The city felt different without either of the girls with him.
Quieter, somehow—though Cairel itself was never quiet.
Nick descended the hill alone, hands stuffed in his pockets as the morning crowd thickened around him. The air smelled like baked bread, coal smoke, and perfume that had given up trying to be subtle. Vendors called out prices in overlapping voices; carriages rattled over cobblestone; somewhere, a bard was butchering a love song near the fountain square.
He lasted about thirty seconds before the silence started to itch.
“This is why people keep pets,” he muttered. “Or children.”
A few passersby gave him a look. He ignored them and kept walking. The streets of Cairel sloped toward the central square, where banners of red and gold hung from balconies, fluttering in the breeze. Before he realized where he was going, he found himself in front of a familiar building.
He stared at the sign gently swinging above a pair of wide doors.
A sword and shield crossed over each other.
The Adventurer’s Guild.
“Perfect,” Nick said to himself. “Somewhere loud.”
Inside, the smell of parchment and sweat hit first, followed by the low roar of conversation. The guild hall looked the same as always, a tavern somehow melded with bureaucracy. He slipped through the crowd toward the quest board, scanning the notices until one caught his eye.
C-Rank Quest:
- Commission Request: Church of Beauty
“Church of Beauty?” he read aloud.
He was admittedly intrigued. He didn’t know much about the so-called ‘Goddess of Beauty’, but he couldn’t help but imagine Aphrodite when he heard the name.
Commission Request: Church of Beauty
Assistance required for a sacred restoration. Applicants must exhibit discretion, good manners, and a presentable face.
Nick rubbed his chin. “Well,” he said. “One out of three isn’t bad.”
Then he frowned. The words ‘sacred restoration’ made his stomach twist.
He’d heard similar phrasing before — ‘holy anomaly’, ‘divine contamination’, ‘manifested grace’.
It was a different world, but probably the same rot.
He had nothing to go on but a hunch informed by prejudice, but he had a feeling that whatever happened to the shrine was connected to them.
Those evil gods that destroyed his world.
And even if it wasn’t connected, it would be interesting to learn more about the Church of Beauty anyway.
He tugged the notice free and headed for the counter.
The clerk behind the counter was a middle-aged man with a trimmed mustache and the posture of someone who had stopped caring about posture years ago. He was halfway through an apple and a stack of paperwork when Nick approached.
“Morning,” Nick said, sliding the notice onto the counter. “I’m here about the, uh… sacred restoration.”
The man squinted at the paper, then at Nick. “You the painter or the muscle?”
“Muscle,” Nick said, then reconsidered. “Well, sort of. I’m a fire mage.”
The clerk snorted, scribbled something down on a form, and stamped it with a dull thud. “Church of Beauty. Upper quarter near the temple. You’ll want to talk to Sister Adoria. She’s the one handling the restoration project. Apparently, one of their shrines got vandalized.”
“Vandalized?”
“Yeah,” the clerk said between bites. “Graffiti, broken mirrors, wilted flowers… the works. Bunch of priests are losing their minds about ‘spiritual corruption’ or something. They’ve been hiring anyone with decent manners and a clean shirt.”
Nick looked down at his hoodie. “…Close enough.”
The clerk shrugged. “Your funeral, buddy. They’re touchy over there. Don’t breathe too hard near the altar unless you want a lecture on the sanctity of toothpaste.”
“…You have toothpaste here?”
“…You haven’t been using it? That was a rhetorical question, by the way. I already know you haven’t.”
Nick blinked. “…Is it really that bad?”
“Church of Beauty,” the man reminded him.
Nick sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He pocketed the stamped parchment and turned toward the door.
The streets shifted subtly as he moved toward the upper quarter—stonework turned smoother, colors brighter, and perfume thicker in the air. If he wasn’t crazy, he thought he even caught the occasional trace of cologne mixed into the smog of scents. The buildings here were graceful, every arch and balcony carved with care. Even the cobblestones looked freshly polished.
By the time he reached the church gates, he almost felt underdressed.
The Church of Beauty didn’t resemble the pictures of cathedrals he’d seen on the internet in his previous life. It looked more like a garden that had decided it was tired of being outside. The walls were covered in ivy, the doors framed by blooming roses, and light poured through stained glass like falling petals. Every detail seemed crafted to remind visitors that perfection wasn’t a goal—it was a responsibility.
Nick paused at the threshold, exhaling slowly. “Alright, time to get smited for being ugly.”
Then he stepped inside.
