heard any reports concerning the Black Fog.”
“Northern forest. It showed up briefly then vanished.”
Orsini answered curtly without slowing his stride.
“I see. It’s truly fortunate there was no damage.”
Jerome hurried to match Orsini’s long steps as he continued. He brought up the sister whom Orsini Addis had loathed since childhood.
“By the way, have you heard the news? Last night the Duchess of Valentino exhibited signs of madness. She is currently under suspicion of being a Black Apostle.”
“……”
Well? It’s your favorite subject, isn’t it?
Jerome watched Orsini’s face with anticipation. Yet Orsini wore the exact same expression as if he had heard nothing at all.
Strange. I was certain he hated Canna Valentino.
In that case, he should have been delighted by the insult. Jerome tried again.
“Sir Orsini truly has an iron stomach. How did you endure your childhood alongside such a filthy woman? She really is a vulgar creature. Truly……”
At that moment, Orsini stopped dead in his tracks. Caught off guard, Jerome halted abruptly as well.
“Sir Orsini?”
Orsini slowly turned his head and looked down at him. The instant their eyes met—his green gaze—
“……!”
A fist flew without warning. Jerome couldn’t even scream before he was slammed into the wall.
“Ugh!”
There was no time to regain his senses.
A savage hand immediately seized him. Orsini grabbed his collar and hoisted him clean off the ground. The terrifying grip tore the fabric; Jerome’s body dangled helplessly in midair.
“Why—why are you—ack!”
Lightning exploded across his face.
To Jerome, it truly felt like lightning. His vision flashed white as a splitting headache detonated inside his skull.
“What did you just say?”
Beyond the excruciating pain, a demonic voice growled.
“Go on. Say it again, you son of a bitch.”
Orsini hurled Jerome’s body to the floor without mercy. As he lifted his foot to stomp down—
“Lord Orsini!”
Rachel’s scream tore across the corridor.
“What in the world are you doing!”
She rushed over and supported Jerome, then swallowed a horrified gasp.
“Oh my God, Sir Jerome……”
Jerome’s face was a bloody, pulverized mess!
“H-how could you do such a thing?”
For Lord Orsini to commit such violence.
Rachel’s eyes trembled with pure shock. She could not believe what she was seeing.
“Why are you acting like this? What did Sir Jerome ever do to deserve this!”
“Move.”
“Why would you do something like this? This isn’t like you at all, Lord Orsini! Why!”
“Because he annoyed me.”
At Orsini’s mocking tone, Rachel’s tongue froze solid.
What?
Because he was annoying? He reduced a man to this state just because he was annoying? What on earth had Jerome said to provoke him so badly!
Orsini muttered in a dangerously low voice.
“You’re not moving?”
She wanted to argue, but those predatory eyes triggered raw instinctive terror. Her legs shook uncontrollably.
When she finally staggered aside, Orsini strode past without hesitation. The chill that brushed her side felt like a blade grazing her ribs.
“Ugh… M-My lady, are you all right?”
“Sir Jerome.”
“My lady, I’m sorry… It’s because I was inadequate……”
“Lord Orsini has been possessed by evil.”
Rachel exhaled sharply.
“He’s been possessed. He’s changed—just like the others.”
He hadn’t been like this before.
He had been like a glass marble—beautiful, pristine.
But suddenly he had changed.
The turning point was obvious.
Rachel clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white.
“We must perform the Purification Ceremony immediately.”