Taming the Evil Saintess

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“The Pope… has become you, Ophelia.”

Later that early evening, it seemed the Busy Affairs of the Saint had wrapped up enough for Belwin to visit our residence. He had dark circles under his eyes, indicating he was incredibly busy dealing with the affairs of the Saint.

I pondered whether it was just my imagination that he looked more relaxed when he was locked in that luxurious Underground Prison of the Inquisition Bureau.

Belwin pressed his temple while saying, “To become the Pope means taking a position that represents the faith of the entire continent. Ophelia, you must understand this reality.”

“…Hmm.”

Looking at Ophelia’s expression, she didn’t seem to care much about Belwin’s advice.

In the end, Ophelia uttered nonsense.

“Can’t Grandpa Belwin just do it instead?”

“…What, you say?”

“Well, I accepted the position of Pope, but hearing the details makes it seem tedious. Grandpa Belwin can do it, right?”

“…”

Belwin sighed deeply, wondering if he had raised such a monster.

“Child, many procedures are necessary to ascend to the position of Pope. The Previous Pope must personally select the candidate.”

“But he’s dead, you know?”

“And the Cardinals must also agree.”

“Those guys are dead or have abdicated.”

“And the Archbishops of the National Church must cast their votes.”

“Can’t we just take Blackie and scare them a bit? Like the Knight Commander did.”

I let out a sigh at her refusal to take this seriously. For a moment, I considered giving her a light smack on that infernal head, but I held back since we had seen too much of each other yesterday. Right now, it felt awkward to talk with Ophelia anyway.

“It’s not just a matter of procedure; my frail body lacks justification to become the Pope.”

“Justification?”

“Ophelia, do you know why the Imperial National Church Knights withdrew upon learning you were the Pope?”

“Um… because Blackie scared them off?”

“That’s not it. It’s because declaring you Pope is none other than proclaiming the Saintess, Ophelia.”

At those words, Ophelia smiled brightly and winked.

“That means I must be pretty, right?”

“…”

Bam.

I couldn’t help but give her a light smack on the head.

Ophelia glared at me, frowning, but when our eyes met, she shyly turned her gaze away, and I could see her left cheek blush.

Belwin seemed to notice the change in our relationship and cleared his throat to add, “Ophelia, do you know?”

“What is it?”

“A Pope cannot marry.”

“…”

Ophelia’s hand, which had been rhythmically tapping the table, froze.

It seemed she had just realized it now.

“Uh…”

Then she started to glance at me nervously.

Well, what am I supposed to do about that?

—

Anyway, retracting an already declared statement was impossible.

Ophelia decided to become the Pope, even if only in name, to govern the Saints.

Of course, it seemed that Belwin, along with the Priests who opposed the Previous Pope Yudor, would form the cabinet and manage the Saints, so the burden on Ophelia wasn’t too heavy. She would only need to stamp her approval on very significant matters.

“Hmm. I need to change the regulations.”

After parting ways with Belwin and heading to the Holy See, Ophelia spoke.

She was climbing the hill, rolling up her Holy Garment to her thighs while using the Royal Scepter as a walking stick, and she looked nothing like a Saint or a Pope.

“Regulations?”

“That is, the Pope must always wear Holy Garments. Must pray three times a day. Such archaic rules.”

“Isn’t that a rule that’s been upheld for nearly a thousand years?”

“Do I look like a woman who would follow such stringent rules?”

“Not at all. You’re a dog of a woman.”

“Exactly.”

Ophelia chuckled as if agreeing, shaking her shoulders in amusement.

“Exactly. After all, I’m the Pope. I can manipulate the churches of the entire continent.”

For some reason, a feeling of unease washed over me, like handing a nuclear missile button to a child.

But that thought was fleeting. Ophelia then looked at me with a serious expression.

“And I’m planning to create a Secret Society centered around the churches of each region.”

“A group?”

“A Society for the Protection of Possessors.”

“Protection of Possessors, you say?”

“Yeah. There are churches everywhere, so the information network will be considerable. Plus, that book Emily has…”

“Maleficarum.”

“Right. That ‘Picapicarum’ or whatever has the lists of Possessors. We can either capture or rescue them and keep them locked away. Once we’ve caught the Demon King, we can release them all.”

“…”

“It was hard for us, but now that we hold the power of the Saints, things are different, right?”

Ophelia’s words were so sharp and confident that I could hardly believe they were coming from her.

