"That's a lie."
Faybi shook her head at the words of the Apostle of the Evil God.
There's no reason to believe anything he says. He's trying to deceive me with his slick tongue, to swallow me whole. As expected of a servant of the Evil God, he uses dirty and underhanded tactics.
Though Faybi glared at him with disdain, the Apostle of the Evil God remained unbothered. He simply maintained his sticky, unsettling grin.
"Why do you pretend to know nothing?"
There's no reason for me to entertain his words any longer. I should call the academy staff or someone from the church to—
"I see. You don’t remember, do you?"
Before Faybi could react, the Apostle of the Evil God suddenly moved toward her, extending his hand. His speed was far too quick for Faybi to match, and she had no choice but to allow his hand to rest on her forehead.
As soon as his hand touched her, a surge of magic flowed through her.
"Now, you should be able to remember."
Unable to withstand the overwhelming pain in her head, Faybi collapsed to the ground.
The pain was a wave of memories.
Memories buried deep within the ocean of oblivion, now brought to her by the Apostle’s touch.
It started with the face of the smiling orphanage director.
"These new children are impressive. The amount of divine energy they can absorb is increasing. I'm pleased."
Though she wore a kind smile, her eyes told a different story.
The orphanage director, like the others around her, spoke of Faybi and her friends as though they were mere objects to be appraised. None of them saw the children as people to be nurtured or cared for.
That’s strange. Didn’t the director say this was a place where we were supposed to be together?
Despite Faybi’s confusion, the memories continued.
Next was a room in the basement.
In the dim light of a flickering candle, the orphanage director and a man with glasses were deep in conversation.
"I remember. This child is the most promising among this batch. Handle her carefully." "Don’t worry. You know my skills." "Still, be cautious. This time, we need to produce something that will please those above us. Damn, do you know how angry I was when I saw that woman Keeple smiling last time?" "My future depends on it too. I’ll give it my best."
As the conversation ended, the man with glasses injected something into Faybi.
Moments later, screams tore from her throat.
It hurts. It hurts so much. I think I’m going to die. Please, someone save me. Faybi cried out endlessly, but neither of them flinched.
The orphanage director looked down at her with an emotionless expression and said:
"Pray. Pray, and the god will save you. Aramadi will take away your pain if you pray hard enough."
It was a ridiculous statement, but back then, Faybi had no time to care.
She simply prayed, and prayed, and prayed, until she lost consciousness.
What is this? Countless other memories flashed through her mind.
A child dragged away for failing to memorize the scriptures.
Meals eaten in complete silence, devoid of any conversation.
The icy atmosphere of the orphanage, with friends disappearing day by day.
"That's a lie."
"Do you want to think it’s a lie?"
"This can’t be real."
"Oh? Isn’t that something you should know better than I do?"
Yes, the Apostle of the Evil God was right. Of all people, Faybi knew the answers to her own questions.
In this moment, she realized that her memories of the place she once held most dear had become strangely blurry.
And inversely, the memories swirling in her head now were disturbingly vivid.
The feeling of wrongness.
The countless things she had never questioned before now demanded her acknowledgment of the truth.
Why have I never gone back to the orphanage I used to live in?
Why can’t I remember the faces of the friends I spent time with at the orphanage?
Why can’t I remember the names of any of the other clergy members besides the director?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Faybi, faced with the relentless wave of memories, eventually couldn't hold back any longer and vomited onto the ground.
Her white hair shook with her trembling shoulders, a pitiful sight, but the Apostle of the Evil God paid no mind.
"The artificial saint. Are you ready to listen now?"
Faybi couldn't answer.
She wasn’t able to.
Her throat was too tight to allow any sound to escape.
But the Apostle seemed to take her silence as agreement, a satisfied smile creeping across his face.
"Let me tell you the truth."
The Apostle began to speak. He detailed the process that created Faybi, the ways she had been used up until now.
His account was so precise, so detailed, that even Faybi couldn’t deny its truth.
As she watched the memories unfurl in her mind, memories she had long thought to be true, and the unsettling feeling that lingered between them, she had no choice but to accept it.
The truth.
Her use.
Th𝓮 most uptodate nov𝑒ls are publish𝒆d on ƒreewebηoveℓ.com.
The Apostle's words left her no room for denial.
"I think that answers your questions, don’t you?"
