Repeat Vice – The Villainous Noble Doesn’t Want to Die, So He Swore to Not Die As One of The Four Heavenly Kings Volume 4 Chapter 5

 Chapter 05: The Black-Haired Maid

The scene shifts back about six years.

The royal capital. The grand cathedral, headquarters of the Six Gods Church.

Its garden, open to the public, served as a pathway for devout believers heading to the cathedral. In a corner of that garden sat a black-haired girl, crouched and sobbing, occasionally clawing at her hair in a frenzy.

Scattered around the crouching girl were strands of her black hair. The garden saw considerable foot traffic during the day, and despite her secluded spot, her presence drew attention. Yet no one approached the weeping girl—not only because her demeanor was unsettling, but because her jet-black hair, reflecting no light, repelled the church’s faithful.

Long ago, the Six Gods Church had a period when black was shunned. Black clothing was naturally avoided, and even black hair was considered taboo.

Why was black so reviled, even temporarily? It was said to evoke the Dark God.

In mythology, the Six Gods united to defeat and seal the "Darkness God", who sought to bring ruin to the world. However, the discovery of ancient murals later cast doubt on this narrative. One mural depicted a figure presumed to be the Dark God leading countless magical beasts, destroying cities. With a crescent-moon grin and commanding beasts, the figure resembled a demon or even a "Demon King".

The ability to control magical beasts was attributed to the "Darkness God" or "Demon King", leading to whispers that the Dark God might belong to the "Darkness God"’s pantheon. This theory grew to equate the "Darkness God" with the Dark God due to the similarity between darkness and dark attributes. However, this theory conflicted with many murals and ancient texts, and a significant faction within the church opposed it.

The discovery of a mural in a temple dedicated to the Light God—depicting the Light God and Dark God fighting back-to-back against a horde of magical beasts—definitively debunked the theory. This reaffirmed the Dark God as one of the heroic gods who helped found the kingdom, not a subordinate of the "Darkness God".

Yet the ingrained aversion to black never fully dissipated, and it remained implicitly avoided within the church. Thus, black was rarely used in clerical robes or ornaments, and while black-haired clergy weren’t nonexistent, they were exceedingly rare.

Naturally, no one openly shunned someone for having black hair, but most believers harbored an almost instinctive discomfort.

The girl was a candidate for the next Saintess. Her exceptional talent in holy magic, particularly "Healing Magic", had earned her a nomination at the tender age of twelve.

She was an orphan, found bleeding from her head in a remote part of the kingdom before she was five. Likely due to her injury, she remembered neither her hometown nor her parents and could barely speak. The only thing she could recall and articulate was her name: Yurika.

Perhaps due to difficulty pronouncing it or her own childish speech, the nuns called her Yurika. They didn’t spurn her for her black hair, raising her with the same love as the other orphans, like a mother would her own child. Soon, it was discovered she possessed mana and exceptional aptitude for holy magic.

As a result, under the pretext of protection, she was sent to the capital’s headquarters. Her warm life with the nuns transformed into one focused solely on learning the decorum and holy magic befitting a Saintess candidate.

At first, she wept, begging to see the nuns and return to the church. Each time, her instructor disciplined her with violence, insisting that a Saintess wouldn’t say such things and preaching the honor of becoming the church’s symbol.

The faction grooming her as the next Saintess was one devoted to the Dark God within the Six Gods Church. A black-haired orphan with exceptional holy magic aptitude was highly convenient for them. Their goal—the Dark Faction’s ambition—was to appoint a black-haired girl as Saintess to eradicate the church’s lingering aversion to black. If the church’s symbol had black hair, it would aid those unfairly treated for their hair color and, more importantly, elevate the Dark Faction’s status within the church.

The Light God was considered the supreme deity of the Six Gods Church, giving the Light Faction the greatest influence.

“If she becomes Saintess, our Dark Faction’s position will be secure. Perhaps we could even surpass the Light Faction…” muttered a Dark Faction priest, her instructor, overheard by the girl.

It was a vulgar factional dispute within the same religion. The young girl didn’t fully grasp the words, but she sensed they weren’t good. Yet there was little she could do.

At best, she pretended to be slow at learning or held back during holy magic practice. If she performed poorly, she might not become Saintess and could return to the nuns. It was a naive child’s plan, but the priest saw through it.