I was so surprised that my mouth fell open, and Ophelia leaned closer, as if she desired praise. Feeling the soft touch against my abdomen, I placed my hand on her head.

However, Ophelia yanked my hand down to rest under her chin.

“…Do we really have to do this here?”

The gaze around us was plentiful. Crowds gathered to witness the arrival of the next Pope and the Hero.

Yet, Ophelia’s will remained firm.

I had no choice but to kiss her.

“And.”

After a moment of basking in praise, Ophelia continued.

“It’s not just for Possessors.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to gain strength to oppose that harlot, Princess Adelheit…”

“Ophelia, good words.”

“…Yeah. That bitch…”

In Ophelia’s world, even “bitch” seemed like a good word.

“I need to build our strength to fight against that harlot. If not, I’ll just become a hunting dog tossed into a pot.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“This is preparation for that.”

With this, we were practically ruling the Saints while making use of the tithes and the information networks from faith across the continent.

The implications of this were significant.

Unlike the guerrilla warfare of the past, we could now engage in total warfare.

This would certainly give us a considerable advantage in the Battle Against the Demon King and possibly any impending conflict with the Princess.

I was impressed that Ophelia thought this far.

“And changing the regulations isn’t just for me.”

I tilted my head, and Ophelia shyly brushed her upper lip while placing her left hand on her lower abdomen. The ring on her ring finger sparkled in the sunlight.

“I can’t have a child. I can’t marry. All those pointless rules exist, right? It’s just that asshole God throwing his weight around with dogma.”

“…”

“So, this is partly for you.”

I visibly panicked, and Ophelia stuck her tongue out, her eyes bending into a sly smile.

That smile was incredibly enticing, making me want to embrace her waist. Well, that’s a form of praise too.

“It’s suffocating.”

“Then die from suffocation, I guess.”

It’s not my concern.

—

After finishing up at the Holy See and returning, the inn was in disarray.

Especially, the eyes of the Black Eagle Mercenary Group were bizarre.

They peered through a hole in the paper walls, trying to catch a glimpse into our room like something out of ancient tales.

The mercenaries were staring at us with sparkles in their eyes, obviously curious about what happened last night.

“Commander, Laila said that you were a monster.”

“They said you looked like you could kill someone!”

When I glared at Laila, she offered an awkward smile and whistled. Thanks to that, I learned that the dental structure of Dragonkin is not suited for whistling—an utterly useless piece of information.

Georg nodded knowingly while downing his drink, and the main instigator, Barton, declared…

“Wow! She’s not a Saint, but a Holy Mother!”

“…Hey, shut up, you crazy bastard, shut up.”

I watched as other mercenaries desperately tried to clamp Barton’s mouth shut, thankful that Emily was absent. If she hadn’t gone to Shadowhold to guide Summoner Rachel, it would have been utter chaos.

However, after hearing Barton, Ophelia trembled slightly. Then, it seemed she’d decided to shift the arrows of embarrassment onto me. She pointed at me.

“Th-that is…”

Ophelia’s words trailed off. Her face flushed, unable to stare directly at me.

Time passed as she relented and finally said.

“Just because we did it once!”

Trying to overcome her embarrassment, her voice got louder toward the end, causing everyone around to catch our conversation loud and clear.

“I’m not saying I’m yours just because we did it once! Keep that in mind!”

“…”

I fell silent, and everyone around did too.

Well, not everyone.

Barton had a beaming smile as he clapped his hands against the table.

“Wow! You really went for it! Commander! I’ve got a name for the child, and it is… cough!”

As Barton continued, Georg jumped up and knocked him on the back of the head with his spear, causing Barton to faceplant into the soup on the table.

He didn’t move after that.

I felt no sympathy.

Only embarrassment.

…

Ophelia and I exchanged glances, and she quickly realized how nonsensical her words had been and subtly turned her head away.

That was it.

That was the problem.

“…So um.”

Feeling the weight of the situation, I decided to add something.

“I never actually thought of you as mine, you know.”

“…”

“…Even yesterday, rather than me doing something, it was you charging at me…”

“Hey! You bastard! Don’t say that!”

Ophelia shouted, her face a bright red.

A brief silence fell.

Azar sighed and placed his hand on his forehead.

We hurriedly fled upstairs.

“Ophelia.”

“What?”

“Even so, you don’t think you’re mine, right?”

“…Shut up.”

The next morning, lying side by side on the bed, that’s when it happened.