I Became the Substitute for the Runaway Heroine - Chapter 67

“This is truly horrific.”

The temple, deceiving countless sick people, what a cruel act.

People came here to Demuna, believing it to be a sacred land. But the patients who arrived were writhing in pain, screaming in agony, coughing up blood… Eventually, unable to endure the torment, they rolled helplessly on the ground.

Watching this, Odette trembled.

“This isn’t a holy land—it’s hell.”

“Ahh! It hurts so much! Please, let me see the Saintess!”

Patients clung to the guards, pleading for help.

From a distance, Odette watched the scene unfold, biting her lips in frustration.

“Did they not see the notice? The Saintess, who has healing powers, is fully booked until the end of this year.”

“I feel like I’m dying! I’ll give you all the money I have—please…”

“Wait here.”

The guard took the gold and silver the patient offered and disappeared—never to return.

“Mother, please hold on. We’re scheduled to meet the Saintess tomorrow. Please…”

The child looked to be around seven years old.

A small, frail girl sobbed, shaking the body of her mother, who lay on the ground.

“Child, your mother hasn’t been breathing for a while now. As for that appointment with the Saintess—why not sell it to me?”

“My mother isn’t dead! She’s just asleep!”

“Tch. She’s not breathing—how can you say she’s alive?”

“The corpse will rot soon and start to stink. That will make my daughter’s illness worse. Guards! There’s a corpse here!”

“No! Please don’t take my mother away!”

As the girl cried, clutching her already lifeless mother, the adults roughly pulled her away and called for the guards.

A guard arrived with a stretcher, lifted the woman’s body without a word, and hurried off without saying where he was taking her.

“Mother! Mother!”

As the girl tried to follow the guard, she stumbled and fell. The man who had summoned the guard approached her.

“About that appointment your mother had with the Saintess—when and where was it? Tell me, and I’ll give you money to buy bread.”

“Hng… Mother…”

“Your mother is dead anyway. At least I need to save my wife! Stop crying and answer me!”

The man roughly grabbed the girl and shook her.

“Jacques.”

“Yes, Lady Odette.”

Jacques rushed over and took the child from the man’s hands.

“What are you doing? Mmph!”

Jacques seized the man’s jaw with one hand.

“If you’re an insect, I’ll crush you. If you’re a man, I’ll let you go. Which is it?”

“I-I’m human.”

“Then act like one.”

The man bit his lip and backed away in silence.

Odette gently held the child.

“Did you come here with just your mother?”

“Yes. We sold our house to come here. Mother said our relatives would kick me out once she died anyway.”

Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes.

“Please help us. The guards took my mother away. We need to meet the Saintess—only she can save her.”

“Jacques.”

“Yes, I’ll go and check right away.”

As Jacques ran off, Odette turned her gaze back to the girl.

“Where have you been staying? It doesn’t seem like you’ve been able to get a room at an inn.”

“No. We didn’t have that kind of money.”

“I see. Then come with us. The red-haired knight who just ran off is finding out where your mother was taken.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The girl cried with joy, smiling at the thought of seeing her mother again.

“Poor child.”

Odette set the girl down and took her hand.

With so many people collapsed on the ground, she had to walk carefully to avoid stepping on anyone. Some seemed to have already passed away.

“Someone, please kill me… I beg you…”

“Oh, dear God…”

“W-Water… Please, just a sip of water…”

Odette paused at the sight of a patient desperately begging for water.

“Would you stay here just a moment? I need to give that person some water.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hmm?”

“They’re not asking for water. They want money to buy holy water.”

The girl introduced herself as Vera and shared her story.

It had been ten days since they arrived in Demuna. Her mother had still been able to walk.

But with the high cost of lodging, food, and even water, their money had quickly run out.

“It wasn’t just my mother who had no money. No one could afford water—everyone was struggling the same.”

Vera pointed to the long line of people waiting to buy holy water.

