**Chapter 633: Milica**
“May the Mother bless you, sir.”
As Fisher stepped down from the tram and walked to the recently renovated Saint Nali Cathedral, both he and Emhart were somewhat surprised; they clearly saw something that was starkly different from before.
At this moment, the number of believers gathered here was simply overwhelming.
Crowds were everywhere, and even though the cathedral had implemented a flow limit, the entrance was still clogged with people. The sound of sincere prayers from devoted believers echoed all around. Compared to when he left, the number of faithful had increased geometrically. Even Emhart felt astonished.
“Were there really this many followers of the Mother here before? I thought this was the Saintess Cathedral of Cardu. How did the Mother’s Church of Nali become so popular in recent years?”
“Who knows?”
After pondering for a moment, Fisher gently squeezed through the crowd and found a corner of a building to take a short rest, mainly to study the map left for him by the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast and determine its specific location.
But as he unfolded the map and saw the notations on it, Fisher was troubled. After leaving Saint Nali, the city planning under Elizabeth’s leadership had changed significantly. He realized during his tram ride that both the interior and exterior of the cathedral district had undergone large-scale renovations. With the help of the mechanism, their progress was evidently much faster.
When did the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast leave this map?
It was likely before he was born, which meant that all the markings on this map reflected the state of Saint Nali thirty years ago. In a district where the architectural changes were complex like the cathedral area, recognizing the actual locations would indeed be somewhat difficult for Fisher.
“Buzz buzz buzz!”
In the sky, a mechanism flew quickly by, and he heard the voice of a Nali police officer.
“Everyone, please maintain order. Clear the central road, as the church’s choir needs to enter through the front door!”
“Ah, the choir’s saintesses! Have they returned from Cardu?”
“Everyone, make way!”
The choir?
Just as Fisher was at a loss with the map in hand, a carriage dragged by a mechanism appeared on the street ahead, surrounded by clouds of steam. Amid the gentle steam, the carriage door slowly opened, revealing young women in elegant black veils stepping out.
Each of them wore a peaceful and serene smile, holding a copy of the Genesis. Protected by a few church knights as solid as iron barrels, they smiled and waved at the slowly retreating believers outside the carriage, shining like beautiful black pearls.
Among the departing saints, the last was a young girl with black hair and a strand of gold veil around her head. Compared to the other saints, this one clearly held a much higher status.
“Saint Milica!”
“Oh my, it’s Lady Milica!”
“Hello, everyone! May the Mother bless you!”
The black-haired girl standing in the center of the saintesses appeared very calm before the enthusiastic crowd of believers, clearly used to such attention. It was understandable, considering the nature of the saintess choir, which required them, who sang praises to the Mother, to travel throughout the continent, witnessing many significant events, especially as they had just returned from a religious powerhouse like Cardu.
She was like a beautiful gem, and not only the people around noticed her, but so did Fisher from afar.
“…”
Noticing a change in his expression, Emhart, who was in his arms, raised his eyes with a dead fish gaze and asked, “What’s wrong? Another one of your beloved?”
“No, she’s just an old student of mine.”
“Oh, oh, oh, another student, huh? Who doesn’t know that Jasmine is your student? Never saw you leave her on the bed though.”
Fisher reached out and patted his head. Generally speaking, when he didn’t want to argue with Emhart, he would use this simple and crude physical means to persuade him.
However, at this moment, it wasn’t that he had nothing to say or was exasperated; it was that he really had no crossing paths with Milica.
“If Milica is still in the choir, it would be a bit easier. At least I wouldn’t be spinning around here with a map from decades ago. I initially wanted to enter the church to check on Teresa.”
Upon hearing the name “Teresa,” the usually chatty Emhart fell silent. He merely glanced around, watching as Milica and the choir were about to cross the crowd and enter the church. He urged, “Then let’s hurry. You should have a way in, right?”
“Uh, oh, I’m so tired, so tired!!”
The church doors slowly closed, heavily blocking the outside believers and their prayers. Instantly, the saints, who had been perfectly serene, became visibly frazzled, even leaning against each other for support and unable to stand straight.
