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The Superficial Saint Becomes a Young Girl, Relishing Her Exiled Life with a Love-Stricken God – Chapter 2

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥

“Congratulations! You’re a saint! No need for such a hard life anymore!”

“Yes! Let’s live happily as a saint from today onwards!”

“. . . . . .Huh?”

“Now, follow me!”

I remember the day I was abducted.

It was a sunny afternoon, I was sitting in front of my father’s pharmacy in the pleasure district, helping crush medicinal herbs.

Smiling priests in beautiful clothes approached me, an 8-year-old girl. They extended their hands, and I reflexively pulled back.

The priests, annoyed by my reaction, ordered their servants to carry me and forced me into a carriage.

“Eh. . . . . .Wh, what?! Kidnapping?! Wait! Dad! Dad!”

“Don’t make a fuss, it’ll draw attention!”

“Tsk. . . . . .Idiot, don’t hit her, she has a decent face, we need to hurry!”

And so I was abducted.

Not wanting to leave my father alone, who had just mourned the loss of my mother, I struggled inside the carriage, even when beaten or bitten, breaking through the window, and managed to return home, full of wounds.

Since I had been carried far away in the carriage, it took me a whole day of running to get back home. What I saw when I got back was my father receiving money.

My father had teary eyes. Like me, he had chick-like blond hair and orange eyes.

Despite being a pharmacist, he was flamboyant and proud.

This was the first time I’d seen my father so depleted.

“Charlene. . . . . .? Weren’t you taken to the church. . . . . .”

“Dad. . . . . .I don’t want to leave. . . . . .”

Hugging him tightly, my father says in a trembling voice.

“Go, Charlene. You won’t be happy here. I don’t want you to die like your mother did.”

“No, I don’t want to leave, I. . . . . .!”

“Listen and go! Behave!!!”

My father’s angry voice for the first time.

The priests frowned ostentatiously.

“Yelling at the saint. . . . . .We’ll take her in at the church.”

“Take her away quickly! I’m sick and tired of babysitting.”

“Tsk. . . . . .”

Saying that harshly, my father tore me away and handed me over to the priests. The priest forcibly picked me up and cooed in a fawning voice.

“Poor thing. We’ll let you eat sweet sweets at the church.”

“There are many beautiful dresses too. Girls love cute dresses, don’t they?”

“Stop it, I’m not pitiful. I want to be with Dad more than any dress. . . . . .Stop it, let me go, no, no. . . . . .!”

Pushed into the carriage, my hands and feet were bound by magic.

“Tsk. . . . . .This dirty little girl, if she wasn’t the leading saint candidate, I’d have hit her.”

“Haha, you’ll be kicked out of the training department. Because you don’t know how to go easy.”

While tapping my head, the priests said terrifying things. When I looked back out of the carriage window, my father had run out of the shop, stumbled, fell, and was sobbing. Even at my young age, I understood that my father was deliberately being harsh.

My father was. . . . . . a kind person.

“. . . . . .Uwu. . . . . . Dad. . . . . . .”

“Don’t cry, it’s disgusting.”

The priests spat out those words.

From then on, I was raised to be a [saint who came from a different world].

🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸

I was initially brought before High Priest Mauricio after being abducted.

The high priest looked down at me and declared,

“You are Charlene, the saint summoned from another world. Forget your mother who was a harlot, forget your father who was a dark apothecary. You are the saint we rescued from another world. Spend your days in gratitude.”

Every day of training as a saint was a denial of my entire life up until that point.

As if to brainwash me, they made me wear beautiful clothes, fussed over me every day, and kept treating me as a “saint from another world.” They all seemed unaware of my true origins.

On the other hand, those who had abducted me strangely never showed themselves again afterward.

It sent chills down my spine.

Anyone who knew my background was being killed, I realized.

To protect my father, I forgot everything and pretended to be an “innocent saint from another world.” I thoroughly corrected all the uncouth habits from my upbringing as I was desired, learned proper manners, and performed my role flawlessly, from my every move to when I slept, as the “saint from another world.”

The narrative of being from another world was useful. Even though I was naive and uneducated, and they did not know I was a woman of low birth, the priests kindly and patiently taught me.

Every day as a saint was filled with clean food, clothing, and shelter, as long as I could withstand the grueling training and service activities.

But my father with his kind, gravelly voice was not there. The thought that my father was now alone in the bed where we three―my parents and I―used to sleep huddled together almost made me cry out in tears.

As a saint, I thought, surely my father’s life will also become easier.

Working as a saint, I thought, surely my father is watching from afar.

I wanted to reassure my father. That was my duty.

After getting through many difficult nights, I eventually managed to make peace with it.

At 14, I became the youngest leading saint.

It was due to the strength of my inherent holy abilities and the results of my desperate training. Not only could I heal by touching limbs, but I could also revive lost body parts and cure critically ill patients. The high-ranking priests of the church praised me, saying that I was well loved by God.

I played my part as a convenient puppet for the church brilliantly. I healed people with my abilities and built an image with my saintly appearance. At the same time, I used the strength of being the leading saint to improve service activities for the people and the working conditions of the lower-ranking saints. I did quite well. Perhaps it’s because negotiation was my Dad’s forte, or maybe my acting skills as a saint were inherited from my deceased mother, who was a popular prostitute.

I hate to say it myself, but I think I was doing a pretty good job as a “beautiful saint.”

That’s when I was engaged to the crown prince.

It was a political marriage to connect the church and the royal family.

