The Soliloquy of a Fanatic

My current name is Jill de Montmorin

Not the name I was born with.

A name granted to me for my mission.

Yet one I have borne longer than the name I was given at birth.

Perhaps I was born the fifth son of an imperial noble house…

I recall not being from a particularly wealthy family.

And at that time, I was far too foolish.

I revealed my gift before my parents… that was reckless…

Upon learning of my power, my parents sought to use it to elevate their noble standing.

In time, my existence became known to the nation.

And so I was sent to the presence of Her Imperial Majesty… then still the Empress.

It was a secret agency, known only to a handful of individuals within the nation that gathered only those with gifts.

Let me introduce my gift here.

My power is simple and the most common of magical eyes.

But my magic eye is not something simple, like seeing sacred power or summoning flames by gazing.

My eyes reveal the truth of what I see.

They tell me who a person truly is, what hidden power they bear. If I choose, I can read their thoughts.

This gift, named “Heart’s Sight” by Her Imperial Majesty the Dowager Empress, allows me to seek out fellow gifted ones, guide them to the nation, and keep watch within the Church.

My post is the Church itself. Publicly, I am presented as a pitiable noble descendant, unneeded and cast aside—exiled to the Church. In truth, my standing remains unchanged, and no one questions it.

Years later, upon the passing of His Majesty the Emperor, leadership of the organization passed to the current Empress. Yet certain factions still remain under the control of the Dowager Empress. I am one of those.

I was occasionally summoned to the Imperial Palace for purposes such as exposing rebels, but after the succession, those visits diminished sharply. Now, I spent my days traveling among the regional churches, searching for any remaining kin—monotonous and wearying.

Those suffocating days were about to end.

Perhaps eleven years ago… I was serving as a subordinate to the Archbishop of Étoile in the province of Emmental.

That summer, a divine emissary appeared.

She was gifted, though her power was not great. She could decipher rituals and perceive the flow of holy energy.

Yet her true worth lay elsewhere. Her heart was pure and clear, her affinity with the Goddess exceptionally high—like a star’s light, fallen from a wretched cradle, I witnessed a miracle in her.

She heard the voice of the Goddess’s emissary in the sanctuary. And in her small body, she answered the call.

What a wondrous thing… What a divine presence… She was no longer merely a child of man, but an angel in human form.

I wish to claim her… To drag that angel down to earth, to drown her in my desire…

Honestly, I did not think such human feelings still lingered within me.

For several years, I did not stir from the Emmental lands. I awaited her return with quiet devotion, cherishing each moment I might glimpse her.

Of course, I have reported her presence to the court with precise accuracy.

“The lord of Emmental has a daughter, Spica von Emmental, showing signs of the cursed eye. Yet her power cannot become that which the nation desires.”

Even so, Her Majesty the Empress Dowager did not overlook such a report.

For she had already arranged, at the time of the debutante’s arrival, the selection of a match—premised upon her own granddaughter’s marriage…

Perhaps her excellence, her innate sacred power, her noble lineage—all were considered, yet the Empress Dowager truly is without flaw…

By the fifth year, she was finally reassigned to a new posting. Her days now spent searching for kin abroad.

One day, in a remote village, she found a single girl.

A child of such profound sorrow, so utterly wasted.

She knew not how the girl had been raised, but she had cursed her own kin through her own power, and in the end, only wounded herself—a pitiful lamb.

The girl repeated to her adoptive parents, “After all, I’m just an adopted child, so I’m not worth loving, are I?” “After all, I’m just an adopted child—what does it matter what happens to me?”

And the parents, in turn, treated her as though she were right.

Through my eyes, her gift revealed itself as the ability to guide, through voice, those who held affection or interest toward her, drawing their thoughts ever closer to her own.

Yet, it seemed ineffective toward things she neither thought nor knew.

I did not report her immediately.

For a time, I pondered. If I used her, could I hold that angel within these arms—close enough to touch?

But it was also a dangerous gamble.

