Chapter 81

The following morning—the second day of the Holy Chalice Cup.

On this day, which was to decide the woman most beloved by God—the Holy Maiden—the arena was even more vibrant and rowdy than the day before.

By the very nature of their status, the candidates do not engage in flashy displays of martial arts. Instead, they compete in their power to heal and nurture life.

The content of this competition varies each time. In some years, the woman who could summon rain clouds the fastest became the Holy Maiden; in others, the one who healed the most injured people was granted the title.

The methods by which a Holy Maiden manifests her power are also diverse: some pray, some dance, and others sing. To the spectators, the Holy Maiden selection within the Holy Chalice Cup is less of a duel and more like watching a mystical performance.

The candidates understood this well. Furthermore, since the support of the crowd can sometimes influence the judgment of the officiating Cardinals, they inevitably began to dress in lavish finery to capture the public’s attention.

Thus, the selection had increasingly taken on the character of a flamboyant entertainment spectacle.

As a result, as the candidates made their entrance, the spectator stands erupted in thunderous cheers—a stark contrast to the usual academy atmosphere that valued silence and tranquility.

Elma and Irene, waiting their turn at the entrance to the stage, were ignoring the grand procession of other candidates. Instead, they had been locked in a serious, whispered conversation for some time.

“Are we clear, Elma? Let’s confirm one more time. Your mission for today is…”

“Don’t win, don’t look sharp, don’t stand out…”

“Exactly. You are just a perfectly average exchange student. For heaven’s sake, please, please make sure you don’t shove aside the other candidates, clear the objective in seconds, or do anything else that draws attention, okay?”

“Not standing out…”

Indeed.

Because yesterday’s “inconspicuous reciprocation” had accidentally turned her into the center of attention during the opening ceremony, Elma had been thoroughly lectured by both Lucas and Irene.

“Your definition of ‘inconspicuous’ is wrong!” they had yelled.

Perhaps due to the scolding that hadn’t stopped even this morning, or perhaps due to her physical condition, Elma’s glasses looked somewhat despondently cloudy. She gave a solemn nod. “I will do my best…”

Just then, one of the candidate girls brushed past them, intentionally bumping into Elma as she passed through the entrance gate.

Dressed in an exceptionally eye-catching outfit, the girl looked Elma up and down, snorted, and spat out a spiteful whisper.

“What a shabby Holy Maiden candidate. Regardless of your actual talent, this competition is effectively a popularity contest for the audience. Why don’t you go home and look in a mirror before you embarrass yourself?”

“……”

Behind her glasses, Elma’s eyes sparkled with a hint of joy as she watched the girl walk away.

Elma turned toward Irene as if expecting something, but Irene was quick to shut it down.

“No. That wasn’t a flag. It wasn’t a variation of ‘Hmph, a mere B-rank,’ and it wasn’t a setup. I repeat: the novels you read are collections of things that are absolutely not ordinary in the real world.”

“…Is that so?”

Elma sounded profoundly disappointed.

She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around the idea that the novels Marc had lent her were “absolutely not ordinary.”

“…The part where someone accidentally pulls out a holy sword while walking down the street, or where members of the opposite sex fall for the protagonist just from a single smile… those felt quite realistic, so I thought I was on the right track this time…”

“That’s exactly the problem, Elma!?”

Irene finally shrieked. But for Elma, whose parents were the former Hero Gilbert and the continent’s greatest prostitute Heidemarie, she could only groan in confusion.

“Truly… being ‘ordinary’ is quite difficult, isn’t it…”

“It’s because you’re looking for examples in novels for young men! The only things in this world you should use as a life guide are a handful of very specific thin books (doujinshi or niche hobbyist publications), okay? Just look around you! This will all be solved if you just copy the majority, or copy the plainest girl you can find!”

“I see.”

Encouraged by Irene’s desperate shouting, Elma nodded with enough vigor to suggest she might have clapped her hands in realization.

Just then, their turn finally arrived.

They passed through the entrance gate and proceeded solemnly to their designated spots on the stage.

Hearing the audience begin to boo in unison at the sight of the plain-looking Elma, Irene knit her brows.

“What is this? They don’t look like devotees watching over Holy Maiden candidates; they look like a bunch of men appraising girls. I find it hard to believe this is a festival to determine the pinnacle and symbol of the Aurian faith.”

“Since Aurelia is a tourism-dependent nation, festivals are an important resource. I suppose they have to compromise with their doctrines.”

“This is just plain corruption.”

Irene fell silent, seemingly struck by her own harsh words, and cast a brief glance toward the spectator stands. It was a gesture as if she were looking for someone.

It was a subtle movement of the eyes that normally no one would have noticed, and while only Elma caught it and tilted her head in curiosity, Irene gripped her fist as if to regain her focus.

“Now, let’s pull ourselves together and be thoroughly mediocre!”

The moment Irene shouted this, they reached their station, and the opportunity for questioning was lost.

The massive arena was paved with stone. Roughly thirty Holy Maiden candidates stood at equal intervals in a rectangular formation on the circular stage.

Each had dressed up as much as possible over their uniforms and stood before a simple desk and chair. Considering the entrance itself to be part of the performance, their postures were like those of stage actresses. Some even brought a large entourage of maids dressed in coordinating colors to act as foils.

