When Cecil looked back at the magic screen, he found that things had developed into a very exciting stage.
To be precise, Leticia was being surrounded by a crowd.
And she was being beaten.
“Wait a minute.”
Cecil blinked.
“What did I just miss?”
On the screen, a group of people had formed a circle.
Shadows of fists, soles of shoes, vegetable baskets, and rolling pins fell incessantly.
Leticia’s screams drifted intermittently from the center of the crowd.
“Stop!”
“You lowly, ignorant peasants!”
“I am the Saintess!”
“I am the one favored by the gods!”
“How dare you—”
The more she shouted, the angrier the surrounding people became.
“Saintess, she says!”
“Is this thief insane?!”
“Hahahaha! Look at yourself! Where do you look like a Saintess?!”
“Dressed in rags, hair as messy as if a dog chewed on it.”
“If the Saintess looked like this, the Holy See would have been finished long ago!”
The sound of jeering laughter rained down along with the sounds of fists and feet.
Leticia curled up on the ground, protecting her head with both hands, her face filled with unbelievable rage.
She still didn't seem to understand.
Why these people didn't kneel.
Why they weren't terrified.
Why, after she uttered the word “Saintess,” what she received in return wasn't awe, but ridicule.
Once, she only needed to stand on a high platform and cast her eyes down at the crowd, and countless believers would bow their heads in prayer.
But now, the same kind of crowd surrounded her.
There was no prayer.
Only fists.
In the meeting room, Cecil rested his chin on his hand, his shoulders shaking slightly as he laughed.
“It seems our noble Miss Saintess of the Holy See still hasn't learned to read the room.”
Aliviel propped her face on one hand, her tone light and airy.
“She probably thinks that as long as she shouts the word ‘Saintess,’ everyone should immediately kneel.”
Phelan lowered his head and wrote on his recording board.
—Dream feedback is stable.
—Target still maintains strong identity dependency.
—Lacks environmental judgment capabilities.
Niya sat nearby, watching Leticia on the screen, her fingers gently clutching the hem of her clothes.
She didn't like Leticia.
She especially disliked her arrogant attitude of being above everyone else.
But watching the other person being surrounded and beaten, she still felt a bit restless.
“Um...”
Niya spoke softly.
“Is this really okay?”
Cecil glanced at her.
“Don't worry, it's just a dream, isn't it?”
After saying that, he added another sentence:
“Besides, she's being beaten now mainly because of herself.”
Niya: “...”
There didn't seem to be any way to refute that.
On the screen, the sky gradually darkened.
Finally, someone couldn't watch any longer.
“Enough, enough.”
“Don't actually beat her to death.”
“It's not worth getting into trouble over a crazy girl who stole some cake.”
As soon as these words were spoken, the crowd gradually stopped.
Someone kicked her while swearing.
Someone picked up the cake crumbs that had fallen on the ground and threw them into a bucket with disgust.
Someone even spat at her before leaving.
“What a nuisance.”
The crowd slowly dispersed.
The bustling street returned to its original state.
The vendors continued their cries.
The pedestrians continued their journey.
No one looked at Leticia anymore.
She was like a piece of discarded rag thrown by the roadside, curled up on the stone ground.
After a while, a dull thunder sounded from the sky.
The rain began to fall.
At first, it was just a few drops.
Soon, the rain intensified.
The torrential rain crashed onto the street, washing away the dust, blood, and cake crumbs.
Leticia lay in the rain, her body trembling slightly from the pain.
It took her a long time to recover before she managed to prop up her upper body with her hands.
“Cough...”
As soon as she spoke, her throat was filled with a metallic, rusty taste.
She gritted her teeth, her voice trembling, yet still carrying that sharp refusal to bow her head.
“Stupid peasants...”
“How dare you lay a hand on the Saintess...”
“I will definitely make all of you—”
Before she could finish, she suddenly froze.
Her reflection was cast on the window of a clothing store by the street.
Rainwater slid down the glass.
The reflection in the glass was also cut into fragments by the rain.
Leticia slowly looked up.
Then, she saw herself in the mirror.
There were no pure white, flawless holy robes.
There was no silver-white long hair illuminated by Holy Light.
Standing in the glass was just a little girl in tattered clothes.