Let her become whatever she would—yet my angel might fall, becoming merely a child of man…

No… even that might be a kind of amusement.

I might be reprimanded by Her Imperial Majesty, but such matters were trifling.

I decided the odds were better if I acted rather than not. So I made contact with her.

It had been more than half a year since I first saw her.

A report had reached me—like a declaration of affection—that the third prince, my intended, had taken interest in the angel…

Hurry. That angel shall not be taken from me by the royal court…

Her name is Piscis.

To me, she appears fourteen years of age.

I allow myself a moment of fantasy, imagining my angel—her age, fifteen, neither quite woman nor girl, a mystery of growth. Though she is said to be one year younger than I, she appears far more childish. Is it difference in thought, or in nourishment?

When I first saw her, she was alive—her foster mother, ill and dying. Since then, I have repeated, again and again, “It is my fault…” Now her foster father is near a broken man.

A truly pitiful girl.

“Piscis, hello. I am Jill, a humble servant of the divine. You were born as a wondrous gift from God.

Would you consider using that power—for me?

I can help you find happiness.”

As I approached, she at first guarded her heart—but slowly, she opened it to me.

Because of the poison she had slowly scattered through the village with her own power, she was an outcast even among her own people, and so I must have seemed precious to her—someone willing to listen.

Thus, I had secured a valuable pawn.

I prepared her for transport to Emmental, attending to the finer details with quiet precision.

I did not teach her the ways of nobility, but I did instruct her in the basics of reading, writing, and calculation.

Her father, brought along with her, was dealt with swiftly.

I explained her power to her, and implanted within her the need to refine it—conditioning her thoughts to align ever more closely with mine.

She does not suspect.

Like a fledgling bird, she absorbed every lesson I gave her, as if it were absolute truth. A child ignorant of the world mistakes such teachings for justice itself.

Once she can write, I shall have her sign a magical contract—binding magic, ensuring her obedience.

Even so, I am not so cruel as to claim the mantle of divine mercy.

If she should stray onto the wrong path, I shall send her peacefully back to Heaven.

And thus, my trap has caught its prey.

By then, Pis had learned, to some degree, how to wield her power.

She will serve my purpose.

Under my guidance, her heart has become a crucible of envy and resentment.

If she were to see that pure, celestial angel, she would not remain sane. I shaped her thus.

Yet her thoughts themselves—I cannot alter them. That is beyond my reach, the domain of the divine. She may do it, but I cannot.

Therefore, whatever deeds I shall perform from this moment forward—each one—will be her doing, not mine.

And after receiving word that the people of Emmental were coming, she entrusted one sacred relic to her.

A necklace, a holy artifact crafted in the age of gods—its power amplifies the stirrings of emotion. Even noble lords, masters of suppressing their feelings, would feel its effect.

Magic crafted in the age of gods remains potent in this age. This one merely amplifies. Affection grows stronger; malice, too, intensifies. Regret becomes deeper, and wonder brighter still.

Though there is said to be a side effect—a tendency for the target to harbor ill will toward their most beloved, or to become fixated upon them. But such matters are unlikely to prove serious.

It would suit Pis well, no doubt.

And so the Emmental couple arrived at Pis’s side.

There was such a longing to see her as their true daughter—by face, by eyes, by age alone—that it felt like recognition, not doubt.

They accepted her without hesitation.

There was a palpable guilt in them, as though they truly were the daughter’s long-lost parents. If this continued, she would be easily led as she wished.

Indeed, I had already told Pis, “The one who will come for you, and claim you as their true parent, is the one who truly belongs to you.”

It was no surprise she was mistaken. I had spoken only the truth. It was they who had erred.

Yet these two—so foolish, so shallow—were truly the parents of an angel, one who had come to be revered as a saint?

No, perhaps not surprising, for diplomats aside. For court nobles, sheltered in the lukewarm bath of the wards, this was perhaps all they could be.

To sign documents without even verifying the magical sigil upon the contract—what reckless folly.

