Irene Decided to Die - Chapter 41
Just as they had scorned her in the past, this time it was Irene who looked upon them with disdain.
Grein, following a step behind, realized this too. As a high priest, she was broadly aware of the circumstances.
She regretted the possibility that the saint who despised the world might turn up. Perhaps, as Roxon had said, Ramiel should have been the saint.
‘No, that’s a blasphemous thought.’
She is the chosen one of the Goddess. As a servant of Her, such thoughts were presumptuous.
It would be far more productive to spend this time persuading Irene. Grein steeled her resolve. Meanwhile, the long corridor came to an end.
Irene did not hesitate. She opened the large doors at the end of the hallway and stepped out immediately.
As the saint appeared outside, the crowd fell silent instantly. It was inevitable.
The newly revealed saint was nothing like what they had imagined. Her long flowing hair reminded them of a raven, and her red eyes resembled the twilight of a setting sun.
Moreover, her dress, made of a fluttery fabric, was not pure white. The long black cloak she wore resembled wings, and the red decorations looked like blood.
At first glance, it was hard to tell if she was the saint.
Rather, her appearance seemed… almost demonic. Under the gloomy sky, it appeared even more so.
In the midst of this, someone whispered,
“Is she really the saintess?”
“There is no way!”
“How could that be the saint!”
Someone recalled Ramiel, a frequent candidate for sainthood.
“Where is the person we saw at the last appointment ceremony? Surely, she must be the true saint!”
Another person agreed with the remark made.
“Right! It must be the other one.”
But no matter how long they waited, no other saint appeared. Only the high priest who emerged next confirmed that Irene was indeed the true saint.
“Oh, my. Oh, Goddess.”
Exclamations of disbelief flowed spontaneously.
“Mom, where is the saint?”
“The saint is right, over there.”
The mother answering her child suddenly fell silent.
“Is she really the saint?”
“The Goddess has already spoken, so it must be really her.”
“The words of the Goddess…”
A restless atmosphere began to circulate among the crowd. Irene watched and curled the corners of her lips upward.
Yes, let them be uneasy. Wonder if a woman resembling a demon could really be the saint. Keep wondering.
Endlessly. Until it drives them mad. Hoping they would eventually begin to doubt the saint.
Those who had heard the voice of the Goddess knew that Irene was the true saint. Yet, what about the doubts that have started to grow deep inside, based only on her appearance?
‘Goddess, please prove your words.’
She hoped to demonstrate that, despite her hair color, despite the color of her eyes, everyone could rightfully serve her as their saint. If not, the only alternative was catastrophe.
That wasn’t too bad either. After all, that’s what she had wanted from the beginning.
As the atmosphere grew tense, the temple’s paladins began to fortify their positions.
Amid the stirring crowd, the procedures of sainthood gradually came to an end, and only the final ritual remained.
It was time for a miracle.
“Pray fervently.”
With those words, Grein too left her side.
Irene stood alone on the high platform, looking up at the sky. The sky remained overcast, heavily laden with dark clouds. It was hardly the weather for miracles.
‘If I can’t perform a miracle here, could this really be the end for me?’
Irene looked at her hands, which had recently been freed from bandages. Although still tinged with red, it had healed significantly.
So much time had passed. People had tried to save her during that time, but she wondered… would they have saved her if she weren’t considered the saint?
‘No.’
The answer was no. Perhaps, then, it was okay for her to be a bit more selfish?
Irene swallowed a sigh and clasped her hands together. Grein had said that miracles occur if one truly desires them. Could someone like her really bring about a miracle?
Meanwhile, the murmuring among the people grew louder. It was because no miracle had yet occurred. Some began to utter harsh words.
“She was never the saint!”
Just as some began to rise in protest, the sky opened.
The dark clouds split in half and swiftly scattered. Warm light poured down, and the plants nearby began to grow rapidly.
Watching this, Grein breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed this era’s saint possessed the power to enhance plant growth.
It wasn’t bad. The land blessed by the saint would see everything grow rapidly. Many would rejoice.
But the miracle didn’t end there.
