The Sleeping Saintess. In the vanilla game, she had zero-to-no screen time except brief mentions from Divine Lion.
"And you're telling me that girl who mysteriously slept after the Royals' massacre... will awaken?"
A cold sweat dripped down Mochi's back.
Yet excitement swirled in her emerald eyes.
The Saintess was a background character, residing in the ruins of the Church of Mercy.
Deep in the basement... lay Saintess Aequor, asleep on a podium.
No one knew her origin—not even the Royals.
She had been there since before the Royals' massacre of the Church.
They only knew one thing:
Anyone approaching the podium—including the player—met immediate death.
The methods varied. Some burned to ashes. Some had their spines ripped out. Some simply... fell, all smiling in unison.
For the player? Just a game-over screen until reloading.
"And based on how those punishments varied..." Mochi took another sip of milk. "The game's community theorized the Saintess selectively judged people."
Evil burned without trace. The just slept in peace.
As if condemning one to hell while lifting another to heaven.
"Now... she will awaken..."
"How exciting..."
Like a hidden boss finally revealing herself.
Perhaps that Haelmira fangirl would weep herself to death on the spot.
"System. Can you report the Saintess's awakening in real time?"
<...loading...>
<...permission granted.>
"It's already advancing?" Mochi grinned.
She looked forward to their meeting. Maybe she'd be obliterated instantly.
After all, even the Mad King—the strongest human alive—had nearly been scorched to death just by approaching.
"Haha... too late to switch sides now."
Divine Lion, the sole faction aligned with the Church, was already against her.
"Is it really too late?"
"Yeah, of course." Mochi nodded. "Haelmira's stubbornness aside, she—"
Mochi blinked. That voice...
Dagger spawned. Stab.
Palm bled. The Guildmaster's hand grasped the blade.
"What a jumpscare..."
Mochi eyed Sheryl and Hans, both oblivious to their presence.
"Relax. I've erased us from their minds." The Guildmaster petted her head. "No smell. No sound. Not even names. For five minutes, we don't exist to them."
Deleting character files, huh? Mochi barely stifled a scream.
"You can do all that, yet still get injured by a tiny dagger..."
"Pain keeps us alive. Reminds us what we are." The palm clenched the steel deeper. "Don't you agree, my Little Thief?"
"I would if—tch." She glared at the System UI. "State your business."
"Aw... has my Thief stopped playing puppy?"
"You ripped my heart out." Mochi gritted her teeth. "Of course I'm still mad."
Her heart ached—a phantom pain from hours ago.
"Mad? Or..." The Guildmaster leaned in, pressing Mochi against the seat. "Is it something else you crave?"
"Do tell." Mochi cackled, clutching the milk bottle.
"Hehe... I promised to ruin you, remember?"
A hitched breath. Averted eyes.
"What makes you think I want to be ruined willingly?"
Blood dripped onto Mochi's thigh, red as her blush.
"What makes you think I'll indulge you unconditionally?"
Silence fell. One shadow hunched; the other curled.
"Indulge... right..."
Green eyes darted to the milk bottle. "Food and water would suffice."
"Ah... how dishonest."
Swish. The dagger slid free.
Squeeze. The wound clenched shut.
Blood... dripped into her milk. White tainted crimson.
Mochi gulped at the macabre cocktail.
"Drink."
The woman's blood... and milk...
Her right arm's tattoo burned, urging indulgence.
Mochi hesitated. Another submission. To death. To this woman.
One she couldn't help but be drawn to.
She raised the bottle.
Sip.
The first drop: maple syrup.
Sip.
The second: silky cherry.
Sip.
The third: crimson lemon.
Sour. Sweet. Maddening. Addictive.
Mochi lowered the bottle, scowling.
"Doesn't taste like honey."
A few drops remained.
Regret clawed at her as she gripped the bottle.
Should've savored it slower.
<....>
"The interpretation was arbitrary." The Guildmaster's nail tilted her chin up. "Like it?"
"...Not enough to forgive you." Mochi furrowed her brow.
Her pride forbade submission.
"I never asked you to. Allow me to propose an alternative."
"What?"
"You can't kill me. You know that."
The nail pricked her skin like a claw.
"So?"
"So let's continue our deal. Be my pet, and I'll reward you as I see fit." Golden eyes gleamed.
"Not everything?"
"You need time." The Guildmaster purred, scratching her chin. "Rush too fast, and you'll collapse from confusion."
"Oh, trust me... I'm plenty confused already..." Mochi leaned into the touch.
"That's growth. Worthy of greater rewards. Unless..."
A thumb swiped her cheek. A whimper escaped.
"...You refuse?"
Growth... rewards...
"Even my closest gave up on me long ago..."
She stared into golden abysses—nothing like her aunt's pitying gaze.
"Then I vow honesty over silence. None may forsake you... except me."
"Is that supposed to comfort me?"
"It's a promise. Perhaps eternal." The Guildmaster smiled, unsettlingly gentle. "When I choose, I'll scatter your ashes so no underworld god may record your soul. Only I shall remember you as mine."
"Any chance I can flee instead?"
"Would you, pet?" The hand caressed her face. "You have no one here but me. Even your 'closest' wasn't as innocent as you believed."
<...>
<...Our Executioner.>
"My pet..." Mochi mumbled. "Has a nice ring to it."
"How do you feel?" The Guildmaster tilted her head. "Better than marriage vows?"
"Worse. Way worse."
Mochi's hand trembled before gripping the wrist at her cheek.
"Hehe... Worried I'll cheat? Fear not—none equal me, and those who come close are my sworn enemies. You're no exception."
"Is that so?"
"Of course."
"Then..."
Mochi's nails dug in.
Swish. Bite.
Teeth sank into skin. Blood trickled onto her tongue.
Hm... Bloodied milk tastes better.
<....?>
<...reevaluating...>
"I'll strive to be that exception, Guildmaster."
Her gaze lifted—not submission, but contained frenzy.
"In return, I'll only ask for your neck. Your life."
<...>
"Or judge me yourself if I'm unworthy."
She guided the woman's palm to her throat.
"And maybe... just maybe... give me a proper collar if you want me to bark for you?"
"For now, Master... this pet feels nothing but..."
Mochi's eyes narrowed. "Disappointment."
The Guildmaster's hand faltered.
Tiny fingers held hers—fragile, strengthless.
Yet for the first time, she couldn't pull away.
Not from the weightlessness in her pet's grasp.
Nor from her pet's disgusted gaze.