Saranya’s Calculated Provocation

“That girl Paresha, isn’t she Doron’s adopted daughter?”

Aivy raised an eyebrow, a look of surprise crossing her face.

“No, she is indeed Doron’s and my biological daughter.”

“What about Westir? Is he also your—”

“He is not. He is Doron’s child with his legal wife, Paresha’s half-brother. The poor boy lost his mother at such a young age…”

“So Westir, Captain Phillo of the Divine Guard, and even Paresha herself, are unaware that you are her mother?”

“The implications of this matter were too severe. Doron and I kept it a closely guarded secret, which is why very few people know.”

As Doron, now deceased, was mentioned, Kalima’s expression became tinged with sorrow.

Saranya, standing nearby, was also slightly astonished. She had only known Paresha as Doron’s illegitimate daughter, instinctively assuming she was a child born from one of Doron’s fleeting whims with some woman of the night, as such occurrences were commonplace among the nobility.

It was unexpected that Paresha’s father was a bishop, and her mother was one as well. It seemed Doron had deeply cherished his relationship with Kalima, which explained why he had kept their daughter by his side and poured resources into her upbringing and training.

Considering this, the current selection for Divine Officer should have been an opportunity for Doron, Kalima, and Paresha—a family of three—to reunite… yet, it was all ruined because of her brother, Mejga…

Saranya knew the tragedy had all stemmed from her brother. While she hadn’t personally done anything wrong, the guilt clung to her like a specter. She opened her mouth to address Kalima, subtly hoping to find some way to make amends and alleviate her own suffering.

“What do you intend to do now, Your Grace?”

“Withdraw. Let Paresha and me withdraw from this.”

“Eh?”

Just as Saranya prepared to ask for details, Kaelan shot her a furious glare. Saranya could only lower her head, sullenly closing her mouth. She then watched Kaelan, her face grim, coldly reject Kalima.

“Withdraw? That is impossible, Madam.”

Kalima painfully closed her eyes, the wrinkles around them deepening, her voice filled with entreaty.

“We do not wish to partake in this division of power. Please, spare my daughter and me…”

“Allow me to interject… Your Grace, did you not nominate your daughter to be a Divine Officer?”

Cecilia of the Silver Hand Gospel Society gently interjected, offering a habitual smile. Her voice was soft, yet her words struck a piercing blow, causing Kalima to frown deeply.

“Such an action, I fear, is hardly what one would expect from someone wishing to withdraw completely, is it?”

“But little Paresha was always the most suitable candidate for Divine Officer. You cannot strip her of what she deserves—”

“Indeed, it is her due. However, it is not us who are obsessed with power and seeking to seize it, but rather the Vero City Council, manipulated by the Weinshield family.”

As a cadre of the Silver Hand Society, Cecilia’s thoughts were remarkably organized. Coupled with her image as an intellectual older sister, it was difficult not to listen attentively to her every word.

“Your Grace, you must understand that there is no absolute arbiter of fairness in this world. No champion of justice can precisely define the ownership of all things and enforce it consistently. In other words, if you lack the courage to defend your own interests, and the strength to match it, then even with a claim, you will gain nothing tangible.”

“Well said, Silver Hand.”

Grondel clapped his large, rough hands, his words of praise dripping with sarcasm.

“Do not interrupt me, iron-pounder.”

Cecilia retorted with a smile, glancing at Kaelan before continuing to address Kalima.

“You lack power, and we can assist you with that. But if you lack courage, then that presents a rather vexing problem…”

Kaelan, lacking Cecilia’s patience, saw Kalima’s grim face remain silent for too long and simply stated her demand directly.

“Madam Kalima Morrigan, we require you to assume Doron’s position and concurrently become the next Moon-Marked Sect Bishop of Vero.”

“And then become puppets alongside little Paresha, mother and daughter at your mercy…?”

Seemingly realizing she had no other choice, Kalima’s face grew increasingly pale, and her eyes gradually reddened.

