Chapter 1

Main Story
The Saint Of Warding Decided To Stop Being Called Useless And Incompetent

Chapter One
They Say the Witch Is Useless and Incompetent

A carriage accident occurred on the main road.
It was a terrible accident.
The road was damaged, the carriage was destroyed, and many people were injured.
After receiving the report, the temple dispatched two Saintesses to provide treatment.
When we arrived, a young girl with golden hair and jade-green eyes placed her hand over the wound of the most severely injured person.

“Heal.”

Rainbow-colored light spilled from her palm.
The particles of light showered down over the wound, sparkling brightly.
The surrounding people let out sighs of admiration.

“Oh, the wound is healing… Thank you so much.”
“No, this is only natural for a Saintess.”
“Just as the rumors say, you are like an angel.”

Anyone would naturally think highly of the person who saved their life.
To them, she had to be kind, intelligent, and pure.
It was inevitable that they would believe she was superior to everyone else.
Then one of the injured turned their gaze toward me.

“Compared to her, I never thought that a fellow Saintess could be this useless. I’m disappointed.”

Still, I believe it is wrong to compare people and belittle someone else without reason.

Holding medical tools meant for treating people directly, a girl with black hair and amethyst-colored eyes quietly let out a breath.
That girl was me.
Angelina.

I disinfected the wounds of lightly injured patients and skillfully wrapped bandages around them.
If people relied too much on healing magic, their natural healing ability would weaken.
That was why the priests had instructed me to handle minor injuries this way.

Then, one injured person slapped my hand away.

“If someone who can use Healing Power is free, I want her to treat me.”
“Me too.”
“So do I.”
“But the priest instructed me to treat patients with light injuries.”
“That’s discrimination.”
“There’s no such thing as light or serious injuries, you heartless woman.”
“No, that’s not what I—”

Before I could explain, a hand was gently extended toward me.
When I looked up, Helena was standing there, smiling faintly.

“It’s all right, Lady Angelina. I will take over.”
“Lady Helena… that would mean going against the instructions.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Again.
You may not mind, but I’m the one who will be severely scolded.

Suddenly, a man shoved my shoulder hard.
I crashed into the ground and let out an involuntary groan.

“Don’t mess around. Who cares about the priest’s instructions in a situation like this. Don’t you have any kindness for the injured?”
“She must be jealous because she has no talent.”
“Get out of the way.”

Voices hurled insults at me from all sides as they tried to drive me away.
If this continued, the situation would escalate and create more injured people.

With no choice, I stood up while holding the box containing the medical tools.

“I understand. I will excuse myself.”

“Poor Lady Helena, having to work with someone so incompetent.”
“Everyone, she is still a Saintess. She simply lacks… quite a few things. She means no harm.”

Calling someone “still a Saintess” was nothing but an insult.

Who would ever want to work with her by choice.
They disliked me, yet they always singled me out.
I was being forced into this partnership just as unwillingly.

As I endured the verbal abuse and mocking laughter, I turned back to look at Helena.
Her jade-green eyes, standing above the crowd, held clear disdain.
Her lips were twisted into an ugly smile of satisfaction.

And this was the girl praised as an angel.

I should go back now.
Anyone with enough energy to hurl insults clearly was not in mortal danger.

As I turned on my heel, a voice followed me along with the sound of a tongue clicking.

“Look at her. That creepy black hair, those malicious-looking purple eyes, that pale lifeless face. On top of that, her personality is cruel and rotten. That’s why she’s called a witch.”

Loud jeers erupted.

If Helena was an angel, then I was a witch.
I had been compared and degraded countless times already.
This much would not hurt me now.

No matter how much I explained, people only listened to what suited them.
I had long since given up on being understood.

I walked calmly back toward the temple.
I was going to be scolded anyway, so there was no reason to hurry.

Excited children ran past me.

“Hey, that’s the Saintess who grows plants.”
“It’s true. There’s also a Saintess who makes milk taste sweet.”

In truth, Saintesses were not rare in the Centrea Kingdom.

There were Saintesses skilled at enchanting weapons.
Saintesses who improved recovery through cooking.
Saintesses who excelled at finding lost items.

They were unique, and even those with questionable usefulness were generally accepted by the people.

Among them, a few were famous for having exceptional abilities.

One of them was Helena.
Her Healing Power was highly effective against common illnesses and injuries.
Even incurable diseases or severe injuries, such as losing limbs in accidents, could be healed to a certain extent.

