Alya was surprised by the woman who had suddenly collapsed at her door.
"Pardon me," she said gently, offering a hand. "Could you get up and explain what happened?"
She helped the woman to her feet and led her quietly into the annex, closing the door behind them. Alya made sure it was shut properly—if Nanny tried to enter, she'd be alerted right away.
Turning back with a kind smile, Alya asked, "Now, you were saying?"
The woman's lips trembled as she spoke. "My son… he was attacked by monsters. The doctor says they have to amputate both his legs."
Alya's eyes widened slightly. "That sounds horrible. He'll never be able to walk again. He'll be devastated," she said, as if lost in a trance. She could almost picture it, the agony twisting the young man's face, the overwhelming grief in his eyes. The image was so vivid, so raw, it made her chest flutter.
She wished she could be there to witness it herself.
"Please, save my son," the woman sobbed, her voice cracking.
Alya tilted her head. "Can't the doctors do anything else?" she asked, ignoring the woman's desperate plea.
"They've tried. The doctors at the Duke's emergency infirmary are good, but they can't help him. Please… I don't care if you use your demonic powers or whatever it is you have. Just save him. He can't live like this."
"I agree," Alya said quietly. "He probably can't."
"I'll give you everything I have," the woman begged. "Please... just save him."
Alya sighed and stepped closer. "You don't have to offer me anything," she said gently.
Hope lit up the woman's face.
Then Alya added, "Because I won't be helping your son."
The light in the woman's eyes died.
"…What?" she whispered, barely able to comprehend it.
Alya chuckled at her expression. "Oh, you should see your face. What did you expect, coming here? That I'd hear your sob story and rush in to save the day?"
The woman stared at her, completely stunned. "You were a Saintess. You used to help people."
"I'm pretty sure my title now is False Saintess," Alya said with a smirk. She walked over to a nearby chair and sat down lazily. "Instead of wasting your time and money on me, you should go buy your son a wheelchair or something."
The woman fell to her knees. "I'll pay you whatever you want, so please… please, just help him."
Alya rolled her eyes. "Sometimes," she said coldly, "you have to learn that life is cruel. You don't always get what you want."
The woman's sorrow twisted into fury. Her voice shook as she said, "Everything they say about you is true. You're a cold-hearted demon… and you'll get what's coming to you."
She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
A few seconds later, Nanny entered.
By then, Alya's expression had changed completely. Her face was the picture of sadness, her eyes brimming with hurt. She looked like a girl crushed by the weight of another person's cruelty.
Nanny rushed to her and hugged her tightly.
"Don't listen to her hateful words," Nanny said, holding her close. "You're the kindest, sweetest, and prettiest girl I know. She's just a jealous, bitter woman."
It was clear Nanny hadn't heard what Alya had said earlier, only the woman's final outburst.
Alya smiled as she hugged Nanny back. "I'm glad I have you, Nanny. You're all I need," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her even tighter.
---
Meanwhile, things weren't going smoothly for Soren.
They'd managed to track down most of the monsters and had leads on where the rest might be hiding. But the real issue wasn't the monsters; it was the animals.
The wild ones.
The ones that should have already been secured… but had vanished without a trace.
Direwolves.Snow leopards. Even a polar bear.
Dangerous creatures, all capable of causing serious harm if left unchecked.
Soren buried his face in his hands and let out a long sigh. He couldn't afford to waste time, not when he still needed to convince Alya to bless his guardian stone once it was ready.
He needed more time.
But time was slipping away.
---
Back in the capital, High Priest Samiel was facing a different kind of crisis.
He never thought he'd say it, but he missed Alya.
She had been obedient, kind, and diligent in her duties. Never once had she complained.
But Aileen? Aileen was nothing like her.
She hated the vegetarian meals. She refused to pray. She hated being told where to go or what to do. It wasn't like before, when they'd worked together to expose Alya, when Aileen had still tried to appear saintly in public.
Samiel gave a bitter smile.
Back then, at least she was pretending.
Now, she was holed up in the palace, avoiding her responsibilities completely. Days had passed since she'd last stepped into the temple.
Other high priests, and even the Pope himself, had come to him demanding answers.
But Samiel had none to give.
