It had been three days since Joy came to understand what kind of person the Apostle Prete of the Church of Art truly was.
When she faced him again, her expression was so grim that anyone could read it plainly.
When she stayed silent, she looked angry, and even when she smiled, she appeared as if she was planning to end someone—this was Joy. The look of genuine disgust on her face was so fierce that even Prete, who had met countless people as an Apostle of the Church of Art, was breaking out in a cold sweat.
"Um... Lady Patran?"
"Why are you calling me?"
"Your expression is quite... unfavorable."
"...Are you not aware of why I’m like this?"
As Prete posed the question, Joy’s expression soured further. The fact that he seemed oblivious to his own perversion only angered her more.
He was a man old enough and experienced enough to know better, yet he felt no shame in lusting after a young girl, nor did he seem to realize it was wrong. If he weren’t an Apostle of the Church of Art, she would have had him thrown into the deepest cell of a dungeon, leveraging her duchy’s power to do so.
"I have a hunch. Perhaps you witnessed the moment when I was captivated by Lady Allen’s beauty."
"Yes. You seem well aware."
"If that’s what you saw, it would be easy to misunderstand. However, might you grant me a chance to explain?"
He thinks he has an explanation after displaying that disgraceful behavior?
Hah. Let’s hear what he has to say, then.
Curious to see how far an Apostle of the Church of Art could degrade himself, Joy nodded without a word. Prete’s face brightened as he continued.
"First of all, I bear not the slightest unclean thought towards Lady Allen."
...Does he think that statement even makes sense?
After showing that kind of face, does he believe he can prove his innocence?
And this man is supposed to be an Apostle of the Church of Art?
I should tell Father about this next time.
"Standing before a beauty acknowledged by the goddess herself, how could I harbor such vain desires!"
"...Pardon?"
"The purity and dignity of her appearance cleanse any dark thoughts, transforming them into reverence! I stake my honor as an Apostle—there is no impropriety in the way I look upon her!"
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"Um, excuse me."
"Now that the opportunity has arisen, allow me to explain everything! I must start with those eyes! They’re darker and more radiant than any jewel..."
As Joy observed Prete, who was drifting into an unhinged excitement, she couldn’t help but make a face similar to Lucy’s.
Is it alright to just leave him like this? Shouldn’t I find a way to restrain him?
"Prete."
Just as Joy felt a chill in the face of madness for the first time in her life, Faivy’s voice intervened, replacing her usual softness with the sternness of one reprimanding a sinner.
"That voice... oh? Yes?"
"The god has said that excess is a means of concealing one’s insecurities. Do you believe Lady Allen’s nobility requires a hundred words to be described?"
"...I see. My apologies. I feel my own inadequacy."
When she does this, Faivy is admirably mature. I should aspire to be like her as a lady of the duchy.
"Now, Prete. Shall we return to the main topic?"
"Yes. Let’s start by looking at the dress."
"Already finished?"
"Not exactly ‘already.’ It took me a few days."
...For something he completed in only a few days, without even finalizing the design, "a few days" sounds hardly fitting. This isn’t some cheap leather patchwork worn by commoners—it’s a noble’s dress, for goodness’ sake.
"This one is for Lady Saintess, and this one is for you, Lady Patran."
The moment he placed the dress on the table, Joy covered her mouth with both hands.
The dress Prete pulled from his spatial pocket was so stunning that even Joy, who had seen all kinds of dresses, couldn’t help but be impressed.
It wasn’t merely luxurious or beautiful.
The black dress presented to her perfectly matched the tastes she struggled to achieve as a lady of the duke.
It was as if someone had reached into her mind and pulled out her desires.
So this is the Apostle of the Church of Art. Whatever Prete’s character, his skill is genuine.
Almost a full minute later, Joy finally composed herself and glanced at Faivy, gauging her reaction.
And she was sure. Faivy’s feelings weren’t much different from her own.
The smile on her face spoke of undeniable happiness.
"You seem pleased, so would it be alright if I explained further? The silk was sourced from Barit. Since it was a last-minute request, I had to work with what was available."
Silk from Barit—meaning silk spun from cocoons in the mid-level of the Barit Dungeon.
Isn’t that extremely high-end? Even most nobles wouldn’t dare use such a material.
"However, I’ve blessed it with the goddess’s power, so I ask for your understanding."
"What kind of blessing?"
"It’s nothing grand. The dress adjusts to your body automatically and stays in pristine condition without special care."
That is quite grand...
Even clothing blessed by an ordinary priest fetches a high price. But if it’s blessed directly by an Apostle...
...Am I really allowed to accept this? The more I think about it, the heavier this gift feels.
"I based the design on suggestions Lady Allen gave me."
"Lady Allen?"
"Please don’t misunderstand. I didn’t simply follow her request; after much thought, I concluded her ideas were fitting. It’s clear she has observed both of you closely."
"I see... Lady Allen..."
Joy murmured softly, clutching the necklace Lucy had gifted her long ago.
Although Lucy usually acted disinterested, that wasn’t the case.
She always noticed the desires of those around her and made them come true.
Wasn’t Lucy the one who had supported her, lifting her out of her nightmares and guiding her into the dungeons?
Surely, this dress also carries Lucy’s deep consideration.
"Thank you very much. I will treasure it."
