The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion!

Chapter 258: Chapter 215: The Saintess Wants to Go See the Monster Girl

Astrid was tempted.

’Isn’t spreading the gospel on a show just another way of spreading faith in the Goddess?’

Besides, it aligned with the Church’s current plans, and the Magic Vision Device was part of their network initiative.

’If I can attract more followers on stage, at least I’ll be contributing my small part to the Goddess.’

It was certainly better than continuing on as this useless Saintess, a title with no real meaning.

Astrid was very confident in her singing ability; she had been the lead singer in the Church choir since she was a little girl.

The children’s choir was a long-standing tradition of the Church, renowned throughout the Continent.

She had retired from it after turning fourteen, but the fundamental training remained.

She was a girl. Unlike boys, whose voices often changed so drastically they could no longer sing their childhood songs.

For this reason, some opera troupes would adopt talented orphan boys from a young age and castrate them, just to preserve their natural voices.

Luckily, she was a girl, and the difference in her voice before and after puberty wouldn’t be as drastic as a boy’s.

Her timbre was one of the few things she was proud of. After all, as a Saintess who had never even communicated with the Goddess, she spent her days studying various Church classics and had no real special talents.

’Well, if being able to recite the entire *Apostle Dennis’ Book* counts as a special talent, then I guess I can do something other than sing.’

It wasn’t that she was particularly devout that she could recite the whole book; it was just that people growing up in the Church had very few books they were allowed to read. This classic was somewhat like a travelogue, the only one among all the scriptures she found interesting.

Over more than a decade, she had worn out several copies. She had memorized it without even trying.

But now, when she was bored, she didn’t have to read books she had already read countless times. The Magic Vision Device and the network were much more interesting than dry, printed words.

She finished today’s episode of *Tom and Jerry* feeling completely satisfied.

Astrid headed back to her small room, planning to look for a song suitable for the competition.

Not only was she a good singer, but she also had a talent for composing. Over the years, she had written many gospel songs. The Church’s requirements for gospel songs were much more lenient than for Holy Songs; they didn’t need to be written according to strict meters, modes, and themes.

However, they weren’t entirely without requirements. The content still had to primarily praise the Church and express faith.

Of course, she had also written songs whose content wasn’t quite suitable to show her brothers and sisters. The sheet music was all hidden secretly under her bed—it was her little secret.

Other than Grandma Lindsey, who had raised her, no one else knew.

On the way back, she replayed the episode in her mind.

Because her time for watching the Magic Vision Device was limited, she had developed a habit of replaying the plots in her head, sometimes even altering them to entertain herself.

She hadn’t noticed anything off about today’s episode while watching it; she had just laughed foolishly for eight minutes.

But thinking back on it now, the more she thought, the more something felt wrong.

This episode was about Jerry leaving his country home for the bustling Twin Tower City. He ran into all sorts of trouble in the big city he’d never seen before, was nearly caught by a stray cat in the slums, and finally escaped back to the countryside on a steam car.

Amidst the prosperity of Twin Tower City in the cartoon, there was always a strange feeling, as if an invisible barrier was preventing Jerry from ever fitting in.

Behind the comedy of the little mouse’s misfortunes, there seemed to be a hint of sadness.

’Perhaps the painter who drew this episode felt the same way about Twin Tower City.’

’If I get selected for that show, I’ll have to go to Twin Tower City, too. I wonder if a strange new city will accept me.’

Lost in thought, Astrid returned to her small room.

All the rooms for the Holy Son and Holy Daughter were decorated in the same style: a ten-square-meter room with a desk, a wardrobe, and a small bed.

On the small bookshelf were books borrowed from the library.

Mottled sunlight streamed through a window shaped like the Goddess’s symbol.

She had never thought there was anything wrong with such a room until she saw an episode of a Magic Shadow Drama about a prison break on the Magic Vision Device.

After that, no matter how she looked at her own room, it looked just like the prison cell in the drama.

It got to the point where she couldn’t even sleep soundly afterward.

She only felt better after watching another Magic Shadow Drama about the life of a junior clerk.

Because in that drama, the clerk’s room looked a lot like a prison cell, too, and he even had to pay rent.

In comparison, her room was at least free.

That instantly put things into perspective.

She picked up her violin, her composing tool.

Children raised in the Church could choose an instrument to learn as a hobby, and the Church provided tutors.

She chose the violin because it was portable. Those brothers and sisters who chose the pipe organ had nowhere to play it except in the chapel.

Plus, it didn’t use her mouth, allowing her to hum lyrics while playing, which was convenient for composing.

The only downside was that the violin was incredibly difficult to learn. Back then, the others who had chosen different instruments could already play simple melodies while she was still just "sawing" out unlistenable noises on her violin.

She quickly tuned it—a benefit of her childhood training. She didn’t need a tuning tool.

Astrid planned to write a new song for *Feilin’s Best Songs*.

The cartoon she had just watched gave her some inspiration.

First, she followed her feelings to establish a simple chord progression, then hummed a melody along with the chordal accompaniment.

Her habit was to write the music first, then the lyrics.

In her view, the musical part of a song was more important. It wasn’t that the lyrics were unimportant, but overemphasizing them would limit the music’s potential, making it more like poetry.

When inspiration flowed, writing a song was as easy as breathing.