The following afternoon, I headed to the academy's church to receive the holy oil. Luminas Academy's church was among the most solemn buildings on the grounds. Its white stone spire pierced the heavens, and rainbow light streaming through stained glass created a sacred atmosphere.

  In the original story, this was where Saint Alicia frequently offered prayers, appearing often enough that I'd been moved by the sight when I first saw it.

  Though now, with her devoted to commerce, would she ever visit here again?

  "Excuse me."

  When I pushed open the heavy door, a cool air along with the scent of incense tickled my nose. The church interior was more sparsely populated than I'd expected. I'd assumed it would be overflowing with people like me here to receive holy oil, but apparently not.

  "Oh, the young master from House Belmond. Here to receive holy oil?"

  A young priest organizing books near the entrance noticed me and called out.

  "Yes, preparing for the pact ceremony."

  "Understood. Please wait a moment."

  The priest bowed respectfully and headed toward the sacristy in the back. While waiting, I looked around the church interior.

  High ceilings, orderly rows of wooden pews, and facing forward, a statue of Saint Goddess Lumina smiling gently. Saint Goddess Lumina—said by some to be a type of spirit. Even in the original, her true identity remained a mystery.

  And in the original, it was precisely before that statue where Alicia had offered prayers.

  In fact, even now a single nun was quietly offering prayers before the statue. With golden hair covered by a white veil and clothed in pure white habit, that figure from behind overlapped with Saint Alicia's image.

  ...Hm?

  Wait a minute. Golden hair, white habit, and above all that praying posture—

  "Lady Alicia...?"

  The words slipped out involuntarily. The praying figure slowly turned around. As expected, it was Saint Alicia Heartwell herself.

  "Oh my, Master Dylan."

  Alicia showed a slightly surprised expression, but quickly formed a gentle smile. Not the merchant's face she'd shown at the trading company, but her original calm expression as a saint.

  "I never expected to meet you in such a place. Are you also here preparing for the pact ceremony, Master Dylan?"

  "Yes, to receive holy oil. You as well, Lady Alicia?"

  In the original, Alicia should have received the pact ceremony together with hero Leon. Though I didn't remember it well, I recalled she'd managed to contract with a high-ranking spirit. However, to my question, Alicia slowly shook her head.

  "No, I merely came to help. I received advice that as a saint, I should be involved in the pact ceremony."

  "I see..."

  Whether that was truly advice in name only or admonishment, I preferred not to imagine.

  "Though I myself haven't completed the pact ceremony yet."

  Alicia said this and laughed mischievously.

  "...Is that so? I'd assumed you'd already contracted with a high-ranking spirit as a saint."

  While relieved that matched the original, I feigned surprise.

  "That's, yes... well. How embarrassing, but I was scheduled to perform it when I enrolled, so I missed the opportunity."

  Alicia said this bashfully.

  "You see... the timing overlapped with establishing the shop. For me, that took priority."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Without appearing apologetic, yet adding slightly guiltily. Surely the church elders had given her "advice" countless times. But even so, that strength to advance unhesitatingly down the path she believed in was unmistakably Saint Alicia's.

  There was a moment of silence. Alicia's gaze drifted toward the altar, and something complicated flickered across her expression—something I'd never seen at the trading company.

  "The clergy here..." she began quietly, then paused as if choosing her words carefully. "They tell me I've strayed from the path. That a saint's hands should never touch coin, that commerce sullies the sacred."

  Her voice remained calm, but I could hear the weight behind it. How many times had she heard those words?

  "They say my place is here, in prayer and contemplation. That miracles are performed through faith alone, not through... transactions." A wry smile touched her lips. "Perhaps they're not entirely wrong."

  "Do you regret it?" I found myself asking. "Starting the business?"

  "No." The answer came immediately, firm and unwavering. "Not for a moment. Do you know what I learned in my time as a saint, Master Dylan? Prayer is powerful—I won't deny that. But prayer alone doesn't fill empty bellies. It doesn't provide medicine to the sick, or shelter to those without homes."

  She turned back to me, and her eyes held that same determination I'd seen at the trading company.

  "The church has wealth. Mountains of gold, donated by the faithful. And what do we do with it? Build grander cathedrals. Commission more elaborate statues. Host more lavish ceremonies." She shook her head slowly. "Meanwhile, children starve in the streets outside these very walls."

