“Ugh... N-No, cut off my hand! Hurry!”

Cardinal Stella screamed with desperate urgency at the very end. Even if he became crippled, he wanted to live—so he shouted for someone to sever the hand holding the sword.

But not a single person could move easily.

It was God’s judgment.

How could anyone dare to interfere?

“Gggh—!”

In the end, the Sword of Judgment sank into Cardinal Stella’s heart, very slowly.

The look in his eyes—twisted by fear and pain—gradually died away. After a few convulsions, his body finally went still.

Everyone watching kept silent with stiffened faces.

No one could easily open their mouth, and no one could move.

Their eyes, fixed on the Sword of Judgment, were filled with fear.

SWOOSH.

At that moment, someone stepped up to the dead Cardinal Stella and personally pulled the sword free.

It was Cardinal Martio.

He clicked his tongue lightly as he closed Cardinal Stella’s eyes, which had died without even fully shutting.

But he did not offer a prayer for him.

“God’s judgment is finished.”

It was God’s decision, and death that followed from it.

Even mourning him would be an act that went against God’s will.

Cardinal Martio carefully set the Sword of Judgment back down before the Pope, then continued in a low voice.

“And he is also one who took his own life.”

Hearing that, Pope Brissel nodded heavily.

Even though he had held the office of cardinal, Stella would not be granted proper rest.

He would not even be allowed near the graves where believers slept.

“.......”

People’s gazes returned to the Sword of Judgment.

Though it had just been lodged in a human heart, it was so clean it was hard to believe—without a single drop of blood clinging to it.

At that sight, a chill ran through the chests of those staring at the blade.

And anew, they felt awe toward Camilla, who had found and brought that sword.

Chapter. Dorman’s Choice

“Honestly, you’re strange.”

“What’s strange about me?”

“You always take the hard road when there’s an easy one.”

Which, sure, made it more interesting.

Watching Camilla listlessly read through the report detailing every circumstance, Jainer kept giggling under his breath.

“What’s the easy road?”

“You know.”

“.......”

Not long ago, Camilla had handed another job to Jainer—the master of Khan.

And once again, it wasn’t a request to assassinate someone.

“Sometimes you treat our Khan like we’re not an assassination group, but errand boys. The kids are amazed every time a request comes in.”

“Isn’t it the same thing?”

Her request was simple.

Put up posters exposing Cardinal Stella’s crimes, and make them impossible to miss.

The timing was unlimited.

Until she told them to stop.

“You’re good at one thing, at least.”

“That a compliment?”

“Yeah.”

The temple had searched with eyes blazing to catch the culprit, but in the end, they failed to arrest the ones posting the posters.

True to their nature as assassins, they handled it with extreme secrecy.

And to make it even better—

One of the places Cardinal Stella had commissioned to “catch the culprit” was none other than Khan.

He’d asked the very ones who posted them to catch the ones who posted them.

“I got praised, so why do I feel even worse?”

“Drop the fixed idea that an assassination group can only assassinate.”

Jainer laughed again.

“You could’ve just dealt with the cardinal cleanly.”

“Trash like that shouldn’t get an easy death.”

If he died without properly paying for his sins, people would remember him forever as a great holy man, wouldn’t they?

Looking into him a little, he’d played the part—outwardly—of an endlessly benevolent, admirable man of faith.

If he died wearing that mask, there would be people who cried sincerely for that kind of man.

And what sin did those people commit?

“Either way, the person who was going to die, died.”

Camilla heard the news of Cardinal Stella’s death right away.

He’d been the center of attention recently.

Everyone was intensely curious whether the contents of the posters were true or not.

Not just the faithful—ordinary people too. Wherever people gathered, they couldn’t stop talking about it.

“Did you already know he’d die like that?”

Camilla’s reaction to the news was utterly flat.

As if she’d expected that outcome all along.

“Well. Roughly.”

The bigger the rumors grew, the less the order could keep sitting still.

They would have had to come to a conclusion somehow.

There would be a battle over the truth.

“I figured someone would bring up the Sword of Judgment.”

Whether Cardinal Stella believed the sword was real or fake, in the end he would have had no choice but to take it in hand.

“And if he refused to hold it, that would’ve been admitting guilt in its own way.”

If he truly had no sins, as he claimed, then there was no reason to be afraid of holding it.

“And if he held it believing it was fake, then the sword would’ve passed judgment right there.”

Either way, his ending had only ever been one thing.

“Won’t the order come looking for you again? You even found the Sword of Judgment Saintess Arena used. Feels like they wouldn’t want to let you go now.”

“They won’t.”

Camilla gave a small shake of her head. If anything, the talk of elevating her as a saintess would have died off.

“Everyone saw how Cardinal Stella died.”

The Sword of Judgment alone was already crushing.

