How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?

Vanessa walked through the vast platinum palace. The only sounds in the entire hall were the sharp strikes of her high-heeled boots against the crystal floor and the unified thud of the Radiant Cross Knights as they dropped to one knee, halberds planted firmly in salute.

The cherry-haired girl moved with grace through the center of the hall. On either side, the Radiant Cross Knights lowered themselves devoutly the instant she passed, like pilgrims bowing before a goddess.

Several times Vanessa thought of stopping, yet decided it would be improper. She truly wasn’t used to such treatment.

And—when had she become Vanessa? Without her will, without her consent?

Where was this? A dream? An illusion born from the Elusha notes she had absorbed? Or something else altogether?

Step by step, Vanessa approached the throne beneath the immense goddess statue. Though she had never seen this crystalline platinum hall before, a strange familiarity welled up within her, as if she had once stood here.

The knights stood like statues, every movement uniform as they performed the highest salute of the Radiant Cross Knights while she passed. The sheer precision left Vanessa both shaken and uneasy.

Perhaps it was simply the palace’s vastness. Or perhaps she simply wasn’t suited for such an overwhelming display of reverence.

When she reached the stairs before the throne, all the knights beneath her knelt as one, save for the two standing guard directly at the base. Their heads lowered, weapons grounded—they offered her the utmost reverence reserved only for a Saintess.

Vanessa looked back, then raised her eyes to the throne above. From the distant entrance, it had been clearly visible. Yet standing so near, even tilting her head back, she could not grasp its full grandeur.

Above the goddess statue spread a rainbow stained-glass window. Light streamed through, layering the goddess’s face in a halo of seven hues—majestic, sacred, breathtaking in its design.

On the upper step before the throne stood two knights clad differently from the rest. Wings adorned the sides of their helmets.

Vanessa remembered—this was the mark of the Champion Knights of the Dawn Church. Those chosen bore this exclusive masterwork armor and wielded weapons refined by the Saintess herself. The title was both the Church’s sword and the Saintess’s shield.

Many commanders of the Radiant Cross Knights had been Champion Knights of their time. Yet the title was conferred only once every twenty years—one per generation. And here, before her, stood two.

Their helmets concealed their faces.

Yet Vanessa could feel their gaze—reverent, devoted, yet tinged with expectation.

She lifted her heel, continuing forward.

Like a Saintess ascending to coronation, she mounted the steps toward the throne.

As she passed, both Champion Knights lowered their heads, grounded their weapons, and dropped to one knee.

“In the presence of the Saintess.”

Their voices rang as one, thundering through the platinum hall, yet filled with awe.

Vanessa stood at the hall’s summit, her eyes sweeping across the Platinum Sanctuary.

The vast, luxurious chamber, its crystalline foundation, the holy silver-jade dome and walls like those of the Cathedral of Saint Selena—all the grandeur of the Church condensed into a single space.

And kneeling below, the battle-hardened knights sworn to her.

The very pinnacle of power. A scene as magnificent as it was stirring.

Anyone would feel their blood surge at such a sight.

Yet—

Vanessa folded her hands before her, her face conflicted, words caught in her throat.

She did not know how to explain.

At last, she spoke quietly, her voice melodic yet carrying through the vast space.

“...I am not the Saintess.”

“Then who do you believe yourself to be? We are the most faithful servants of the Dawn Goddess, the mightiest guardians of the Dawn Church. None but the Saintess has ever compelled us to kneel.” One Champion Knight’s voice was low.

“Neither the Popes of old, nor today’s Pope,” the other declared with force.

“But the Church no longer has a Saintess... and I have no desire to be one.” Vanessa had nearly pieced it together.

Unwillingly forced into Vanessa’s form, this strangely familiar platinum hall, these knights of a bygone age—it had to be connected to the Saintess’s notes she had absorbed.

“Then you would abandon your duty?” the Champion Knight asked.

“I only wish to live as an ordinary person.” Vanessa lowered her gaze, hands resting at her collarbone.

“But why then did you risk your life to stop the descent of the Demon Pillar?”

“I...” Vanessa froze, stunned they even knew of that.

“We know the Church and the Facilis family have been shaken, that your heart is torn. But the Tyrelis Continent still needs the Facilis line. It needs you—the last heir. No one else can bear this burden. Refuse, and disasters like the descent of Demon Pillar Erunios will come again.”