There had been magical significance in choosing her name, yet from her expression, she did not seem to notice.

Now they were calling her Pis… no, Stella, it was. They could not bear to place her above all others.

Having sworn that Stella was the true daughter, to them—

I sent the three away, dreaming of an angel rolling into my arms.

Soon, that pure and untainted angel would come to me of her own will, unable to endure suffering any longer. I returned to the churches across the empire, thinking so.

They would come to me and seek marriage… and I would lavish my gaze upon the angel as she fell into my arms.

If she did not fall, that was well enough. Then I would savor her purity in full.

But things would not unfold as I had foreseen.

Indeed, my angel was truly noble. Like a lotus blooming in the mud of suffering, in the cold waters of neglect—unbowed, unwavering, radiant.

Ah, yes, my angel is the supreme treasure, and my heart swells with reverence.

Not long after, I heard word from Her Imperial Majesty that the Third Prince had formally been proposed as a match for Stella.

By then, Stella’s frustration had reached a peak—her younger sister, who rarely left the house, had begun seeking her counsel.

I set out eagerly to the manor, joyful at the thought of meeting my angel, yet in the end, I did not see her.

Yet I had not come away empty-handed.

I believe the Gifted possess the power of creation—imagination. And thus, they may grow.

She was exactly that. Though her essence remained unchanged, the scope of her power had expanded.

The constraints had grown accordingly. She could not guide thoughts unless she looked directly into another's eyes and spoke aloud; the effect was markedly weaker on those who had sworn loyalty to others or harbored ill will toward her.

She herself lamented the lack of effect, yet surely the poison still reached even her inept servants. After all, her angel was gifted. It was only natural that the effect would be weak.

Thus, she had fled instinctively toward the academy.

Indeed, my angel was never one to be caught so easily.

Yet her thoughts were heavily skewed. It seemed she had been influenced by common tales, convinced that she was the protagonist and the world merely the stage of her story.

Perhaps I am merely an actor in her tale…

Well, it is her life. I shall leave her choices to her.

It is her karma, after all.

In accordance with her request, she had a few of the lower nobles within the academy given gold to spread rumors.

When she heard that my angel would be traveling this summer, she asked me to arrange for the thief’s capture.

I arranged for the thief accordingly. Capture was inevitable, a foregone path. Even if, in some unforeseen event, my angel were defiled by a man, her noble heart would not falter.

When you spent the winter at the church, my angel was greatly weary. I refused visits on her behalf, within the limits of the authority granted to me, and invited the children from the orphanage that troubled her heart.

It would be acceptable to remain at the church, would it not? The Lord and I welcome you.

I asked thus, yet my angel—

Thank you for your kind concern.

Yet there are still those I hold dear, and places I cherish, within this empire. For now, I wish to remain among the worldly affairs.

She was smiled at with a fleeting, fragile grace.

What a noble thing indeed…

If she were to say now that she wished to leave the worldly affairs behind, I could simply enclose her within my grasp and drown her in my desire at once…

And the one who troubles her most is likely the Third Prince…

I suggested to Stella that she might wed the Prince.

If she were to marry him, my angel would be free.

And I would grant her protection so that she would not be taken by another.

She moved exactly as I had intended, transformed by my thoughts alone.

It was grievous that my angel had been confined to a solitary chamber. I visited her each night, yet she would not admit me.

Several young men, whose conduct seemed ill-behaved, came to visit her, perhaps at her request, but their fate was the same.

To punish them for attempting to defile my angel, I had them dealt with harshly, yet my sorrow remained unrelieved.

My deliberate delay in reporting to Her Majesty the Empress was discovered.

Afterward, I was once again sent away to the provinces as punishment for my delay in reporting, as required.

I had reported accurately, but the fact that I had deliberately delayed the delivery of my report—ensuring it reached the Empress Consort rather than Her Majesty the Empress—had displeased someone.

I wish you would cease your resentment over matters not proceeding as you wished…

In the time that passed, my angel had become the apostle of the goddess…

Upon hearing the news, I flew to Emmental.

