How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?-Chapter 439 - 1 : Introduction (Volume 4 starts)

It has been over a month since the cube-space incident at Mount Kamov. Carillian Academy had granted an extended break to first and second-year students, understandable, given how serious the event had been. One could even call it a catastrophe or an unprecedented accident in the school's history.

Looking back at Carillian's entire history, apart from a few events that threatened its very survival, nothing had ever been as severe as this. After all, students attending Carillian weren't just exceptionally talented commoners, they also included nobles from various countries. Losing even a single one was a major problem and a huge loss for the academy.

Winnie didn't know exactly how many students hadn't returned from the incident, but fortunately, everyone around him had made it back, none missing.

Andre had been dragged away by eye-covered vines while saving Fred, yet miraculously survived. However, his mental state had taken a hit, leaving lingering side effects, likely due to severe mental contamination. Although his physical injuries were serious, the Senior nun had overseen his healing. Thanks for her care, Andre narrowly escaped death. After over a month of rest, he can now walk again.

She had pointed out that psychological aftereffects couldn't be judged solely by physical recovery. Other signs, like whether similar scenes triggered traumatic memories, needed consideration.

But Fred was absolutely certain Andre was completely fine. Too fine.

"Damn it, this bastard faked depression and tricked me three times, made me lose three games and bought him three big meals plus five card packs! That's trauma? Bullshit! He's just scamming me for food and cards!" Fred fumed.

Even so, deep down, Fred felt guilty. Andre had risked his life to save him. Fred willingly paid for those meals and card packs, his complaints were just for show. Everyone understood that.

As for Isatia, of course she was fine. She returned late only because she'd stayed behind to help with the academy's rescue efforts, aiding in the treatment of other injured students.

According to the instructors present, when Isatia emerged from the cube space, she was in excellent condition, so much so that people doubted she'd just escaped a deadly hell.

Immediately after returning, her first priority was checking on Winnie's safety, making sure he was unharmed.

It was said that chosen heroines were always exceptionally skilled, this sudden disaster was proof enough.

Those with stats flaunted their stats. Those with special abilities reveal their mechanics. Those lacking both rely on sheer luck. And those possessing stats, mechanics, and fortune similarly performed dazzling feats, each showcasing their unique talents, truly the Eight Immortals crossing the sea, each displaying their own strength. Compared to them, Winnie getting beaten up in the dungeon and nearly losing his life was downright pathetic. (1)

Still, he'd been lucky. The truly unfortunate and pitiful ones were those who never returned.

This debt would be recorded to the Church of Radiance, and to the Radiance Pope himself. But such things couldn't be spoken aloud. Just like how the Church hadn't reported Foreno's disappearance, pretend nothing had happened after losing a Master-rank priest.

After all, in the Church of Radiance hierarchy, Foreno was merely a slightly talented senior priest, common and expendable, replaceable by countless others. His disappearance wasn't considered a loss. Everyone simply acted as if they didn't know.

Still, behind the scenes, the Church of Radiance would undoubtedly investigate. Whether they'd find anything, Winnie doubted. After all, the dead couldn't talk. The dungeon had collapsed, erasing all traces and clues. And the few who knew the truth were loyal only to him, none would ever betray the Pope.

As for how many students had perished or gone missing, Winnie initially assumed it'd be a large number. To his surprise, it seemed relatively few, though many suffered severe injuries or mental trauma. One couldn't help but admire the resilience and quality of Carillian's students.

How the academy would handle informing families and compensating for the casualties and disappearances was their own affair, mess it up, and it'd become a chaotic disaster.

Anyway, during these past few weeks, Winnie and his fellow card players gathered regularly to play cards, helping mend their psychological wounds. Fortunately, the card players' circle remains intact, no one missing, no one mentally broken enough to drop out.

One had to admit, card games truly possessed a strange magic. The more they played, the more their trauma recovered. Everyone tried their best to forget the horrors of the cube space.

Over a month had passed. Winnie felt he'd mostly returned to his normal routine, though it seemed most of his card-playing friends still suffered nightmares every night, waking up in terror, reliving the cube space ordeal. Several days had passed without proper sleep. They'd probably need to see a therapist.

