I shouted, thoroughly floored.
“That’s the same thing! Wasn’t she supposed to live a celibate life?”
“W— well, youth comes with a certain amount of passion, doesn’t it? Perhaps there was some fiery romance we don’t know about?”
“My god, that’s a scandal waiting to happen!”
“Ahem, ahem.”
Priest Lumiere flushed red, but clasped both hands together as if in prayer anyway.
“But the wavelength cannot lie. This is a miracle, Miss Rowell!”
“Ohh, no…”
“Isn’t it wonderful, learning your true lineage!”
Not even slightly! Not even a little bit!
I’d already been dragged into this mess and was working myself half to death, but I’d never once craved honor or status.
I’d been counting down the days until I could set down every tedious obligation and resign — and now this, out of nowhere?
However I look at it, all this promises is more exhausting work.
Wait, hold on…
The reason the kidnapper had reacted so violently at the mere sight of me — was it really just because my “eye for cores” happened to be a form of divine power?
“Um, Father. If I really am — and this is a big if — from the Saintess’s bloodline…”
“A 99.7% probability, yes, but essentially confirmed.”
“…Does that mean I might also have the power to purify black magic?”
“…”
Priest Lumiere held my trembling gaze without saying a word.
Instead, he closed his eyes reverently and began to pray.
He even dropped to his knees, right in front of me.
Lately, it felt like knees in this romance-fantasy world had gotten remarkably cheap.
“Oh, my god.”
“Father. Just a moment—”
“Please grant this woman the blessing of a perfect awakening… to witness the birth of a new Saintess with my own eyes!”
“Oh, nooo!”
Was this the passive type’s version of a counterattack?
I looked, aghast, at the two men watching this whole scene unfold.
The mastermind curved his eyes into a lovely smile.
“You really are the greatest talent this world has to offer.”
“…”
“Once again, welcome, truly.”
Was this insufferable mastermind’s smooth talk supposed to make me feel better?
It doesn’t actually fix how garbage this whole situation still is, does it?
That was when Priest Lumiere, who’d been anxiously shifting from foot to foot, raised a hand.
“W— wait, just a moment! At this point, we really should be the ones taking Miss Leila Rowell into our custody!”
Priest Lumiere looked back and forth between me and the others, practically on the verge of tears.
“You’re aware how precarious the Temple’s survival has become, aren’t you? And in a situation like this, for Miss Rowell to appear now, of all times…!”
“Hold on.”
The male lead cut in, interrupting Priest Lumiere’s tearful appeal.
“Rowell, what do you want to do.”
“Sorry…?”
“Because now that your temple bloodline’s confirmed, you have the right to change where you live.”
“Ah.”
At that, my eyes went round.
The orphanage I’d lived in was already gone.
Aside from a few kids who’d gone to good adoptive families, the rest had been moved elsewhere.
But I couldn’t have kept living there regardless.
I was already an adult, after all.
And the palace dormitory can’t really count as “home” either, right now.
But living at the Temple? Now, of all times?
Absolutely not.
Only then did I fully snap back to sharp focus.
There are two massive incidents still ahead, and countless other things to sort out on top of that!
The plan to dissolve the Black Spoon Division was still very much in progress, and staying planted right here was the smart move if I wanted to keep getting information.
So I looked at the tearful Priest Lumiere with real sympathy.
“Don’t cry, Father.”
“Miss Rowell — no, my Saintess…”
“Ahem, please, don’t call me that yet.”
My resistance stat clearly wasn’t high enough for this.
More than that, something about it made me break out in hives on a purely instinctive level.
For now, let’s just come up with a reasonable excuse.
“I still have so much to learn in this department, and I really want to see my work through properly. So I’d like to stay at the palace, for now.”
“Ahh, to think your sense of duty ran this deep.”
The priest dabbed at his tears, murmuring, wistful.
“I do hope everything you’re working toward comes true. Once things settle, I’ll come collect you!”
“Thank you, Father.”
Sorry, that’s a complete lie.
Once I’ve sorted everything out, I’m running straight for the coast!
After extracting a full non-disclosure pledge from Priest Lumiere.
I ran headlong into yet another shocking piece of news.