Vanessa remained silent.

“Please, sit upon your throne. This is but a projection of the Dawn Church’s Platinum Sanctuary. But one day, we believe, you will sit here for real.”

“Our master, the Saintess of the previous age, has awaited you for long. Go. Perhaps she can answer your doubts.”

The Saintess of the previous age?

Vanessa looked at the kneeling knights, then turned toward the throne.

Her ancestor? Could it be... Elusha?

She stepped forward, hesitated, then sat.

Instantly, the hall dissolved in a warp of space. The Platinum Sanctuary vanished—replaced by a sunlit courtyard blooming with flowers.

Vanessa blinked. Somehow, she was already standing. Her eyes immediately caught the figure in the garden—cherry-haired, seated with a teacup in hand, her braid woven in Saintess fashion.

“At last, you’ve come.”

The woman set down her cup. Dressed in the classical gown of a Saintess, her smile was gentle and radiant with grace.

Vanessa’s heart swayed; her eyes lost focus.

A single smile bloomed with a hundred charms.

“Though I’ve seen you before, this is our first true meeting, isn’t it?”

“Come closer, my child.” The woman beckoned. Her sacred smile alone seemed able to heal all the world’s wounds.

“...Forgive me, but... who are you?” Vanessa stepped closer, hesitant.

Though nearly certain, she had to ask.

“No need to be so distant, little Vanessa. Meeting your ancestor does not require formality. You’ve seen my portrait before, haven’t you?”

“...You are... Saintess Elusha?”

“Why still call me ‘Saintess’? Child, I am but a Saintess of a past age. The Church has no Saintess now—but I know who the next will be.” Elusha’s eyes softened.

It truly was Elusha.

So like her portrait, yet portraits lacked the living grace.

Different from Selena—an entirely different presence.

Unlike the twin-tailed, pink-haired ancestor who once clamored to be a “Church idol” and insisted Vanessa call her by name, Elusha embodied the very image of the Saintess: serene, dignified, composed.

Yes, this was how an elder should be.

Or so Vanessa thought—until Elusha suddenly pulled her into a warm embrace.

“My precious little Vanessa, at last we meet! At last I can hold you—I’ve waited so long!” Elusha pressed her close, stroking her hair with infinite fondness.

“Wha—?! Ancestor Elusha, p-please let me go—”

“Ah, forgive me. I couldn’t resist—you’re simply too adorable.” She loosened her arms—but not fully.

“Come, sit on your ancestor’s lap.”

“...No, really, that isn’t necessary. I’ll stand...”

“No. Standing is for formal reports. My little Vanessa has suffered enough. It’s been so long since I’ve held a sweet junior. Come, let me hold you.”

Her tone was gentle, indulgent—yet impossible to refuse.

Even without looking, Vanessa felt the waves of affection radiating from her.

Yes... all Saintesses of the Facilis family carried that maternal radiance. Perhaps Elusha was the greatest embodiment of it.

Her suspicion was confirmed when Elusha, impatient at Vanessa’s hesitation, flicked her fingers—suddenly Vanessa was weightless, lifted, and then nestled onto her lap.

“There now. Better, isn’t it, little Vanessa?”

“A-Ancestor, I’m not a child anymore...” Her head dipped, cheeks flushed with shame.

The cherry-haired beauty held her blissfully, while the younger cherry-haired beauty lowered her eyes, face red. The scene was exquisite.

“I know, I know. But you’re a child starved of love. Don’t move—your ancestor will make it up to you. Truly, the one most to blame for your suffering—aside from those wicked priests—is your great-grandmother Sophia.”

Elusha’s tone hardened. “Yes, Sophia fulfilled her Saintess duty—but to abandon her family? To abandon you? Too cruel.”

“Next time I see her, I’ll punish her properly. Tell me, little Vanessa—how should I punish your great-grandmother?”

“Eh?! N-no... there’s no need. She wasn’t wrong. In her place, I might not have done better,” Vanessa protested.

But Elusha only smiled, teasing. “Ah, I know. Next time, I’ll spank Sophia’s bottom for you. How about that?”

Vanessa fell silent.

The image of her great-grandmother being spanked by her great-great-great-great-grandmother was nearly impossible to picture.

And besides... would they even meet?

Vanessa could only doubt.