Another was Queen Leonora.
She possessed the power of a Barrier.

Her barrier repelled enemy soldiers.
Weapons and magical tools were useless against it.
Poison had no effect, and even high-powered magic could not be used.

It was said that when enemy nations once invaded, Centrea Kingdom was spared thanks to Queen Leonora’s barrier.
In recognition of that achievement, she became queen.

And then there was one more Saintess, famous for a different reason.

That was me.
Angelina.

My ability was Warding.

Whether it was magical beasts, demon gods, devils, or even a demon king,
anything with the intent to harm humans would be repelled.
I believed this was an ability truly worthy of being called a Saintess.

In my case, prayers, purification, and harsh training were unnecessary.
Simply existing caused my power to work automatically.

That was both my strength and my weakness.

“Oh, it’s a Saintess.”

As I passed by, a boy’s eyes met mine.
The white robe issued only to Saintesses made me easy to recognize.

I smiled and waved.
The boy tilted his head in confusion.

“Hey, that Saintess isn’t doing anything.”
“Don’t look at her,” his mother said, pulling him behind her.
“That witch… the Saintess of Warding.”

She hurried away as if fleeing.

Saintess of Warding.
Shortened, it became a witch.

In stories, witches were hated figures.
Whether intentional or not, the name stuck.
They said that looking at me would curse you.
That hearing my voice would enchant you.
That touching me would make you stupid.

Wasn’t that too cruel?

When the previous Saintess of Warding was alive, it had never been this bad.

In Centrea Kingdom, a Saintess of Warding was born without interruption.
Black hair and amethyst-colored eyes were proof of that role.

I was taken into the temple the moment I was born.
I never knew my family.

Instead, I lived with the previous Saintess of Warding, whom everyone called Grandmother.

She taught me everything I needed to live as a Saintess.
The Saintess of Warding repelled evil simply by existing.
The range depended on one’s magical power.

She performed no outwardly “holy” acts.
When one died, the next inherited the role.
That was the only duty.

This had been the system since the founding of Centrea Kingdom.

She also taught me basic magic, necessary rituals, etiquette, and advanced education, in case I ever married into high nobility.

Did no one think it was rude to call someone who worked so hard useless?

Aside from my Saintess studies, servants and priests asked me for help almost every day.
Cleaning the temple, preparing meals, laundry, shopping, even childcare.

Sometimes I worked from early morning until late at night.
I did not know there was any other way to live, so I gave everything I had.

Being told I was helpful, even in small ways, was far better than being called useless.

This is important, so I will say it again.

A Saintess of Warding is never absent.

That meant the people of Centrea Kingdom had never seen demon gods, devils, demon kings, or even magical beasts in their entire lives.

In other countries, magical beasts freely roamed forests and caused enormous damage.
Here, they were little more than fantasy.

“They cannot even imagine what evil truly is.”

That was the root of the problem.

People could not fear what they had never seen.
They could not understand my value.

So they spoke ill of me without hesitation.
They treated me coldly.

They believed I was doing nothing.
Recently, more people openly called me useless and incompetent.

They believed soldiers or the army were more useful than me.
As a Saintess, being expected so little might actually be rare.

Dragging my heavy legs, I passed through the temple gate.
After reporting what happened at the accident scene, the priest scolded me as expected.

“Why did you abandon your duty?”
“The injured refused my treatment.”
“Then did you leave them untreated?”
“No. At their request, Lady Helena used Healing Power.”
“Sigh… How many times must I repeat this? Overusing magic weakens natural healing.”
“Then perhaps you should tell Lady Helena directly.”
“She won’t listen. That’s why you were assigned as her support.”

I did not understand at all.

Guidance was the priest’s responsibility.
Why was this my role?

The priest let out a deep sigh.

“Just manage it properly. Complaints from believers are increasing. At this rate, the temple will no longer be able to protect you.”
“I understand.”

I did not want to understand, but I ended the conversation.

As I closed the door, the priest muttered behind my back.

“I can’t tell what she’s thinking behind that artificial smile. She’s creepy and cold. That’s why, despite being a Saintess, she’s given the disgraceful nickname of witch.”

I closed the door quietly.

Behind injustice lay misunderstanding.

I was exhausted.

Just as I turned to go rest, a maid stopped me.

“Your fiancé, Lord Graham Bearsley, is waiting for you in the guest room.”