He had truly believed that with Aileen in place, things would get better. That he could reform the temple from the inside. Clean out the corruption. Restore order.
Instead, things had only grown worse.
Some of the very priests who once supported him had begun turning away.
He was losing everything.
You think I want the temple to be like this? Alya's words echoed in his mind.
He shook his head sharply, trying to silence the memory.
I'm trying to change it, but I can't do anything if I'm all alone. All I can do now is help the people I'm allowed to, be it nobles or commoners.
He remembered her saying that. And it stung.
Samiel sighed again, gazing out the window.
If only Alya hadn't been a fake... he would've loved to work alongside her again. He missed the days when his biggest challenge was dealing with corrupt priests.
Now, he had corruption and an irresponsible saintess to deal with.
Just then, a priest burst into his chambers, panting and breathless.
"Your Holiness… news," the man gasped, struggling to catch his breath.
Samiel turned, alarm rising. "What happened? What is it?"
The priest's face was pale. "It's Alya. There's a rumor spreading in the streets… They say she's dead. Assassinated."
Samiel's heart stopped.
"…What?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
---
Night had fallen.
Alya slipped quietly out of the annex, a cloak draped over her shoulders to hide her face. A raven flapped above her, circling as if guiding her through the darkness. She followed it without question, her destination already clear: the emergency infirmary.
She had new... cravings. Ones her nanny would never understand.
She arrived at the infirmary and stood beneath a window. The shutters were slightly open. Cold air bit at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire building inside her. Then it began.
A scream rang out, sharp and raw, followed by the sickening crack of bone.
Alya's breath hitched.
Her eyes widened, and a shiver of ecstasy ran down her spine. She heard the doctors yelling frantically inside, something about no anesthesia. That meant the patient was awake. That meant they would feel everything.
And Alya would enjoy every second of it.
The saw came next. The scraping, tearing sound of it grinding through flesh and bone filled the air. Bloodcurdling screams followed—ragged, helpless, endless.
Alya's eyes glazed over. Her heart pounded, her skin tingled, and a strange euphoria took over her. It was too good. Too perfect. The pain. The helplessness. The suffering.
She was in heaven.
She wanted more. She needed more. To see it. To hear it. To feel it.
But then, memories came rushing in.
She saw her nanny, decapitated.
Burned alive at the stake.
Starved to death.
Tortured again and again by the very people she had once protected.
And Alya... had watched it happen. Again and again. Over and over. Powerless. Helpless. Broken.
Now, she wanted everyone to pay. Everyone had to suffer. Everyone had to die.
Everyone... except for her nanny.
Her nanny had always seen her as kind. Gentle. Pure. Sweet.
She could never show her this side. The side where all the kindness had bled out of her one death at a time, until only hate remained. Hate for the world. Hate for herself. Hate that turned into twisted pleasure at the sight of pain.
But now, that high was fading. Alya trembled, weak and breathless. Still craving more.
She pulled herself away from the window, hiding the tremor in her step, and quietly returned to the annex.
---
Far away, inside the royal palace, Aileen rested her head on the crown prince's bare chest.
They had returned from a noble's party, and one thing had led to another. Now, they lay tangled beneath silk sheets, the night thick with the scent of wine, perfume, and lust.
Aileen smiled to herself. This was the life she wanted.
The prince ran a hand gently through her hair.
"You know... I heard the fake is dead," he said casually.
Aileen tilted her head up and forced a sad expression. "Really? That's… terrible."
"I'm not sure I'd call it terrible," he replied with a dark grin. "But I am glad she's finally out of our lives." He kissed her forehead.
Aileen smiled and snuggled closer. "Me too."
The crown prince stared up at the ceiling, his smile hardening, an evil glint in his eyes.
He had once admired Alya, back when they were young. He had watched her from afar, believed in her light, and had even imagined joining the temple and royal family through marriage. So, he approached her with his feelings, thinking she'd accept him.
But she didn't.
She had rejected him.
That rejection had twisted something in him. What had once been admiration had festered into hatred. He didn't care that Aileen wasn't Alya. Aileen was obedient, useful. Easy to control.
He didn't love her, but she helped his position.
As for Alya…
He would rather her dead than let anyone else have her.