Chapter 1: The Gorgeous Crown Prince Loves Black Hair
“‘THE Saint of Cost Performance’?”
In the audience chamber, the king blinked repeatedly at Fiona after hearing the explanation.
“But isn’t the girl a priestess?” he asked. “If I recall, she’s the pontiff’s adopted daughter.”
Only a few days ago had Fiona been present at the meeting as the pontiff’s aide, but evidently, the monarch remembered her. Though she hadn’t said a single word in front of him, she had made a strong impression because of her black hair.
“My name is Fiona Everett. I had the privilege of being raised by the pontiff, and for a few years, I have worked as a member of the clergy. I am pleased to announce that through the help of the pontiff and the Temple, as well as His Royal Highness, my being houses a saint’s soul.”
The king had been staring intently at her as she spoke solemnly when her last word made his head cock in confusion.
“…Soul?”
Of course. Of course, he got stuck on that.
Fiona took a deep breath, her chest expanding, to light a fire under herself for what came next. “Yes, that’s correct. Summoning a soul is significantly less dangerous than summoning an entire person. Incidentally, it’s also very cost-effective.”
“T-Truly?”
Of course not. But it was crucial that she overwhelm him with momentum right here and now. Once she’d decided to deceive the king, the only thing left to do was tackle the challenge with all her might. The first step involved appealing to the heart of this fanciful man in his prime.
So Fiona did her utmost to bestow a saintly, refined smile.
“This black hair is the proof.”
The king gasped in wonder, but it only baffled her how he could be convinced by her words when he’d literally seen her exactly as she was only a few days ago. Though she was grateful for his naivete at the moment, she nevertheless worried for their country’s future.
“Black hair is indeed rare,” he said. “I did hear that Slava’s saint is a black-haired young girl, too. I see, I see. Your hair is that color because you’re a vessel for a saint’s soul!”
Despite being both perplexed by and grateful for his acceptance of such flimsy reasoning, she returned his smile with one of her own. Fiona wanted to believe that the king’s assumption didn’t fall under the category of her sin.
“That doesn’t sound right.”
The prime minister stared at her skeptically, and his suspicion was very much on the mark. However, she couldn’t back down, not now. Because on her shoulders rested the fate of a hefty budget and the working conditions of many.
“The Temple’s highest priests, including the pontiff himself, as well as His Royal Highness, watched it happen with their own eyes, so there is no cause for concern,” Fiona said.
“Beads of magical light wrapped around her and illuminated her brilliantly. The sight was truly the height of divine beauty.” The subtle sensuality in Linus’ aura, as he spoke in a spellbound murmur, stole everyone’s attention. While she was grateful to him for supporting her story, Fiona was less sure about his dramatic retelling of the fake event.
“Oh, well then, in that case, how fortunate for our country that a pontiff’s aide is capable of housing a saint’s soul.” The prime minister nodded. “I hear the Slava’s saint is causing problems on account of her knowledge and customs are so different from theirs.”
When the prime minister’s expression changed, Fiona found herself feeling sympathetic toward the young woman. Clearly, the true saint was having a hard time in myriad ways. That, in turn, made Fiona wonder how bad the problems were if rumors escaped Slava’s borders to other locales… On second thought, she’d rather not know.
“Indeed, indeed. In that respect, it’s perfect for a young woman who’s also an outstanding priestess to become a saint,” the king said. “Now, child, tell me what a ‘Saint of Cost Performance’ actually does.”
Thanks to the other saint’s problematic behavior and Linus’ quick wit, the king’s interest in Fiona…no, the Saint of Cost Performance, was piqued. This was her chance.
“I will cut waste, protect the national budget, and by extension, the country itself,” she replied.
“Huh… Frankly, I don’t understand what you said. So, for now, I’m giving the saint control over the funds set aside for any expenses related to the summoning.”
“Your Majesty!”
The king curbed the prime minister’s protest by raising a hand imperiously. In moments like these, he was the epitome of a commanding monarch, which was exactly why she wished he wouldn’t rely on silly notions like saints.
“Right then, Saint of Cost Performance, don’t disappoint me.”
Fiona bowed her head deeply to conceal her displeasure and relief.