A Perfect Crime
“What? But… aren’t you forbidden from going out?”
“That’s right.”
Rien was left speechless by her bold affirmation.
Ever since the accident—no, even before it—the only outings permitted to her had been the manor gardens and, at most, Rien’s estate right next door. And even those required a full escort of guards.
The moment she stepped out of this front door, the family knights would be lined up waiting for her. They made such a production of it just for her to visit the teacher next door—whose identity was guaranteed, even if a little deception had been involved. How much worse would it be in the middle of a festival where people of every sort poured into the streets?
She would be rejected before she even finished asking.
And yet…
“There’s one way to slip past the surveillance.”
Cecilia’s lips curved smoothly upward as she stepped right up to him.
“All I need is Rien.”
The sudden closeness made Rien draw a sharp breath.
“You can use spatial transfer magic, can’t you?”
“Ah…”
“You can’t?”
Surely the great Tower Master who had already cast time-manipulation magic couldn’t be incapable of spatial transfer?
When she made no effort to hide her disappointment, Rien hurriedly denied it.
“I—I can.”
“I knew it!”
Cecilia clapped her hands together. Nothing had been decided yet, but she was already bubbling with excitement as she chattered on.
“We come to your estate under the excuse of lessons, just like today, then teleport with magic—perfect crime!”
“But wouldn’t that be too dangerous…?”
She had expected him to agree at once, the way he always smiled like a fool no matter how rudely she treated him. Yet his mouth did not open so readily in assent.
“Rien, please.”
Cecilia clutched the sleeve of his robe and looked up at him with desperate eyes.
Rien could not bring himself to shake off the small hand clinging to him. He let out a soft sigh.
A moment later, when he nodded, it felt like a foregone conclusion.
The next morning.
Cecilia woke with a start—not from any noise, but from sheer anticipation.
Instead of lingering in bed as usual, she rose at once, finished dressing, and even completed a light breakfast.
When her mistress, who normally whined that the world beyond the bed was dangerous, transformed overnight, Melanie sent her a suspicious look.
“My lady, has something good happened?”
“No, I’m just in a good mood today.”
Something’s definitely off, Melanie muttered under her breath, but with the Tower Master himself as her accomplice, this perfect crime would never be exposed.
Cecilia gave the sleeping Charles—who had claimed the middle of the bed—a few fond strokes along his back, then left the manor at once.
And she failed to pass safely through the front gate… because she ran straight into the marquis and a group of unfamiliar guests.
“Cecilia, perfect timing.”
“Father, these people are…?”
He appeared to have been receiving priests who had come from elsewhere; several middle-aged men in white clerical robes stood gathered at the marquis’s side.
“Greet them properly. These are priests from other territories.”
After a brief moment of fluster, Cecilia repeated the greeting she had once heard the Pope offer to priests.
“May the warmth of God be with those who follow His will.”
“May the grace of God be with the Saintess.”
Judging by the marquis’s demeanor, they were high-ranking priests, yet the reply came with considerable formality.
It’s less about being the eldest daughter of Weberdin and more about the title of prospective Saintess, she guessed, reading the interest and faint goodwill in their eyes.
“I hear you will be conducting the rite alongside His Holiness the Pope at this Alms Festival?”
“Yes, most honorably so,” the marquis answered with satisfaction.
The person in question was barely managing to swallow a rising sigh when her eyes met those of one ordinary-looking priest who somehow seemed familiar.
He had been studying her openly from the start, and now he finally spoke.
“I heard you displayed truly remarkable divine power at the Grand Temple not long ago…”
He’s not going to ask me to show it, is he? Should I suddenly pretend my stomach hurts?
Just imagining it made cold sweat prickle at her skin.
“…Remarkable is overstating it. I believe the grace God granted me has simply been exaggerated.”
“How humble of you.”
Fortunately, the priest did not demand a demonstration. He merely withdrew his lingering gaze at a leisurely pace and left her with a rather meaningful remark.
“I look forward to it.”
Whether he meant the rite or her role as Saintess was impossible to tell.
Cecilia gave a clumsy nod and hurriedly wrapped up the conversation.
“Then I’ll be going now…”
“Cecilia.”
She wanted nothing more than to escape this minefield at once, but the marquis spoke again.
“Off to your lessons?”
“Yes.”
