“Ray… kun…”

On the basement bed, he was bound at both hands and feet.

My heart felt like it would burst from my chest, but Eleanor explained that this could not be helped.

Apparently I had been asleep for three days, and what happened during that time was beyond anything imaginable.

Thanks in part to my healing, Ray-kun’s appearance had been restored.

But it was nothing more than surface repair. No true treatment had been administered, and I knew full well that what I had done had rendered his resolve meaningless.

Even so, I wanted to see him as he once was. So I released all my magic.

After that, Lesley and Eleanor carried both me and Ray-kun back to the city.

If we went to the Saint Church there would be other healers. Yet there was not a single place on Ray-kun that could be treated, they said.

All except one thing. The curse mark on his right arm.

Majinification is the phenomenon in which one becomes akin to a Majin after being struck by a Majin’s flames.

Those with strong minds, bodies, and combat ability are more likely to undergo it. Ray-kun had taken that form and defeated the Majin.

But now, only part of his right arm remained majinified. Despite no magical power being detectable, demonic miasma unique to monsters filled his body.

From a saint’s perspective, that alone was proof he would be classified as an enemy.

We wield holy power to purge evil and slay monsters.

In doing so, we recognize any being that carries miasma as an enemy.

We study doctrine, and we exterminate monsters that possess miasma.

Even if not majinified, sometimes the dead become undead monsters, animated by miasma.

His condition closely resembled that.

The saint on duty had immediately tried to contact headquarters.

However…

Lesley and Eleanor were not so naive as to overlook that.

Through threats severe enough to nullify all of their previous merits, they ensured the matter would be erased.

Those who knew Ray-kun had defeated the Majin were limited to a handful of saints, a few people afterward involved, and us.

We confirmed there was no immediate danger to his life.

But his right arm had to be addressed.

We could not hide him at the church. Staying at an inn was too risky. Being seen by anyone was undesirable.

So we purchased a mansion that had been put up for sale with cash on the spot and moved Ray-kun to a secure location.

The first person summoned was a healing mage active within the dark guild.

Though that organization opposed my own, such distinctions were irrelevant. We had him examine Ray-kun’s right arm.

He was famous in the underworld. Even I knew of him. A caster said to have healed a dying arch-criminal in a single night.

Yet even he took one look and gave up. The curse of majinification was that severe.

Although the right arm was nearly necrotic, miasma sustained his life through it as a medium.

To amputate it would be the same as tearing out his heart.

Worse still, the curse mark was slowly spreading. It was predicted that eventually it would cover his entire body.

In other words, Ray-kun now carried the possibility of becoming majinified once again.

All of it… was my fault.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Ray-kun was breathing. He was alive.

But he would suddenly scream, and in agony claw at his arm or throat.

It was too dangerous. We had no choice but to bind him in chains. There were traces of disinfectant on his limbs.

There was nothing I could do.

Soon he would regain consciousness, and he would surely speak again as Ray-kun.

But that would only be the beginning of dragging him back into a demonic reality, trampling upon his resolve.

“…ae… where is this…”

When Ray-kun opened his eyes, I wept in joy, hideous and unrestrained.

For a brief moment before telling him the truth, I indulged in that selfish relief.

Even after learning the truth, Ray-kun did not blame me. He worried about me instead.

“Thank you… for me… I’m sorry,” he said.

His right arm burned repeatedly due to the miasma, bringing unbearable pain.

Healing magic was meaningless. So I continued channeling magic into his arm, attempting to stabilize the miasma.

It meant nothing. At best it reduced the pain slightly.

Like dripping a single drop of water onto an arm submerged in boiling water.

It was nothing more than a selfish act to ease my own conscience.

If I did nothing and merely watched, I felt I would be crushed by guilt.

“Sophia-san, thank you. But please sleep.”

“I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. More importantly, Ray-kun, is there anything you’d like? Anything you want to eat?”

