The table for four looked oddly spacious.
With Potty bedridden and Silnia sulking in her room, dinner was quieter than usual—though no one dared to mention their absence, for fear of making the air heavier than it already was.
Hernán sat across from Karine, watching her pierce a dumpling shaped like a rabbit's face with mechanical precision. His appetite faltered at the memory of Potty.
The saintess had quietly told him earlier that Potty's ribs were likely cracked. Worse, she was terrified—so frightened she refused to leave her room.
In other words, she was trapped again.
Just like they all were. Just like he was.
A room within a prison, layered confinement—and Hernán felt as if the very ground beneath him had dropped away.
Still, the Demon King sitting a little ways from him continued eating cheerfully.
"Having sweets three meals in a row is starting to get a bit dull," she said, sipping her melted chocolate drink. "And yet…"
She didn't stop eating.
"You're really going at it," Hernán observed.
"Well, someone has to pick up the slack now that we're short a few mouths," she said, casting a glance toward the warrior.
He sighed. Perhaps it was thanks to Sharpie's constant eating that the mood hadn't sunk completely.
"You're going to gain weight if you keep that up."
"If it's delicious, it doesn't count," she chirped, popping another chocolate bonbon into her mouth.
Just as Hernán and Sharpie were barely keeping the mood from flatlining, the saintess spoke up.
"Hero."
Her voice was gentle, yet edged with hesitation.
"About the instruction you gave me this morning…"
A silence fell over the table like a lead curtain.
The saintess had chosen her moment carefully—but it still hit like a hammer.
She was referring, of course, to the order that she sleep with Hernán.
She was not naive. She knew exactly what her words would do to the air.
Karine's eyes narrowed.
"Do you not want to leave this place?"
"I do," the saintess answered quietly. "But I am a priest."
"I thought you took a vow of service when you joined the party," Karine said coldly. "Service to everyone."
The saintess paled. "Not… that kind of service."
Her voice was earnest, cracking slightly.
Unlike her usual casual wear, Marina had come to dinner dressed in her priestly uniform: a dark, modest outfit tailored for battle and travel. Hernán realized she must have worn it deliberately—a visual protest.
"No one wearing these clothes should be with child," she muttered, touching her hat.
Karine was unmoved. "There are rumors about quite a few."
The saintess bit her lip.
"Some priests break their vows and carry on. But they lose their divine gifts when they do. That's the difference between me and them."
Sharpie leaned toward Hernán with a puzzled look.
"What does she mean?"
"Priests of the human gods are granted real divine power," Hernán explained quietly. "If a saintess like Marina loses hers, it'll look like she fell out of favor with the gods."
"Oh, political damage. Got it."
Karine cut in again. "And what if we just say it was the Demon God's interference? That it corrupted the saintess? Once we bring the Demon King back as a prisoner, who'll care about one little scandal?"
"I'll care," Marina said, trembling. "How can you lie so easily?"
"You're supposed to become the head of the Church," Karine snapped. "Start acting like it."
The saintess didn't respond. She was twisting the ends of her pigtails in shaky fingers.
"I won't push you any further tonight," Karine said. "But the fact remains: we need nineteen children. And that doesn't change."
She picked up the saintess's cream-stained hat and handed it to her with measured formality.
"Please consider what your king is asking."
The saintess took it with trembling hands, her expression unreadable.
Karine then walked away in silence. She didn't call Hernán to follow—but he stood anyway, unable to ignore the unspoken weight between them.
He caught up to her just before she entered her room.
"L…"
Karine glanced back, her voice trailing off. "I told you to sleep in Marina's room tonight."
"She clearly doesn't want this. Why force it?"
"Don't go soft now," Karine replied. "You're the one who said it'd go faster with more people involved. Or are you changing your mind?"
Her eyes flickered, betraying her discomfort despite her harsh tone.
"I already explained why I can't get pregnant. If we rely on just three women to bear nineteen children, it will be exhausting for them—and take too long."
Hernán had no argument. She was right.
But convincing Marina—or Silnia—wouldn't be easy. And he doubted either would volunteer again without pressure.
"If I go now, she'll just turn me away."
"Then try again," Karine said, pressing a towel and clean clothes into his hands. "Start with the saintess."
He stood there, reluctant.
"Don't look at me like that," she murmured. "This isn't easy for me either."
He took her hand.
"I'll come back."
She let him kiss her, then watched him walk away.
"…Come back soon."
Saintess' Room
"Saintess?"
Hernán knocked gently on her door, his heart thudding. It wasn't like before, when he'd feared being caught. This was a different kind of dread.
Now, he was afraid of rejection.
"Hernán…"
She opened the door, still dressed in her dark priestly robes—hat removed.
"May I come in?"
"If Karine threw you out, you could sleep in Potty's room."
"You're suggesting I sleep beside an injured woman?"
"Then maybe the Demon King's room?"
Clutching her robes over her hips, she stood firm.
"If I'm turned away again, I'll keep coming back," Hernán said softly. "Every day, until you sleep with me."
There was no lock. Karine might eventually order her to accept him. He'd rather it be her choice.
The saintess clenched her jaw. For a moment, it looked like she might slam the door.
But instead…
"Come in."
The room was simple. Tidy. Only the cream-stained hat on the table seemed out of place.
She motioned for him to sit across from her. They sat in silence for a while, occasionally glancing at each other.
"Saintess."
"Hernán."
They spoke at the same time.
"You first."
"No, please—you."
Afraid of sinking back into silence, Hernán gave in.
"Do you… dislike me?"
"No. You're a good man."
She said it without hesitation. Not flattery. Just truth.
"I worried you might not like my face," he joked weakly.
She smiled bitterly. "Trying to lighten the mood?"
"Can't stay awkward forever."
"Hernán… do you really want to… have a child with me?"
"What other choice is there?"
In truth, he wanted to apologize and return to Karine. Just being in this room felt like crossing a line.
"Aren't you afraid? If word gets out that you defiled a saintess…"
"Then maybe someone will come rescue us," he muttered, half-joking.
Her lips twitched.
"I can see why the cold-hearted princess likes you."
"I'd be even happier if you liked me too."
He was trying—desperately—to make her feel safe. This didn't have to be punishment. It could be tender, if not sacred.
But that made her retreat further.
"Hernán… I want to become the next head of the Church of Ruiner."
"So you made a deal with Karine? She'd support your rise in exchange for joining this mission?"
She nodded, her expression grim.
"I joined even though the church opposed sending someone like me. I have divine power. That's why I was canonized. Not just because of my work with the poor."
It was more complicated than he'd imagined.
"Then let me ask directly," Hernán said, leaning forward. "If we sleep together… will you lose your divine power?"
Her voice was lower than ever.
"Yes. The Goddess told me she would remain with me as long as I kept my virginity and didn't start a family."
It was clear now.
Losing her virginity meant losing her divine favor. Her miracles. Her sanctity.
"And without that power, I won't be a saint anymore."
She lowered her eyes.
"Not in the eyes of the world… and not in the eyes of the gods."