The few exceptions were the plain girl in glasses wearing the standard uniform at the very end—Elma—and the girl with flaxen hair positioned next to her—Chloe.

Despite being regarded as the top candidate, Chloe, like Elma, wore a plain white uniform and kept her eyes downcast as if avoiding the gaze of the audience.

Ruminating on Irene’s words about “plain girls,” Elma stared intently at her.

“A model…”

“Hey, Elma, if you’re going to copy someone’s behavior, wouldn’t that girl over there be a good choice? She has a rustic feel, a bit country—she seems perfectly ordinary.”

As for Irene, she was pointing toward a girl in a row slightly further away who looked as if she were being “worn” by her elaborate costume.

However, Elma kept her eyes fixed firmly on Chloe as she questioned Irene in a low voice.

“The corners of the mouth drop, while the lower lip is pulled up… That is a micro-expression of tension, acting as emotional suppression. Is it ordinary to be so nervous that one tries to kill their own emotions in a place like this?”

“It’s perfectly ordinary. This is a once-in-thirty-years stage; some candidates are probably carrying the expectations of their entire clan. It would be weirder not to be nervous.”

“I see.”

Just then, Chloe glanced up and showed a frightened expression. She was looking toward a flashily dressed candidate—the same girl who had bumped into Elma earlier. That girl pulled something out of her pocket and glared back at Chloe intimidatingly.

Elma tilted her head slightly.

“Is it also ordinary to cast frightened glances at those around you—specifically those considered rivals? Furthermore, the rival occasionally takes out a slip of paper and stares at it with great satisfaction. Are these also ordinary occurrences?”

“I’d say so. The paper is probably a lucky charm or an amulet, right? Being timid in front of overwhelming rivals is a classic common behavior for a ‘faint-hearted mob character’ in this situation.”

As it happened, the girl Irene had been watching was looking around timidly as well. Because of this, the two of them were managing to hold a conversation while being completely at cross-purposes.

“Understood. I shall try to model my behavior after her.”

“I think that’s a good idea. But just to be safe, don’t lose sight of the big picture… periodically scan all the candidates and follow the movements of the majority.”

“Yes.”

Their goal was no longer to win the Holy Chalice Cup. It was something far more difficult: the embodiment of “mob-like” behavior.

“We shall now commence the Holy Chalice Cup, Saint Division. Candidates, please receive the pots that are about to be distributed.”

One of the Cardinals announced from the center of the arena, signaling the start of the Holy Maiden’s division. The person presiding over the proceedings this time was a small, elderly Cardinal. With his thin, fluttering hair, he was none other than Celso—the key figure of the pro-Luden faction and the one who had sent the request.

Celso’s puppy-like eyes moistened as he gave a soft nod toward Elma. Translated, it was a plea: “Please, win this.”

His attitude practically screamed that the fate of the pro-Luden faction rested on her shoulders. Elma showed a hint of hesitation, but Irene immediately interjected.

“We aren’t saying you shouldn’t win at all. In your case, if you approach this with total sincerity, it will surely escalate into something far beyond a mere tournament. We believe that only by putting your full effort into avoiding victory will you finally settle into an ‘ordinary’ win. Your actions are neither a betrayal nor a violation of orders.”

“Yes.”

As Elma nodded quietly, pots containing plant seedlings began to be distributed. Among the janitors handing out the pots was Lucas, disguised in his dull attire. When their eyes met, his lips moved silently to convey: “Don’t overdo it.”

Feeling the concern coming from both sides, Elma gave a deadpan thumbs-up.

Lucas and the others felt only more anxious.

“The seedlings distributed to you are all of the Alloro tree, the national tree of our country, Aurelia, which is also planted throughout this arena. However, these seedlings have all been partially damaged.”

Once the pots were in everyone’s hands, Celso began his thin-voiced explanation. The candidates stirred at the final sentence, but the elderly Cardinal simply nodded.

“Yes. This task is both the healing and the cultivation of a plant. The one who regenerates the seedling and grows it larger than any other shall wear the Crown of the Saint.”

Healing and cultivation seem like similar abilities at first glance, but in reality, the former is the power to “change state” by repairing what is broken, while the latter is the power to “strengthen state” by developing the target’s inherent properties.

Almost no candidate possessed both, and everyone felt a wave of unease about completing the task. Then again, since cultivation is impossible without first regenerating the seedling, those with healing abilities felt they had the advantage.

Candidates confident in healing began to regain their composure. Some even cast looks of superiority toward Chloe, whose talent for cultivation was known to be peerless.

“Looking at the reactions around us, this seems like a fairly difficult task… Elma, you don’t happen to be a dual-type Holy Power wielder who can do both healing and cultivation, do you?”

“I have no recollection of possessing Holy Power in the first place.”

“Right. Of course.”

A trace of relief colored Irene’s voice. Incidentally, Lucas, still in his janitor disguise, also breathed a secret sigh of relief, thinking, “At this rate, there won’t be an ‘Elma-massacre’ this time.”

Tension. Resolve. Superiority. Anxiety.

The air among the candidates standing in the arena grew thick with suspense.

“Then, may God’s blessing be upon the candidates. The Holy Chalice Cup, Saint Division—begin!”

At Celso’s declaration, the girls all took hold of their pots at once.