After conducting an extensive investigation over the past few days, the Holy Nation was able to reach the following conclusion.
“Could it be… Whitney was the one orchestrating all of this from behind the scenes?”
From the Saintess’s disappearance to the massive incident during the Selection that shook the entire world—there were clearly suspicious gaps in those events.
And surprisingly, when they placed Whitney into those gaps, a significant portion of the inconsistencies seemed to align.
However, there was no physical evidence to be found anywhere.
The incidents that had left behind clear, tangible proof—such as the Saintess’s kidnapping, the paladin assault at the inn, and the demonic summoning—had already been fully defended by Saintess Hestia.
Thus, with only circumstantial evidence and suspicion at hand, not even the Holy Nation could intervene in a matter involving both the Hero and the Saintess.
In such cases, they would normally rely on prayer and divine prophecy.
But as luck would have it, the Goddess had ceased all communication ever since that shocking prophecy a few days ago.
Of course, that didn’t mean the Holy Nation simply sat back and did nothing.
If there was no physical evidence, they would create some.
After countless negotiations, persuasion, and investigations, the Holy Nation was finally able to secure witnesses who could testify to the suspicious behavior of Whitney.
If they failed, however, the Saintess—currently in Whitney’s hands—might surpass even the Pope and rise to the top rank of the Holy Nation’s hierarchy, a disastrous scenario.
After listening to the initial witness statements, the Holy Nation predicted that no matter how poorly things turned out, they could at least stall the evaluation of Whitney and Hestia’s qualifications.
“In the incident during the midterms, the proctor showed an absolutely dazzling performance.”
“……Excuse me?”
But from the moment the first interrogation began, things started going in a completely different direction than the Holy Nation had expected.
“The monsters running wild inside the dungeon all bowed their heads at the proctor’s mere gesture… and the high-grade monster summoned in the central area was effortlessly subdued with white magic…”
Lady Roxia, who was supposed to testify in front of everyone that Whitney had been controlling the monsters during the midterms, entered the hearing room and began to sing Whitney’s praises instead.
“…So, in summary, you’re saying that Sir Whitney defeated the monsters and rescued Lady Adele Felgrave?”
“Y-yes, that’s correct.”
“Lady Roxia. This seems quite different from the original statement you gave us…”
At that, the inquisitors, visibly confused, interrupted the testimony and asked questions, causing Roxia, who was nervously rolling her eyes, to stammer.
“Th-that was a misunderstanding… no, a memory lapse! I was just so shocked back then…”
“But we confirmed it with you several times…”
Naturally, her suspicious behavior prompted the inquisitors to press harder.
“My lady, giving false testimony before the eyes of God is a grave sin that cannot go unpunished.”
“T-That’s…”
“Were you perhaps coerced or bribed?”
At that, she glanced nervously toward where Whitney was sitting, then coughed awkwardly and began unbuttoning her collar.
“I-It suddenly feels… so hot… haha…”
“… …”
“Ahem, ahem! Hrrgh!”
At that moment, Whitney’s expression wavered slightly.
But with everyone’s attention drawn to Roxia’s bizarre behavior, no one noticed it.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“Ah….”
Meanwhile, the priests, who had lived their entire lives by strict discipline and had no resistance to such behavior, blushed and raised their voices in unison.
Roxia’s complexion turned ashen.
“I may not know what Lady Roxia originally testified, but it seems there was a misunderstanding…”
“Eek.”
“Could it be that you confused me with your homeroom professor?”
Whitney seized the opportunity and smiled with that eerie grin of his as he asked the question.
Roxia, frozen as if she’d forgotten how to breathe, frantically nodded.
“Y-Yes, that’s right! Now that I think about it, that must be it!”
“……”
“I-I clearly saw Professor Rebecca leading the monsters!”
By that point, even the inquisitors’ generous patience was starting to wear thin.
“Then why didn’t you mention that earlier—”
“She must’ve been threatened. Isn’t that right?”
But just before the situation grew more tangled, Whitney cut in smoothly, and the inquisitors had no choice but to fall silent again.
“For reference, I identified and subdued first-year homeroom professor Rebecca the day before the Selection.”
“……”
“Naturally, that information has been kept strictly confidential until now, so we ask for your understanding.”
Even the most seasoned inquisitors couldn’t continue questioning without any solid evidence.
Normally, they would have made the witness swear an oath to the Goddess, eliminating the possibility of lies from the start—but the Goddess, as of a few days ago, had essentially gone on strike, making that impossible too.
“…Next witness, please enter.”
“O-Okay…”
But even then, the Holy Nation remained confident.
After all, Roxia wasn’t the only witness they had secured.
There were still many more who could testify about Whitney Lingard’s suspicious behavior.
“Um, excuse me.”
However, after a brief moment, the second witness—someone who had fought in the chaotic battle within the darkened Selection arena—stepped inside and said something strange.
At that moment, the Holy Nation realized that something was wrong.
“Isn’t it oddly hot today?”
The room was neither hot nor cold, and yet this man started fanning himself and loosening his clothes for no apparent reason.
“Ahahaha…”
As silence fell over the meeting room, Whitney’s quiet laughter sent chills down the priests’ spines.