“Hmm. Then let’s have Tordi’s strawberries. Something sweet sounds good.”

“…You deliberately named my favorite food, didn’t you?”

“No really. I genuinely feel like eating them right now.”

…Why is he so kind?

That day as well… he melted my heart.

Now he sleeps less than thirty minutes a day.

And yet when he finally drifts off, I watch his sleeping face and remember the past—

* * *

Rapilts Doctrine, Chapter Three.

A saint is not something one aspires to be. One is born a saint.

From the outside, I must have appeared to be a saint with a perfect life.

High magical power. Deep faith. Gratitude toward God. Serious, diligent, never complaining.

Always smiling. I desperately constructed that illusion of being admired by all.

“Sophia, you should never have been born.”

I was not born from divine blessing. My mother was a day laborer drowning in alcohol. I never even knew my father. No one wanted me. No one expected anything of me.

On top of that, I had a large birthmark on my face. That alone was enough for people to hate me.

I did not attend school. Until the age of ten, I could barely hold a conversation.

The turning point came when my mother disappeared.

I became an orphan and was taken in by the church that provided soup kitchens.

Normally one might grieve. For me, it was the most important turning point of my life.

Ordinarily I would have been sent to an orphanage. Taught to read and write while waiting to come of age, or perhaps adopted if lucky.

But I was born with high magical power.

That talent brought joy. The church decided to take me in.

Yet even there, life was not pleasant. Among children born to become saints, someone like me was an outsider.

At first they pitied me. But once rumors spread that I was the child of a prostitute, no one spoke to me again.

Whispers spread that touching a tainted child would prevent one from becoming a saint.

Compared to my previous life, being ignored was comfortable.

I learned to read and write. Learned magic. Through effort, my talent blossomed. I performed good deeds.

But I knew I possessed an uglier heart than anyone.

By being thanked, I barely maintained my sense of self.

By being needed, I affirmed my own existence.

I wanted to overturn my mother’s words.

That desire was far removed from a saint’s pure heart. Yet with a false smile, I rose to the position of saint.

One day, in the confessional, a man confessed his sin.

He had impregnated a woman. Then fled without taking responsibility.

With a false smile, I replied, “God will forgive you.”

While thinking he should burn in hell.

“So He’ll forgive me? Thanks. —Sophia…”

He spoke my name.

Confession duty rotates among sisters. No one knows who will hear them that day. I am hardly the most noticeable saint.

Yet he spoke as if he knew everything about me.

He was my biological father.

It was because of him that my mother lashed out at me in misery.

Even so, I could not forgive him.

“For Papa’s sake, lend me some money. What, you don’t want your birth exposed? The church might know, but the townsfolk don’t, right?”

Later I learned he had committed many crimes.

The matching birthmark on his face was the most hateful thing of all.

Even so, I forgave him. Told him to stop extorting, to accumulate good deeds.

Of course he refused.

I would not bribe him. I was used to slander.

I was born to make others happy.

But then a series of stabbings occurred in the city.

In the confessional, the man gleefully described the incidents.

“Man, if I had money I wouldn’t have to do bad things. Don’t you think, Sophia?”

He left no evidence. He was clever.

No proof could be found.

Next he said he would target children.

That day, I gave him money.

The incidents stopped. But he had acquired a taste for it, and continued demanding more.

“I wanted to be happy too. But my birth was cursed. Because of this mark—”

He used the same words I once did.

Again and again he took my money.

I urged him to change his heart.

He only laughed and said he was trying his best.

It seems I reached my limit.

Outwardly, I smiled for many people. Waved happily. Showed children affection.

At church, no one spoke to me.

In secret, I kept paying him.

One day, I finally broke.

Memories I had sealed away to protect myself resurfaced.

“Hah? Why call me out here? You got money?”

“I remembered something.”

“What, memories with me?”

“No. The day my mother disappeared.”

I remembered enduring her violence. Gathering magic into my right hand.

Firing a spell at her face from point-blank range.

