Roxy stepped closer to Anastasia, worry evident in her expression. "Anastasia, are you alright?"

  Anastasia almost let out a sarcastic remark but held it back, exhaling instead. "Yeah..." she muttered, brushing off Roxy’s hands from her shoulders as if nothing had happened.

  Meanwhile, Rudeus, still sitting on the ground, stared at the newly summoned girl with wide eyes. His first thought? Jealousy. Anastasia had managed to summon a girl—a beautiful one at that. The priestly robes she wore covered almost every inch of her skin, making it hard to gauge her figure, but her presence alone was striking.

  Before Rudeus could entertain any more thoughts, the girl turned her gaze to him with a deep frown, as if reading his mind. His guilt fred, and he quickly looked away, pretending to be fascinated by the ground.

  "It seems the summoning circle was fwed," Anastasia commented dryly, as if the situation were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

  Roxy's face immediately twisted in frustration. "IS THAT REALLY THE FIRST THING YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT?! YOU SUMMONED A GIRL! A REAL, LIVING, BREATHING GIRL!"

  Anastasia gave her an unimpressed stare. "So? I'm a girl, and you're a girl."

  Roxy groaned, gripping her head in exasperation. This girl… she's impossible!

  "Um… are you my summoner?" the girl asked hesitantly. Her voice was soft and friendly, filled with uncertainty.

  Anastasia stared at her priest self—or to be more accurate, her priestess self.

  "Yes, indeed, I am," Anastasia responded, her tone cool and matter-of-fact.

  Ange nodded. "I see… My name is Ange. A priestess, though I do not serve any god. It’s simply my css."

  Anastasia’s expression remained unreadable. "A fake priestess, then. A useless summon," she decred bluntly.

  Ange flinched. "W-wait, wait, wait!! I can use healing magic! Even without faith!" she protested, a hint of panic creeping into her voice.

  Even Roxy, who had been watching in stunned silence, showed visible doubt.

  "Umm…" Ange stammered, growing more frantic. Her memories were fragmented—she was sure she had died, yet here she was, summoned by a child who now seemed to be questioning her very existence. And that book in the girl’s hands… it felt important. Deeply important. But why?

  Ange swallowed hard. She couldn’t let herself be dismissed. She had no idea what would happen to her if she were unsummoned. Would she disappear? Would she die again? No… she had to prove herself.

  "I can demonstrate! I swear!" she pleaded, desperation ced in her voice.

  Anastasia gazed at Ange—the second iteration of her past self—and felt something unfamiliar stir within her. Happiness.

  It was fun to bully her.

  Ange’s na?ve, savior-complex-driven nature irritated her when she reflected on it. But then again, what could she do? That was her second life.

  Just like Velvyr, her first life—a shadow-drenched existence of senseless killings and relentless vengeance—Ange represented yet another piece of her fractured past.

  Anastasia smirked. "Fine. Show me, ‘priestess.’ Let’s see if you’re worth keeping."

  Anastasia walked ahead, leading a still-panicked Ange beside her. The priestess kept stealing nervous gnces at the surroundings, unsure what to expect.

  Roxy and Rudeus exchanged looks before trailing after them.

  After a short walk, Anastasia stopped and pointed at a withered stump—the remnants of what once was a tree.

  Roxy followed her gaze and instantly felt a stab of shame.

  That was the tree she had failed to heal.

  "Heal it," Anastasia ordered, her tone leaving no room for debate.

  Ange hesitated, scratching the back of her head before nodding.

  She stepped forward, pced her hands on the dying wood, closed her eyes, and whispered, "Heal."

  A soft glow enveloped the stump. Slowly—almost like watching an accelerated time-pse—roots thickened, bark expanded, and fresh green leaves sprouted upward. The tree grew, its branches stretching taller, wider, fuller, until at st, a fully matured tree stood in its pce.

  The air shimmered around it, tiny wisps of green light flickering like fireflies. The tree was not only restored—it was now enchanted.

  Anastasia crossed her arms and smirked. "See, magician? This is how you’re supposed to use healing magic."

  Roxy remained silent, staring at the tree with a mix of awe and frustration.

  Unlike her previous attempt, which had been like spping a bandage on a wound, Ange’s magic rebuilt the tree completely—structuring it properly rather than forcing rapid recovery.

  Rudeus, watching from the side, couldn’t help but mutter, "That’s… kind of amazing."

  Ange let out a relieved breath, finally feeling useful.

  But Anastasia?

  She was already thinking about the next step.

  Ange let out a relieved breath—finally, she proved herself useful.

  But before she could bask in that feeling, Anastasia gave her a satisfied nod and decred:

  "You passed. You are worthy to be my sve."

  Ange froze. …Huh?

  She blinked, processing the words one by one, sure she had misheard.

  "Excuse me… can you repeat that again?" she asked hesitantly, forcing a weak smile.

  Anastasia crossed her arms, lifted her chin, and repeated firmly:

  "Like I said—congratutions on becoming my number one sve."

  Ange’s jaw dropped.

  Rudeus choked on air.

  Roxy’s brain short-circuited.

  "U-Um… can I fight for my rights?" Ange raised her hand weakly, looking for any hope of negotiation.

  "No." Anastasia shot her down immediately, tone absolute.

  Ange visibly defted, shoulders sagging in resigned defeat. I… I can’t deal with this.

  Trying to distract herself from her newfound servitude, Roxy cleared her throat and asked, "Um… Miss Ange, can I know your magic rank?"

  Ange, still looking mentally exhausted, mumbled: "King-rank healer. Saint-rank light magic."

  Roxy stiffened.

  "K-K-KING RANK?!" she blurted, nearly falling over.

  A King-rank healer. That was an enormous deal, especially in the Holy Kingdom of Milis.

  If Ange had been alive back then, she’d have been heralded as a Saint—no, a living miracle!

  Even though King-rank was technically just one stage above Saint-rank, the gap between them was insurmountable.

  Roxy clenched her fists, her mind racing.

  She’s at a level I can’t even dream of reaching right now… and yet…

  She turned her head, looking at Ange—who was currently being forced into svery by a smug little girl.

  Roxy felt a headache coming on.

  Meanwhile, Ange felt like crying.

  And Anastasia?

  She was completely unbothered—already thinking about what useful things her new “sve” could do.

  Just as the atmosphere grew tense, a cheerful voice rang out from the front of the house—

  "Anastasia! Rudy! We’re back!"

  Zenith’s voice cut through the air, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the side of the house.

  When she and Lilia turned the corner, their bright smiles froze.

  Because standing beside Anastasia was a mysterious pink-haired priestess.

  A young woman, dressed in full priestly attire, looking mildly traumatized.

  Zenith and Lilia stared in stunned silence.

  Before either of them could ask, Anastasia stepped forward, arms crossed, head held high.

  With absolute confidence, she proudly decred:

  "Mother, I bring great news! Behold—my personal servant, Ange!"

  A proud smirk graced Anastasia’s lips.

  Meanwhile, Ange looked at Zenith and Lilia with desperate eyes, silently pleading for help.

  Zenith and Lilia's brains completely stalled.

  "…What?" Zenith blinked rapidly, trying to process the sheer absurdity of the situation.

  Lilia, usually calm and composed, visibly twitched.

  Rudeus, sensing the storm brewing, wisely pretended to be invisible.

  Roxy covered her face, already feeling secondhand embarrassment.

  Ange, trapped in Anastasia’s smug tyranny, felt the overwhelming urge to cry.

  How did my life come to this…?