The Banished Black Swordsman Wants a Peaceful Life with the White Saint in the Frontier ~Huh? You Want Him to Come Back with the Saint? It’s Already Too Late~ - 65

Chapter 65: Each One’s Circumstances

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Elena’s and Fran’s gazes became fixed on Lusha. For just an instant, the air in the room sank, then in the next moment it moved as if it had burst.

“W-Wait a second!? Why is the ‘White Saint’ here of all places!?”

Elena sprang upright with a clatter. The hem of her robe fluttered, and the ferrule of her staff struck the floor.

“H-Hieee! We made the Saint brew tea! I-I’m really, really sorry! Please forgive me! I didn’t know—!”

Fran half-screamed as her knees gave out. She collapsed forward onto the carpet, planting both hands down and bowing so hard it looked as if she might rub her forehead into the floor. For someone like her, who occupied the lowest rung within the Church, a “Saint” was a figure close to the Pope himself. Her panic rose visibly from her entire body.

“Um—please! Listen to me until the end!”

Lusha hurriedly stood up, knelt down in front of Fran to bring their eyes level, and lightly raised both hands to stop her.

“Calm down, both of you.”

Lloyd sighed and crossed his arms. Every time she introduced herself, it usually turned out like this. When he had first learned the truth himself, his reaction had been much the same. The same went for the owner of this office.

At the work desk behind them, that very owner rested his hand against his chin and followed the exchange with eyes that looked almost amused. Just a few days ago, Cron too had jumped up from the sofa and made a grand show of panicking. He was probably remembering that moment now.

Eventually, soothed by Lusha, the two cautiously sat back down on the sofa. Their gazes wavered busily—settling on Lusha’s face, then moving to Lloyd, then back to Lusha again—like an unsteady pendulum. Lloyd exchanged a brief glance with Lusha, and the two of them let out matching wry smiles.

“Well…A lot happened, and now I’m traveling together with the ‘White Saint,’ Lusha Catomiar.”

When he asked with his eyes how much he should say, Lusha smiled brightly and gave a small nod.

“Lloyd. May I explain things myself to the two of them?”

Of course, there was no reason to refuse. When he nodded, she folded her fingers together on her lap and began speaking in a calm, even tone.

She told it with no unnecessary embellishment—only the bare minimum framework of facts. The divine revelation that had come down to her. The truth that the Church had begun rotting from the top. The upper ranks who tried to crush an inconvenient revelation, and the brand of “false Saint” slapped on her when she resisted. How they set up a substitute Saint to deceive the masses, while Lusha herself was thrown into prison. How, just before her execution, she escaped thanks to the help of an old friend. How she then lived a life on the run, only to nearly be caught by her pursuers in the end. And then…

“And then… When I was truly at my wit’s end, Lloyd saved me. Since then, I’ve been with him.”

When she finished, Lusha tilted her head slightly as if to say, “Right?” and smiled radiantly at Lloyd. That small gesture struck unexpectedly deep in his chest. Memories of last night and this morning resurfaced, complete with their warmth, and he forcibly pushed them back down. Elena and Fran both let out a low “Hmm…” at the same time. They seemed bewildered by circumstances they had never imagined.

“It’s hard to believe on the spot… But if the real ‘White Saint’ is here, then I suppose it must be the truth.”

Elena said this after tapping the handle of her staff once with the fingertip she had resting at her chin. Her eyes were already focused on sorting through the situation.

“Trying to execute the Saint as a ‘false Saint’… That’s far beyond unforgivable. I absolutely cannot tolerate it.”

Fran, for her part, had become completely stiff in front of the Saint. Even her normally cheerful self apparently couldn’t joke around before the “White Saint.” More than that, because she herself belonged to the Church, it was an especially unforgivable story. The Church’s upper echelons had done nothing less than lie to every single believer.

“Do you understand now why I said I can’t help you?”

Lloyd shrugged. Both of their gazes turned back to him at the same time. Elena gave a short nod with her shoulder.