It was nothing more than ordinary well water gushing from beneath a statue of an angel, and yet they dared to call it holy water, selling it at an outrageous price.

“One bottle for 1 gold, three bottles for 2 gold.”

On either side of the Saintess selling the holy water stood guards, their eyes fierce, like predators watching for weakness.

Those too poor to buy even a drop knelt before the towering statue of the Grand Saintess, their desperate prayers echoing across the plaza.

“Lady Heravrua, please save my baby. I beg you… please…”

“Grand Saintess, take my life instead. Heal my mother—please!”

“Let my brother walk again… please, I’m begging you!”

Heravrua—praised as the most merciful, the most virtuous among all the Grand Saintesses throughout history.

And now, countless people were collapsed at her feet, clinging to that faint hope, praying for salvation.

‘Do they even know?’ Odette thought, ‘That the very woman they revere had her sacred staff stolen… that she was thrown into prison?’

She lifted her gaze toward the gleaming golden tower that pierced the sky beyond the plaza.

It was the same one from her dreams—vivid and unrelenting.

‘That must be where my mother was imprisoned.’

From its position—visible just beyond the window—the golden tower was unmistakably within the grounds of the Temple of Spring.

“I couldn’t find the child’s mother.”

Late into the night, Jacques returned to the lodging, his red hair tangled and matted, his face drawn with exhaustion.

He hadn’t rested, not for a moment. It was clear he’d scoured every corner, desperately searching for answers.

“You followed them immediately. How could you not know where they went?”

“No—it’s not that. They took her into the golden tower… and I couldn’t follow them inside.”

“They brought a corpse into the golden tower?”

“Yes. And… with the money they took from the sick and their families, they melt down gold—layer upon layer, gilding the tower. But that’s not enough for them. Now, they’re filling the inside of the tower with gold as well.”

They were stripping the desperate of every last coin—not to save lives, not to ease suffering—but to turn a tower into a shrine of vanity.

Emma, who had been quietly embroidering, slammed her needle down in fury, her voice trembling with rage.

“Why waste money on such meaningless extravagance? Golden tower, wooden tower—what does it matter? What the believers want isn’t some glittering monument—they want a place where the sick can rest, where they can pray without fear or pain!”

Odette slowly shook her head, her voice low and bitter.

“The Saintesses have no healing powers.”

“That’s exactly why the patients want to die here.” Emma’s voice cracked. “Because they think… in the afterlife, at least, they won’t have to suffer anymore.”

Odette felt a chill run through her. There was a heavy truth in Emma’s words.

Those stricken with incurable diseases—beyond the reach of any healer—had surely been driven to the edge, not only in body, but in spirit.

Perhaps that was why their fear of death—and what came after—was greater than most.

And so they sought to die here, in this so-called sacred land.

‘Maybe… that’s why the horrors of this place have remained hidden from the world.’

Most who came to Demuna never returned.

Odette looked at Emma, suddenly reminded of her devout faith, and asked gently,

“Emma, when did you first hear that Demuna was a holy land?”

“Since I was very little. Why?”

“Did you ever meet anyone who had actually been here? Anyone who came back from Demuna?”

“No. Never. I always heard it was too far, too difficult to reach. For someone like me—a maid sold off to pay her family’s debts—it was practically unreachable. I never imagined… it would cost ten gold just to enter.”

Odette fell silent, thoughts churning. Then she turned to Jacques.

“What about you? Before coming here, what did you know about Demuna? Anything you’ve heard—tell me.”

“I heard it was the holiest of lands. A place where Saintesses and priests lived. And…”

Jacques narrowed his eyes, searching his memories, then continued.

“That it wasn’t a place just anyone could enter.”

“…I heard the same.”

Back when she was at House Saxen, Odette had overheard the name Demuna—spoken in passing, like a myth.

A place not just anyone could reach.

Why? Why had such rumors spread so widely? Why had no one questioned them?

What was this place, really?

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