"..."
"Why can’t you hear the voice of the god, even though you’re a saint? It’s simple. Aramadi never chose you. He’s never even seen you. Your very existence is an insult to Aramadi. Why would he ever acknowledge you?"
When Faybi didn’t lift her head, the Apostle grabbed her by the hair and forcibly yanked her up.
Her normally pale face had turned ghostly white, like that of a corpse laid in a coffin.
"Don’t you want revenge? On the people who stole your childhood, who treated you like a convenient tool? If you want it—"
"Light!"
Without warning, a burst of light erupted, causing the Apostle to flinch and step back.
Freed from his grasp, Faybi quickly made her escape, scanning her surroundings.
Something’s wrong. We’re in the middle of the academy’s streets, so why hasn’t anyone intervened?
Only then did Faybi notice the darkness surrounding her.
The sky was pitch black. The street eerily silent with not a soul in sight.
This... This isn’t the academy.
Where am I? How did I end up here?
"Impressive."
The Apostle's voice, which had been behind her moments ago, now echoed from in front of her, causing Faybi to halt.
"Is your hatred for the god greater than your desire for revenge?"
Confused, Faybi turned her head in the direction of his voice.
"No. That’s not it."
"Hmm?"
"I don’t want revenge."
Faybi, still shaken by the revelation that everything she believed was a lie, was tormented by the jumble of truths and lies swirling in her head.
But that didn’t mean she wanted revenge.
"Aramadi wouldn’t want that."
What is wrong should be corrected.
But personal feelings have no place in that.
Justice must be served by justice alone.
What is done in the name of righteousness through unrighteous methods is no justice at all.
That’s what Faybi believed.
"...Are you serious?"
"Yes."
The Apostle looked into Faybi’s determined eyes, realizing her words were genuine. He chuckled.
"You, who have never heard Aramadi’s voice, who will never hear it, still speak like a saint?"
"Is that what you’re hung up on? I should thank you for telling me the truth."
Faybi had long been plagued by the question of whether she was worthy of being a saint.
Could someone who felt jealousy, who harbored hatred and doubt, really be suited for such a title?
The Apostle had given her the answer.
Faybi wasn’t a saint.
A title granted by human hands, but meaningless in the eyes of the divine, Faybi was nothing more than another follower of the god.
For someone else, such a revelation might have been devastating. But not for Faybi.
After acknowledging her own flaws, the fact that she wasn’t a saint was not a revocation of her title but a liberation.
It was a pardon.
Of course she wasn’t suited for the role of a saint. That explained why she had so many shortcomings.
Which meant—
"The reason Aramadi hasn’t acknowledged me is because I’m lacking, right?"
The answer was simple.
She only had to work hard to become someone worthy of Aramadi’s love, just like Lucy, Aramadi’s Apostle.
The Apostle stared at her blankly for a moment before laughing.
"You’ve completely lost your mind. After being brainwashed for so long, you truly believe you’re a saint, don’t you?"
"Maybe so."
"As a believer, that’s the perfect answer."
The Apostle took a step toward Faybi, quickly closing the gap between them.
He towered over her, several glowing orbs appearing around him.
"But it’s not the answer I wanted to hear."
Faybi sensed the threat in his words.
If you don’t want to get hurt, change your answer.
What an obvious, boring threat.
You really think I’ll give you the answer you want?
Faybi glared at him, feeling nothing but annoyance.
Then she paused, remembering she wasn’t a saint, and shook her head.
She wasn’t a saint, so who cared if she didn’t act like one?
How can I provoke this man?
What should I say to unsettle him?
How can I land a blow?
Ah, that’s right. I have the perfect guide for this.
Lucy, Aramadi’s Apostle, taught me well.
"Maybe it's because you're just a lousy Apostle of a second-rate god?"
As Faybi uttered words Lucy might’ve said, the smug expression on the Apostle’s face froze.
"...You wretched girl."
"Pfft! That was the perfect answer, wasn’t it, you third-rate Apostle?"
As the Apostle clenched his teeth in anger, another voice rang out from above.
It was a sharp, piercing voice that Faybi knew all too well.
Turning to the sound of clanging armor, Faybi was greeted by a familiar, smug smile.
“Hey, you pretentious little bastard, you still think you're cool, when are you going to grow out of puberty, you pathetic little shit?”