No, How Can an Atheist Become a Saintess!?

No, How Can an Atheist Become a Saintess!? – 35

EP.35

Chapter 4

Escape and Service (1)

“So… you’re saying that apologizing in that way is truly difficult?”

“Why are you asking me that again? You already worked it out on your own earlier, muttering to yourself. What’s the point of asking me now?”

At my seventh repetition of the same question, Ria shot me an annoyed look before replying.

“I’m just double-checking. It’s better to hear someone else’s perspective than to rely solely on my own conclusions, don’t you think?”

“Sure, sure.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Ria shook her head, as if resigned, before continuing.

“You’re right. Apologizing as an individual and apologizing as the representative of an organization are completely different things. A personal apology is just that—personal. As long as you can satisfy the other person with something like a thoughtful gift or compensation, the matter is settled.”

Of course, if the issue crossed into criminal territory, the law would get involved, but that wasn’t the case here. This was entirely within the Cardinal’s authority to handle.

Which meant that if the Cardinal had simply made a misjudgment, he could’ve resolved it privately—called me in, offered a quiet apology, and restored my rights without making it a public affair.

But instead, he summoned me in an official capacity, stood before me, and bowed his head in apology.

There was no way an event like that would go unnoticed.

My letter to the Cardinal wasn’t some earth-shattering incident, but it was significant enough for people in related circles or those with an interest in Church matters to know about it.

Because in the Church, any official action is nearly impossible to keep hidden. Just like governments must announce policy changes or personnel decisions, any “formal alteration of authority” involving someone as prominent as a “Saintess candidate” and a “Cardinal” had to be disclosed.

“So, the Cardinal apologized formally just to restore my rights?”

“Hmmm… I wouldn’t say it’s that simple.”

Ria replied, tilting her head thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, revoking your rights was a public warning—basically a way of saying, ‘Don’t step out of line.’ That had to be publicized because it involved authority. But restoring those rights? That’s a separate matter.”

“…And?”

“You got your privileges taken away because of those bold claims you made, right? The Church had to make that public—it’s like saying even a Saintess candidate isn’t above the rules. It was meant as a warning, to set an example.”

“…And?”

“But they didn’t strip you of your status entirely, did they? They only suspended your privileges—your ‘benefits.’ Most people who heard about it probably assumed it was just for show.”

“Just for show?”

“You know how it is. A person in power makes a mistake, and another authority figure pretends to discipline them. They impose a minor penalty, then quietly restore everything later.”

“……”

“If that wasn’t the case, they could’ve just claimed it was a theological disagreement and crushed you under their authority. But that didn’t happen. Even after the incident, you continued using divine power and helping people. You didn’t say anything controversial to the public, either.”

“But almost everyone in the Church who lived with me heard what I said…”

“And how many of them actually left the Church because of it? Whether or not they agreed with you, none of them could deny the reality of your divine power, could they?”

“So, you’re saying…”

As a realization began to dawn, I felt a wave of disbelief.

“The Cardinal took that risk—knowing it might tarnish his own reputation—just to make that decision?”

“Well, what choice did he have? If a Saintess candidate goes around saying there’s no God, the social impact would be massive. It’s better for the church to be seen as suppressing you with authority after losing in the debate.”

Ria spoke, her tone hinting at frustration.

“……”

“And at the same time, he paved the way for a promising saintess candidate. If you had faced a real inquisition, you wouldn’t have been able to continue your volunteer work.”

“No, no, no, wait a minute.”

I interrupted, waving my hands frantically.

“I almost went through the Inquisition, you know? Father and the Mother Superior stopped it from happening!”

“And who do you think decided not to send the inquisitor after hearing them out? The Cardinal.”

Ria replied.

“Uh…”

Sigh.

Ria shook her head with an expression that said, “I can’t help you.”

“You’ve been so naïve that you don’t understand, huh? There are moments in the world when, politically, you must get angry. Even if you’re not personally upset, or just confused, or even if your anger has subsided, sometimes you can’t back down without a good reason.”

“……”

“This happens a lot among hunters, and… well, sometimes even in families.”

Ria added.

“…Yikes.”

I groaned, clutching my head in disbelief.

So, if Ria’s words were true, it meant the Cardinal had been bearing political risks to protect my position from the very beginning. Sure, his anger might have been genuine, but there’s a big difference between genuinely trying to ruin someone and simply issuing a convenient punishment while letting them continue.