There, I was forcibly brought to the transfer array leading into the sacred domain, only to be blocked by the warding barrier…

Disgusting? No, quite the opposite! What wondrous things are these!

Ah, I see—indeed, I have not yet earned the virtue to stand before you…

I trembled with joy.

Before my eyes, the barrier was being rewritten, clearly visible to me!

No one but my angel could accomplish such a feat.

My eyes declare that the barrier has been rewritten, now inscribed as the current boundary.

Some regions appear to have lagged in their purification, delayed by the removal of corruption.

Even more astonishing is the efficiency.

It is written that inefficient elements of the old system have been revised, now allowing the barrier to be maintained with only half the previous power.

And the contract, steeped in my angel’s compassion, is being added ever deeper.

This is a revolution—upending the values and conventions of the Virgin of the Barrier! I tremble with joy!

Wonderful! To possess such power to transform the world… How sacred! How noble! How divine!

Indeed, my eyes did not deceive me! I must hasten to share this great achievement—wiping away tears, another piece of information is added to the barrier…

“Nullify the effect of gifted individuals who manipulate the hearts of people within the barrier without their consent.”

A smile escapes me. I am glad, thinking that even my angel, who has become a divine apostle, has grown human enough to feel anger toward her.

I fly directly toward the imperial capital. Along the way, I spread word of the new divine apostle’s birth and her great deeds, having rumors and wandering bards sing of what my angel has accomplished.

Within a few days, the tale of my angel will reach every corner of the land.

And all shall remember her, and give thanks to the divine.

I approach the Imperial Palace and deliver my report in person. The Empress Dowager scolds me once more. Then she says, as I sowed the seed, I must now reap it—entrusting me with cleaning up the aftermath of Stella.

I give her a new name and a new place to dwell, then send her beyond the borders.

Under the name François Perrault, I now go forth.

Her current station is that of my servant.

At present, I serve as one of the empire’s diplomats, journeying among nations, advancing beneficial negotiations alongside the propagation of my angel’s great deeds.

Though she has been granted that noble honor, she remains unduly indifferent to her duties. Thus, I now apply a rigorous regimen—striking her body into submission, training her without pause.

For me, what matters is not a healthy frame, but a compliant heart and capable mind.

If I succeed in reforming her, my angel shall surely acknowledge me!

Dreaming of the day I am summoned to the Sacred Sanctuary, I dedicate myself utterly—body and soul—to the service of the nation and my angel.

—Record of a Diplomat—

There was once a most splendid diplomat in the empire.

After the birth of the Great Saintess, this diplomat emerged, guiding negotiations with foreign nations as though reading and shaping hearts alike.

Though often mistaken for a worldly man driven by ambition due to her sharp tactics, she was said to act not from personal desire but from a steadfast commitment to the nation—her conduct a model for diplomats.

Her origins and private life remain a mystery. She is spoken of not for any striking feature, but for the sheer magnitude of her achievements and her devout dedication to the nation and the Saintess. Or perhaps it is because she was always accompanied by a servant bearing severe burns—evidence of her boundless compassion…

In the end, the man ascended to the rank of cardinal within the Church, revered by some diplomats as divine.

Yet those who knew him spoke in unison:

“He was utterly mad…”

No one knows his true self.

Thank you for reading.

The series of events is nothing but the reckless actions of fanatics.

It was something beyond the ambitions of nation or church. Both state and clergy are merely swept along, yet in the end, the Barrier Virgin system has been strengthened—so one might say they accept it as a favorable outcome… I believe great power is tolerated, so long as the price and result are clear.

Perhaps it is not quite the fate one might imagine, but I have prepared private reckonings for each member of my family.

I write this as the story of Spica and her family, including what lies beyond each of their trials.

Thank you for reporting the errors. I will correct them shortly.

Thank you for your thoughts. I hope to respond to each in turn, once I have regained the time and strength.

I would be grateful if you would continue to follow along until the end. I thank you sincerely.