Even the Pope, who had remained completely calm and composed up until then, was no exception.
*****
“S-Sir Whitney… did his utmost to protect us amidst the sudden chaos…”
“I-I saw it too! Sir Whitney used some strange… no! White magic to p-protect everyone…”
“W-Well, now that you mention it… Everyone fought like their lives depended on it, and yet no one came out seriously injured. Haha…”
Contrary to the Holy Nation’s desperate hopes, the witnesses—each of whom oddly complained about the heat upon entering—soon gave up and began defending Whitney one after another.
“T-The storage room in the waiting area? There’s… n-nothing in there.”
“I-I went in today to clean, haha.”
“……It must have just been a small quarrel between Sir Whitney and a maid that got exaggerated into a baseless rumor.”
Naturally, even the nurses and teachers who had witnessed the chaos in the infirmary on the day of the Selection said the same.
“Um… then, before we bring in the next witnesses, let’s take a short recess.”
Of course, sensing that something was clearly wrong, the Holy Nation declared a break and conducted examinations on the witnesses—but could not identify any abnormalities.
“…And you still claim you’re not the Demon King?”
“Haha… This time, I’m seriously innocent…”
Only Hestia, who kept narrowing her eyes while watching the witnesses closely, whispered something under her breath to Whitney as she kept glancing at their chests.
“Well then… we shall now resume.”
In any case, even after a full hour-long break, the Holy Nation failed to find the reason why the witnesses had changed, and in desperation, they began calling in the backup witnesses they had prepared just in case.
“Priests, please escort the witnesses waiting in the second room…”
These included the servants of the Lingard estate—those who could be considered Whitney’s close associates.
“S-Sir Whitney… treats all his servants equally!”
“Y-Yes! And he pays several t-times more than other places too!”
“The basement? I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
What they had overlooked was that the servants—having endured enough under Whitney—had already created their own internal manual for such situations.
“I-I-I’m just an ordinary personal maid…”
“I’m just a regular butler who passed the hiring exam!”
“Sir Whitney is the one who repaired my mana circuit. The rumors about me being mistreated in the basement are, of course, nothing but malicious lies.”
Naturally, Whitney’s senior staff all gave statements favoring him.
Perhaps if the Holy Nation had summoned Bergen, who left the academy without a care, or Alfred, who disappeared after taking a bribe, things might have turned out differently.
Cornered and unable to extract any useful testimony from Whitney’s close associates, the Holy Nation began summoning every person involved in the incident, indiscriminately.
“During the Selection, first-year teacher Rebecca definitely took us away and confined us while we were injured.”
“Sir Whitney is the one who rescued us from black mages.”
“Though I know the use of doppelgängers is forbidden, Sir Whitney asked for our understanding for the sake of a greater cause. We ask for leniency.”
Robin, Charlie, and Hayden—whose health had recently recovered—each supported Whitney with clear and concise reasoning.
“There was no objection to Sir Whitney’s qualification as a judge… not because of personal opinion, but as the collective will of the Commoners’ Council.”
The chairman of the council, Pierre, who glanced nervously at Whitney upon entering, turned pale at Whitney’s chilling smile and followed suit in supporting him.
“Last witness… please come in.”
At that, the Holy Nation, now driven to the edge, brought in their final, hidden witness as a last resort.
“…My brother is a hero.”
And that proved to be their fatal mistake.
“He’s never done anything suspicious, not even once—not in the past or now.”
According to Adele—who had been excluded from testifying due to her position in the Holy Nation—Whitney’s younger sister Cecil, who was supposedly opposed to him, tearfully defended him in her testimony.
“So please… stop hurting my brother…”
With that final statement, the interrogation of Whitney—conducted by the best inquisitors and priests—came to a complete and utter end.
“……That concludes our investigation.”
Unsurprisingly, the Holy Nation had suffered a total defeat.
***
“As of this moment, the Holy Nation of Astra officially recognizes Whitney Lingard’s status as Hero….”
Among the priests with grim expressions, the Pope alone maintained a calm demeanor as he solemnly read the proclamation.
“We also officially recognize the title of Saintess Hestia.”
Even he, however, could not entirely hide the slight furrow in his youthful face.
“Well then, may I be excused now?”
Of course, that was none of my concern.
Exhausted both mentally and physically, I tried to get up quickly and escape this burdensome space.
“There’s still one more matter to discuss.”
“Ah, yes….”
“The reason we summoned the Emperor and the Saintess here today… is to discuss this matter, so please remain just a little longer.”
It seemed the Holy Nation still had plans to keep me here a bit longer.
“According to history, the Saintess’s partner has always been the Hero.”
Letting out a sigh and trying to sit back down, I froze at the Pope’s sudden, composed statement.
“Because the stronger their bond, the stronger both of them become….”
“Excuse me, Your Holiness?”
Interrupting him, though it was a breach of etiquette, I began to speak while cold sweat ran down my face.
“I’m already engaged to someone else…”
“Yes, we are aware. But we ask for your understanding—for the greater good.”
The Pope shook his head quietly, then delivered a bombshell in a firm voice.
“Sir Whitney, please marry Saintess Hestia.”
And with that, a heavy, deathly silence fell over the chamber.
Cliche Novel 