The air was warm and fragrant, filled with the faint hum of choral voices. A few acolytes in flowing silks glided across the marble floor, arranging flower petals along the aisles. At the far end of the hall stood a statue of Jocelyn—eyes closed, hand raised as if about to brush a tear from the world itself.
Nick tilted his head. “She looks… smug.”
“She’s supposed to,” came a soft voice from beside him.
He turned. A young woman in rose-colored robes stood a few steps away, her expression kind but sharp enough to notice the mud on his boots. “You’re the adventurer they sent?”
“Depends,” he said. “Are you Sister Adoria?”
“I am.”
“Then yes.”
She studied him a moment longer, then smiled faintly. “You don’t look like what I expected.”
“People say that a lot.”
“Follow me.”
She led him down a side corridor lined with paintings and gilded mirrors, though half were cracked or darkened by some faint residue.
“The shrine was desecrated early this morning, before the Hour of Beautiful Awakening,” Adoria explained. “The culprit hasn’t been caught, but the damage runs deeper than simple vandalism. We believe that something took root here.”
“Took root?”
She stopped before an ornate door and looked back at him. “Tell me, Sir Adventurer. Do you believe beauty can rot?”
He smiled. “I mean, I’ve been on the internet… so yes?”
She stared blankly.
“All it takes is a twisted mind to turn something beautiful into something vile,” he explained. “Funnily enough, too much innocence and ignorance can do the same thing.”
Her smile returned, thin but genuine. “Then perhaps you’ll understand what you’re about to see.”
She pushed the door open.
The room beyond looked like it had once been beautiful—a sunlit atrium filled with flowers, glass, and soft white stone—but something had gone wrong. The air shimmered faintly, petals withered mid-bloom, and the scent of decay hung beneath the perfume. In the center stood a cracked marble basin filled with water so dark it reflected nothing at all.
Over the basin replayed a projected pixelated clip of a perky man doing a ridiculous dance—a one-step swivel-thing with a catchphrase captioned beneath: “#StayShiny”. It looped with the insistence and cheer of a commercial.
“Oh my gods,” Nick groaned. “It’s corporate meme culture.”
Sister Adoria’s eyes glinted like glass catching firelight. “It sounds like you understand the gravity of this situation. Can you help us?”
Nick clenched his teeth. “I don’t know, but I can try. This corruption needs to be purged immediately.”
The air hummed faintly as he stepped closer to the basin. The projection flickered, sputtered, then looped again, the dancing man’s grin freezing mid-frame before restarting. The caption pulsed like a heartbeat, bright pink against the dark water.
Nick crouched beside the basin, the stone warm beneath his fingers. The darkness inside wasn’t water—it was too thick. It rippled sluggishly when his shadow crossed it.
Sister Adoria folded her hands. “Blasphemy made manifest. The goddess’s reflection has been replaced with… that.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say the words.
Nick leaned closer, studying the surface. His reflection didn’t appear in the black water.
His Trap Perception quietly activated, a web of invisible lines stretching through the shrine. Most of them led back to the basin, coiling around it like vines. The energy felt wrong… but not unfamiliar.
It had the same undertone as a specific room in the Goblin Den.
The same cold echo of something divine.
“Did anyone touch this?” he asked, quiet fury simmering under his voice.
Sister Adoria shook her head. “The acolyte in charge of cleaning the room disappeared. The High Priestess is away because… well, all the higher ranking clergy are away at the moment.”
“Hmm…”
Her brow furrowed. “What is it?”
“I’ve encountered something like this before. It was an entity in a dungeon.”
The faint hum of mana in the air, and the oily residue of arrogance that permeated the sensation.
Was this the same bastards who were massacring dungeons?
The thought made his jaw tighten.
He reached toward the basin. The air shimmered, a subtle resistance pressing against his palm, like the atmosphere itself was trying to warn him off. The smell of perfume thickened—roses and sugar and rot.
“Sir Adventurer,” Adoria said quietly, “please be careful. The goddess’ wrath is—”
“Selective, right?” he interrupted. “Sounds about right. I’m sure she’ll overlook a little fire in this case.”
Before she could object, he snapped his fingers.
A spark ignited at his fingertips.
Sinbound Flames, black edged with violet, hungry and silent.
They danced without smoke, burning in perfect stillness. The graphic twitched and the water rippled, recoiling from the light like flesh from a blade.
Adoria gasped. “What is that flame?”
“Don’t worry,” Nick grinned. “These flames only burn sins. Probably.”
He held the flame over the basin. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the darkness convulsed upward in a column of oily smoke, the projection distorting into a grotesque smile before shattering into static.
