Chapter 33: The Saint’s Misunderstanding, Stage One

Several days had passed since the plague in Holz Village had ended, and the Arkwright territory had regained the calm that follows a storm.
Yet within that calm, one young woman’s heart was more turbulent than ever before.

Saint Lilliana.

Standing by the window of her room, she absentmindedly watched the knights training in the courtyard, while her mind replayed the events of the past few days.

Zenon von Arkwright.

His methods were cold, ruthless, and indifferent to human feelings.
That much hadn’t changed.
But the fact remained — his way had saved countless lives.

And then there were his words:

“By combining your idealism with my rationality, we can achieve the greatest effect.”

Those words refused to leave Lilliana’s thoughts.

Was he truly nothing more than a heartless man?
Or… something else?

She resolved to observe his every action carefully — to look beyond his words and find the truth behind them.
Her investigation had already strayed far from its original purpose of “judging the devil.”

A few days later, during a routine meeting in the audience chamber to review post-crisis affairs, a new issue was raised.

“…And that concludes my report on Holz Village’s recovery.” 

Assistant Magistrate Marc said, exhaling with relief. Then, hesitating, he added grimly,

“However… there is one problem. The plague left behind more than a dozen orphans — children with no relatives to care for them. What should be done about them?”

At those words, Lilliana’s heart tightened.

This — this was her chance to help.

She stood up, her voice filled with compassion and firm resolve.

“I will take responsibility for those children. If we bring them to the orphanage attached to the Grand Cathedral in the capital, they will have warm meals, soft beds, and grow up under the teachings of the Divine. That is surely the happiest path for them.”

It was, by all accounts, the most correct and righteous answer a saint could give.

But the man seated on the high seat dismissed it in a single breath.

“An utter waste of efficiency. Denied.”

“…What!?”

Lilliana was speechless. Marc and Gray exchanged bewildered looks.

“Why?” 

She demanded. 

“Those children are the greatest victims of this tragedy! Why would helping them be inefficient?”

She could feel the fragile bridge between them — built after the plague — beginning to crumble again.

Zenon, however, met her anger with a wind-cold tone.

“That orphanage of yours costs a fortune to run. And who pays for it? Not God — the people.
For the sake of a dozen children, you would burden tens of thousands of taxpayers.
From the standpoint of maximizing overall happiness, it is irrational.”

“It’s not about money! It’s about human life — about the heart!”

“And it’s the heart that’s the problem,”

 Zenon replied coldly.

“Raise them with free food, clothing, and shelter, exempt from labor, and they will come to believe that dependence is a right. They’ll lose their self-reliance and contribute nothing — mere consumers, parasites. I won’t create that in my territory.”

“Parasites…”

The cruelty of the word made the blood rush to Lilliana’s head.

“You…! How can you say such a thing!?”

He still didn’t understand — human pain, grief, or love.

Tears of frustration welled in her eyes.

That evening, Zenon ordered all the orphans gathered in the great hall.

The youngest was perhaps five, the oldest twelve or thirteen.
They huddled together, frightened, still mourning their parents and uncertain of their fate.

From behind a pillar, Lilliana watched them with a heart full of anguish.

(Dear God, please… protect these poor children…)

Then Zenon entered the hall.
He looked down at the trembling children and spoke in an emotionless, even voice.

“Your parents are dead. You have no time for grief. From today, you are the labor force of the Arkwright territory.”

Lilliana clutched her mouth in horror.

Oh no… He truly is a devil.

Was he planning to sell these children into slavery?

She was about to rush out and stop him — but his next words froze her in place.

“I will assign you your work.”

He stopped before the oldest boy.

“You older ones — your first task is to master reading, writing, and arithmetic.”

“…Huh?”

The boy blinked in confusion.

“You will study at the new school I’ve established. Teachers will instruct you from the basics.
Without literacy, you cannot follow written orders.
Without math, you cannot plan efficient work.
These are the minimum skills required to become capable workers.”

Then Zenon turned to the younger children.

“You younger ones — your work is to build strong bodies. Eat the balanced meals provided to you at the designated times, leaving nothing uneaten. Spend your days running and playing outdoors until sunset. Weak workers only generate additional costs.”

The hall fell silent.

The children — and even Lilliana behind the pillar — didn’t fully understand what he meant.

Finally, Zenon addressed them all.

“I will invest in your food, shelter, and education. This is not charity. It’s an investment — one that you will repay by becoming productive citizens and paying taxes in the future. Ten years from now, I expect each of you to yield returns proportional to the cost of your upbringing.
But if you grow lazy and useless, I’ll cut my losses without hesitation. Understood?”

The moment he finished speaking, something clicked inside Lilliana’s heart — like gears locking into place.

A jolt of revelation, like a thunderbolt.

(So that’s it…!)

Her eyes widened. The tears were gone.

He wasn’t trying to enslave them.

It was the opposite — he was giving them the means to live, the future itself.

Not false kindness born of pity, but genuine compassion disguised in harsh truth.
He gave them “work” to preserve their dignity, called it an “investment” so they’d learn responsibility, and built the system to support it all.

Such clumsy, yet boundlessly deep kindness…

His every cold word transformed in her mind into warmth.

“Labor force” meant “future pillars of the realm.”
“Investment” meant “I believe in your potential.”
“Cutting losses” meant “So strive, live, and prove your worth.”

Her hand pressed against her chest; her heart was racing faster than ever before.

The tiny seed of misunderstanding born during the plague had now blossomed into full conviction.

(He’s not a devil…)

Her eyes shone with reverent admiration as she watched his back.

(He’s a man who bears the cross of saving others — all alone, behind a mask of cruelty… so strong, so lonely…)

Thus, Saint Lilliana’s misunderstanding entered its first stage.

And no one yet knew how that misunderstanding would one day engulf not only Zenon himself, but the entire world.