He definitely had a soft and gentle impression, like a spring breeze, but with his expression gone, he suddenly looked so cold.
Was it really something so shocking that it warranted such a dramatic change in expression?
"...You're saying you want to stop being the Saint."
I nodded deeply.
Then I began spilling out the excuses I had prepared on the way here.
"Visiting my family made me think about a lot of things. I realized this position doesn't suit me."
"…"
"I kept trying to force myself into a role that didn't fit, like wearing clothes that don't match—so the stress built up, and I often lost my temper. That's why I ended up being disrespectful to you and everyone at the temple."
I clasped my hands and bowed my head toward Iric.
"I apologize for everything I've done. If it's not enough, I'm willing to apologize to each person individually."
Even though I wasn't the one who did those things, if apologizing helps me escape the original plot smoothly, I can do it as much as needed.
Compared to bowing my head in front of the station chief who only cared about performance and treated his subordinates like dirt, this is nothing.
"…This is all so sudden, I'm quite taken aback."
"I didn't expect I'd say this either. But I won't change my mind again, so I hope you can understand."
"I'm sorry, but I cannot accept your decision. Please, take back your words."
I hadn't expected him to agree right away, but his response was even more firm than I imagined.
"Either way, I'm not even the real Saint, so I'm not that useful, am I?"
"Saint."
"Oh—are you concerned about the donations from the Kiris family?"
With the Sun God's power weakening, the number of believers had dwindled, and naturally, so had the donors.
Currently, the temple was almost entirely dependent on the donations from the Kiris family.
If I stopped being the Saint, those donations would probably stop too, so I understood why he wouldn't be thrilled.
"But don't worry about that. We can just keep it a secret that I left. I won't be returning to the family for a while anyway."
"It's not just about the donations. And that would be the same as deceiving the Kiris family."
Why is he worried about that?
"Aren't we already deceiving all the people who believe I'm the real Saint?"
Iric's face hardened.
As if his heart had been pierced by a sharp blade.
"Isn't it better to deceive the Kiris family, who knowingly put a fake Saint forward for their own benefit, rather than keep lying to innocent, good people?"
"…"
"If you let me help, it's totally doable. So please, reconsider, High Priest."
Despite my earnest request, Iric remained silent for a long time.
"Even if that were true, it's not possible."
After moving his lips several times as if to speak, he finally gave an answer I really didn't want to hear.
"Don't entertain such strange thoughts. The place you belong is right here."
Iric rose from his seat and stared at me with a hardened face before taking the empty bowl and leaving.
Was he angry? Did I hit too close to home and offend him?
Still, it's not like I said anything wrong.
"I thought the biggest issue would be the donations, so once that was taken care of, I assumed they'd let me go without a fuss."
Wouldn't it be better for them to kick out a useless fake Saint who only causes trouble, and just keep the money? That way, they could live happily ever after.
Since Iric in the novel was someone known for his flexibility, I was sure he would accept. I didn't expect him to refuse.
"But I'm not the type to give up that easily."
Who do you think I am? I'm a detective from the serious crimes unit, the embodiment of persistence, who doesn't even hesitate to go undercover to catch criminals.
Let's see who wins in the end—you or me.
* * *
After leaving the Saint's bedroom, Iric headed for the dining hall.
But before he had even walked far, he grimaced and leaned against a wall.
His gaze toward the tray in his hands was riddled with complicated emotions.
This wasn't originally supposed to be his job.
However, the maids and the temple's young servants were so terrified of Ordel that her petty errands ended up falling on him.
Accepting the fake Saint's existence was entirely his own decision, so Iric had always attended to her without complaint.
Perhaps she liked seeing him that way, because Ordel would often grin in satisfaction and treat him more and more like a servant.
'But today…'
Today was different.
There was not a trace of contempt in her gaze.
Nor was there the anxiety of someone who seemed terrified of being cast aside unless she trampled on others first.
Instead, her eyes were full of a confidence he had never seen before.
"What on earth happened to her?"
It had only been a few days.
When she left the temple, she'd climbed into the carriage with a face full of loathing for the place.
But in just those few days, she had completely changed.
'Did Count Kiris put her up to this?'
There was only one person who could change Ordel like that:
Count Kiris.
Surely this wasn't part of the Count's plan to test the Great Temple, was it?
"High Priest!"
Deep in thought with a grave expression, Iric raised his head at the call.
Approaching him was Dietrich Warren, his confidant and a high-ranking priest of the temple.
The usually sly, slippery man's face was tense—it seemed he had also heard the news of Ordel's early return.
"Not this again… Please, let me carry that."
Dietrich immediately took the tray from Iric's hands.
He was one of the many who disliked Ordel for treating the High Priest like a servant.
Well, come to think of it—was there anyone in the temple who actually liked Ordel?
"High Priest, what happened to your clothes?"
Dietrich's face hardened as he belatedly noticed the wrinkles all over Iric's otherwise immaculate robes.
"Don't tell me she grabbed you by the collar?!"
It was certainly an easy misunderstanding to make.
"The Saint collapsed as soon as she arrived. The wrinkles are from helping her up."
To be exact, Ordel had clung to him and refused to let go, but there had been no malice in it.
It was sheer desperation to survive.
Yes, that's all it was.
Iric forced himself to shake off the lingering sensation of Ordel's hands.
"…What? She collapsed?"
Dietrich's eyes went wide in disbelief. His water-colored pupils trembled violently.
"She seemed especially hungry today."
Only then did Dietrich notice that the bowls on the tray he had snatched were all empty.
It was the first time Ordel had ever cleaned her plates without complaining about the temple's food.
"She's probably more sensitive than usual due to her condition. Make sure the younger servants stay away from the Saint's chambers for the time being."
Dietrich nodded vigorously at the instruction to protect the children from Ordel.
"And one more thing. Keep an eye on the Saint's actions for now."
It must have been an unexpected order, as Dietrich's eyes widened again.
This was Iric, who had always allowed Ordel to do as she pleased—even using temple funds without oversight.
"I'm not saying stop her. Just observe what she does. She's not exactly quick to pick up on things, so she won't notice."
"Uh… yes, understood."
Although surprised, Dietrich didn't object.
The order was essentially to spy on someone, but since it was Ordel, someone he didn't care for, he wasn't particularly bothered by it.
As Iric watched Dietrich walk off, he turned to gaze out the window.
The sun they worshipped was once again pouring its radiant light down upon the world.
He wondered how the god would view someone like him, who had accepted a false Saint—a blasphemy justified in the name of the temple's survival.
Even if divine punishment were to fall upon him, he would accept it without complaint.
"Isn't it better to deceive the Kiris family, who put forward a fake Saint for their own gain, than to keep lying to good people?"
That line from Ordel stuck in his heart like a thorn, heavy with guilt.
He almost wished for punishment from the gods. Then perhaps he wouldn't feel this pain anymore.
* * *
The moment Iric left, I sprang into action.
I had no intention of sitting around and waiting patiently for him to change his mind.
Today's mission was simple:
Find Ordel's hidden slush fund!
I combed through every inch of the room.
Under the bed, inside desk drawers—even checked for hidden compartments just in case…
How long had I been searching?
Eventually, I came to a conclusion—not about the slush fund, but something else entirely:
"This room is ridiculously luxurious."
Not a speck of dust anywhere, lavish decorations embedded with jewels.
A bed large enough for five adults and furniture that screamed money, even at a glance.
This bedroom, which felt far too spacious for one person, looked like it belonged to some wealthy aristocrat.
"But the Temple of the Sun God is supposed to be broke."
Recalling the original novel's setting, I looked around the room with a troubled expression.