The Sponsored Heroines Are Coming for Me

Saint Candidate.

A being with the potential to become a saint.

Saint candidates may exist singularly or in multiples during the same time period.

But they are merely those with the potential to become saints.

However.

There is only ever one true “saint”.

If one of the saint candidates ascends to the position of saint, the remaining candidates lose their chance to become one.

This remains true until the current saint steps down from their position or passes away.

Thus, the [Saint’s Trial] is crucially timed.

The Saint’s Trial.

A rite of passage that saint candidates must undergo to become saints—a sort of promotion exam.

Only those who overcome and pass the trial are granted the title of “saint” and are venerated.

If the Pope is the father of the faithful, the saint is their mother.

In terms of symbolism, the saint is as significant as the Pope—if not greater.

The position of saint is reserved solely for those chosen by birth to be saints.

‘A being chosen by God.’

To become a saint means becoming the one closest to Deus, the divine being.

It is to become the most influential figure within the Church.

Currently, the position of Deus Church’s saint has been vacant for ten years.

Therefore—

“I hope that Aria will successfully pass the trial. She is not only a daughter of the Empire but also my own daughter. Wouldn’t this strengthen the relationship between our two nations? Hoho.”

“…”

The Pope’s words, spoken in a jovial tone to the silently listening Emperor, carried a degree of sincerity.

The more unstable the world becomes, the more the Deus Church needs a saint.

A figure who can unify the faithful and serve as their cornerstone.

And I am no exception.

According to the Pope, only if Aria becomes a saint will they believe my words to be true.

It’s in my best interest to hope Aria passes the trial.

But—

‘That is impossible.’

The current Aria cannot become a saint.

From the beginning, she has been a heroine who requires constant care.

Considering how neglected she’s been, it’s a miracle she hasn’t completely fallen apart.

No—

It might even be better for her to completely break down.

Only by shattering completely can she be revived.

Even if Aria crumbles entirely, there exists a route to restore her.

That was my plan.

That was what I intended to do, but—

‘… It’s messed up.’

The situation where Aria must become a saint for my own survival is entirely unexpected.

Of course, it’s not as though there aren’t other options.

‘I guess I’ll just watch for now.’

Beyond the open wall, preparations for the Saint’s Trial were underway.

◆

Aria sat quietly in her seat.

Her neatly combed bangs and the black priestly robe she wore gave her the image of an ideal saint candidate, perfectly composed—

Except for her emphasized figure, which somewhat contradicted the image.

That is, until she opened her mouth.

“…I’m not going.”

Muttering under her breath, Aria faced a knight kneeling before her.

Her escort knight, Dave.

With a pleading tone, he spoke.

“Aria, you must go.”

“N-no!”

“This is the Saint’s Trial. I beg you, just this once, please.”

“I-I can’t! I came because I was told I’d see Ian here. Ian isn’t even here. It was supposed to be a promise!”

Aria’s mental state had completely collapsed.

Dave shut his eyes tightly.

He had to make this work somehow—to get Aria to ascend to the position of saint.

Bringing her this far to the Vatican had already been an arduous effort. But it was happening again.

‘There’s only one step left now.’

The Saint’s Trial was about to begin.

If Aria could pass it, she would ascend as a saint.

It was the culmination of Dave’s long-standing plan.

He had already poured everything into Aria.

If Aria could ascend to the position of saint, then the seeds he had sown in her would…

— It’s time to enter.

A voice came from outside.

Shaking off his thoughts, Dave once again pleaded with Aria.

“Aria, please. Just this once. I won’t ask anything else from you after this.”

“No… I can’t trust anyone except Ian.”

“If you succeed, you’ll be able to see Ian. Truly, this time.”

“R-really?”

“Yes.”

Aria’s gaze briefly landed on Dave’s face, her focus flickering back before vanishing again.

“I… I still can’t believe it.”

Crack.

Unconsciously, Dave clenched his fists tightly.

Saint Candidate Aria.

She constantly put him to the test like this.

Drip.

Blood dripped from his palm, clenched too hard, staining the floor as Dave spoke, his voice heavy with resolve.

“Aria.”

“…”

“You’ll be able to see him. This time, for real.”

“I-Ian?”