Milica was evidently among the most tired; not only did she pull off the gold veil from her head, but she also couldn’t help but complain,
“Why don’t they just send us home? Why do we have to go back to the church? Do we have to stay here again today? No, I want to go home and eat something delicious!”
“Exactly, we’ve been in the carriage all day!”
It was no surprise; even with the mechanism transporting them quickly, they had to consider the journey and energy issues. They not only had to transfer in Shivali, but also had no freedom of movement during the trip. Several saintesses who suffered from motion sickness had even vomited all over the place, which was quite torturous.
Now that they had returned to Nali, they still had to appear before the believers, which made them feel like they weren’t being treated as humans.
“Everyone!”
At that moment, an aged and serious female voice suddenly rang out from the front of the church hall, making them all tense up and stand straight, carefully watching the elderly nun standing in front of a couple of knights. She was the discipline officer for the saintesses, and behind the scenes, Milica and the others called her the “Old Matron.”
“Officer Kayu.”
“Returning to the church for baptism is the duty of the saintesses. Do you want to be punished for complaining here? Hurry up and change your clothes; we still need to attend the service tonight!”
“Yes, Officer.”
The few saintesses nodded obediently, only Milica crossed her arms and made no move, though she didn’t refute.
Most of the other saintesses were selected from elite young learners in the church schools, while Milica’s background was much more complicated. Her father was the archbishop of Nali, so even if she acted a little unruly, Kayu couldn’t do much about it.
But this didn’t mean her role as a saintess was unqualified. As an outstanding graduate with dual degrees in literature and theology from Saint Nali University, she was more than capable of leading the saintesses.
Kayu shot an unhappy glance at the rebellious golden saintess, her face showing dissatisfaction but saying nothing. She merely huffed and turned to lead the knights away.
After experiencing the outburst from her superior, the already depleted saintesses felt even more lethargic as they trudged forward, grumbling,
“I thought today we were going to the Golden Palace for the Empress’s service. Didn’t expect to come back now, only to be caught complaining; this could be troublesome.”
“Troublesome? What’s the worst that could happen? Just copying the Genesis; what can she do?”
“That’s for you, Milica. We’re not the same. If our saintess status is revoked, we’ll have to return home and become nuns.”
The companions beside her couldn’t help but chuckle helplessly. Milica frowned and instinctively wanted to say, “If I’m not a saintess, then so be it,” but looking at the expressions of her companions, that tone-deaf statement remained unspoken.
The position of a saintess was extremely valuable in both the Mother’s Church of Cardu and Nali. Otherwise, her father wouldn’t have sent her here to gild her status. Moreover, unlike some of her other options, these other saintesses truly had no way out, making her words somewhat unkind.
But regardless of emotional intelligence, she still felt displeased.
“…I get it; just go. Otherwise, that madwoman will start nagging at us again.”
“Haha, Milica, your name for her has changed again.”
Milica sighed, watching her companions forcing themselves to regain their spirits, feeling increasingly troubled internally.
Honestly, recently Milica had been feeling more and more displeased.
It wasn’t that there was much to complain about the routine life of a saintess, which wasn’t so bad for her; it was the same for the other saintesses, even more so than Milica, who had less choice.
But what truly upset Milica was the growing estrangement between her and her parents.
If arranging saintess work was to benefit Milica, then why introduce her to suitors? And when she deemed them unsuitable, why express displeasure?
If introducing suitors was for Milica’s future, then why blame her for letting Isabel go? Didn’t the priest who watched Isabel grow up know her character or understand her despair when witnessing Elizabeth slaughter her kin?
Milica couldn’t bear to see Isabel tortured in that Golden Palace, which was why she secretly helped her escape, yet her father punished her, berating her for making her own decision and calling her foolish.
Perhaps her father just worried about her bringing trouble upon herself; she understood that. Nonetheless, she felt somewhat frustrated and dissatisfied with her current life.
She had never shared these thoughts with anyone—neither her parents nor these saintess sisters beside her.
For she always understood one truth: pain cannot be compared. Many of her thoughts and feelings were beyond others’ empathy, and they might find her complain to be overly sensitive.
