Only Leticia and the old woman remained in the house.
The street outside had grown quiet.
The small white figure was no longer visible in the direction Lin Ling had gone.
Leticia stood at the doorway, unmoving.
She gazed down the dim alleyway, her fingers tightening instinctively.
She could guess where Lin Ling was going.
“Child.”
The old woman’s aged voice came from behind her.
“Your heart is in turmoil right now. Your light is wavering.”
Leticia turned back slowly.
“Me?”
Her voice was still a bit raspy.
The old woman did not answer immediately. She simply supported herself against the edge of the table and slowly sat down.
The worn wooden table was missing a corner, and its surface was covered in old scratches.
She sat there, looking like the most ordinary old woman in this room.
But Leticia no longer dared to treat her as an ordinary elder.
An ordinary person would not possess such abilities.
“Child,” the old woman said softly.
“Sometimes, the surface is not the truth, is it?”
She raised a hand.
Her thin fingers curved slightly.
In the next moment, a wisp of pure light floated up from her palm.
It was very quiet.
“But the light on one’s body does not lie.”
That wisp of light drifted toward Leticia.
Leticia instinctively took a half-step back.
But she could not avoid it.
The moment the light touched her, a faint cracking sound came from the tattered dress she was wearing.
Crack.
Snap.
It sounded like thin glass being gently tapped and shattered.
The dusty illusion peeled away from her body.
The filthy hem of her skirt dissolved into specks of light.
Her messy hair fell back into its silver-white hue.
The dust on her face vanished.
Even her red, swollen eyes returned to their original state within the light.
Her pristine holy vestments covered her once more.
Golden patterns unfolded silently along the cuffs and hem, and the holy crest on her chest glowed with a soft light.
The old woman pushed a mirror across the table.
Leticia looked at herself in the mirror.
“Look in the mirror, child.”
The frame was very old.
Yet the surface was exceptionally clear.
Leticia walked over slowly.
She froze.
“I…”
She raised her hand, touching her face and then the holy vestments she wore.
When her fingertips brushed the soft yet familiar fabric, her breath hitched for a moment.
“I’ve changed back?”
She looked down into the mirror.
The reflection showed her most familiar self.
Leticia, Saintess of the Holy See.
Long, silver-white hair.
Refined features.
Pure white holy vestments.
Even her gaze still held traces of her previous pride and exhaustion.
This was who she was.
Leticia looked at her reflection, her fingers tightening bit by bit.
If this had happened before, she would have breathed a sigh of relief.
She would have felt that she was finally liberated from that filthy, lowly, and bullied body.
But now, looking at these holy vestments, she didn't feel the slightest bit of relief.
Because she suddenly understood.
The person who had just been dragged into a trash heap, mocked by others, and beheaded by soldiers was also her.
Even if the appearance was just an illusion.
The pain was real.
The fear was real.
The despair of being ignored was also real.
The old woman watched her.
“Child.”
“The illusion has been dispelled.”
“So, what are your thoughts now?”
Leticia hesitated.
“Thoughts?”
She repeated the word.
Thoughts.
She had many things she wanted to ask.
She wanted to go and ask her mother why immediately.
She wanted to ask those nobles why.
She wanted to ask why the Holy See could casually brand people as “Filthy Ones.”
She wanted to ask why those soldiers could strike a child down with a smile while basking in the Holy Light.
She wanted to stand atop the White Tower and question everyone.
But—
Could she really still use her identity as the Saintess?
If she used that identity to question them.
Would those people be afraid?
They probably would, but they certainly wouldn't repent.
To those soldiers, she was nothing more than a puppet pushed forward by the Holy See.
Leticia looked at herself in the mirror, her lips turning slightly pale.
“I don’t know,” she said in a low voice.
“There are many things I want to ask.”
“But I don’t know… who to ask first.”
“And I don’t know what to do after asking.”
The old woman let out a soft sigh.
“That is why.”
Leticia looked up.
The old woman gazed at her, her voice peaceful.
“Leticia.”
Upon hearing her name, Leticia’s pupils suddenly shrank.
She whipped her head around.
“You—”
Her voice stopped.
The person sitting by the table was no longer that skin-and-bones old woman.
Or rather, she never had been from the start.
In the dilapidated room, that hunched figure seemed to be washed away bit by bit by light.
The grey hair vanished.
The wrinkled skin vanished.
The patched clothing also vanished.
In its place was a woman condensed from light.
Leticia could not see her face clearly.
She sat there as if sitting within the very first beam of light at the beginning of the world.
Leticia’s knees almost gave way.
The dilapidated room began to shatter.
Cracks appeared on the walls like glass.
The table, the chairs, the damp floor, and the narrow window were all silently disintegrating.
The fragments scattered into light.
In the blink of an eye, the surroundings turned into a void of white.
Only Leticia and the woman shrouded in Holy Light remained.
Leticia’s voice began to tremble.
“You…”
“You are…”
She did not dare utter that title.
But her body had already reacted faster than her logic.
She lowered her head, nearly falling to her knees.
“Goddess?”
In this world, no one would dare to impersonate Her.
Nor could anyone impersonate Her.
Since birth, Leticia had been told she was someone favored by the Goddess.
She had prayed before the divine statue countless times.
She had heard the people of the Holy See praise the Goddess’s mercy countless times.
But she had never imagined that one day she would stand before Her in such a wretched state of mind.
The woman did not deny it.
She simply sat on that chair—which should have vanished—and spoke in a tone as calm as if she were talking to a lost child.
Leticia’s fingers trembled.
She did not dare look up.
“And what about you?”
The woman asked.
“Have you seen clearly?”
Leticia opened her mouth.
Had she seen clearly?
She had seen the slums.
She had seen the capital beyond the noble district.
She had seen the child struck down by a scabbard.
She had seen the word “Filthy One” tossed around so lightly by the soldiers.
And she had seen that her own once-sacred identity was nothing more than a beautiful puppet to others.
But did that count as seeing clearly?
No.
It wasn't enough.
She had only been forced to see things she couldn't see before.
She still didn't know what to do.
Leticia lowered her head.
“I’m sorry.”
Her voice was very soft.
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t even know what I should do.”
She closed her eyes.
The thought that the one sitting before her was the Goddess who had bestowed Holy Light upon her—and the thought that she had used that light to declare so many people as Filthy Ones—made it difficult for her to breathe.
“I used the light You gave me to commit many wrongs.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“I thought…”
She couldn't go on.
The woman watched her quietly.
There was no scolding, nor was there forgiveness.
She just watched.
That level of calm made Leticia feel even more like there was nowhere to hide.
After a long time, the woman finally spoke.
“Child.”
“You should go and see for yourself, and learn what to do.”
She raised her hand.
In the white void, a screen of light unfolded silently.
Leticia instinctively looked up.
Within the screen of light, Lin Ling was shown reaching out her hand in the commercial street.
Leticia looked at Lin Ling in the image—smiling as she reached out toward her—and fell into deep thought.
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