“Senior… is this really happening?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the male lead, my soul all but leaving my body.
“What do you mean, protecting me on weekends too? Don’t we already commute together?”
“That’s not enough.”
The male lead fixed me with unwavering resolve and shining eyes.
“I’ll be your personal escort for a while, Rowell.”
Now that it had come out that I was apparently descended from the Saintess’s forbidden love affair (?), the conclusion had been reached that I needed protection.
But the male lead, personally?
“Couldn’t someone else be assigned to—”
“It’s more efficient for me to handle it directly, as your mentor.”
Thinking about it again — why did “mentor” mean something this bizarre in this world?
I’d heard of princesses and noble daughters getting a knight’s personal escort, in romance-fantasy settings.
But a mentor’s personal escort?
Was “mentor” and “bodyguard” ever supposed to be connected concepts in the first place?
That was when an unexpected voice cut in.
“…Wait a moment. I’ll join as well.”
It was Seamus, who’d been quiet as a mouse this whole time.
I’d been too overwhelmed by my own situation to spare a thought for what he might be thinking…
And now here he was, casually negotiating this whole thing with the male lead like it was already settled?
“I’ll take part in Rowell’s protection detail too, senior.”
“Hm? You as well?”
“Yes. The more hands, the better, wouldn’t you agree?”
“That’s… true, actually. Are you all right working weekends for this?”
“Yes.”
Weekend work is… fine by him…?
No, more importantly — was it even sane to burn an entire weekend just tailing “me” around?
Is this guy some kind of pervert?
Only then did I snap back to attention and cry out.
“Wait a second! Hold on, Seamus, why? Why volunteer yourself for weekend duty!”
“I already told you. I’m observing you.”
I asked, my voice flat with disbelief.
“You already meet me at 8:30 every morning and walk to the office together, don’t you?”
“I know that.”
“And after that we’re together until basically six in the evening?”
“When we work overtime until ten, we walk back to the dormitory together and split up at ten-thirty. That’s happened twice a week lately.”
“…”
So what exactly was left for him to observe?
We already spent more time together than most families. I genuinely couldn’t follow his logic.
But Seamus dug in, stubborn.
“Now that new information’s come to light about you, you’re worth watching even more closely. And you haven’t forgotten the payment you owe me for helping with that deal, have you?”
“Uh. Ah…”
I remembered exactly what he’d said, back when we’d taken down Arthur Featherston.
[Stick with me the whole time you’re at the palace. I want to observe you.]
I had no idea his “observation” would end up going this far.
This man is unhinged.
There’s no point wasting my breath on someone this unhinged.
Clap, clap. And then, to top it all off, the mastermind’s applause hit its peak.
“Wonderful. How fortunate that both of you are stepping up so enthusiastically.”
“Minister…!”
“Now then, everyone. Let’s all make sure our precious Miss Rowell is watched without a single gap.”
The mastermind flashed me a playful, teasing wink.
“Best make a good impression now, before Miss Rowell becomes a Saintess and forgets all about us.”
Look at him, mocking me sideways like that…
And so began my new daily life, trailed by the male lead and the secondary male lead on weekends, on errands, everywhere.
That night.
Sprawled out on my dormitory bed, I muttered to myself.
“What in the world is happening to my life.”
The more I replayed the male lead and Seamus’s conversation, the more a disbelieving laugh escaped me.
[Then I’ll take full charge of Rowell on Saturdays.]
[The entire day, sir? Might it be better to rotate shifts starting at four in the afternoon instead?]
[Hm… yes, that would strengthen security during the handoff window nicely. Report to me every two hours while you’re on duty.]
[Understood.]
Understood? Why does this just wrap up cleanly with an “understood”?
Well, remembering that someone had apparently been watching me through Henry is genuinely terrifying, so fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut about it!
This isn’t romantic development. Nothing about this is.
It isn’t the male leads’ obsession, either.
Every obsessive love interest I’ve ever read about in a novel never came with a two-hour reporting schedule attached.
This was an office-worker apocalypse where you couldn’t even escape the job by leaving the building — there was no clocking out, ever.
But instead of grumbling about it further, I decided to focus my energy on something more productive.
