Chapter 779: Retired Saintess

Normally, the Holyfield household was anything but quiet.

The mansion buzzed with laughter, chatter, and the constant movement of women going about their days—playing games, teasing each other, arguing over nothing, making up over everything.

It was the kind of noise that should have been annoying but somehow felt like home.

But right now, Cassius’s mansion was eerily silent.

If you looked inside, you’d find empty corridors and abandoned rooms.

No maids scurrying about with fresh linens.

No sisters debating theology in the library.

No sound of skittering children’s feet or Julie’s firm voice calling out orders, when the Holy Guard came over to train.

This was because everyone had gone to the harvest festival.

And what a festival it was! Cassius had outdone himself!

He hadn’t just organized a few stalls and called it a day.

No, he had brought a proper carnival over from his world.

He’d personally visited craftsmen, sketched out designs, and overseen the construction of rides that the people of this continent had never even dreamed of.

Roller coasters that twisted and turned, sending youths screaming with equal parts terror and delight.

Carousels with painted horses that bobbed up and down, carrying wide-eyed children who clutched the golden poles with white-knuckled fingers.

Massive Ferris wheels that rose so high you could see the entire estate spread out below you like a living map.

The teenagers loved the adrenaline. They queued up for the coasters again and again, competitive about who could keep their hands up the longest, who could scream the loudest, who could ride the most times before throwing up.

The little ones stuck to the tamer attractions—gentle spinning rides, tiny trains that chugged along tracks, inflatable castles where they could bounce until their legs gave out.

Parents watched from the sidelines, smiling at their children’s joy, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

For the couples who wanted something less extreme—especially the men who wanted to show off without risking humiliation—Cassius had set up games and stalls throughout the grounds.

Some were familiar, like the ones he’d showcased at Maria Land, but there were plenty of new ones too.

Ring toss, balloon darts, strength testers, shooting galleries. Each one had its own unique twist, its own clever design, its own irresistible prizes.

And the food stalls.

Oh, the food stalls.

They lined the main thoroughfare like colorful sentinels, each one offering something different.

Flaky pastries that melted on your tongue, stuffed with sweet cream or savory meats.

Skewers of grilled vegetables and meats, glistening with sauce, the aroma drifting through the air like a siren’s call.

Fried dough dusted with sugar, warm and soft and impossible to resist.

Drinks in flavors no one had ever tasted before—fruity and fizzy and utterly addictive.

The commoners had never seen anything like it.

Once they took a single bite of something Cassius had personally taught the chefs to make, they couldn’t hold back.

They kept coming back for more, their biggest worry becoming whether their stomachs would be big enough to taste everything the festival had to offer.

Some of the older folks joked that they’d need to be rolled home in wheelbarrows.

Cassius had also kept the cultural aspects of the festival—the traditional dances, the storytelling circles, the craft demonstrations.

But he’d hyper-scaled them too.

Massive plays ran constantly, rotating themes so there was always something new.

Romantic tales made old couples hold hands and remember their youth.

Comedies had the crowd roaring with laughter.

Children’s plays featured puppets and bright colors and happy endings that made the little ones clap until their palms were red.

There were also poetry readings, art competitions, and a massive dance by the bonfire every night.

Couples young and old swayed to music that had never been heard before—melodies from another world, another time, yet somehow perfectly suited to this one.

And the best part? Everything was mostly free.

Or if not free, then priced so low that even the lowest-wage workers—whose wages were already quite high, thanks to Cassius’s reforms could afford to bring their entire families.

No one had to worry about breaking the bank. No one had to tell their children ’maybe next year.’

This was a festival for the commoners.

The people who worked the fields, tended the livestock, built the buildings, cleaned the streets. The people who bled and sweated and sacrificed so their families could survive.

Cassius had promised them a break, and he’d delivered.

Even the most hardened veterans, men with backs bent from decades of labor, hands calloused beyond recognition were smiling.

They wore silly hats their grandchildren had picked out. They ate exotic foods with names they couldn’t pronounce. They watched their children laugh and play, and sometimes, their eyes grew wet.

’We’re so lucky,’ They whispered to each other. ’To have such a lord.’

’He’s not like the others.’

’The Goddess blessed us when she sent him.’

Cassius’s name was on everyone’s lips. Not with fear or resentment, but with genuine gratitude.

