Episode 18| A Saints Smile, A Scammers Scheme
Riley’s week of freedom ended far too quickly.
The quiet.
The warmth of home.
Her father’s laughter.
All of it faded the moment she stood before the temple gates once more.
“…Back to hell,” she muttered under her breath.
Her fingers moved instinctively, sliding the artifact rings back into place.
A soft shimmer—
And Ryan returned.
Short golden hair.
A sharper frame.
A composed, handsome priest.
The perfect disguise.
But behind those calm green eyes—
There was something new.
A burning resolve.
---
Taxes increased.
The words echoed in her mind.
Her father’s strained smile.
The way he tried to brush it off.
The way he reassured her—
When she knew he was struggling.
Her expression darkened slightly.
No more waiting.
---
Riley walked through the temple halls with steady steps.
This time—
She wasn’t here to observe.
She wasn’t here to play small.
She was here to move.
I need power.
Fast.
Her thoughts sharpened.
The High Priest…
He was the root.
The rot.
And if she wanted to dismantle the system—
She had to start from the top.
But taking him down directly?
Impossible.
Not yet.
“…Then I’ll make the system turn against him.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
The kind that didn’t belong on a saint.
---
Step one: Access.
Riley had already built a reputation.
A reliable priest.
Humble.
Efficient.
Trusted.
That trust—
Was her entry point.
She began volunteering for administrative duties.
Handling records.
Assisting with donation logs.
Managing supply distributions.
Quietly.
Patiently.
No one questioned her.
Because Ryan was harmless.
---
Step two: Observe.
The temple’s finances were…
Disgusting.
Gold flowed in endlessly.
Donations from nobles.
Taxes disguised as “offerings.”
Yet—
Very little went out.
The people suffered.
While the temple hoarded wealth.
Riley’s eyes darkened.
Perfect.
---
Step three: Create holes.
She didn’t steal immediately.
That would be sloppy.
Obvious.
Instead—
She began adjusting records.
Small discrepancies.
Minor inconsistencies.
A few coins here.
A few there.
Nothing noticeable.
Nothing alarming.
At first.
---
Then—
She escalated.
Gradually.
Strategically.
Large shipments marked as “delivered”—but redirected.
Funds allocated to “restoration projects” that didn’t exist.
Donations recorded under vague, unverifiable sources.
Each move carefully calculated.
Each trail—
Leading upward.
---
To the High Priest.
---
If money goes missing…
Who do they suspect first?
The one at the top.
The one with the most access.
The one already surrounded by quiet whispers of corruption.
Riley leaned back slightly, reviewing the altered records.
A satisfied smile formed.
“…Let’s see how untouchable you really are.”
---
The investigation came faster than expected.
Murmurs spread through the temple.
Funds unaccounted for.
Discrepancies in records.
Questions raised among the higher ranks.
Riley watched it all unfold—
From the sidelines.
Perfectly composed.
Perfectly innocent.
---
The High Priest was questioned.
Briefly.
Formally.
But—
Nothing came of it.
Of course it didn’t.
His status.
His influence.
His control over the congregation—
Shielded him completely.
The matter was… dismissed.
“Clerical errors.”
“Mismanagement.”
“Unfortunate oversights.”
Riley clicked her tongue internally.
As expected.
She hadn’t been naive enough to think it would be that easy.
But still—
A small part of her had hoped.
---
“…Fine.”
Her gaze hardened.
Then I’ll take what I can.
Because while the High Priest remained untouched—
The money?
Was gone.
And now—
It was hers.
---
But Riley didn’t hoard it.
Not entirely.
---
A few days later—
A small, forgotten town began to change.
Quietly.
Gradually.
Unexpectedly.
Food supplies increased.
Clean water systems were repaired.
Homes were restored.
Medical care—rare and precious—became accessible.
The people whispered.
“…A miracle?”
“…The temple finally helped us?”
But Riley knew the truth.
Standing at a distance, cloaked in her priestly robes, she watched as children laughed—healthy, fed, safe.
Her expression softened.
Just slightly.
“…Not the temple.”
This—
Was her work.
Her scam.
Her justice.
---
Of course—
She kept a portion.
She wasn’t a saint.
Not really.
“…A scammer needs capital,” she muttered.
---
But as she turned to leave—
Her expression shifted once more.
Serious.
Focused.
This isn’t enough.
The High Priest still stood.
Untouched.
Unshaken.
And time—
Was running out.
---
The Crown Prince.
The deal.
The future.
She exhaled slowly.
“…A few months.”
That’s all she had.
To rise.
To take control.
To secure her position.
Before everything—
Collapsed.
---
Back at the temple—
Riley walked the halls once more.
Calm.
Composed.
Unassuming.
But now—
More dangerous than ever.
Because beneath the robes of a humble priest—
Lurked a mind that had already begun to dismantle the very foundation of the temple.
One scheme at a time.
And this?
Was only the beginning.
The royal palace stood in quiet grandeur beneath the night sky.
Within its highest tower—
A single room remained lit.
Candles flickered.
Shadows stretched.
And at the center of it all—
Crown Prince Raymond Lucille sat alone.
---
Scrolls were spread across his desk.
Reports.