Winnie, however, felt he was doing pretty well. As a transmigrator and former veteran netizen, someone who'd battled millions of trolls with ironclad mental resilience, his stress resistance was exceptionally high. Aside from the first night, when he couldn't sleep due to Shikondell's absence, he'd been fine.

But his sense of superiority didn't last. Yesterday, he had a terrifyingly vivid nightmare.

He dreamed the Church had betrayed him, captured him, forced an enchanted collar around his neck, placed his life under the Pope's control, and made him a lifetime canary in a gilded cage, forced to smile and pray before the public.

Thankfully, it was just a dream. If Winnie had to spend his entire life obeying those leathery-skinned old bastards, living as a puppet saintess, he'd probably pinch his nose and die within a day, suffocated by the revolting stench radiating from their decaying bodies.

If his entire life were dictated by these foul-smelling old men, what would be the point of living? Better to die quickly.

But the dream felt so real. In it, the Church discovered his bloodline awakening. He was captured. Everyone who helped him was secretly executed. He was controlled by the Pope, unable to revert. As Vanessa, he spent his entire life as a Church puppet, powerless, trapped.

From then on, the Church of Radiance once again had a saintess. But this wasn't something to celebrate. The Church didn't stop its corruption, it worsened, using its influence to plunge every human nation into chaos.

To prevent him from suicide, the Church prepared two measures, capturing people important to him, threatening their lives to keep him alive. Using these hostages, they controlled him for life, arranging every detail of his existence, filled with unspeakable scenes, a full BAD END defeat CG.

Only when his usefulness was drained, at the very end of his life, did the Pope reveal a crushing truth: the people he cared about most had actually committed suicide long ago, to avoid dragging him down. The Church had been holding corpses over him his entire life.

In endless despair, suffocation, guilt, and sorrow, he died. History recorded: "Saintess Vanessa Varelis of Radiance passed away this year due to illness. Granddaughter of Saintess Sophia Varelis, Saintess Vanessa revived the Varelis family, ascending to sainthood under the Pope's guidance, bringing blessings to the world, her outstanding achievements."

"Due to her compassion and overwork, she died. Her daughter inherited the title of Saintess, but as the young saintess was still a child, the current Pope will assist in governance."

From then on, the Radiance Saintess became entirely the Pope's puppet. On the surface, the Varelis family had risen again. In reality, the entire family was finished, firmly crushed by the Church, with no chance of recovery, not even free commoners anymore.

The dream was too detailed, too real. Every time Winnie recalled it, a chill runs down his spine.

Often, the truth lies buried beneath historical records. The Church's praised in history books were often the complete opposite in reality.

This dream had nauseated Winnie to the core. It was utterly messed up, especially certain scenes.

He even suspected something unclean was secretly messing with him, making him suffer such revolting nightmares. But regardless, Winnie's determination to resist the Church of Radiance had only solidified.

Damn it! If he kept lying low, the dream might actually come true! He really would become the Radiance Pope's plaything!

He couldn't show mercy to those bastards, only a heavy-handed strike would do!

If he didn't kill off those disgusting sons of bitches, he'd be the one doomed!

Still, the dream wasn't entirely logical. Take the Pope, how could a human live that long? The same Pope when he arrived, the same Pope when he died? Were mortals outliving Holy Angels now?

"Zoning out?" A light, calm, and melodious voice pierced Winnie's thoughts, instantly snapping him back to reality.

"Ah, sorry, Isatia. I spaced out for a moment," Winnie apologized, refocusing on Isatia beside him, her gaze still fixed on her book.

He'd been deeply immersed in card games with his friends recently. But was Winnie really someone who'd just slack off and play cards forever?

Well… yeah, actually. First week back, playing cards. Second week, still playing cards. Third week, hey, Winnie, how can you be so lazy?! Pull yourselves together!

Then, fourth week, still playing cards.

He'd even prepared excuses, "Haven't played in ages, almost died, got withdrawal symptoms, lucky I didn't lose the chance forever!"

