Goodbye, Saintess.

Having an Awakenist as my wife meant enduring her monkish attitude toward sex.

We could only be intimate on the sixteenth of every month. Every detail—my position, rhythm, even my expression—had to follow her rigid rules. If I showed too much pleasure, she would immediately rise and leave.

We had been married for five years. Was I ever tired of this?

Yes. Still, I always gave in. I accepted these limitations because I loved her.

"The Saintess loves me too," I told myself.

That faith shattered the day I was sent to extinguish a hotel fire. Amid the flames, I found my wife pressed close to a man in disheveled clothes. Between their arms was a young boy.

Having an Awakenist as my wife meant enduring her monkish attitude toward sex.

We could only be intimate on the sixteenth of every month. Every detail—my position, rhythm, even my expression—had to follow her rigid rules. If I showed too much pleasure, she would immediately rise and leave.

We had been married for five years. Was I ever tired of this?

Yes. Still, I always gave in. I accepted these limitations because I loved her.

"The Saintess loves me too," I told myself.

She was like a Saintess—pure, revered, and stoic. Yet beneath that divine distance, she must have loved me. That belief became my personal faith, rivaling hers.

That faith shattered the day I was sent to extinguish a hotel fire. Amid the flames, I found my wife pressed close to a man in disheveled clothes. Between their arms was a young boy.

I had never seen Hera wear that expression. She was trembling, yet she calmly soothed the child while nestling in the man's arms.

She radiated a gentle aura.

I froze. The air burned around me, but I felt as if I had been plunged into the coldest abyss on Earth.

"Snap out of it, Grimwald! I'll rescue this family!" my captain, Albert Holst, barked. "You handle the next room!"

Hera Bishop looked up, bewildered. Her eyes seemed to pierce through my fire mask.

Our eyes met, and I felt my heart tear apart.

Albert called them a family. If that was true, then who was I to her?

As the flames roared, duty pushed aside my thoughts. I sprinted off to save anyone trapped in the next room.

…

It took three hours to put out the fire. Fortunately, there were no casualties.

By the time I had left the building, though, Hera, the man, and the child had vanished.

I meant so little to her that she did not even think I deserved an explanation.

I chuckled to myself bitterly. What had I been doing all these five years?

…

Hera was already home when I finally returned. It was a rare sight. She usually stayed at her office until the early morning, so I assumed she was waiting for me.

I expected an explanation. I was even willing to forgive her if it made sense.

Instead,