"Then, Cire, can you tell us what you've heard? From the Hero, or otherwise."

  I began recounting what I knew, getting more heated with every word. But then, a hoarse interjection cut me off.

  "Hold on."

  I scowled at the Hero, but his eyes were still closed, his head tilted back. One finger pointed toward the ceiling, as if to emphasize a point.

  "I never said I forced Lumi to do anything. I only said I would take responsibility."

  I was aghast.

  "You piece of shit. Now you're denying it?"

  I moved to stand, ready to finish what I'd started, but Lumiere's small hands cmped tightly around my arm.

  "It's true, sister. And actually..." She bit her bottom lip. "It was I who seduced the Hero."

  My jaw went sck. But I quickly pulled myself together and turned to her. She searched my eyes for understanding.

  Oh, I understood, all right. I cupped her face and smiled sweetly.

  "We'll find a safe pce to talk about it, okay? Just you and me, away from prying eyes."

  In my previous world, victims of domestic abuse often bmed themselves and downpyed the actions of their abuser—even going so far as to lie to the authorities. The same phenomenon likely applied in this world as well.

  But Lumiere trembled and shook her head violently, as if sensing my thinking had gone dangerously astray.

  "No, no! It really is true! We were drunk from celebrating our first victory, and—"

  She cut herself off, realizing that I wouldn't accept drunkenness as an excuse. Her eyes darted, searching for something—anything—to quell my fury.

  "The Hero! The Hero himself started that rumor, sacrificing his honor so that I could keep mine. But I swear—it didn't go the way you're thinking!"

  She was gripping my arm so tightly that she was beginning to falter, so I settled back into my seat with a huff. I thought about it. If what she said was true, the melodrama in which the fork-tongued Hero took advantage of the innocent Saintess certainly had its utility.

  The Hero was the Hero. Sure, his reputation would take a hit. But he was already known to be lustful, promiscuous, and unrestrained. And what mattered more than his reputation was his skill against demons, which the kingdom still desperately needed.

  Plus, unlike the others, I knew this man was the kingdom's secret second prince. Even if he retired in disgrace, he would still have a cushy life waiting for him. Just thinking about it made me want to hit him again.

  Lumiere, on the other hand, could not escape unscathed. Her holy light had dimmed on account of this transgression, rendering her useless in the fight against the Demon Lord. If it came to light that she had initiated contact, the Church would undoubtedly sanction her. At least with this version of events, she would be treated as a victim—and could still retain her good standing. After all, plenty of nuns had entered the convent to escape abuse, and some had even been sainted posthumously for their good deeds.

  I quietly mented that the Goddess could be so selective in whom She favored. It was truly unfair.

  However, one thing still didn't add up.

  This development was incongruent with my knowledge of the game. Though the Hero was free to choose between dozens of capture targets, the serious romance was reserved for the heroines. They were all supposed to have built-in resistances that ensured their paths were slow burns.

  The Rogue could be taken to bed roughly halfway through the game, but for her, pleasures of the flesh were separate from matters of the heart. Her route was about opening her heart again and helping her let go of a bygone love.

  The Mage—my favorite—started prickly and calcuting, emotionally walled off after her trust was betrayed by a childhood friend. Her arc was the heartwarming process of rediscovering the warmth she thought she'd long since buried.

  The Saintess fell in love the easiest, but her power depended on keeping the Hero at a safe, ptonic distance. Her route was about finding those rare, tender moments for her and the Hero to express their affection.

  So when did it all fall apart?

  "Cire?"

  Before I could ponder it further, Lumiere's voice pulled me back to reality.

  "I get it. I get it—but I'm still not forgiving the Hero."

  The man in question weakly raised a thumb up. Lumiere sighed in relief.

  "It's a start."

  "But we still have a problem, don't we?" I frowned.

  "The real reason you summoned me here."

  The Rogue's golden eyes narrowed into slits, a low whistle escaping her lips.

  "Quick on the uptake, this one."

  It had been hanging over us the whole time, gnawing at the edges of my mind. Seeking penance from the Hero was merely a distraction from the rger problem.

  There was still a Demon Lord to defeat. And now, we were one party member short.

  "The reason I summoned you here..."

  Rocher shifted, wincing as he adjusted his weight.

  "...was to recruit you for the hero party, Miss Cire."

  I wrung my hands. It felt like the trap was closing around me.

  "Surely, the Church has someone more qualified? A padin from the Tower, for example. I hear the White Warden is a very skilled combatant."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Seraphine twitch. Rocher gave her a worried look.

  "For reasons we can't disclose, we prefer someone with a little less rigidity. True believers tend to be somewhat... dogmatic."

  Of course, I knew that Seraphine had been secretly studying bck magic—demon magic. It was pivotal to her role in the final arc. But I had to py dumb.

  "I'll take that under advisement. But still..."

  I wanted to weigh all options. Ever since I'd first heard the rumor, I'd given it some thought—and I was anxious they'd already reached the same conclusion.

  "If you know I'm not a true believer, then you should also know that makes me a shoddy priestess. Not even a tenth of what it would take to fill the role of Saintess."

  It was the harsh truth. Lumiere's affinity for holy magic had dwarfed mine several times over. She'd once called it a blessing from the Goddess that I could teach her intermediate holy magic, despite not being able to cast it myself. But in reality, it was her immense talent doing all the heavy lifting. The most I could personally manage was beginner magic, barely a tier above what a yperson could achieve.

  "Nevertheless," Rocher countered, "what I'm interested in is that preternatural instinct of yours."

  Lumiere nodded enthusiastically.

  "Sister, do you remember the night a bunch of us got trapped in that cave? The one with the were-bats?"

  It dredged up an unpleasant memory. I smiled wryly.

  "I remember my Holy Light being little more than a piddling glow. I could hardly see my own two feet."

  In contrast, Lumiere's brilliant Holy Light was ultimately what saved us. Like a lighthouse on a foggy night, it had been a beacon that guided us back together. But as I reminisced, she shook her head.

  "I wasn't the one who thought to weaponize Holy Light once the were-bats started attacking. 'Their eyes are adjusted to the dark of the cave. If you can blind them, you'll fry their brains.' I'll carry that lesson forever, even if it never comes up again."

  "Uh, I must have seen it in a book somewhere..."

  "You also tied twine around your waist and attached it to the big tree outside. Without it, we would've stayed lost and probably starved. Mother Superior chewed our ears off ter about wasting good twine. But you back-sassed her and got toilet detail for a month!"

  "Wait, Lumiere..."

  "Oh, how the Sisters held their noses! They even gave you a nickname back then..."

  "!"

  Lumiere continued torturing me with memories of all the times we'd been reckless and stupid—all the times I'd taken the fall and gotten punished. Memories I had long since suppressed. Her eyes were twinkling as she recounted. Was she an elephant?

  Rocher and Evelyn nodded along, as if they'd heard the stories a dozen times before.

  Was this character assassination? I certainly wanted to die.