He had given them something precious—not just a festival, but hope.

Overall...the festival was a massive success.

And most of the household had gone to play and laugh with the others.

The Holy Guard had joined too for protection, but honestly? They didn’t even need to be there.

Ever since Cassius had arrived and implemented his plans—the new laws, the economic reforms, the infrastructure projects—crime in the Holyfield estate had plummeted.

The streets were cleaner. The people were happier.

There was less desperation, less hunger, less reason for anyone to turn to theft or violence.

So most of the time, the knights were also playing games. Laughing around. Drinking booze.

Some of them had even joined the dancing, their armor clanking awkwardly as they twirled partners twice their size.

Because of this the mansion was nearly empty.

But not completely.

One person had stayed behind.

—

Joy sat in the garden, and if the nobles back at the capital could see her now, they wouldn’t believe their eyes.

They’d call her a fraud. An impostor. Someone wearing Joy’s face but not her spirit.

Because the Joy—the diligent, relentless, never-stop-working Joy would never be caught dead like this.

She was currently sprawled on a reclining chair, leaned so far back she was practically horizontal.

Sunglasses covered her eyes, dark lenses reflecting the fading afternoon light.

In one hand, she held a tall glass filled with something cold and sweet—a milkshake, she thought it was called and she sipped from it lazily, the straw making soft bubbling sounds.

She looked like she belonged on a beach somewhere.

Relaxed. Unbothered. Completely at peace.

The truth was, this was how Joy had been for the past several days.

Ever since that night—the night Cassius had thoroughly, completely, utterly destroyed her, Joy realised something.

She realised that she had lost to Cassius...and there was literally nothing she could do about.

In the beginning when she just entered the mansion, she’d tried to find a way to directly fight Cassius.

She’d thought she could beat him through sheer strength, through her training, through the power the goddess had blessed her with.

But that had been impossible. Compared to Cassius, she was an ant. A particularly stubborn ant, maybe, but still an ant.

Then she’d thought she could expose him

Dig up his crimes, his schemes, his evil deeds, and bring him to justice that way.

But once again, she’d been thwarted. Because the truth—the infuriating, undeniable truth was that Cassius wasn’t a bad person.

Annoying? Yes. Perverted? Absolutely. A womanizer who’d somehow collected an entire harem of devoted wives? Unfortunately, also yes.

But evil? No.

There wasn’t a single person in the entire estate who could say to his face that they hated him.

The maids adored him. The guards respected him. The commoners worshipped him like a minor deity.

The man had literally built a festival for the working class and made sure they could afford to enjoy it.

What was Joy supposed to do with that?

Her entire purpose for coming here had crumbled.

She had arrived convinced that Cassius was a demon in human form, a threat to everything she held sacred.

But he wasn’t. He was just...a guy.

A weird, over-the-top, ridiculously competent guy who happened to be incredibly good at making people happy.

And then the goddess had given her a new purpose.

A lewd one, sure—seduce Cassius, become a succubus, use her body as a weapon—but it was still a purpose. Still something to hold onto.

That had ended in disaster too.

By the end of that night, she and Carmela had run away with their tails between their legs, their bodies completely destroyed, their dignity in shambles.

Joy had at least managed to retain some dignity—she hadn’t fully given in to him, not entirely.

But even that small victory had been stolen from her.

A couple of nights ago, Cassius had stolen her mother. Made Maria fall for him.

And in the process, he’d made a mess of Joy too.

He’d broken through her defenses, shattered her resistance, and made her call him "daddy" like he was her father.

He’d taken her virginity—willingly given, she couldn’t even pretend otherwise under the weight of all her suppressed feelings.

After that, Joy had lost all purpose.

She couldn’t even bring herself to feel angry anymore.

When she thought about Cassius now, her face just grew warm. A blush would creep across her cheeks. Her heart would beat a little faster.

She remembered the way he’d looked at her. The passion in his eyes. The way he’d held her like she was something precious, something worth cherishing.

It was impossible to hate someone who looked at you like that.

So Joy had given up.

Not dramatically—not with a declaration or a tantrum.

She’d just...stopped.

Stopped fighting. Stopped planning. Stopped trying to find a way to defeat him.

