Chapter 6
Muniel had a few suspicions.
Feeling slightly embarrassed, she cleared her throat to change the mood.
“Ahem. Nini.”
“Yes?”
“You know you can’t go around raising fingers at adults.”
“Even if it’s the Archmage?”
“……”
Muniel genuinely hesitated.
“Madam Muniel, you have to say yes—even if it’s the Archmage,” Deter reminded her gently.
“Ah. Right.”
Thanks to Deter’s composed intervention, Muniel just managed to continue the discipline.
In the end, Nivellia wrote an apology letter to the Archmage.
Not voluntarily, of course.
“Ugh, I don’t wanna apologize…”
“There are few children as honest as you.”
“Nini never lies!”
“There’s not even a speck of remorse in you, is there?”
Still, once she started drawing, Nivellia quickly got absorbed.
She colored the hair purple, and used peach, black, and red to draw the face. It was actually quite a decent likeness.
Over the finished drawing, Nivellia scrawled in uneven handwriting:
[I’m sorry]
When she was done, her face crumpled into a pout.
“Grandma…”
“Yes? Are you finished?”
“I drew it too well. I don’t wanna give it away…”
“Then make it uglier.”
Nivellia took a black crayon and drew a massive mole on the Archmage’s face. It was so big, it covered almost the whole head.
Only then did she feel good about handing it over.
Muniel took the letter and added one more piece of advice.
“From now on, you must never hit adults. No more butt smacks, no more fingers in the air—got it?”
“Okay. I didn’t want to apologize, but I did it anyway.”
“There will be times in life when you have to do things you don’t like. That’s part of growing up. You took a little step today.”
“Why is life so hard for humans?”
“Well… good question.”
While Muniel sealed the envelope, Nivellia began punching the air with her little fists—training herself for the next time she’d smack the Archmage so fast no one could see it.
Clearly, no remorse had taken root.
“Nivellia, are you done getting scolded?”
Soles entered the room, having waited elsewhere. But he paused when he saw his little sister throwing punches into thin air.
“Oppa!”
Nivellia grinned, holding up her fists proudly.
“I’ll do even better next time!”
“…Do what better?”
“Punches! Punches!”
“…Nini, did you hit your head?”
Slightly concerned, Soles tried giving her a test.
“If I eat 3 apples, and you eat 2, how many apples did we eat in total?”
“Why do you get 3? I want 3 too!”
“…Okay, then I get 2 and you get 3.”
“But I can’t eat all 3…”
“Should we just eat one each, then?”
“No! I want chocolate cookies instead!”
Nivellia proudly declared she could eat three chocolate cookies.
“Then you eat 3, I eat 2—so that’s 5 in total!”
Thankfully, Nivellia was still sharp and made sure she got her fair share. Soles sighed with relief.
“How was your errand?” Muniel asked Soles.
“It was super fun!” he replied with sparkling eyes, eager to share everything he’d seen.
“The Mage Tower was huge and amazing! Even though it’s spring, it was all snowy inside. The floors were made of ice!”
“It tasted bad though,” Nivellia muttered.
“Oh, right. Nini licked the floor.”
Muniel gave her granddaughter a bewildered look.
Nivellia just stuck her thumb up proudly.
Deter, standing beside her, gently pressed the thumb back down.
“Actually… I thought the information guild was even cooler,” Soles said in a hushed, secretive voice.
“I always imagined it’d be hidden in some secret location… but it was right across from the Rubeo Department Store!”
It was disguised as a small, ordinary shoe shop. Unremarkable to anyone passing by.
But within its walls, it handled some of the empire’s most sensitive and powerful information. Soles had been blown away.
To him, it was even more fascinating than the Mage Tower.
“Did you meet Lady Della?” Muniel asked.
“Yeah. She was a man.”
Soles replied earnestly.
“The person I met was tall and broad. But… why do we call them Lady Della? That’s a title for women, isn’t it?”
“‘Lady Della’ is more of a title than a name,” Muniel explained.
“There’s only one true Della, but many of her staff operate under the same title.”
As she listened quietly to her brother and grandmother, Nivellia recalled her own experience at the information guild.
‘Della is definitely a girl.’
And there—Della was.
The burly man Soles had mentioned earlier wasn’t Lady Della at all, but merely one of her subordinates.
The small shoe shop across from the Rubeo Department Store wasn’t just a branch of the intelligence guild—it was the headquarters, and it was run directly by Della herself.
While her subordinate was writing a reply letter, Nivellia and Soles waited in the reception room.