And then they’d bring in someone who received revelations?

No—people would refuse to even mention it.

And besides...

Those bastards can’t even live normally right now, apparently.

The ones she’d named before, along with what Cardinal Stella had done.

The ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) one who embezzled funds, the one who beat children, the one who sold indulgences, and so on...

After Cardinal Stella died like that, they were terrified their own sins would be exposed too.

Apparently they were shrinking by the day, drying up with fear.

They won’t even go near the Sword of Judgment.

According to what Arena had seen and reported back, it seemed they were planning to leave the temple soon—citing “health issues.”

Even the Pope.

To abandon a position that lofty—it was surprising, but...

I’m not letting you leave that easily.

You’re all going to pay your sins before you go, aren’t you?

She planned to run the poster “event” one more time before they could withdraw.

After that, the order could handle the rest.

“Look. Even now, everyone’s quiet.”

In any case, for all sorts of reasons, no one was bothering her at the moment.

Even after the Sword of Judgment was proven real, not a single person came claiming they would take her away.

“Now that you mention it... yeah. It’s really quiet.”

Nodding, Jainer rested his chin on his hand and looked at Camilla with a strange gaze.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because it’s fascinating.”

“What is?”

“Every time I see you, you show a new ability. First the Guardian’s Sword, and now holy power. Got any other power you’re hiding?”

“Who knows.”

Camilla mumbled a vague answer and slid her gaze away.

To be precise, none of it was truly her power—it was the power the ghosts carried—so she didn’t really have anything to say.

“Hm.”

As if it had only been a casual question, he shifted topics right away.

“By the way, Dorman’s been nowhere lately.”

“Tell me about it!”

Jainer’s eyes widened at Camilla’s sudden outburst.

He’d thrown that out lightly, but her reaction was way too intense.

“This guy keeps disappearing whenever he feels like it!”

At first she thought it was because being around Jainer made him uncomfortable—but it wasn’t that.

She didn’t know what it was, but lately he’d vanish whenever there was a gap, and come back late at night like it was routine.

“Did he start a second household or something?”

“...A second household?”

“Then what the hell is he doing, running around outside every time?”

You little bastard.

Keep slacking off like this—just you wait.

I’ll catch you and work you into the ground at the café all day, like never before.

“I wonder if that punk Dorman even got ready properly for tomorrow’s outing.”

“Outing?”

“It’s not somewhere you can just throw anything on and go.”

“Oh, right. You said you’re going to the Imperial Palace tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

A sigh slipped out on its own.

Why Consort Jabiela was sending an invitation and making a fuss again—she had no idea.

After the way things blew up last time.

Of course, two-thirds of that blowup had been Crown Prince Edsen’s doing, but still.

In any case, the invitation said she was holding a tea party in person for the first time in a while, and asked Camilla to attend.

“Ugh. I don’t want to go.”

What happened before aside, just going to the Imperial Palace felt unpleasant.

Naturally, she’d intended to politely refuse, saying she was still unwell and couldn’t attend.

But then...

As if they’d already predicted her answer, they even sent word that they were willing to reschedule the tea party for a date she could attend.

So how was I supposed to refuse?

She had no choice but to send back that she would attend.

I’m getting out as fast as possible.

The goal: show my face and leave.

Camilla clenched her fist tightly.

*****

“It’s been a while, Miss Camilla!”

“My goodness, Lady Camilla! I’ve wanted to see you so much.”

“How are you feeling? I heard you were very ill.”

Just like last time, the tea party was held in the Imperial garden.

The moment Camilla stepped in, countless people swarmed around her in an instant.

The rumor that she had healed children with overwhelming holy power had already spread across the Empire.

They said the order had been wearing out the threshold of House Sorpel, trying to take her as a saintess.

Saintess.

That single word was enough to capture people’s interest—and their hearts.

And when word spread that she had even found and handed over the Sword of Judgment the order had searched for so long, no one could hide their excitement.

Some people who hadn’t even received invitations were said to be stamping their feet in frustration after hearing she would attend today.

There was no hotter topic in high society right now.

There were many, many people desperate to build ties with her, to speak with her properly.

“Everyone’s been well, right?”

“Of course!”

Watching them react fiercely to her every word, Camilla couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable.

“Your hair looks so pretty today, Camilla.”

“...Yeah? Thanks.”

Because among the people approaching her so familiarly, there was someone she knew all too well.

Jabiela Bakes.

The one who, long ago at a party, had gotten into a hair-pulling fight over Petro.

She, too, approached with a bright smile and spoke sweet words she clearly didn’t mean.

Since when did we become close enough to talk like this?

As Jabiela spoke casually—like she was flaunting their “friendship”—Camilla clicked her tongue over and over inside.

At least relax your eyes.