After all, even if the inquisitors had that typical bureaucratic attitude, being investigated or not would have had serious implications for me within the church. Because, well, being labeled as a ‘heretic’ changes everything.

And then, the fact that the Cardinal had even bowed his head as the representative…

“If you see him again, be nice. You greeted him like you were meeting your grandfather.”

Ria added, almost teasingly.

I clutched my head again and threw myself onto the bed, rolling around.

It looked like I’d need to change the sheets soon.

*

So, the Cardinal had been ‘public’ about stripping away and then returning my rights.

It was like he had pressed me down with his power, but now, after losing the argument, he was stepping back.

“This is unfair.”

I muttered.

“Oi, stop with the nonsense and eat something.”

Ria responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

But I ignored her and said what had been on my mind. After all, I never say anything without meaning it.

“I keep insisting there’s no god, so why do people keep praising me?”

“What can we do if you don’t understand?”

Ria responded as if it were absurd. She picked up some bread, spread strawberry jam on it, and topped it with mashed potatoes as before continuing.

“When a critically injured person arrives, you stop whatever you’re doing, run over, and help them. When there’s a huge monster in front of you, you run right up to save people. And even the ‘beliefs’ you preach, you’ll throw them away if someone’s suffering, and then you tell people not to like you. I really don’t know what to say.”

“That’s not it! You don’t just keep stubbornly going when people are dying, and it’s not even my power!”

I protested.

“Oh my, now you’re being humble too.”

Ria shrugged playfully and shoved the sandwich she made into my mouth.

I glared at her while chewing on the mashed potato sandwich.

“No matter how you put it, that’s how people see it. So you might as well accept it. But, hey, you’re still not a real Saintess yet. There are people staring at you over there.”

Ria added.

“……”

I turned my gaze away while chewing on the sandwich.

There sat Choi Soo-bin, the Devil’s Advocate.

From what I heard, the Devil’s Advocate isn’t typically supposed to follow around Saintess candidates. Just as this order has adopted many rules from previous religions, the method of designating people to positions like Saintess or Saintess has also been modeled after them. Usually, it’s done through document reviews. They look through a person’s entire life and check whether there are any disqualifications for being a Saintess.

As for me, since I’ve never really lived outside the church, there’s not much that could be called a disqualification. For some reason, my atheism doesn’t seem to directly contradict the church’s logic, and while I’ve dyed my hair and worn a belt below my chest, it wasn’t viewed as particularly promiscuous. The nuns in the church, all of them in their prime, are essentially doing secular work within the church, so it would feel a bit odd to strictly regulate or suppress that.

…I’m probably the one who makes the most conspicuous efforts, though.

Anyway, for me, there’s nothing in the “documents” to be reviewed. So, the only option is direct observation. Of course, I was sitting a bit apart from the other nuns, somewhat isolated, and it made me feel like an outsider. But oddly enough, it didn’t seem to bother Soo-bin much, and though she occasionally glanced my way, she seemed content to go about her own business. Perhaps she was used to it.

It’s a little sad, actually, how relatable that feels.

After finishing one sandwich, I opened my mouth, only to have another half-folded sandwich pushed in.

Good grief.

Did they really think I could be trained by something like this?

Ria didn’t change her expression at all as she continued making her sandwich, but I glared at her with dissatisfaction while finishing the second one without leaving a bite.

*

Even as a Saintess candidate, there are still things I must do.

I do have certain privileges, but most of them exist to prove that I am a Saintess. I’ve decided I’ll think of ways to use them for my personal benefit later, but for now, I intend to stay quiet.

Do you know? When you get stuck in the mudflats, you shouldn’t move recklessly. The first thing you need to do is assess whether there’s anything around you to grab onto.

It feels like, the more I move, the more I slip in the wrong direction. So for now, I just need to stay still, stuck at most up to my ankles.

Then—

Bang.

Without thinking, I was the first to walk ahead and open the chapel door, only to be met with the gazes of the many people inside. For some reason, there were far more people at the service than usual. Even though it was the first day of the week.

“……”

I quietly closed the door again.

“Phew.”

I let out a small sigh and thought for a moment.

Hmm, maybe I should use my privileges a little sooner.