Chapter 66: The False Saintess (4)
After finishing my conversation with Abel, I stepped out of the tent. It was late, and it seemed everyone had already returned to their own tents—the camp had grown quiet.
The cool night breeze brushing against my face made me feel a little sentimental. For a change of pace, I began walking toward the hill just below the camp.
Just yesterday, the area had been dotted with curious onlookers, but tonight, not a single soul was in sight.
“Well, today’s subjugation battle was brutal.”
Everyone was probably too exhausted and had gone to sleep early.
With the soft rustle of grass beneath my feet, I slowly made my way forward, enjoying the gentle breeze that brushed past my entire body.
Normally, Sylphi would have been here to enjoy the wind with me, but perhaps tired from the day, she had already returned to the spirit realm. She must’ve even cut the link—her voice wasn’t echoing in my mind at all.
As I walked, lost in those idle thoughts, I spotted someone sitting in the distance.
She had let her hair down, the long dark strands flowing over the grass. Her face, though still thin, had filled out a little compared to before.
“Yuruf?”
The girl with blue eyes, Yuruf, was crouched down, quietly staring up at the sky.
Her body was still frail, but she looked much better than she had the last time I saw her. Thinking that, I quietly approached and sat beside her on the grass.
She flinched in surprise, her eyes widening, but then offered a soft greeting.
“…Hello.”
“Yeah. Hello.”
The scene felt no different from any other day. After exchanging greetings, silence fell between us again. It wasn’t unbearably awkward like before, but it still felt a bit stifling.
Yuruf didn’t seem to mind the atmosphere. She simply gazed up at the night sky in quiet contemplation.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching the stars.”
The stars, huh?
I followed her gaze upward. The sky was pitch black, speckled with countless glowing stars.
I couldn’t recognize any of the constellations from my previous life, but the sight was just as breathtaking as I remembered.
Back then, the city lights had drowned out the night sky so much that it was hard to see even a single star. But here, just turning your head slightly revealed an overwhelming number of stars.
“Yde, do you believe in star-related superstitions?”
“Huh? There’s something like that?”
When I asked, Yuruf looked at me with confused eyes, as if surprised I didn’t know. Her gaze wasn’t judgmental—it was more… innocent, like she was genuinely curious why I didn’t know.
It stung a little.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then began explaining.
“According to the superstition, every constellation in the sky represents a person’s fate.”
“Those constellations?”
I asked skeptically, and she gave a small nod.
The idea that every person’s fate was written in the stars sounded far-fetched. There were hundreds of millions of people in the world—if the sky held all their destinies, wouldn’t it be daytime all the time?
As I mulled that over, Yuruf continued in a quiet voice.
“It’s a well-known superstition. A lot of people believe in it.”
The most prominent example, she added, was the Holy Pop himself.
Hearing that made me close my mouth. He was the leader of the Church of the Goddess—he probably knew far more about this world than I did.
“Do you see that one star shining especially brightly up there?”
“That one…”
I looked back up. Just as she said, amidst the sea of white lights, one star sparkled more intensely than the others.
But there was only one. It flickered as if it might go out at any moment—hardly something you could call a constellation.
I knew it was just superstition, but the sight still gave me an uneasy feeling. Before I could shake the thought, Yuruf spoke again.
“You can’t see it.”
“Huh?”
I turned my head. She was smiling bitterly.
Yuruf stretched her bony hand toward the sky. It trembled slightly, as if trying desperately to reach those stars.
“There’s no constellation up there that belongs to me.”
“You mean…”
“I don’t belong in this world. I’m an outsider.”
Outsider.
The word struck a nerve. Her expression brimmed with profound loneliness.
What kind of life had she lived, that someone her age could wear such a look?
Her withdrawn, timid face… it reminded me of myself in my past life. And just like that, I couldn’t look away.
“Because, in the end, I’m fake.”
Fake. I didn’t fully understand what she meant, but I could sense the weight of her words.
After all, I had once wrestled with the same kind of thoughts.
My twin sister had always been better than me at everything. I was constantly compared to her, criticized, and overlooked by our parents.
Back in middle school, during the turbulent storm of adolescence, I started to believe I was nothing more than a replacement—a fake.