From the half-open doorway, Nivellia caught sight of someone passing by—and their eyes met.
Brown hair streaked with white, gentle green eyes.
A middle-aged woman in plain, janitor-like clothing with an easygoing air.
It was Della Tura, the elusive owner of the intelligence guild.
She winked and raised a finger to her lips.
“Della’s identity is a secret!”
And so, Nivellia pressed her lips tightly shut.
Della had always doted on Nivellia and looked after her—just like Deter did now.
She’d aged quite a bit since they’d last met, but to Nivellia, she was still a precious subordinate.
“Guess I’ll have to protect her again!”
Nivellia puffed up with pride, raising her chin smugly.
She was in a great mood.
She’d finished her errand successfully, protected her subordinate, and even earned two stickers from Muniel.
“Grandma, can I get one more sticker?” she asked sweetly.
“I was actually thinking of taking one away for smacking the Archmage’s butt…”
At that, Nivellia quickly hid her Debt Reduction Certificate behind her back.
Muniel chuckled at the sight and suddenly remembered something.
“Nini.”
“Yeah?”
“About those cookies. The ones you sold at the department store.”
“The ones that made me go bankrupt?”
“You really do say the funniest things.”
She ruffled Nivellia’s small, round head affectionately and asked,
“Anyway, who did you sell them to?”
“People!”
“Deter?”
“We sold four packs at the department store. The rest were traded to estate staff in exchange for stickers,” Deter reported.
“Hm. Then I should visit the kitchen.”
Muniel rose from her seat, and the children followed.
“Where are you going, Grandma? To pee?”
“Hoho, I’m a retired saint, dear. Saints don’t pee.”
“…Wait, really?”
“She’s lying,” Soles muttered.
While Nivellia stood frozen in disbelief, Muniel headed to the kitchen.
The head chef came out to greet her.
“Ma’am? Is there something you need?”
“It feels warmer than usual today, doesn’t it? I’d like the staff to have something cool to drink. Make some for yourselves first.”
She generously allowed them to use the best ingredients.
Excited chatter immediately rose from the kitchen.
“Can we add extra ice?”
“What about honey and sugar?”
“Can I use these tea leaves? Please?!”
Muniel chuckled and gave her blessing.
Soon, a round of refreshing iced tea was ready.
It was a warm spring afternoon—the kind that made people drowsy. An ice-cold drink was the perfect pick-me-up.
Muniel waved her hand lightly over the tray of drinks.
Soft, white light shimmered down like sugar crystals, falling into each glass. The drinks glowed faintly for a moment, then returned to normal.
“Wowww…”
One of the younger maids gasped.
“Ma’am—is this the Saint’s blessing?”
“Technically, it’s a consecration. These delicious drinks are now holy water. They’ll help with things like headaches, cramps, back pain, and more.”
The staff eagerly drank the blessed tea—and were stunned.
“My wrist pain is gone!”
“My aching shoulders too!”
“Oh my goodness, thank you so much, Ma’am!”
“This is nothing compared to all your hard work.”
Each member of the household received one cup of this sacred, healing drink.
Their usual aches and pains vanished, and awe spread across the kitchen.
“Well now, Ma’am…” the butler asked cautiously, lowering his glass.
“You’ve always been reluctant to use your divine power. What changed?”
“Sometimes, people have to do things even when they don’t want to.”
“…Come to think of it, didn’t Miss Nivellia try selling cookies the other day?”
“Did you eat one too?”
“Yes, and it was delicious.”
He remembered how they’d been advertised as curing everything from headaches to fatigue.
“Some of the gardeners swore the cookies gave them an energy boost.”
“That’s just sugar doing its job,” Muniel said dryly, eyeing the empty teacups.
“…Looks like I’ll need to have a word with Nini. Making exaggerated health claims without a drop of holy power…”
A Few Years Ago
The year Nivellia was born.
Simply because she looked exactly like her grandmother Muniel—the famed Saint—people pinned all their hopes on her as the Second Coming of a saint.
But looks were all she inherited.
She had no divine power, no special ability.
All those grand expectations were quietly buried as she grew. It had just been one big misunderstanding.
“Nini, do you want to become a saint someday?”
“Nope.”
When Muniel asked her that morning if she ever dreamed of being a saint, Nivellia shook her head without hesitation.
“Nini’s busy making money! No time for sainthood!”
The way this four-year-old recoiled at the idea was so funny, Muniel couldn’t hold back her laughter.
“Ha! Of course, of course. A rich woman is way better than a saint!”
“I’m gonna be a rich lady! Rich ladies are the best!”