“Well, yes. In short, it means you have to stay out of sight of both the Church and the King, right?”

“That’s exactly it.”

From Lloyd’s standpoint, it wasn’t clear just how deep the ties between the Kingdom and the Church really were. However, there were certainly people in the royal castle who were closely connected to the Church. If the Kingdom were to learn that Lloyd and the “White Saint” were together, there was a real chance that information would leak to the Church. That concern alone was more than enough to threaten their current way of life.

“But still, isn’t that kind of hard? I mean, even we managed to find you pretty quickly, Lloyd.”

Fran said this with a furrowed brow. The way her tone changed completely depending on whether she was talking to Lloyd or to Lusha was a little amusing. Still, perhaps because she was still nervous, her fingers kept gripping the fabric on her lap.

“…That part was unexpected.”

Lloyd admitted honestly. Judging by the way they spoke, they must have followed rumors of a “handyman” to get here, but he had never imagined they would track him down so easily. The job itself was rare to begin with, and unfamiliar in this area, which probably helped the rumors spread—but even so, it was too fast.

“That’s actually my fault.”

Cron raised a hand and interjected apologetically.

“I relied on Lloyd and Lusha for everything. They’ve been solving the town’s ‘problems’ brilliantly, you see. Their reputation is extremely good, and requests keep piling up. With yesterday’s Shadow Wolf subjugation too, the whole town is buzzing about the ‘handyman’ today. I’m sorry.”

Letting out a deep sigh that didn’t suit his childlike face, Cron bowed his head slightly. Lloyd stopped him with a hand.

“Don’t. We’ve been indebted to you too. Let’s just call it even.”

Debts and favors had already piled up on both sides. There was no point in weighing which was heavier.

Still, they needed to be careful about how fast the name spread. The “handyman” sign was convenient, but it was also a marker. If the Kingdom ever began doubting Lloyd’s death and heard the term “handyman” while tracing his trail, they would reach this place without much trouble. This incident had proven exactly that.

“So then… What do you plan to do from here on, Lloyd? You said earlier you can’t let Lusha-sama be put in danger.”

Elena brought the discussion back on track. It was a straightforward question. When Lloyd unconsciously glanced to his side, his eyes met Lusha’s. She blushed faintly for just a moment and hurriedly looked away. Her slender fingers gently smoothed the fabric on her lap.

“Well… Honestly, I don’t really have any grand goal. If I can just keep living like this, that’s enough for me. I’m not the type for honor or anything like that.”

That was his true feeling. It wasn’t some novel ambition or lofty ideal. He just wanted to wake up in the morning, make meals, help when asked, come home at night, light a lamp, and sleep. If her smile was part of that life, then it was more than enough.

“Lusha-sama, are you truly fine with that?”

Elena’s gaze shifted to Lusha. The question was gentle, but it didn’t miss the core. Lusha smiled calmly and nodded.

“Yes. I feel the same as Lloyd. At this point, I don’t think I want to return to being a ‘Saint’ anymore… And, how should I put it, I feel like I can live more true to myself in this life now. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Her voice and smile were soft. Yet at their core was a quiet certainty. Elena let out a thin breath, as if she had accepted it not with logic, but with her gut.

“I see.”

“Hmm… So what do we do now?”

Fran looked up at Elena from under her lashes. At the end of her gaze, the two exchanged a brief look. Immediately after, two deep sighs fell together. Their one remaining hope had vanished. If they returned to the capital, they would be guilty of defying a royal order; if they returned to the Church, they would be branded traitors. Going was hell, returning was hell. Lloyd bit down on something bitter inside his chest. Even if there were reasons he couldn’t reach out a hand, the guilt of pushing them away still remained.

Can’t I do something for them…?

He mulled over it, but no brilliant idea came to him right away.

No one spoke for a while. Outside the window, the evening light subtly changed color, slowly stretching the shadows in the room. The light reflected on the surface of the tea grew long and distorted as well.

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