Thinking of myself as useless, as something disposable, left deep wounds on my heart.
And the people around me did little to help. They were harsh, unforgiving. By the time those wounds festered and burst, I ended up saying something to my sister—something I would regret for the rest of my life.
Just like I had once hurt Lily as Adele.
“God, I really am such an idiot.”
I swallowed a bitter laugh and asked her,
“Does it really matter if you’re real or fake?”
In the end, the point I wanted to make was simple.
Let’s say the world did divide people into “real” and “fake.” Even if she was fake… what difference did it make?
“That’s…”
Yuruf opened her eyes wide in surprise. She hesitated, lips parting and closing, like she had never thought about it that way.
Maybe she really did believe she was a false saintness.
Maybe that’s why she kept fasting—to get the pop to withdraw his recommendation for her to become the next saintness.
But from everything I had seen of her so far, Yuruf was more than worthy of being called a saintness.
Even when she was irritable from fasting, she never withheld healing or blessings from others. And more than that—she’d risked her life to break through mental manipulation and step forward in battle.
If someone like her couldn’t be called a saintness, then who could?
“But… no one likes a fake, right?”
“Do you really believe that?”
Yuruf hesitated, then slowly nodded. The resignation in her eyes was hard to look at—it reminded me too much of myself in the past.
“You know, I had a twin sister.”
It was a piece of my past I’d never shared with anyone. A memory I couldn’t reveal as Adele von Este—because in this world, Adele had no siblings.
But borrowing the identity of Yde, the spirit knight, I could talk about it. Maybe someday I’d tell Abel, too… but not yet. Not unless I was ready to admit that I was a soul from another world, something absurd he’d probably never believe.
Just as I was about to get lost in those thoughts, Yuruf spoke again.
“Your sister…?”
“Yeah. She was amazing.”
She had talents that always outshined mine. Academics, sports—even the one thing I thought I was decent at, embroidery—she surpassed me in everything.
I lived in her shadow, always. Friends, teachers, even our parents. Because we were twins and looked identical, people began to see me as nothing more than her substitute.
That went for boys who showed interest in me, too. And eventually, even our parents. Worst of all, I started to believe it myself—that I was just a stand-in.
“Being a fake… means…”
“It means I felt like I was just her imitation.”
Just when I was drowning in those thoughts, my sister got accepted into a prestigious university. Even with our family’s financial struggles, she made it happen.
In this world’s terms, it would’ve been like a commoner getting accepted into the Royal Academy. That’s how big a deal it was. And with that, I was shoved even further into the background.
“I truly thought I was a worthless knockoff.”
That’s why I climbed to the rooftop.
And when I stood before the railing, the first person to come running wasn’t a friend, or even my parents. It was my sister.
She was crying as she clung to me, yelling at the top of her lungs.
That I wasn’t her substitute. That I was precious—just as I was.
Even then, I didn’t listen. I lashed out with words that cut deep.
I asked her since when she had ever cared about me. Told her she’d always been just a thorn in my side.
And as we argued, when I started to fall over the edge, she threw herself forward to save me.
The smile she gave me in that moment… it’s something I can never forget.
“You know, whether you’re real or fake… it really doesn’t matter.”
“…”
“What matters is the kind of person you choose to be.”
If I’d realized that back then, maybe I wouldn’t have said such cruel things to her.
Maybe I would’ve known I wasn’t just her shadow—but a kind, warm-hearted younger sister in my own right.
“Can I ask you something?”
“…Yes.”
I turned my head to find Yuruf, her eyes shimmering with tears.
I gave a soft smile, then pulled a small towel from my cloak and handed it to her.
“What kind of person are you?”
She lowered her head, hesitating for a long moment. Then in a tiny voice, she whispered,
“…I think… I need some time to figure that out.”
“Yeah. That’s okay.”
I stood up from where I was sitting. As I glanced back, I saw Yuruf sitting there, her eyes closed in deep thought.
I didn’t know exactly what struggles she was facing.
But I hoped—more than anything—that she wouldn’t walk the same painful path I once did.
That was all I could wish for.
– – The End of The Chapter––
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