Reborn as a Leader: King's Debauchery, SSS-Yandere Harem and Evolution-Chapter 35- SaintessGrace (3)

Cold.

That was all she could feel.

The snow beneath her was like sharp needles, stabbing through the thin layer of cloth she lay on.

Her small body refused to move, no matter how much she willed it.

Her breath was shallow, barely forming a mist in the frigid air.

Her eyes, half-lidded and dull, stared hazily at the gray sky.

’I’m sorry...’

The thought echoed quietly in her fragile mind.

’I’m sorry, sister... I shouldn’t have fallen ill.’

Her body felt heavy, like it was sinking into the snow.

She could feel nothing, yet everything hurt.

The cold gnawed at her skin, creeping into her bones.

She couldn’t even lift her hand to wipe the frozen tears on her cheeks.

But she could see her.

Her older sister.

Dragging the worn cloth with trembling hands, sobbing as she cried out for help.

"Please! Please save my mother and sister! The Goddess Agastasa will bless you!"

Her voice cracked, hoarse from screaming into a world that didn’t care.

The little girl wanted to reach out, to stop her sister from begging any longer.

’Stop... they won’t help us...’

But the words never left her lips.

She had always told her sister that the Goddess didn’t exist.

Each time she was scolded with a gentle smile, each time her sister said, "Don’t say that. The Goddess watches over us. She’s always listening."

But now...

Her sister, the one who believed more than anyone, was on her knees, sobbing and pleading in the snow.

Getting kicked by the very priest who was supposed to serve the Goddess.

The little girl watched, her hollow eyes fixed on the scene.

’I told you, sister... there’s no Goddess.’

The words tasted bitter even in her mind.

Her sister—who had faith stronger than anyone—was breaking.

And it was all her fault.

If only she hadn’t gotten sick.

If only she had been stronger.

Her sister wouldn’t be crawling on frozen ground, begging.

Her sister wouldn’t have been struck, thrown aside like garbage.

The guilt sank deeper than the cold.

Her blurred vision caught the black-robed priest’s cold sneer.

She couldn’t hear everything, but fragments drifted to her ears.

"...bring a corpse to me?"

Her sluggish mind processed the words.

Corpse?

’...No.’

Her hazy eyes slowly turned toward the still figure beside her.

Her mother.

Motionless. Pale.

Dead.

’No...’

Something cracked inside her, sharper than the frost clinging to her skin.

A single tear slid down her frozen cheek, tracing a cold line.

Her small hand twitched.

Her numb fingers clawed at the cloth beneath her.

’I... I have to...’

Her lips trembled, barely able to move. The cold bit at her throat, stealing her breath, but she forced the word out.

"...S...Sis..."

It was barely a whisper.

But it was all she had left.

Her arm shook violently as she tried to lift herself, her tiny body screaming in pain.

She wanted to reach her sister.

To tell her it wasn’t her fault.

To tell her to stop crying.

But her strength gave out.

Her arm collapsed, and her head fell back into the snow.

All she could do was stare at the unforgiving sky while imagining her sister’s broken form lying in the snow.

’I’m sorry...’

That was all she could think.

’I’m sorry I couldn’t live with you.’

Her world was turning darker, the cold sinking deeper.

And still, she only thought of her sister, tears dried while her thoughts screamed into a sky that never listened.

She knew one thing for sure, though.

’There’s no Goddess, sister.’

’There never was.’

"WHY ARE YOU ALL STANDING INSTEAD OF HELPING THE LITTLE GIRL!"

Suddenly, breaking the stillness of the little girl, was the voice of the boy, as in her line of sight, where only the endless sky seemed to be filled with light, yet the light which seemed to want to devour her, she saw a shadow, the shadow of a boy. With his eyes anxious, clearly looking at her with worry, he swiftly knelt, lifting her body up; given their age difference, he seemed like ten years old just like her sister.

He was able to lift her body up before sprinting towards the monastery.

"C-crown prince?! Wait, she seems like a beggar. Let me help." One of the priests, noticing the crown prince gone with a child who seemed on the verge of death, came forward. He had initially ignored the little girl, but now, due to the involvement of the crown prince, things would get problematic.

"No! You all don’t deserve to be called priests! High priest! I need to see him; open the gates!" Lysanderic Aleria Vendreat, the crown prince of the Vandreat kingdom, swiftly hurled towards the monastery gate while lifting the little girl.

Given he didn’t trust these corrupted people, he had seen how many times they ignored the poor and indulged in corruption. He swiftly sprinted inside the gates of the monastery to meet the high priest.

While dangling in his embrace, the little girl with her eyes tried to peek over his shoulder towards her sister, but what she saw was just her sister standing while looking back at her with eyes that seemed to send a chill, completely dark, with everyone’s attention fixed in their direction.

She saw her sister, who always had that holy light around her, now seemed surrounded by darkness as she vanished in dark clouds.

***

"What’s with that expression, King?" Grace, recalling some past memories, smiled as she observed King’s expression, clearly shocked by some revelation he had just thought about. She tilted her head, trying to understand what he meant.

"N-nothing, I was just thinking about why I was able to tie you like that in a poisoned state," Akhil said, finding her reaction suspicious as the familiar chills he felt from her reminded him of the obsessive aura. Looking at her facial reaction, he became aware that he could not recall any memory of her; they were both just strangers.

"I must say, you lack confidence in your capabilities, Sir Lysanderic," Grace said, smiling with her eyes closed and nodding. She further clarified, not wanting to reveal the exact event of what had happened between them, adding, as she opened her eyes, "It was you who forcefully tied me, who mercilessly clenched my thin wrist, plunging me to bed, while..."

"Enough, I get it," Akhil interrupted, avoiding her gaze as he moved forward, ignoring her.

’You will never know, Lys,’ Grace thought, her eyes slightly widened but relaxed as she looked amusingly at his shy figure moving ahead of her.

She just smiled, thinking how what exactly happened between them would always remain a secret, and he would never be able to know her true feelings for him.

Nor she wanted to bring these feelings out herself.

After all, what if he ran away?

In the end, she would remain hidden about her feelings.

The proof of her love was that, even as a Saintess who could easily be hired in the Empire due to her exceptional healing abilities, she chose to stay in this struggling kingdom, trying to make it better alongside the king whom she loves.

[+10 OP ]

[ +20 OP ]

[+10 OP ]

On the other hand, Akhil, who was moving ahead, had his eyes fixed on the points of obsession passing through his mind. He could clearly feel the gaze of grace from behind while trying to remember how, as King Lysander, he had won the heart of the saintess.

The only person who could be considered obsessed with King Lysander was the Demon Queen, whom he had served as her pleasure puppet after being turned undead by her following his loss of life at the hands of the monastery.