Only when Isatia approached him, warning that this semester's written exams would be tougher, did he finally try studying. To his shock, he realized how terribly underpowered his brain had become. After being away so long, then spending the break playing cards, he'd forgotten most of what he'd learned.

While complaining about his outdated mental "version" being unfair, Winnie had no choice but to ask Isatia for tutoring again, after all, the first-year finals weren't far off.

Isatia had no reason to refuse and readily agreed.

Today was their first tutoring session. Instead of going to the library, Isatia suggested a quiet high-end cafe. They sat in a secluded corner by the window, undisturbed.

Well, "studying" was a generous term, it was mostly Isatia force-feeding him knowledge.

"It's okay. Zoning out while doing problems is normal. I do it all the time," Isatia offered, still not looking up from her book. Yet she somehow always knew exactly what Winnie was doing, making one wonder if she had a second pair of eyes.

Really?

Oh, actually… yeah, Isatia did zone out while solving problems, because they were too boring and easy. She'd space out, then wake up to find the problem already solved.

Winnie glanced at the long-haired, black-haired beauty beside him. Today, Isatia dressed as usual, her hair tied with a ribbon matching her eye color, wearing Carillian's female uniform skirt, paired with thigh-high black stockings and brown loafers.

"But it's natural, Winnie. You've been studying for a while. Your focus fades when you're mentally drained. Take a short break. Relax your nerves," Isatia said, finally lifting her eyes from the book and glancing toward the counter. She pressed the service bell.

"Hello, what would you like?" A young waitress in uniform approached politely.

"Two slices cakes, one Sweetberry Vanilla Cake and one Chocolate Velvet Cake please. Thank you," Isatia said calmly.

"Of course, please wait a moment."

"What's wrong?" Noticing Winnie staring at her hesitantly, Isatia asked.

"Uh… I feel bad asking for help and making you pay. It's too much," Winnie stammered. This was a high-end cafe, desserts weren't cheap. Sure, for the Imperial Princess of the Tyrell Empire, the price was nothing. But still, she didn't owe him anything.

"It's fine," Isatia replied simply.

That was Isatia's style. As a dominant-type heroine, if Aesphyra's approach was aggressive, pressuring and chaining attacks until you couldn't breathe, then Isatia's was silent confidence and overwhelming presence: a natural aura of leadership and authority that made you instinctively accept her decisions and follow her lead.

Soon, the two cakes arrived.

"In that case, I won't be rude. Isatia, which one would you like?" Winnie asked.

"You choose. Both should be your favorites, if I remember correctly," Isatia said, crossing her stockinged legs elegantly as she stirred her coffee with a small spoon.

"Huh?"

"You like sweet things, right?" Isatia stated calmly, unfazed by Winnie's surprise.

"Uh..."

"Did I get it wrong?" Although she asked, her tone betrayed no doubt.

"No, you're absolutely right, Isatia," Winnie shook his head.

He did love sweets, especially the overly sweet kind. It stemmed from his childhood, when sugar and desserts were rare luxuries, leaving him with a deep craving. But when had Isatia found out?

Through daily observation?

No way. Was the imperial princess really paying that much attention to him??

Winnie felt oddly touched.

"Then… I'll take the chocolate one." He picked the exquisite Chocolate Velvet Cake before him.

"Do you also like sweet things, Isatia?" Winnie asked, watching her slide the pink-dominant Sweetberry Cake towards herself.

"Mm. Also because I like this color," Isatia replied.

"Huh?"

"Pink. It's beautiful. I like it very much." Seeing Winnie's confused expression, Isatia's vivid violet eyes calmly met his, carrying a subtle depth. "Just as you chose the dark chocolate cake, you subconsciously picked something black, because you like it, right?"

"Ah… uh…" Staring into Isatia's amethyst-like eyes, seeing his own reflection within, Winnie slowly realized she might be hinting at something deeper.

This… was probably just a coincidence… right??

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1 - The Eight Immortals crossing the sea = It's an idiom meaning Everyone achieves their goals with their abilities.