Her hair was a mess, her face was black and blue, a bump had formed on her forehead, the corner of her mouth was torn, and her knees and arms were covered in bruises.
The rain had soaked her completely, making her look wretched.
Like someone picked out of a trash heap.
Leticia’s pupils shrank violently.
“This...”
She staggered and lunged toward the shop window.
“This is me?”
She reached out to touch her face.
The strange and wretched girl in the glass also touched her face.
Leticia’s breathing suddenly became erratic.
“No.”
“Impossible.”
She pounded on the window with all her might.
“This isn't me!”
“Damn demons!”
“This must be your doing!”
“This couldn't possibly be me!”
“Absolutely impossible!”
Her shouting disturbed the customers inside the store who were picking out clothes.
Several noble ladies frowned and looked out the window.
“Why is it so noisy outside?”
“Who is pounding on the window?”
The shop owner was also annoyed by the noise.
He glanced outside, and seeing only a filthy little girl, his expression immediately darkened.
“Drive her away.”
The shop assistant nearby immediately understood.
“Yes.”
The assistant picked up a wooden stick leaning against the counter and walked out the side door.
Outside the window, Leticia was still pounding on the glass like a madwoman.
“This isn't me!”
“I am the Saintess!”
“I am Leticia!”
“I am not this kind of—”
She suddenly stopped.
As if she had finally remembered something.
“That's right.”
She suddenly looked down at her hands.
“Holy Light.”
“I can still use Holy Light magic.”
“As long as I purify this illusion...”
“As long as I use the purification arts...”
She took a deep breath and raised her hands.
“Holy Light Purification!”
There was no reaction.
The rain continued to fall.
The muddy water on the street splashed onto her shoes.
She froze for a moment, then immediately gritted her teeth.
“Purification!”
Still no reaction.
“Purification! Purification!”
Still nothing at all.
Her hands were shaking.
Not because of the cold.
But because of fear.
She couldn't feel her vast Holy Light magic power.
Not even a little bit.
No matter how she called, her body was empty.
The sacred magic that once flowed as naturally as breathing now seemed as if it had never existed.
Leticia stood in the rain, her face turning pale bit by bit.
“No...”
“Why?”
“Why is there no response to me?”
She was still staring blankly at her hands.
Just then, a hard object struck her heavily on the back of her head.
Thwack!
Leticia’s vision went dark, and she fell forward, her forehead slamming against the cold stone ground.
Rainwater splashed up.
She didn't even have time to scream.
Behind her, the shop assistant held a blood-stained wooden stick, his face full of malice.
“Lowly trash.”
“What are you shouting about in front of the store?”
He clicked his tongue, looking at the fallen Leticia with disgust.
“What a nuisance.”
The meeting room fell silent for a moment.
Niya’s face turned slightly pale.
Even knowing it was a dream, she instinctively gripped the edge of her chair.
Suddenly, a rough voice came from behind.
“Hey.”
“Are you really letting Niya watch this?!”
Several people turned their heads at the same time.
Baroque stood at the entrance of the meeting room, frowning, his expression carrying a hint of anger.
He glanced at the screen, then at Niya.
“Letting a child see such bloody images, Cecil, since when did you have such twisted taste?”
But the two of them acted as if they hadn't heard Baroque’s words at all.
Their expressions were exceptionally serious.
“Wait, this isn't the dream I created! My dream should have ended just now. Someone is tampering with this dream!”
Aliviel looked at the screen where the attendant was dealing with the head of Leticia, her expression filled with a hint of bewilderment.
“You mean someone is controlling this dream?”
“Isn't this your spell? Then hurry up and turn it off!”
Baroque became significantly angrier when he heard the dream had been tampered with.
While the few were speaking, the image on the screen began to distort again.
The sound of rain vanished.
The street vanished.
The shop window, the store, and the fallen Leticia were all swallowed by darkness together.
When Leticia opened her eyes again—
Noisy sounds rushed back into her ears.
“Fresh roasted cakes!”
“Freshly baked pastries!”
“Fruit on sale cheap—!”
She was standing in the center of a bustling human market.
The cakes on the stall were still in their original positions.
The stall owner was wiping the counter.
Everything was exactly the same as at the very beginning.
Leticia stood frozen in place.
The color on her face drained away bit by bit.
She had returned to the very beginning.
Rate on N.U.