“You have such a wealthy family and a wonderful father; if I were in your shoes, I’d probably wake up smiling. You don’t have anything to be sad about, do you?”
“You’re still so young, and we’re paving the way for you; while you waste time thinking about all this, if you were in my position, would you still have the energy for this nonsense? Instead of doing this, why not strive a bit harder, don’t give our superiors a hard time, and get along well with the boys your age?”
People always use “why not eat some meat porridge” to describe an absurd perspective of condescension and often use “golden hoe to till the earth” to describe an absurd perspective of looking up. In fact, all in all, it is merely a complaint of the extreme difficulty of “putting oneself in another’s shoes.”
Since it’s so, then just go with the flow.
That was what Milica thought.
She pouted and returned to the upper level of the cathedral with the saintesses, surrounded by the prayers of devoted believers and the tangible scent of burning incense, which seemed to turn into heavy chains, making the air feel weighty.
Under the loving gaze of the Mother, Milica made a languid stretch.
Every saintess had her own dormitory, and by the time they reached the dormitory area, the luggage they carried had already been brought to their respective rooms.
“Well then, Milica, let’s take a good rest. After dinner, we can gather for service, okay?”
Her companion seemed to notice Milica’s distracted state and gently spoke to comfort her, waking Milica from her reverie. She quickly smiled and replied to her companion, “Okay, you too, take a good rest.”
“Mm, see you later.”
The saintesses dispersed, returning to their rooms to freshen up. It was just afternoon, with several hours until dinner, during which they could rest, bathe, and tidy up.
Milica dragged her somewhat heavy luggage back to her room, which was relatively spacious, with a private bathroom and a magic water supply system. The conditions were quite good.
She was too lazy to unpack, not even changing her clothes, merely greeting the Mother God statue placed beside her doorway quietly before she suddenly flopped down onto the soft bed, stretching out her exhausted limbs comfortably as if swimming – it felt so joyful and natural.
She took a deep breath; even though her body still felt very heavy, it was at least somewhat improved.
Then, she raised her head a bit to glance at the bedside table.
There lay a self-defense handgun, a magical dagger, and a picture frame.
Inside the frame were three young girls, smiling brightly at the camera while posing.
In the center stood the gentle and elegant blonde lady Isabel, on her left was the boisterous Milica making a “v” sign, while to the right was the timid and seemingly bashful busty girl Jasmine.
This was a black-and-white photo taken shortly after their enrollment, a keepsake now placed in Milica’s room.
“…”
Milica lay on the bed, looking at the photo with a lackluster expression until the next second, she suddenly seemed to catch sight of an indistinct figure behind her through the reflection created by the sunlight seeping through the curtain gap.
“Who?!”
Her pupils contracted slightly, her movements swift as lightning. She rushed to grab the handgun from the cabinet, flipping off the safety and turning around in one motion. But the shadowy figure acted even faster, exceeding human limits. In an instant, a strong hand firmly grasped her wrist.
That terrifying strength instantly awakened Milica’s fear, causing her to unconsciously press the trigger. Yet, as if the person in front anticipated it, a finger pressed firmly against the back of the trigger, rendering it immovable.
“Ugh!”
Milica struggled for a moment. Just as she was about to resist further, the man in front of her suddenly spoke softly, “Milica, it’s me.”
Hearing that familiar voice, Milica’s body froze slightly, and she looked up in disbelief at the man before her. There stood a tall man in a suit, his black hair neatly groomed, and a pair of black eyes gleamed sharply.
“Fisher! Teacher Fisher?! It’s you!!”
It was indeed Fisher Benavides, who had restored his appearance and discreetly infiltrated the church.
Seeing that she recognized him, Fisher gently released her grip on the handgun and raised a finger to his lips, whispering, “Shh, be careful not to attract others.”
But Milica, looking at the long-missed man, appeared extremely excited. She trembled and, in the next second, launched herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.
“Teacher Fisher! It’s really you?!”
“…”
At this moment, Fisher’s reaction was uncertain, but Emhart in his arms felt the genuine embrace and immediately transformed into a dead fish gaze, repeating in his heart the phrase, “Of course, it’s another one of your students.”
**(End of Chapter)**