Lost in thought, Joy bowed her head.
How could she refuse such a precious gift?
Ugh. As if my debt to Lady Allen wasn’t heavy enough, now it’s increased even more.
At this rate, I’ll be unable to complain even if she calls me a fool.
"Thank you as well, Prete, for creating such a splendid dress."
"Haha, if you’re grateful, direct it to Lady Allen. I only followed her request."
"But..."
"If you really wish to express gratitude, could you pass these on to the Third Prince of Soladine and Lady Kent?"
Prete pulled another set of clothes from his spatial pocket.
A light brown suit for a man and a soft blue dress for a woman, each as magnificent as those already on the table.
"And these are...?"
"I felt what I gave in return for Lady Allen’s request was lacking, so I made an extra set for your other two friends."
Realizing that Lucy would feel burdened if she received them directly, Prete asked her to deliver them, and Joy blinked in response.
"...Just what kind of payment did Lady Allen offer you?"
"She gave me something worth staking my life on."
For the Apostle of the Church of Art, who could have anything he wanted—and for this dreadful pervert to feel satisfied...
"She allowed me to personally adorn her!"
Channeling her teenage fantasies, Joy concentrated her magic, but then froze at Prete’s blissful expression.
"Haaah. Even now, just thinking about it fills me with such joy I could die. To add to Lady Allen’s beauty with my own hands!"
Had he forgotten Faivy’s warning just now?
As Prete described his happiness with heated words, Joy rubbed her forehead.
"Faivy, can I ask you something? Are all Apostles like this?"
"Joy! Of course not! Apostles chosen by the gods... ahem. This one is... rather, um, unique."
"Thank goodness. For a moment, I was beginning to question all Apostles’ character."
The morning of the academy’s end-of-term party, the streets of the Soul Academy were more bustling than usual.
The end-of-term party, alongside the entrance ceremony, was the academy’s busiest event, drawing merchants in droves and serving as a grand spectacle for tourists.
Though a crowded festival atmosphere was expected at this time of year, this year’s crowd exceeded expectations.
"The real dungeon looks even more intimidating than it did in the journal."
"Do students really tackle that? Soul Academy’s standards must be sky-high."
"Wasn’t it even designed by a student? They really are one of the continent’s top institutions."
In addition to the usual crowd, those eager to experience the academy’s dungeon swelled the numbers.
With widespread praise declaring it the year’s best dungeon, many dungeon enthusiasts flocked to tackle it.
Some arrived out of admiration, others out of curiosity, some to have a story to boast of, and others simply for a distraction, crowding the academy’s streets.
However, not all areas were equally packed.
For instance, near the fountain at the center of the academy’s street, it was as if a great wizard had cast a spell, leaving it deserted.
Not because of a lack of passersby; just meters from the fountain, people were packed so densely they could barely move.
But near the fountain stood Lucy Allen.
And with her eyebrows furrowed visibly, an empty space formed around her.
This phenomenon naturally resulted from Lucy Allen’s growing notoriety. Yet, there was a distinct difference from the past: instead of fleeing, curious onlookers were gazing at her from a distance, exchanging whispers.
"Is that Lucy Allen?"
"No wonder the Church of Art’s bard would praise her. She’s so beautiful."
"...Wow. I nearly forgot her reputation for a second there."
"Don’t be crazy—don’t go near her. It won’t end well."
"You think I don’t know that? Number two prince... Oh, oops. Loose lips."
"They say she created the academy’s final dungeon?"
"Amazing. She still looks quite young."
"And I hear she’s top-ranked in both strength and intelligence at the academy."
"That’s a fact. She’s never lost her number one position."
"Such a shame. If only her temperament was a bit better."
"It seems the great god is fair, after all."
"Come to think of it, I heard a rumor..."
As their talk shifted from admiration to gossip, a loud, hearty laugh resounded from a distance.
"Hahaha! Thank you all for speaking so well of my dear daughter! As her father, I’m so delighted I hardly know what to do!"
Benedict Allen.
Respected by warriors across the continent.
For those who remembered him on the battlefield, he was someone who instilled terror.
And now, he was a hero whom even royalty could not easily approach.
"You foolish father, you’re so..."
"Oooooh! Lucy! Luuuuucy!"
Closing the distance in a single leap, Benedict landed with a great shout, immediately pulling his daughter into a fierce embrace.
"I’ve told you so many times, even through the crystal, but I’m endlessly proud of you! I’m overjoyed by all the praise about you I hear everywhere!"
"Um..."
"And how beautiful you’ve become! Even when I saw you through the crystal, I couldn’t believe my eyes, but seeing you in person, it’s as if the angels are showing me a vision!"
"Wait a moment..."
"But at the same time, I can’t help worrying! You’re so beautiful and talented! What if some unworthy scoundrel tries to approach you? My heart pounds with dread—"
"I-diot-fath-er!"
"...Uh, Lucy?"
"Please close that stinking mouth of yours and release me from these brutish arms?!♡ The more you act like this, the more I despise you?!♡"
"Such words! I’m sorry, Lucy! Please, at least take back those words of hatred!"
Seeing the terrifying man practically spitting blood at his daughter’s words, the bystanders chewed their lips in amusement.
What a sight indeed.
But if they told others about this scene, who would believe them?