The workaholic Joy, who’d kept her schedule filled with missions and assignments and righteous violence, had burnt out completely.

She had become idle. Purposeless.

And for the past few days, she’d been wandering around the mansion and estate, taking in the sights, actually relaxing.

At first, it had been uncomfortable. Like someone who’d been running their whole life suddenly forced to stand still.

She’d felt twitchy, restless, convinced she was wasting time.

But then the sisters had noticed.

They’d seen their commander wandering around with nothing to do, and they’d seized the opportunity.

They’d dragged her along to experience things she’d never experienced before.

They’d made her try the delicious pork dish the maids had perfected.

They’d brought her to Cassius’s events, his games, his plays.

The maids had been frightened at first—seeing Joy participate in anything was unsettling.

But when they realized she wasn’t going to bite anyone’s head off, they’d relaxed.

They’d invited her to cook with them, to play games with them, to laugh at stupid jokes and complain about the weather.

Joy hadn’t smiled. Not really. Her face still wore that same stern expression, the one that made lesser beings quake in their boots.

But she hadn’t complained either. She’d just...gone along.

Actually, it was more than that. Because Joy was enjoying herself.

Even if she didn’t show it, even if her face remained carved from stone, something inside her was softening.

For the first time in a very long time, she was spending time with her sisters without the pressure of duty hanging over their heads.

She was talking to them, really talking, learning about their lives, their hopes, their fears.

The connection between them grew stronger with each passing day.

And the wives and maids—the ones she’d kept at a distance, convinced they would taint her heart with Cassius’s influence turned out to be not conniving or deceitful at all.

They were just...people. Good people. People who genuinely wanted her to have a good time.

Her mother helped, of course. Maria pulled her along everywhere, chattering happily, dragging her from one activity to the next.

It was impossible to resist Maria’s enthusiasm, and Joy found herself being swept up despite herself.

Which brought her to now.

Lounging in a recliner. Sunglasses on her face. Milkshake in her hand. Watching the sun set over the garden, not a single care in the world.

The Joy of the past—the zealous, self-righteous Saintess would be screaming.

Shouting at her to get up, to get back to work, to fulfill her mission to the Empress and the goddess.

But the Joy of the present just scoffed at that idea.

She’d rather relax.

The thought made her smile—a wry, self-deprecating twist of her lips.

It was all because of Cassius. That infuriating, impossible man had broken her so thoroughly that she’d discovered there was more to life than hunting down criminals and meting out justice.

That there was joy to be found in simple things—a good meal, a comfortable chair, the warmth of the sun on your skin.

She had spent so long being a weapon. A tool. An instrument of divine will.

But she was also human.

She had needs. Desires. A heart that could feel things other than righteous fury.

The Empress’s words echoed in her mind.

Before Joy had left for the estate, the Empress had warned her: ’Don’t poke the tiger unless you’re ready to have your entire life turned upside down.’

And Joy had ignored her, confident in her own abilities, certain that she could handle whatever came.

Well. She’d poked the tiger, and the tiger had poked back.

And somehow, impossibly, it had worked out in her favor.

She’d found peace after years of brutality. Years of bloodshed and violence and the endless, exhausting pursuit of evil.

As for Cassius himself...

Joy frowned.

She didn’t know what to feel about him.

She wanted to be angry. She was competitive—fiercely so and she hated losing. And she had lost to him. Over and over. Every time she’d thought she had the upper hand, he’d turned the tables.

But whenever she tried to summon anger in her mind, she couldn’t.

Instead, all she could think about was his face. That irritating, handsome, infuriating face.

She wanted to punch it.

But not in a fierce, murderous way.

In a playful way.

Which was somehow worse.

Then there was the intimacy. The things he’d done to her. The way he’d made her feel.

The names she’d called him—’daddy,’ of all things—and how, in that moment, it had felt so right.

She couldn’t hate someone who had looked at her like that. With such passion, such hunger, such...love.

Could it have been love? Or was it just lust?

Joy shook her head.

’Stop it.’ She told herself. ’He’s just an irritating man. That’s all.’

But a small blush crept across her cheeks.

She sipped her milkshake and watched the sun set.

Tomorrow, she would figure out what to do about Cassius.

Tomorrow, she would decide whether to keep fighting or surrender completely.

For now, she let herself enjoy the peace.