So, Calix’s ageless appearance must have been the use of his sister’s overflowing holy powers. Of course, since they were priests with their own powers, it wouldn’t have been too difficult.
Calix’s head shot up in surprise as if confirming her words were correct.
“Hey, how… … .”
“To be honest, at first I thought Calix-nim was the real saint and only lied about his gender.”
Indeed, if you look back on history, there were often men and women.
‘So if Calix was a real saint, he would have announced that from the start.’
Therefore, the real ‘Saint’ would be his sister Callistea. However, for some reason, Callistea disappeared, and Calix, who disguised himself as a woman, replaced his twin sister.
Perhaps years before his missing report was filed.
“Seeing that you can use her holy powers, Callistea-nim must still be alive and well.”
But why is Calix taking the place of his sister? Damia roughly guessed why, but she didn’t say it out loud.
Instead, she questioned him softly,
“Tell me please. Where is the real Saint now?”
She was most likely detained. Calix was able to pretend to be a fake saint in the first place because the High Temple put him in that position.
But despite revealing the secret he most wanted to conceal, Calix said nothing. He seemed to be deeply conflicted about something.
So it felt like he would collapse if she pressed him a little more. Damia lowered her voice and persuaded him with the utmost sincerity.
“Maybe we can rescue Callistea. What we want is to stop the greed of the High Temple, not to harm the Saint.”
At those words, he raised his head and stared at her. Damia thought she saw a mysterious resolve in his blue eyes.
Perhaps that feeling was not an illusion; Calix slowly opened his mouth.
“… … Callistea. She was immutable, the opposite of the pathetic me—a hard-hearted child.”
The weak voice was thin, but it was a man’s. Resigning, he confided all the facts openly and frankly.
His sister, Callistea, seemed blunt but was very warm-hearted. She was a ‘real Saint’ whom God loved and blessed.
There was no way that such a headstrong Callistea would consent to ‘pollution,’ a conspiracy orchestrated by the temple. She knew many people would suffer if that dreadful plan was carried out, especially the Southerners.
Calix, who had spoken up to this point, raised his head and looked at Damia.
“You’re not surprised. Did you already know that pollution was something that was concocted by the temple?”
At Damia’s brief affirmation, he laughed, “Huh.” Then he asked further.
“Then do you know how the ‘Devil’s Tears’ used for pollution were made?”
“… … I know that the oil imported from the Kingdom of Bern goes into it.”
she replied after she thought for a moment. He nodded his head indifferently, revealing a shocking secret.
“Oil is just a compound. You need to corrupt holy powers to create the demon’s tears that really cause ‘pollution.’ And the driving force that supplies that fallen power is… … Callistea.”
“What? What does that mean?”
Damia’s eyes widened. It was completely unexpected that the noble Saint was none other than the main source of contamination.
Then, Calix recklessly rubbed his hair with an anguished face. And through his tousled hair, he said with a dry laugh.
“Because that girl is a saint, she doesn’t die or go crazy. So instead they drug her with a lot of narcotics and sedatives to induce terrible hallucinations. If you add a little hypnosis to that state… … It can produce very horrendous results.”