Chapter 11 - I Became Your Daughter

“You mean a name?”

“Yeah!”

Miltiades took me to the drawing-room, where a strawberry cake laid on the table.

‘Yummy!’

I was happily eating the cake when Miltiades asked me an absurd question.

“Why do you need a name?”

The one to answer him wasn’t me, but Luciana.

“Before the Saintess can leave the Vatican with you, she needs to be recorded in the temple to promise that she’ll come back. So, it would be nice if you could choose a name for her.”

I nodded. 

“Don’t you already have a name?”

I just laughed.

“Ah, that’s…”

Luciana closed her mouth with a troubled expression. I didn’t know why she was so reluctant. 

‘Whew, there’s nothing else that I can do.’

I answered instead of Luciana.

“I don’t have a name!”

I replied in a bright voice, but the atmosphere in the room turned cold.

‘Tsk, I made myself sound happy on purpose because I was afraid that this would happen.’

“…What do you mean you don’t have a name?”

I didn’t know if it was the first time he had heard this, but Miltiades’s voice was cold. I trembled at his sharp glare.

Luciana also shrank back.

“That is…so…”

“Explain it to me properly.”

Luciana’s shoulder flinched.

Why’s he acting like this to Luciana as if it were her fault?

“It’s fine. You can tell him, Lucy.”

Luciana opened her mouth after I dragged her into a hug and nodded.

“The saintess doesn’t have an official name.”

I smiled at Miltiades’s confused expression.

“It’s true. That’s because I was born in the slums of Cavera!”

“…!”

Miltiades’s face went blank. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I could see Callian’s shocked expression.

Both of their gazes fell on me.

‘Why are they so surprised? Is it because the saintess that the Vatican regards so highly is from the slums? Or…is it because I told the secret that the temple is trying to keep hidden?’

“Everyone would call me ‘Child,’ ‘You,’ ‘Hey,’ or something like that.”

After I joined the temple, I was called saintess.

“So I don’t have a name!”

It was a bit much to say so myself, but I was pitiful. 

No, Priscilla was pitiful.

I knew Priscilla was named Priscilla, but she originally didn’t have a name.

She was born an orphan, and the hostess who raised her gave her away for one bottle of potion. 

Priscilla was a weak child. It was obvious that she wouldn’t know her name, how to read, or how to navigate the world. She couldn’t remember anything before she was six years old until that fateful day.

She brought about a miracle and became a saintess.

‘Although, I’m the saintess now.’

I looked down at my hands. I could feel the divine power within them. I had become the main character I had only read about. I thought it was a coincidence that I had reincarnated into Priscilla’s body and I was shocked when I found out that I could use divine power. 

‘Am I also a saintess? Or can I use divine power only because of this body? What gift did God give to this body?’

The novel had said that every saintess would receive a gift from God when they had their awakening. 

From what I knew, Priscilla had ‘Memories of a Past Life.’

There was a lot I didn’t know about my body. 

“The saintesses’ birth and other similar information are kept confidential. The saintess informed you about her situation because she wants you to give her a name.”

I nodded at Luciana’s words.

“I want you to give me a name!”

‘A name from my favorite character! It’s the best!’

I knew what name I was going to get, but I wanted my favorite character to give it to me.

Miltiades had been listening to me with an unhappy expression when his gaze changed.

“Do you not want to?” I grabbed onto his sleeve and asked him.

‘I really want a name from daddy.’

I couldn’t read his expression while he stared at me. After a long while, he opened his mouth.

“I’ll give you one.”

* * *

After the child left, Miltiades silently sat in the drawing-room.

“You’re the best!”

The warmth from the happy child felt like a brand on his hand. 

‘What an arrogant little thing.’

When he remembered her teary expression, he couldn’t stop himself.

‘She doesn’t have a name, huh.’

Who would have dared to imagine that a saintess didn’t have a name?