Love Letter From The Future

Chapter 333: Bread and Dagger (31)

The Saintess’s benevolent smile was mostly a facade.

In other words, it was no different from a long-worn mask. A kind and noble Saintess was what most believers wanted. It was a fortunate situation for her, who wished to shed the ‘lowborn’ label.

Even if she was of orphan origin, she couldn’t be recklessly touched if she had the support of the masses.

That was the fundamental nature of religion.

And matter how powerful it was, the Church of Heavenly God couldn’t continue without believers.

Therefore, the Holy Nation showed an unusual obsession with ‘symbols.’

Believers want proof of God’s existence. That’s why numerous symbols are employed in religious ceremonies in addition to the miracle called ‘Holy power.’

It was an essential process to elicit the people’s voluntary faith and devotion.

From this perspective, it was clear how remarkable of a figure was the ‘Saintess.’

Her very appearance was extraordinary to begin with.

Just look at her pristine silver hair, unsullied by the faintest imperfection.

Her flawless, translucent skin and lovely features that were more akin to a work of art. If God could play ‘favourites’, she would be the most compelling piece of evidence.

Then there were her soft pink eyes, which captivated the hearts of everyone she met, and the sensual curves of her body, accentuated all the more against her sacred aura.

Her beauty was otherworldly.

She was a woman seemingly born to be worshipped. In addition, she possessed immense holy power and had a keen sense for reading people’s minds.

As a ‘Saintess,’ she was flawless in every respect.

Her only flaw was that she was an orphan of unknown parentage—that was it. Compared to her previously listed strengths, even this was a trivial matter.

It was thanks to the fact that the Saintess knew how to cleverly use the stigma of being an ‘orphan.’

Despite living a life so severed from her past that she even abandoned the name from her orphan days, she would bring up her ‘orphan’ origin to elicit sympathy whenever it was necessary. ŕaɴŎΒÈṧ

She was a woman who lived such a thoroughly calculated life.

In some ways, it was a stifling life.

There were countless people who attached meaning to her every gesture and movement. Such was the heavy burden of being the Saintess of the Church of the Heavenly God. Because of this, I sometimes pitied her.

Was the Saintess truly happy?

And if she was, I couldn’t help but wonder—whose happiness was it?

Hers? Or the fabricated shell called ‘the Saintess.’

I found it annoying at first but, over time, that was precisely what made her take root in my heart.

It was because the sincerity she showed only to me felt so precious.

Not just to the Saintess, but to me as well.

She had now become one of the few precious people in my life.

Given how close we became, I sometimes glimpsed sides of the Saintess that no one else ever did, just like right now..

The Saintess was gulping down a bottle of alcohol.

At least it was white wine—that was a relief. Compared to whiskey or vodka, it had a lower alcohol content.

Even so, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of worry.

Her face had long since turned a bright shade of red.

One look at her dazed eyes was enough to tell that this woman was drunk.

Completely wasted, in fact.

I was essentially stuck listening to her drunken rant.

“Heuck, hick... H-How could you do this......”

The Saintess had been repeating that same line for several minutes now.

If I tried to ask her anything, she’d simply take another swig from the bottle and start all over again.

It was a bit pitiful to see her tears fall, but even my patience had its limit. Eventually, I let out a slightly exasperated tone.

“Come on, what exactly did I do to deserve this, huh? If you keep blaming me like this......”

“Hick, hic... You bastard......”

Of course, the Saintess kept tipping the bottle regardless.

Huuuu, I exhaled a heated sigh and ran my hands down my face.

It was getting harder to tolerate this while sober.

So I took out a bottle of alcohol from my expandable spatial pouch. It was a bottle of cheap whiskey I’d brought along just in case—often effective when I was feeling disillusioned with life.

You could call it my standby remedy to cure the weariness of life.

The Saintess seemed to have coincidentally t run out of alcohol as well.

She tried to take a swig, but when only a few drops came out, she peered into the bottle with a puzzled look.

And she even let out a shrill scream when a single drop of alcohol plopped right onto her eye.

Her drinking habits were worse than I had imagined.

I resolved never to drink with the Saintess again.

“Do you need more alcohol?”

Yet at that time, my hands violated her untainted body.

I would honestly have no choice but to comply if she demanded I take responsibility.

But since I spent my first night with another woman, I couldn’t complain even if I were called trash.

I couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

Though of course, I had my own excuses.

“Still, I can’t just carelessly touch the Saintess. I mean, I might incur divine punishment...”

“Does someone who fears divine punishment do something like that?”

I raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.

Then I poured some alcohol into my glass and downed it in one go.

It felt like my throat was on fire.

“So, what exactly are you trying to say? Are you asking what my relationship with Senior Delphine is?”

“Wh-What kind of relationship...?”

“We’re nothing.”

At least for now, I had to dodge like this.

Otherwise, there were too many ticking time bombs—from Seria to Senior Elsie. Though the Saintess seemed even more upset at my evasive answer.

“Does that even make sense?! People are talking about how the two of you are doing all sorts of i-indecent things alone together!”

“Aren’t those just baseless rumours... And besides, if you put it that way, doesn’t that mean you and I also have a special relationship?”

My tongue became increasingly loose as the alcohol started to kick in.

I became more shameless. I might have crumbled under the weight of my own guilt if not for the alcohol.

“Then what kind of relationship do we have?”

“W-We?”

“Yes, us.”

The Saintess became flustered by my straightforward words.

She was already drunk, and I kept posing difficult questions, so it was inevitable.

Taking advantage of her hesitation, I pressed on with even greater intensity.

“Aren’t you the Saintess of the Church of the Heavenly God? I’ve just been too disrespectful all this time. But since you’ve become someone important to me, I want to start treating you with the respect you deserve.”

She fidgeted, unable to speak properly.

That’s how it usually was with someone completely drunk.

The more they try to think logically, the more things go off course. In the end, they’re left with flawed logic and end up blurting out nonsense.

It was a theory I developed from my countless experiences of being drunk.

I even cross-verified it with friends like Leto, so the Saintess shouldn’t be any different.

With that in mind, I planned to leave her utterly bewildered and then put her to sleep.

“So please don’t worry too much, and once you sober up, we can gradually discuss the source of these rumours...”

But at that moment—

“......Why, why.”

The Saintess’s body began to tremble as she whimpered.

That’s when I realised my mistake and clamped my mouth shut—I’d pushed her too hard.

One had to be cautious when dealing with drunk people. Especially with a woman who was completely intoxicated; she’s like the first snowflake of the year—needed to be treated with the utmost care.

Otherwise, she would, much like a teardrop, simply melt away.

Right now, anyone could see that the Saintess was on the verge of losing control.

To prevent her from creating an embarrassing memory, I chose my words as carefully as possible.

“Um, Saintess? You seem a bit agitated right now, so maybe you should calm down a little...”

“Why—Why don’t you molest me anymore!”

I was doomed.

I squeezed my eyes shut and poured myself another glass of alcohol. I could only hope the Saintess would forget what she’d said by tomorrow.

She now even went as far as to prop up her breasts with her arms, as if to emphasise them.

“H-Have you already gotten tired of me?! Look—my breasts that you couldn’t stop staring at every single day! Go ahead, touch them! Forcefully, if you must! As much as you want!”

With a sigh, I downed another glass of alcohol.

In the end, the words that slipped out of my mouth were:

“......Alright then.”

If that’s what you /genesisforsaken

***

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