Frustrated by her lack of progress despite scolding and corporal punishment, the priest canceled the afternoon’s lessons and prepared to go out. He took the girl by carriage to the rural church where she had been raised.

Seeing familiar scenery, the girl rejoiced. Perhaps her poor performance had made her unwanted, and she was being sent back. Despite the hardships, she could return to her life with the nuns and orphans. Containing her excitement, her heart danced.

Seeing the church after two years, she was stunned. It was empty. The orphans she’d lived with and the nun who loved her like a mother were gone. The once flower-filled garden was overgrown with weeds, and the church’s interior was in ruins. Unable to believe her eyes, she felt a strange dryness in her throat as she looked at the priest.

“Priest-sama, where is everyone…?”

The priest replied, “It’s all your fault.”

The girl’s world went dark.

*

Two years earlier, when her holy magic aptitude was confirmed, and she was taken to the headquarters under the guise of protection, the fact that a rural church had sheltered a black-haired girl became known to the church’s upper echelons. Sheltering a black-haired orphan wasn’t punishable; the Dark God’s taboo was centuries old. Yet some in the upper echelons still harbored doubts about the Dark God’s status as a heroic god.

Their response was subtle pressure: reducing food rations or halting subsidies to the church. For a rural church supporting many orphans with limited resources, this was devastating, threatening its survival.

The orphans were scattered to other churches or orphanages, and the nun was relieved of her duties. Abandoned churches were not uncommon in the kingdom, especially in remote areas. The priest declared that the girl was undeniably the cause.

Hearing this, she collapsed in tears before the deserted church. The happy days were gone, never to return. The orphans she saw as siblings and the nun she saw as a mother were gone—all because of her.

As despair crushed her, the priest gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Become the Saintess, Yurika. That is the path to overturn this tragic reality.”

“Overturn…?” she whispered.

“When you become Saintess, I promise to restore this church to its former state.”

Those words were a beacon of hope, a single thread dangling into her personal hell. “Really…? If I become Saintess, the church… everyone will come back…?”

“Of course. No wish is beyond a Saintess’s reach.”

Hope sparked in her eyes. She seized the thread without hesitation. “I’ll do it… I’ll become the Saintess…! I’ll become Saintess and bring back the church, everyone…”

Before the ruined church, she declared her resolve with fiery eyes. The priest responded with a warm smile, saintly in appearance.

*

From then on, the girl endured relentless training. She mastered every holy magic the priest instructed, along with decorum, academics, and etiquette. No matter how long it took, she achieved perfection in every task, driven by the goal of becoming Saintess to restore her church.

She was exceptional, but so were other Saintess candidates. To outshine them, she studied tirelessly, even sacrificing sleep. While others slept, she pressed on. Coffee staved off drowsiness, and "Healing Magic" and makeup concealed her rough skin and dark circles, as the priest insisted a Saintess must always be beautiful.

Before she knew it, she was among the top candidates. On the eve of the Saintess selection, she was removed from candidacy without explanation, only that a decision had been made after discussions among the upper echelons.

Her instructor, the Dark Faction priest, protested vehemently, and together they confronted the cathedral’s leadership. But the decision was final. Despite her desperate efforts, she wasn’t even allowed to stand in the selection ceremony.

“…Was it because of my black hair?” the priest muttered as he left.

Left behind in despair, the girl wandered wearily to a corner of the garden and crouched, sobbing. She hadn’t shed a tear since resolving to become Saintess, but with her hope of restoring the church shattered, everything that had sustained her crumbled.

The twelve-year-old cried like a child, tearing at her black hair until her scalp bled. This black hair, dark as the abyss, was the cause of everything—her separation from the nuns and orphans, the forced holy magic training, the ruin of her beloved church. It was all because of her hair. This was hell. Why was she in such a world? If living meant such pain, she’d rather disappear.

As despair consumed her, and passersby ignored her, a small hand grabbed hers, stopping her. “Stop. Your beautiful hair is crying.”

The voice was young but firm. She looked up, eyes wide, to see a black-haired boy, far younger than her, standing there. Beside him was a pink-haired knight in black armor, likely his guard.

“…Let go,” she said, her eyes hollow as she shook off his hand.

The knight reached for her sword, but the boy raised a hand to stop her. “Stand down. I touched her first.”

“…As you wish,” the knight replied.

Watching their brief exchange, the girl vaguely thought the boy must be of high status. Would her rudeness lead to punishment? If so, perhaps that was fine… Her thoughts turned self-destructive as she looked at him.