The power in this country is divided into three.

The church, led by the high priest who captured me.

The House of Lords, led by the Prime Minister.

And the weakest――the royal family.

A queen has no power, she’s just a decoration. It was convenient to have a doll with a blank slate. 

The crown prince was also a convenient puppet for the current king, who aimed to continue the previous king’s politics.

A marriage of dolls.

I thought it was good if it made my father happy.

――But my struggle ended there.

Lulumia, the illegitimate daughter of Prime Minister Duke Horsewood, awakened to her saint abilities and entered the church. Normally, a lady would buy her exemption from joining the church with donations, even if she woke up to her saint abilities, as being a saint is hard labor for a noble’s daughter unless she becomes the leading saint.

She was sent because she was an illegitimate daughter.

Her saint abilities were weak, and she didn’t train well.

[Healing is something that common-born people do.]

She was that kind of woman.

With her father’s backing, she quickly climbed to the position of deputy saint and approached the crown prince. She whispered my background and suspicions into the ears of the sheltered crown prince who knew nothing of the world.

The church, council, and the royal family.

What will become of this tripartite relationship?

If the Prime Minister and the royal family form an alliance, the church will need to devise a new strategy to counter it.

Well, it’s none of my business anymore.

(The pain is gradually fading away. I guess I’m going to die now.)

(. . . . . .What a fleeting life I had. Well, it’s okay. As long as Dad’s okay. . . . . .But, I wanted to see him one more time, maybe.)

(. . . . . .By the way, who was that man who helped me at the end?)

(. . . . . .He’ll be upset when I’m dead, won’t he? Haha, sorry, I’m already. . . . . .)

🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸

“Charlene.”

My name was called out in a low voice, causing me to abruptly awaken.

Illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through the window, I could see the silhouette of the man who had been using his knee as my pillow.

I had been laid down to rest in a pristine bed.

It was not the saint’s dormitory. It was a place unknown to me.

“You’re awake. That’s good. Does it hurt?”

The man squinted his dark eyes as if showing concern. My cheek had been enveloped and stroked by his large hand for a while now.

He was a man with such refined features that it felt as though I might be mistaken for being in heaven or hell. His long eyes held an intense, gapless gaze. His body, clad in black clothing, displayed a well-balanced silhouette. He was a stranger to me.

“I have. . .no. . .wounds.”

Even though my arms, legs, and body should have been thoroughly battered, my body, clothed in a negligee, was free of any injuries. There was no pain, and my skin strangely felt good to the touch.

“Thank you. You saved me, didn’t you?”

“. . . . . .I’m sorry. I wasn’t used to returning to this body, and it took time to help you. . . . . .I made you suffer.”

“Why apologize? After all, you’ve healed me so much when it was only natural for me to die. . . . . .This level of healing is even difficult for me, the leading saint.”

“I wanted to not leave even a single scar on Charlene, so I tried hard.”

Feeling somewhat awkward to be resting on his knee forever, I sat up.

I was dressed in a pure white silk pajama. My hair was fluffy, returned to its original curls. He must have cleaned me.

“. . . . . .huh?”

“What is it?”

“Who changed my clothes. . . . . .and bathed me. . . . . .?”

“There’s no way I would let anyone else see my wife’s body.”

“Huh?”

“I did the healing and the cleansing. All of it.”

As if it was a habit, he licked his lips, his expression emotionless, as he stated so.

“Who do you mean by. . . . . .wife?”

“Charlene.”

Being told this with a straight face, I was thrown into confusion.

Hugging my clean body that smelled of soap, my head felt as though it would explode from the situation.

“Wait, wait wait wait wait. What’s this. . .wife. . .you’re talking about?!”

Wrinkles appeared between the man’s brows.

“. . . . . .that hurts.”

“Ah, sorry, sorry about that. I haven’t had many chances to talk with men, so I don’t think I could have forgotten.”

“. . . . . . . . . . . .”

“Well, um. . . . . .when did we meet? At a healing session? A knight’s visit? Or. . .”

“Don’t you really remember? As a couple, we spent many nights together.”

“Many times?!”

“. . . . . .that’s harsh.”

The man grumbled with a sullen and slightly resentful expression.

His stony expression added more weight to the plea in his deep black eyes.

“I thought you were my wife. . . . . .my mate. That’s why I came as soon as you called. But you didn’t think so. . . . . .”

“Wait, calm down.”

“Can you get naked in front of other men besides your husband?”

“What, no way! Besides, I’ve never undressed in front of a man!”

“And. . . . . .me. . . . . .?”

“Hold on, um, sorry, I’m not quite keeping up, wait. . .”

Me being naked, being with someone. The choice of the word “mate”.

The answer is—one and only.

“Are you. . . . . .by any chance, Kami-sama?”

He grinned.

“You remembered, Charlene.”

That affectionate, heated expression was the answer to everything.

The [God] whom the leading saint prays to and bathes with every evening in the sanctuary’s spiritual spring.

Even though I thought there was no such thing as a god. Even though I had never seen one.

“If you are going to leave the church, I will go with you. From now on, I will never leave your side. That’s what being a couple means, isn’t it?”

He stroked my cheek. Then he naturally kissed the back of my hand.

I remember being called a saint who was deeply loved by the local god.

“I never thought you’d really come if I called. . . . . .”

And at this point, I still hadn’t realized.

That my body had regressed from that of an 18-year-old to that of an 8-year-old, right around the time when I first awakened as a saint.

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