“Yes. He’s here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Strictly speaking, Ian was in the underground Inquisition Chamber, but there was no need to share that detail with Aria. Dave had already decided that.

Instead, he pulled an object from his pocket.

A small fountain pen.

It had been confiscated from Ian during a body search.

“Look at this. It belongs to Ian. You’ll recognize it, won’t you?”

Aria took the pen and examined it closely.

Her eyes widened with realization.

“It really is Ian’s.”

“Yes. He’s here. So…”

“If I go in there and come out, I’ll get to see him?”

“Yes. Whatever trial awaits, you must endure it.”

“Alright. I can do it. If I can see Ian, I’ll do it.”

Aria stood up from her seat.

Without hesitation, she opened the door and disappeared through it, never looking back.

That suited them both.

Drip, Drip.

Dave’s blood, now blackened, dripped from his palm, pooling on the ground.

◆

The fountain pen Dave had handed her carried a faint trace of Ian’s scent.

“I can see Ian.”

Aria murmured joyfully as she brought the pen to her nose.

Ian.

The meaning of “Ian” in her heart had shifted.

Not long ago, Ian had been her savior.

The only one capable of rescuing her from the depths she had sunk to.

But now, it was different.

It had become simpler.

Ian was her purpose.

The purpose of her existence.

At some point, Aria herself had disappeared, leaving only Ian in her place.

Her identity had faded, replaced solely by the driving purpose of meeting Ian.

– Candidate Aria, the Saint’s Trial will…

Nearby, someone was explaining the Saint’s Trial—the process, the methods, the precautions.

But Aria didn’t listen.

None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was seeing Ian.

Could passing this trial make her a saint?

Such a reward was meaningless compared to the prospect of meeting Ian.

—Click

She pushed the door open without hesitation and stepped inside.

Her timidity had long since disappeared.

After all, timidity was a part of Aria’s personality.

But her diminished self had been consumed by a singular, all-encompassing purpose—to meet Ian.

“…”

Standing in the room, Aria looked around.

It was an entirely white room.

No, that description wasn’t sufficient.

Up, down, left, and right—everything was white.

It was so uniform that there was no distinction between the ceiling and the floor.

There wasn’t a single object in sight.

Except for the words floating on one wall.

[Pass through the room.]

A cryptic sentence, like a riddle.

Aria scanned her surroundings.

There was nothing. Not even a door.

“…”

The earlier explanation of the “Trial of Patience” held the key to this.

Typically, this trial required the participant to painstakingly search every inch of the walls.

Somewhere on one of these endless white walls, a hidden door was concealed. By pressing against it, the passage to the next trial would appear.

It was a trial anyone could theoretically pass, provided they had the determination and patience to push through.

But the challenge lay in the room’s sheer size, its boundaries so vast they were imperceptible.

While anyone could pass, it demanded extraordinary willpower and perseverance—qualities not everyone possessed.

This place, designed to test the patience of a saint, was the worst possible challenge for Aria.

“… Ian.”

She was already at her breaking point, having endured all she could in her desperation to see Ian.

Patience?

There was none left in her.

She hadn’t even properly listened to the explanation of the trial.

At the time, her thoughts had been consumed entirely by Ian.

Aimlessly, Aria took a step forward.

Thud.

She came up against a wall.

The wall symbolized the endless trials and hardships that awaited a saint.

The role of a saint was not one of beauty or glory. It was a relentless journey of shouldering despair, overcoming barrier after barrier.

This stark white wall embodied that.

But to Aria, this wall was simply an obstacle standing between her and Ian.

“Let me out…”

She mumbled, striking the wall.

It didn’t budge.

She shifted sideways, almost collapsing as she moved.

“Let me through.”

The wall remained closed.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Aria began walking aimlessly, bumping into the walls.

It wasn’t a deliberate search or exploration—it was an erratic movement of her body, driven by desperation.

“Please. Please. Please.”

Her muttering, wandering movements resembled a child throwing a tantrum to see Ian.

And then—

“…?”

A faint trace of divine power reached her senses.

It was so subtle, like a single grain of salt resting on the tip of her finger.

Aria instinctively moved toward it.

Clunk.

The door opened.

And so, Aria passed one of the three trials.

It was the Saint’s Trial—

But to her, it was merely a trial to see Ian.

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