The black water ignited—slowly at first, then all at once. But instead of consuming the shrine, the flames clarified it. They burned away the decay, leaving polished marble and clean air in their wake. The scent of rot vanished, replaced by something crisp and almost sweet.
Sister Adoria fell to her knees, tears glinting in her eyes. “The goddess’ reflection…”
Nick furrowed his brow.
Because when he looked into the basin again, he didn’t see his reflection.
He saw her.
A blurred woman’s silhouette shimmered in the water’s surface: luminous and framed by starlight. Her voice drifted like laughter through silk.
“You burn beautifully when you don’t mean to.”
Every hair on Nick’s arms stood on end.
Sister Adoria gasped, bowing so quickly she nearly hit the floor. “My lady!”
Jocelyn’s reflection tilted her head, eyes half-lidded with amusement. “Rise, dear. I was simply curious who dared to set fire to my reflection. It’s not often one of my daughters asks a pyromaniac to handle delicate work.”
Nick cleared his throat. “I take it you’re… the goddess?”
“I am.”
“It’s a… pleasure to meet you, I guess.”
Her laugh was like glass chimes. “It’s always fun meeting transmigrators. They rarely believe in beings like us. I assure you that I am more real than most concepts.”
“You know who I am?”
“Not in the way you’re expecting. I know much about you, and yet I also know nothing at all. You’re a negative space; a king without a kingdom, so to speak.”
In other words, she knew exactly what he was.
“Did you bring me her?”
“I did not. I have no idea where you came from, actually.”
“Was this… corruption a way to lure me out?”
“What, that? You burned away something that I needed burned, and in return…”
Light spilled from the water, curling around him like smoke made of gold.
=New Trait Unlocked: You Are Beautiful=
=You Are Beautiful=
-Divine Blessing-
Description: You are beautiful.
Beauty is truth seen sideways.
He blinked as the light faded, leaving the shrine spotless.
Jocelyn’s reflection winked, which was impressive considering it was just a silhouette. “Try not to set the next one on fire, will you?”
Then she was gone.
Nick stood in silence for a long moment. Finally, he sighed and rubbed his temple.
“…I’m ninety percent sure that I just got catfished by a goddess.”
Sister Adoria was still kneeling when he turned around.
Or at least, he thought she was kneeling—until she threw herself flat on the marble, hands clasped and voice shaking.
“Oh. My. Gods.”
Nick blinked.
“She called you a king without a kingdom!” Adoria gasped, lifting her head just enough for him to see the wild gleam in her eyes. “You’re a Divine Champion of Beauty! My lord!”
Nick froze. “Okay, no. Let’s not start calling me that.”
“She spoke to you! Directly!” Adoria’s words tumbled out, reverent and hysterical all at once. “The Lovely hasn’t spoken to anyone except the Saintess in years! You must have been chosen! Oh, I need to inform the High Priestess immediately—”
He held up both hands. “You’ll do no such thing.”
She blinked, thrown off by the authority in his tone.
Nick sighed and rubbed his temple. “Look, I didn’t do anything special. I just burned some sludge under a meme.”
Adoria stared at him, scandalized. “You carry her blessing now, and you mock it?” She made a sound halfway between a gasp and a sob.
Nick opened his mouth, then stopped.
He was surprised to realize that… she wasn’t wrong.
He had a new trait—there was a faint hum under his skin, like sunlight on water. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was undeniable.
Still, he shrugged. “Mocking’s how I cope.”
Adoria rose slowly, clutching the front of her robes. “You mustn’t take this lightly. To be seen by the Goddess is to bear a mirror upon your soul. From this day forward, all will see the reflection she has placed within you.”
Nick frowned. “That sounds suspiciously inconvenient.”
“It’s divine truth,” she said solemnly. “Her light reveals both beauty and ugliness, within and without. You are the instrument of her will, for good or for ill.”
He groaned. “But I’m anti-therapy.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are the therapy now.”
She stepped toward the basin, still glowing faintly gold. “The goddess’ presence has sanctified this place again. You may stay, if you wish, to give thanks.”
Nick eyed the water warily. “That might not be the best idea…”
He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. The scent of roses followed him, heady and impossible to ignore. He glanced back one last time.
“I forgot to ask, how much do I get paid for this job?”
Adoria was kneeling again, murmuring prayers under her breath, while the reflection in the basin rippled faintly, like it was laughing.
She glanced back at him. “The goddess blessed you with her presence, and you want money?”
He inwardly groaned.
“Is this even worth the trouble?” he muttered to himself.
Catfished by a goddess, and he wasn’t even getting paid for it?
Absolutely not.
He held out a hand. “I take payment in gold… or toothpaste.”
Project Knightfall 