I Became a Childhood Friend With the Villainous Saintess

The face of Sirien, smiling as she promised to grant my wish, lingered in my mind.

The more I tried to shake it off, the more it stirred unease within me.

That dazzling smile. The sunlight streaming down as she held my hand, guiding me forward.

And those eyes, as if waiting for an answer.

My thoughts grew so tangled that I found myself running laps around the training ground late into the night.

It was only after exhausting myself that I could finally clear my mind of such needless musings.

Regardless of my restless night, time marched on, and the day of the festival arrived.

The village, brimming with anticipation since the day before, was bustling with cheer.

Merchants, their wagons piled high, shouted loudly to promote their goods, and the fragrant aroma of delicious food lured passersby.

The streets were festively decorated, appearing both quaint and vibrant.

Just as the baron had boasted, it felt alive with the spirit of the people—a sight that wasn’t unpleasant.

“Razen, let’s start over there! I want to try that!”

Sirien couldn’t hide her excitement, her voice filled with joy.

It seemed I was the only one still caught up in last night’s conversation.

Through the crowded streets, Sirien moved ahead of me, pulling me by the arm.

It felt strangely out of place to follow her lead like this.

I had always thought of myself as the one standing guard in front, but at times like these, simply keeping up with Sirien felt overwhelming.

… I wasn’t oblivious.

At some point, I had noticed that Sirien’s feelings toward me had grown beyond mere childhood friendship.

But I couldn’t help hesitating.

The girl I had grown up with. Someone I felt responsible for protecting.

To share romantic feelings with her felt like a transgression.

Moreover, Sirien hadn’t had the chance to experience other relationships.

Wasn’t it possible that she simply had no one else to project her emotions onto but me?

If Sirien had walked the grand path of a duke’s daughter as she was meant to, she and I would never have come to this point.

So, if I were to selfishly accept Sirien’s feelings without hesitation now—

Wouldn’t that mean I was taking advantage of her circumstances?

I couldn’t allow that. I couldn’t stain our journey with such selfishness.

“This must be it. The bread with plum jam. It looks pretty—so round and neat.”

“Shall we try one each?”

“Yes! Two of these, please!”

The bread Sirien had eagerly anticipated was more of a pie than a bread.

It was a small tart-like dish baked in the shape of a tiny plate, filled with plum jam.

Though its appearance was a bit rustic, it could easily pass as a tart.

As soon as we received the plum jam tarts, we each took a bite.

The sweetness was almost overpowering, a flavor so intense it was nearly violent.

Sirien, chewing happily, looked at me with sparkling eyes.

She pointed at the tart with her finger and spread her hand wide open.

“She says it’s delicious and wants five more.”

“Haha! Thank you!”

I handed over the money to the vendor and received a paper bag.

As I considered taking out another, I noticed a crumb lingering on Sirien’s cheek.

Unaware of it herself, I supposed it fell to me to brush it off.

When I brought my hand close, her lovely face turned to me, curious but waiting.

As I flicked the crumb away, my finger brushed against her lips.

They were soft and slightly damp.

For a brief moment, Sirien blushed and averted her gaze.

I, too, felt too flustered to look her way, so I took the lead and walked ahead.

It was easier to carve a path through the crowd from the front, or so I told myself.

We walked the streets in silence for a few minutes.

“Razen, come here for a moment.”

“Hm?”

“Pfft. Try this on.”

Curious about what she was up to, I turned to find a street vendor selling headbands with animal ears.

Sirien picked out one with cat ears and placed it on my head, bursting into laughter.

“Hahaha! What’s this? Why does it suit you so well?”

“Hey, this is embarrassing. What is this?”

“No, don’t take it off! It looks great on you. Pfft. Just keep it on for a bit longer.”

“Fine, but then you have to wear one too.”

“W-What?”

Thus, I ended up wandering the streets with cat ears on my head, while Sirien donned fox ears.

Whenever one of us tried to take off the headband, the other would fiercely object—leading to a battle with no winner.

Or perhaps… I was the winner all along.

After all, animal ears on a guy like me held no particular charm.

But Sirien’s fox ears? That was an entirely different story.

The large, fluffy white fox ears blended perfectly with her lush silver hair.

The tips of the ears drooped slightly, complementing her flushed face in a way that was downright devastating.