Financial ledgers.
Internal investigations from the temple.
Every detail—
Carefully observed.
Carefully analyzed.
Raymond leaned back in his chair, one hand resting against his temple as he skimmed through yet another report.
“…Missing funds.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
“…Inconsistent records.”
He flipped the page.
“…Redirected supplies.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
“…How bold.”
---
To anyone else—
This would look like chaos.
Mismanagement.
Clerical incompetence.
But to him?
It looked like something else entirely.
Something intentional.
Something calculated.
His eyes darkened slightly.
“…This isn’t random.”
No.
Every move—
Was precise.
Measured.
Layered.
A pattern hidden beneath disorder.
A signature hidden within confusion.
And that—
Was what caught his attention.
---
“…Ryan.”
The name rolled off his tongue slowly.
Amused.
Knowing.
Because unlike everyone else—
He already knew the truth.
Ryan—
Was not a man.
---
“…Riley Scott.”
He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.
“…Or should I say… the girl who came to me asking for a way to become one.”
A soft chuckle left his lips.
“Two silver coins.”
“Determined eyes.”
“And not a hint of hesitation.”
---
Frankie.
That had been his role.
A masked guildmaster.
A man who dealt in secrets and favors.
And that day—
He had seen something in her.
Something rare.
Something dangerous.
---
“…You didn’t even question the price.”
His smile deepened.
“…Or the consequence.”
A favor.
A future claim.
And she agreed instantly.
---
“…A scammer through and through.”
---
His gaze returned to the reports.
“…And now here you are.”
Infiltrating the temple.
Manipulating funds.
Playing the system from within.
---
“…You’re even better than I thought.”
Because she wasn’t just stealing.
She was redirecting.
Rebuilding.
Reshaping.
And most importantly—
Hiding it all perfectly.
---
“…If I didn’t already know it was you…”
He tapped the report lightly.
“…I might’ve missed it.”
---
But there was more.
Something deeper.
Something that unsettled even him.
---
“…You remind me of someone.”
The words were quieter now.
Less playful.
More… personal.
---
His gaze drifted toward the window.
And just like that—
The past resurfaced.
---
Vincent Moretti.
That had been his name.
A man who ruled from the shadows.
Feared.
Untouchable.
---
Until her.
---
“…Mikayla.”
The name lingered in the air.
Heavy.
Familiar.
---
A casino floor.
Lights.
Noise.
And a woman who refused to lose.
---
“…You drained me dry.”
His voice held no anger.
Only amusement.
“…Forty-five million.”
And still—
She kept going.
Not out of greed.
But purpose.
---
“…You always had a reason.”
That was what made her different.
Dangerous.
---
Then—
That night.
The chase.
The confrontation.
The gun.
---
“…You were supposed to die there.”
A truck.
A flash of light.
Her body—
Thrown.
Still.
---
His fingers tightened slightly.
“…I remember your face.”
The last thing he saw before everything ended.
---
Gunfire.
Pain.
Darkness.
---
“…One of your people got me.”
A bitter chuckle escaped him.
“…Didn’t even get the chance to remind you of our past as kids.”
---
Then—
Nothing.
---
And then—
Everything.
---
“I woke up.”
His voice was calm again.
Controlled.
“…As Raymond Lucille.”
A new life.
A new identity.
And memories that didn’t belong to just one man.
---
“…At first, it was chaos.”
Fragments.
Voices.
Two lives colliding.
---
But eventually—
It settled.
And he understood.
---
“…I reincarnated.”
A simple truth.
A complicated reality.
---
And then—
The novel.
The story he remembered reading.
A Saintess.
A temple.
A fate that was supposed to unfold.
---
“…But the Saintess never appeared.”
That—
Had always bothered him.
---
Until recently.
---
“…And then you showed up.”
Riley.
Ryan.
The girl with golden hair and sharp instincts.
The one who walked into his guild without fear.
The one who agreed to a dangerous deal without hesitation.
---
“…You felt familiar.”
Even before he understood why.
---
And then—
The town square.
That fleeting moment.
That presence.
---
“…And now this.”
He glanced at the reports again.
The schemes.
The precision.
The audacity.
---
“…It’s you.”
Not a guess.
Not a theory.
A certainty.
---
“…Even if you don’t remember…”
His smile softened.
Just slightly.
“…I do.”
---
Because this wasn’t coincidence.
This wasn’t chance.
---
“…We met again.”
In another world.
Another life.
Another game.
---
Raymond stood, walking toward the window.
The city stretched endlessly beneath him.
Alive.
Unaware.
---
“…You’re playing the same game.”
Scamming.
Manipulating.
Balancing danger and control.
---
“…But this time…”
His reflection stared back at him.
Eyes sharp.
Full of intent.
---
“…You’re not getting away that easily.”
---
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Low.
Amused.
Excited.
---
“…Riley.”
Not Ryan.
Not Priest.
Not disguise.
---
“…Mikayla.”
The name he hadn’t spoken in so long.
---
“…Let’s see if you recognize me too.”
Because if there was one thing he knew—
One thing he was absolutely certain of—
---
It was this.
---
Fate had given them a second game.
---
And this time—
He intended to win.