  I remained silent, letting her speak. This was clearly something she'd been holding inside.

  "My shop's profits go to those children, Master Dylan. To widows who can't afford firewood for winter. To families driven from their farms by monster attacks. The church calls it 'inappropriate,' but..." Her hands clenched slightly. "How can it be inappropriate to use the gifts God gave me to actually help people?"

  "It sounds to me," I said carefully, "like a much harder path than simply praying."

  I looked at her—not as a saint, but as someone fighting her own battle.

  "Ignoring the easy praise to actually help people... I respect that choice."

  Alicia blinked, surprise washing over her features. Then, slowly, the tension in her shoulders eased, and she smiled like a blooming flower.

  "Thank you," she whispered. "Hearing you say that, I feel a weight has lifted slightly from my chest."

  The silence that followed felt different—lighter somehow.

  "So," I ventured after a moment, changing the mood. "How is the shop faring? Still as busy as when I visited?"

  "Even busier, if you can believe it." Alicia's expression brightened immediately, the merchant in her surfacing. "We've had to hire three more staff members just to keep up with orders."

  "That's impressive growth in such a short time."

  "Yes, thanks to everyone. I've been helped so much." She paused, then added with a slight smile, "Though I must admit, the inventory management has become quite the challenge. Just yesterday, we completely sold out of the fatigue recovery tea before noon."

  "The one I purchased? It was remarkably effective."

  "Oh, you actually tried it?" Genuine delight crossed her features. "I'm so glad. That particular blend took weeks to perfect—the ratio of moonflower to silverleaf has to be exact, or the restorative properties diminish significantly."

  "You developed it yourself?"

  "Well, with considerable help from Master Herbalist Gowan, but yes. I wanted to ensure that anything bearing my seal truly lived up to its claims." She clasped her hands together earnestly. "If people are going to trust the 'saint's blessing,' then that blessing should be more than just empty words."

  "A practical approach to miracles," I observed.

  Alicia laughed softly. "Perhaps that's one way to put it. Though the church elders would probably prefer I stick to more... traditional miracles."

  "Let them say what they want," I said. "At the very least, I find that philosophy much more trustworthy."

  Alicia looked at me with straightforward eyes, nodding deeply.

  Just then, the priest returned from the sacristy. In his hands, he held aloft a small jar adorned with silver-white decorations. That must be the holy oil.

  "Master Belmond, thank you for waiting. Here is the holy oil."

  "Thank you."

  I received the holy oil from the priest and tucked it into my breast pocket. Its solid weight told of the ceremony's importance.

  "Well then, Master Dylan, I pray for your success in the ceremony."

  Alicia bowed elegantly like a proper saint, seeing me off. With her prayers, perhaps I really could contract with a high-ranking spirit. With such faint hope in my heart, I left the church.

  "Welcome back, Master Dylan."

  Opening the door, Martha, who'd been waiting, quietly greeted me.

  "How did it go?"

  "Ah, no problems. This is the holy oil."

  I took out the silver-white jar from my breast pocket to show her. Martha nodded knowingly, took the jar, and opened the lid. From within, an elegant fragrance wafted up gently.

  "This is... moonlight flower nectar blended with several herbs. It is of top quality."

  As a former adventurer, Martha was knowledgeable about such things. To me it looked like nothing more than nice-smelling oil, but apparently her eyes could discern its value.

  "Come to think of it, have you completed the pact ceremony, Martha?"

  When I asked out of curiosity, Martha nodded once.

  "I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity, though regrettably I had no affinity with spirits."

  Martha stated this as if it were nothing. In this world, that was normal. Nothing to feel inferior about. After all, only nobles or those from wealthy families could even perform the pact ceremony, and less than half of them could form bonds with spirits.

  "I see."

  "Master Dylan, you might form a mysterious bond."

  Martha said with a mischievous smile. From my perspective, those were ominous words that made me smile wryly.

  "...I hope it's a good bond."

  "Indeed, nothing beats a good match."

  Leaving those somehow meaningful words, Martha returned to her tasks.

  What would tomorrow bring, I wondered?

  A pact ceremony without the hero, and without the saint. I couldn't help but feel it wouldn't end peacefully.