If it meant seeing her like this, enduring my embarrassment was a small price to pay.

Our playful argument continued even through lunch, only coming to an end when we commissioned portraits from a street artist.

“Hehe, this is amazing. How can they draw it so accurately?”

For once, I felt grateful to the original author.

After all, artists sketching portraits on the spot didn’t exist in this era—it was a detail added solely for the date scene between the protagonist and the crown prince. ＮΒÈŝ

We were simply reaping the benefits of that added world-building.

We waited patiently, sitting for about thirty minutes to an hour.

Once completed, the artists framed the portraits in wooden frames.

Sirien, brimming with excitement, tipped them generously and hugged the frame tightly to her chest.

We decided to exchange the portraits.

I received the one of Sirien, and she took mine.

In her portrait, Sirien wore a bright smile, her gentle eyes crinkling into a soft crescent shape.

“Look at this! The eyes are just like yours. Especially here—this part is perfect.”

“Really? I’ve heard people say they look too sharp.”

“Who said that nonsense? They clearly lack taste. Next time someone says something like that, I’ll set them straight.”

***

We stopped by the baron’s manor to drop off the portraits.

After admiring the newly tended garden and napping on a bench together, we returned to the festival, which was still in full swing.

As evening approached, the atmosphere seemed to grow even more lively.

The scent of alcohol began wafting through the streets.

At the heart of it all was a performance that had just begun.

“Razen, over there where the crowd’s gathering—doesn’t it look like the show’s starting?”

“Looks like it. Let’s go before it gets even more crowded.”

The stage we’d seen the day before was indeed prepared for performances.

By the time we arrived, clowns were already performing tricks atop giant balls.

Their antics were surprisingly gripping, teetering on the edge of falling but never quite losing balance.

Sirien, especially, clenched her hands tightly whenever it seemed like they might fall.

Which meant, at that moment, Sirien was holding my hand as we watched the performance.

Her innocent eyes were fixed on the stage.

At some point, I found myself watching Sirien more than the show.

Her lips parted slightly, then closed again, as exclamations of “Oh!” and “Wow!” slipped out repeatedly.

Her smile was radiant—pure, like the one she used to wear back when we were at the castle, before heading to the cabin.

She still had that smile.

Somehow, it made my chest feel warm.

“Razen. Do I have something on my face?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, just a little dust.”

“Really? I thought you were staring. Well, go ahead and brush it off for me.”

“Hold still.”

I must have been staring at her without even realizing how much time had passed.

Awkwardly, I brushed away some nonexistent dust with a flimsy excuse.

Sirien blinked a few times before pulling something out of her pocket.

It was a piece of candy.

Without warning, she popped it into my mouth.

A burst of grape flavor spread across my tongue.

“That candy’s really good. I figured you’d regret it if you didn’t try it.”

“Th-anks.”

“Haha! You can finish it before you talk, you know.”

After the clowns’ performance, a band took the stage.

Various instruments were set up, and soon the music began.

It wasn’t the subdued kind of music you’d hear at a high-society ball. It was fiery and lively.

Some of the songs were ones I’d heard before, tunes meant to encourage listeners to dance.

Clearly, this setup had been intentional.

There were no chairs near the stage, just a wide open space.

Before long, people around us began pairing up and dancing.

Sirien had always loved music and dance.

Even back at the cabin, she’d often sing to herself, and at the castle, her talents had been the subject of gossip among the maids.

I remembered the night we’d lit a bonfire—Sirien had danced joyfully then too.

A bonfire…

As my thoughts began to wander again, Sirien suddenly leaned into my view.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing much.”

“Really? Then are you just going to leave me here? It’s the gentleman’s job to ask for a dance, you know.”

“I’m probably rusty. It’s been so long since I last danced.”

“Since when have we cared about things like that?”

Sirien giggled, brushing it off easily.

Yet her gaze lingered on me, expectant in a way that felt like silent urging.

Ask her to dance? What should I even say?

At the cabin, it was simple. We’d just grab each other’s hands and move however we wanted.

But we weren’t children anymore. Sirien had grown into a proper lady, someone who could be addressed as such.

I didn’t want to treat her carelessly.

No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t come up with the right words.

In the end, I found myself uttering the most clichéd, overused, and embarrassingly corny line imaginable.

“…Would you honor me with this dance, my lady?”

“With pleasure, my knight.”

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