Fake Saint of the Year: You Wanted the Perfect Saint? Too Bad! Volume 1 [Complete] by kabedondaikou

Author:kabedondaikou
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 11: Layla is a Worrywart

Fuck, Verner saw my cut!

I’d most likely gotten hurt while falling since I’d been more focused on holding on to Verner and keeping him out of harm’s way. I’d let my guard down and Verner had noticed it.

This stuff happens once in a while, right? You get a minor injury, but don’t notice it until much later because it didn’t hurt on the spot...

Well, that was exactly what had happened to me. Until Verner had pointed out the cut on my arm, I had no clue it was there.

Thankfully, he was the only one there. I wouldn’t have managed to bamboozle a whole group, but one person was still doable. I was a master manipulator, after all.

I’d immediately healed my cut, conjured a small piece of thread—or at least something that looked like it—with my magic, and played dumb. I’d pretended I wasn’t hurt at all, and Verner had bought it, hook, line, and sinker.

By the way, I’d used light magic to create that fake thread. After all, colors were just light reflected in a certain way...or something like that. I had a feeling I’d heard something like that in the past.

Anyway, the point is I’d noticed a while ago that—thanks to light magic—I could color anything the way I liked. So what I’d really done was create a small thread of red light. With the proper shading around it, it looked just like the real thing. Well, it was good enough to fool Verner, at least.

I needed to be a good schemer to play the role of the saint, so I was used to pulling stunts like this. People were eager to believe whatever they saw—or thought they saw—which meant that as long as I could use colors at will, I could easily create “miracles” for them to worship. I could single-handedly craft rainbows and auroras, so whenever I wanted to pretend the heavens were on my side, I could produce a fancy little light show in the sky.

What’s that? My miracles were bogus? I was pretty sure most—if not all—miracles were just as fake!

Anyway, with that whole mess out of the way, Eterna—who had been completely out of control at the time—was now as tame as a puppy. She knelt on the floor, trembling and apologizing, her face flushed a bright red.

“How could the saint understand the feelings of the witch?!”

“HA HA HA!!!”

Fiora was imitating Eterna, while what’s-his-face laughed his ass off.

As for Eterna, her face gradually grew more and more scarlet. Her shoulders shook ever so slightly, and I couldn’t tell if she was about to cry or laugh. Either way, it seemed like she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

You reap what you sow, sweetheart. Also, I’m having the best time of my life looking at your embarrassed expression, hye he he. Who needs food when you can just look at Eterna’s flushed face all day instead? We’re eating good.

Eterna had completely misread the situation. At least, that’s what Verner and I told the others when we went back.

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