She did not disappear.

I killed her.

Before I knew it, I cast magic at him.

If reversed, healing magic can take life.

I will kill him.

I killed my mother. I will kill my father.

And then I will die.

We were beings who should never have lived.

“—Stop!”

A voice rang out.

My wand was knocked away.

The one who did it was a boy in his late teens.

At first I thought he was an accomplice. But from the man’s reaction, I knew he was not.

“Who are you?”

“…Name’s Ray. Just a bounty hunter. I’ve been chasing this guy.”

“Bounty hunter? What are you saying?”

There was no bounty. He had erased all evidence.

“A wanted poster. They found proof. That’s him.”

The poster listed his crimes.

If true, he would never leave prison.

“Don’t kill him. He’s my prey.”

I stood in shock. But I could not turn back.

I would kill him.

Then I would die.

But I was struck at the neck and lost consciousness.

Though trained as a saint, he brushed me aside with ease. His movements carried the weight of relentless effort.

When I awoke, the man was imprisoned. Ray told me so.

I laughed loudly. At myself, unable to take revenge.

And I confessed everything. My birth. My thoughts. My twisted feelings.

In his eyes, I saw something I had never seen before.

Not pity. Not anger. Not concern.

He accepted me as I was.

“I’ve done plenty of bad things too. But now I make money while taking down criminals. If it results in good in the end, that’s fine, right? If someone ends up smiling, then to them you’re a saint.”

He affirmed all of me.

Then I understood why people cried in the confessional.

Not because they were forgiven.

But because someone told them they could go on living. That they were allowed to be happy.

“…Thank you, Ray-kun.”

“No, thank you, Sophia-san.”

“…Why the polite speech?”

“Ah, well, you’re older and…”

He was surprisingly childish at times. But as we met more often in town, I saw his mature side.

He helped the weak and did not flatter the strong.

I learned through others that he sought to eradicate the Majin.

And I decided to follow him.

To bear all my sins, and devote myself to him.

Ray-kun looked deeply troubled by that decision… but I had already chosen.

One day, in a city we visited together, I encountered someone unexpected.

My mother was alive.

At a restaurant Ray-kun wanted to visit, she worked cheerfully, smiling brighter than before. She even seemed to have a partner.

I felt no jealousy. Only joy that she lived.

She looked at me and tilted her head.

“…No, I’m sorry. I was staring.”

“At what?”

“I had a daughter once. I was truly a terrible parent. I don’t expect her forgiveness. One day her magic went out of control. I went to the church to heal my wounds. I asked them to take care of her. She was a talented mage. I knew she wouldn’t be happy with me.”

“Do you know what became of your daughter?”

“She became a fine saint, I hear. I’ve never seen her since. She was always cold, so I made sure she received scarves.”

I remembered receiving scarves each year as thanks. I thought they were from someone I had helped.

They were from her.

“I’m sorry for such a strange story. You resemble my daughter. I’ll make you the best meal ever. Please wait.”

She did not recognize me because my birthmark was gone.

I erased it completely with healing magic.

“Won’t you tell her?”

“…No. This is enough. I’m glad she’s well. But I still cannot forgive her.”

He is strange. He washes away all of my past regrets.

If I had not followed him, I would not have met my mother again.

Ray-kun.

Why are you so wonderful?

And yet…

I…

I pushed Ray-kun into hell.

* * *

“Ray-kun… I’m sorry. But please… rest assured. From now on, I will support you.”

Touching his right arm, I made my resolve firm.

This state is terribly unstable.

There is no doubt he will become majinified again.

And if others learn of it, they may seek his life.

“…I will protect you.”

No matter how righteous or kind they claim to be, I will kill them without hesitation.

I will not allow anyone to even touch Ray-kun.

No matter how underhanded the method, I will kill.

There is only one purpose left for my life—to protect him.

Ray-kun. No matter what form he takes.

Even if the opponent is the church itself.

I will continue protecting him.