“You filthy schemers…”

The young witch’s lips curved into a smile, both enchanting and wicked.

“Indeed, that is precisely it. Please provide us with an immediate answer, Kalima.”

Witnessing her mistress thus cornering a helpless woman, Saranya felt a pang of distress and could no longer restrain herself.

“Kaelan, Madam Kalima is in a difficult position right now, don’t treat her like this—”

“You were called here to observe, not to speak. This is not your place.”

She was cut off, her mistress’s reply cold and devoid of emotion.

Saranya clenched her molars, feeling inexplicably both angry and vexed. She couldn’t discern if this was due to her own flawed sense of justice, unwilling to see the innocent Kalima coerced, or if… it was simply because her mistress’s attitude towards her had grown cold.

Perhaps it was a combination of both.

‘Yes… she desperately wanted Kaelan to heed her thoughts, to listen to her words, to spare her another glance, even if… even if it meant her mistress, enraged by her actions as before, would move to harm her. At least that would be better than being completely ignored…’

Kalima uttered something else, and Kaelan’s expression instantly darkened. Following this, Aivy spoke up, engaging in a heated argument with the Bishop.

The words buzzed past Saranya’s ears, yet she absorbed not a single syllable. Her gaze fixed on her mistress’s delicate face, her expression distant, her thoughts long detached from the secret discussion.

She yearned to win back her mistress, to have her mistress look at her, to make her mistress focus solely on her!

A solution!

“Madam Kalima.”

Saranya’s voice cut through the secret discussion with a deliberate air of rebellious defiance.

“Do not heed Kaelan’s words. All you need to do is become the Moon-Marked Sect Bishop and cooperate with us. I guarantee that both you and Paresha will receive equal treatment. You will have room for autonomous decision-making and will not become puppets.”

“Wait! Who authorized you to make such a guarantee—”

“Do not interrupt me!”

Having spoken, she ignored Kaelan, casting a gaze full of fervent sincerity towards Kalima.

“How can I trust you?”

Kalima had a good impression of her, but a look of suspicion still lingered on her face.

“I can vouch for this with the honor of the Grand Commander of the Night Lily Knights.”

“You dare!!!”

Revealing her identity had always been her mistress’s greatest taboo. Now, by deliberately exposing herself before everyone, Saranya predictably provoked Kaelan’s furious wrath.

However, she certainly wouldn’t do something as foolish as truly exposing her own identity.

“The current Grand Commander is named Vireta, and she is my daughter.”

Everyone in the room gasped collectively.

In the distance, Nazareth was struggling to suppress his laughter, his face flushed crimson.

“Your… daughter?”

Kalima blinked, clearly finding it hard to believe.

“I have heard of the esteemed Night Lily Knights and hold great admiration for them. If what you say is true, I will tentatively agree, but you must bring her to me later to prove your identity.”

“Of course.”

Saranya readily agreed, then turned to look at Kaelan.

She had, in fact, used Vireta as a shield, not revealing her true identity, so her mistress’s anger showed slight signs of abating.

Thus, to further fuel her mistress’s rage, she narrowed her eyes, shot Kaelan a disdainful look, and let out a mocking scoff.

Her mistress, never having anticipated such audacity to court death, instantly glared, her eyes wide with fury, facial muscles twitching erratically as she clenched her fists beneath her.

Judging by Kaelan’s expression, she would undoubtedly settle accounts with Saranya fiercely later.

Objective achieved…

Saranya lowered her head, trembling with excitement, and exhaled a hot breath.

‘Yes, precisely… hate me, despise me, punish me… harm me again, just as before, Mistress…’

Wild thoughts galloped like untamed horses through her mind. Her icy blue eyes were bloodshot, and her lips parted slightly as she curled them into a morbid smile, whispering in a voice only she could hear.

‘Inflict pain upon me… let all of Mistress’s resentments… be unleashed upon me… let me experience even more excessive suffering… then I can… once again… use Mistress’s subsequent guilt to control her…’