More precisely, she was pretending to go to lessons so she could go play, but still.
“You’ve been working so hard lately. You’ll have to enter the Grand Temple the day after tomorrow—you’re allowed to rest a little.”
Ah, so he had to emphasize the enlistment date she had been trying so hard to forget.
The excitement that had climbed all the way to her head drained away completely.
Yet precisely because the day she would leave the secular world was so near, she could not afford to miss this chance.
Cecilia shook her head, gentle but firm.
“No. If I’m to receive approval, I need to eliminate my shortcomings as quickly as possible.”
“How very diligent.”
The priests looked moved by the Saintess’s zeal. Facing their admiring gazes, her long-dulled conscience gave a sharp twinge.
“Well then. If it becomes too much, come talk to me.”
The marquis’s kind words were the finishing blow.
In the end, Cecilia quietly averted her eyes and forced a smile.
“I only worry that I might bring shame to the Weberdin name.”
“You needn’t feel burdened. I’ll have your brother accompany you to the Temple as well, so don’t worry.”
Ah… that part, though.
The smile she had forced onto her lips snapped back into place in an instant—truly beyond her control.
Perhaps because of the unexpected encounter, she already felt drained even though they hadn’t left yet.
Cecilia trudged past the unguarded front gate and the still-fresh daisies, and finally stood before the neighboring manor with heavy steps.
Thud. Thud.
She knocked a couple of times with the heavy iron knocker. As usual, the master of the house burst out at once.
“C-Cecilia! I didn’t expect you so early…!”
He must have rushed out; Rien was wearing only a loose white shirt and snug leather trousers, his robe thrown on so carelessly it barely stayed in place.
Which meant that through the unfastened shirt, a firm chest and the lines of thighs more muscular than expected were clearly visible.
And the face he so rarely showed without a hood was so pure and refined that the knights standing behind her actually sucked in their breath.
“Let’s talk inside first.”
Cecilia pushed him firmly inward.
So that’s why he always wears the robe.
In a completely different sense, this was a man too dangerous to show to others.
“You don’t have to rush out like this every time.”
“B-but I don’t want to keep you waiting, Cecilia.”
Watching him smile shyly with the tips of his ears flushed red, Cecilia carefully fastened his shirt for him, then properly settled the hood of his robe over his head.
Only when all that hazardous charm had been hidden did the man tilt his head in confusion, but Cecilia pretended not to notice and changed the subject.
“Looks like everything’s ready. Shall we go right away?”
“Y-yes! Then, would you give me your hand?”
Cecilia held out her hand, palm upward.
A hand that carried no weight at all settled upon it like a summer leaf.
“It may make you dizzy, so it would be better if you closed your eyes.”
She hesitated briefly between satisfying her curiosity about spatial transfer and following sensible advice. In the end she chose the latter and quietly shut her eyes.
A breeze rose strong enough to make her clothes flutter, and a queasy sensation like riding a rocking boat washed through her stomach.
Just as she furrowed her brow at the slightly unpleasant, unreal feeling—
“You may open your eyes now.”
The discomfort stopped. A damp, musty smell brushed her nose.
Cecilia lifted her trembling eyelids.
The two of them stood at the mouth of an alley so dark that even shadows were hard to make out. At the far end of that alley, the bustling scenery of people coming and going was faintly visible.
They really had come to the festival.
The realization made the expectation that had deflated earlier swell up again like a balloon.
“Let’s go already!”
An excited Cecilia urged him on, looking ready to dive into the crowd that very second.
“W-wait! You forgot the robe.”
“Ah.”
Rien rummaged in a palm-sized bag and pulled out a robe, draping it around her.
It was a deep color similar to the one he always wore, and long enough to nearly touch the ground.
“It’s more stifling than I expected.”
How did he manage to wear something like this every single day, all day long?
She hated the stuffiness, and it was a shame that the outfit she had carefully chosen was completely covered, but there was no help for it.
The people of the territory would never fail to recognize the pride of House Weberdin—the Saintess.
To prevent the disaster of the Saintess’s escapade becoming tomorrow’s special report, Cecilia carefully pressed the hood down firmly.
“Now we can really go!”
Swept up in the exhilaration of stepping into another world, she left the alley with him.
The moment they fully crossed the boundary between light and dark, sunlight poured down over their heads, and the noise and heat created by so many people rushed in at once.