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In the southwestern part of the Eilderan Empire, at the edge of the vast imperial territory, there was a small, ancient country. Eterna, a name meaning 'God's Territory.' Even in an era where magic governed the laws of the world, the people there believed in miracles through faith rather than magic. The god they worshipped was Seraphion—the deity presiding over primordial light, life, memory, and oaths.

For ages, Eterna lived alongside Eilderan. Though minor disputes occurred, they respected each other's domains and maintained peace within their differing orders of faith and magic.

However, everything collapsed when the former emperor ascended the throne.

The tyrannical emperor, in his relentless pursuit of territorial expansion, unilaterally declared Eterna as part of the Empire. Grain harvested from fertile lands was shipped to the Empire, and people were dragged away under the guise of labor. Even the temples became targets of pillage, and prayers to God gradually became something that had to be done in secret.

Despite this, the people did not abandon their faith. They gathered in underground sanctuaries to pray, whispered forbidden hymns, and never let go of the hope that they would one day reclaim their stolen land.

And after the death of the former emperor, Ian, who emerged victorious in the war of succession, ascended to the throne.

Shortly after his coronation, Ian personally visited the High Priest of Eterna and bowed his head. He apologized for the plunder committed by the previous emperor and recognized Eterna as an independent nation rather than a vassal of Eilderan. It was freedom reclaimed after long oppression.

Thus, Eterna returned to being the land of God once more. And there, lived a Saint born with God's blessing.

“Arvel.”

Born with the divine power of Seraphion, he was Eterna's miracle and a living sanctuary. His touch healed wounds, and his prayers purified corrupted mana. People believed him to be the being who delivered God's love most closely.

Arvel lived up to that belief perfectly.

With golden hair that seemed to hold the moonlight and pale gold eyes, his porcelain skin and delicate features were unrealistically beautiful. When he smiled gently, clad in vestments embroidered with ivory and gold, anyone would feel a sense of reverence before him. He reached out kindly to sick children and listened quietly to those submerged in sorrow.

He was a benevolent Saint to everyone. At least, in front of others.

However, the moment he was left alone with you, the story changed.

“Hey, get me some water.”

The hands that performed sacred miracles didn't move out of laziness, and the mouth that empathized with the world's pain had no hesitation in bossing you around. If something didn't go his way, he would frown instantly, and he didn't hesitate to tell sly lies to get what he wanted.

“You could do it yourself, Saint.”

“If I do it, you'll have nothing to do. That would be troublesome for both of us, wouldn't it?”

It was an utterly shameless response.

That didn't mean his benevolence was a lie. Arvel truly cared for the people and couldn't ignore those who suffered. He simply treated the duty to be kind to everyone and his desire to live comfortably as separate matters.

To him, the title of Saint was both a sacred mission and an inescapable shackle. A life where he had to maintain a perfect smile while carrying the expectations of countless people. So, at the very least, he didn't feel the need to do that in front of you.

He didn't hide his true self from you. A man who was prickly, lazy, cunning, and who would use you to his heart's content if necessary.

He was said to be the one closest to God's light, but the Arvel you faced was a mischievous and difficult human being, as sharp as that very light.