“Why did you stop me…?”

“Didn’t I say? Your beautiful hair is crying.”

“Beautiful…? This black hair? Stop joking. Are you mocking me?”

“I’m not mocking you… Do you hate your hair?” the boy asked.

“I hate it. I despise it,” she spat.

He laughed. “Is that so? Hating such beautiful hair—you’re a strange one.”

“You keep saying beautiful… Did I look that pathetic to you?” she retorted, assuming he was lying.

“Why would I lie? Don’t impose your tastes on me. If I say it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful.”

She fell silent. He reached for her hair, and she flinched, recalling the priest’s blows, closing her eyes in fear. Unfazed, he gently stroked her black hair, smoothing its tangles.

“Really, you’ve treated it so roughly. Hey, do you have a comb?” he asked the knight.

“Do I look like I carry one? And I wish you’d remember my name. Also, Young Master, touching a lady’s hair so casually isn’t commendable,” the knight chided, exasperated.

“Your name’s too long,” the boy grumbled.

“Call me by a nickname, then.”

“As if I would.”

The girl blinked in astonishment at their banter, like a comedy routine. All the while, the boy’s hand gently caressed her hair, as if tending to a delicate flower.

“…Did you really mean it, calling it beautiful?” she asked hesitantly.

He snorted. “Yeah, I meant it. I’m jealous, even.”

“Jealous…? What are you talking about…?”

Confused, she tilted her head. Her black hair had brought her nothing but misfortune. And wasn’t the boy’s hair black too? What did he mean by jealous? He pinched a strand of his own hair, holding it to the light.

“My mother has pink hair, like that knight. My hair’s tinged with it. It’s not pure black. Not that I dislike it, but…”

His hair, at first glance dark as night, revealed a faint reddish hue in the light.

“Pure black is noble. It yields to no other color,” he said.

“Noble… color…?” she echoed.

“Your hair. Be proud of it,” he urged.

“…No one’s ever said that to me.”

She wiped her tears, staring at him with red, swollen eyes. They locked gazes for a moment, until the pink-haired knight cleared her throat with a sigh.

“Young Master, the master’s meeting should be ending soon,” she said.

“Hm, already?” the boy replied lazily, standing and turning away.

“Ah…” the girl murmured, reluctant to see him go.

Without looking back, he spoke. “I don’t know or care about your situation, but… if you’re unhappy with things, come to the Lightless territory. No one there will reject you for your beautiful black hair. I’d welcome you, at least.”

With that, the boy and the pink-haired knight left. Alone in the garden, the girl stopped crying. She gazed at her black hair, twined around her fingers.

“Noble color… Lightless territory…” she murmured, looking skyward.

“If I become a black knight, could I stand by his side…?”

With no hope and a void in her heart, the boy’s face—calling her black hair beautiful—lingered in her mind. The hair she despised began to feel just a little lovable.

*

Lightless family secondary residence, study. Sunlight streamed through the window, faintly tinting Rofus’s hair red. Seeing this, Yurika smiled, recalling the past.

“What’s so funny…? Is something on my head?” Rofus asked.

“No, I was just remembering when we met,” Yurika replied.

“…? Was it that amusing?” Rofus tilted his head.

He was likely thinking of when she treated his injuries from the "Demon Whale" in Roguebelt. Their meeting at the cathedral happened when Rofus was seven. Yurika had grown much since then, so it was no surprise he didn’t connect the dots. She smiled mischievously.

“It’s a secret.”

Giggling, she prompted a sigh from Rofus. Propping his cheek on his hand, he muttered pensively, “Our meeting… that’d be the cathedral garden, right? All I remember is you bawling your eyes out.”

He said it casually, and Yurika froze. Her face flushed, visibly flustered.

“R-Ro-Rofus-sama…! H-How… do you remember…?”

“Hm, well, it came back to me recently. Seeing your face the other day jogged my memory,” he said.

“‘Jogged’…? You could’ve told me! I made a fool of myself saying it was a secret!” she exclaimed, clinging to him in embarrassment.

Rofus chuckled.

“What, you thought I’d forgotten?”

He laughed heartily. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so flustered. Quite a sight. You’ve been putting on airs lately, always so composed.”

“Don’t tease me!” Yurika said, blushing and averting her eyes.

Their banter continued until Carlos, losing patience, entered the study.

——.

ToC