In the world of Type-Moon, it all begins with becoming Morgan's husband!

"Brother, hurry up!"

"Jeanne, aren't you getting a little too excited?"

"Really?" Joan of Arc stuck out her tongue. "I just wanted to tell other people about this as soon as possible!"

"……All right."

Ian did not overly criticize his sister's excitement.

He knew she was just trying to express her kindness.

"Eh?!"

Joan of Arc pointed ahead.

"Uncle Hancock is up ahead! Brother, let's go tell him!"

Hancock is a friend of your father.

In this village where people aren't very welcoming to you, he's one of the few who treats you relatively well.

The cabin you're living in now was found thanks to his connections.

Telling him about seeing angels is definitely a good option.

however--

After Joan of Arc finished recounting at length the story of the "angel" she had seen with a beaming smile, Hancock, sporting a full beard, displayed a rather subtle expression.

"Oh...that sounds pretty good."

"Yeah, I think so too!"

Taking advantage of Joan of Arc's good mood, Hancock leaned close to Ian and asked with some doubt:

"Pierre... what kind of nonsense is Jeanne spouting?"

Wings? Flames?

"What kind of 'angel' is this? Did you show her something strange?"

"..."

You suddenly realize a problem.

[Although you know Joan of Arc wouldn't lie—she must have seen something worthy of being called an 'angel' during the time you lost your memory.]

But to others, Joan of Arc's words at this moment were no different from utter nonsense.

This feeling was even more pronounced in the presence of Hancock, who was not religious.

He didn't believe Joan of Arc had actually seen the so-called "angel."

Realizing the problem, Ian's expression froze in an awkward state.

"Sorry, Uncle Hancock."

"It's alright." Hancock patted Ian on the shoulder. "Good to know."

"I still have work to do, so I'll be leaving now."

"it is good."

"Uncle Hancock walks so fast!"

Joan of Arc watched the departing figure and muttered to herself.

"I haven't finished talking about the 'angel' yet..."

"Cough cough."

Ian coughed a few times.

"He probably already knows what you're trying to say, right?"

"So I don't plan to listen to what comes next."

"That's it!"

Joan of Arc blinked her bright blue eyes, looking very happy.

"Then there's no need to waste any more time."

“Mm.” Ian nodded, then tightened his grip on his sister’s hand.

"Joan of Arc, let's go back first."

"Eh?!"

Upon hearing this, Joan of Arc immediately shook her head.

"Brother, you can't go back yet!"

"I haven't told everyone in the church about this yet!"

"This……"

Ian wanted to stop Joan of Arc from jumping out.

But when he saw Joan of Arc's clear eyes, devoid of any ulterior motives, he couldn't stop her from doing so.

After all, he couldn't very well scold his sister and tell her to stop spreading rumors, could he?

and--

Perhaps those who adhere to religious sects are more likely to believe Joan of Arc's account?

With this sense of good fortune in mind, Ian followed behind the beaming Joan of Arc, walking step by step toward the church in Domrémy village.

That was the largest building in the entire village.

However, things did not develop as you imagined.

Compared to Uncle Hancock, who is not religious, the villagers, who are religious, have much stricter requirements for the 'angel'.

[But Joan of Arc's description was completely unacceptable to them.]

Inside the church, people were discussing quietly in small groups.

The subject of their discussion was Joan of Arc, the girl who had just claimed to have seen an "angel."

"Hey, did you hear that? Jeanne said she saw an archangel sent by the Lord!"

"I heard that, but I think that's highly unlikely! What angel has black wings?"

"One thing to say, one thing to say, indeed."

"And that's not all... Jing... I also heard her say that the angel she saw could use fire!"

"What are you talking about?! Black wings and fire-wielding? What kind of angel is this?"

"Hmm... I think it's because their father is gone, and they're starting to seek validation."

Rumors spread throughout the church, slowly piercing Ian's heart.

The gazes cast upon the brother and sister were filled with doubt, speculation, and undisguised contempt.

As the elder brother, he knew that no one in front of him believed that Joan of Arc had really seen the "angel".

But being naive and innocent, she seemed completely unaware of this.

In her eyes, these people discussing in small groups all believed what she said.

"elder brother!"

Joan of Arc held Ian's hand tightly, looking very happy.

"Everyone knows about the existence of 'angels' now! We'll definitely live even harder from now on!"

"That's great, isn't it?"

"..."

Ian looked at Joan of Arc, whose ideas were too idealistic, and felt a mix of emotions.

He forced a wry smile, then nodded in response to his sister.

"Yes...maybe it really is like that."

Things unfolded exactly as you observed in church that day.

None of the villagers believed that Joan of Arc had actually seen the angel—although her description was quite vivid.

They characterized Joan of Arc's behavior as "hysterical behavior stemming from a desire to assert her own presence after her father's death," and scoffed at it.

You two siblings have a terrible reputation in the village of Domremi—almost everyone considers you hopeless swindlers.

However, despite your feigned ferocity, no one dares to directly cause trouble for you and Joan of Arc.

After all, no one dares to mess with a hotheaded young man with a machete at his waist—especially when he dotes on his younger sister.

But that doesn't mean you've stopped all the troubles.

Joan of Arc still encountered trouble.

"call--"

Panting, Ian returned to the door of the cabin.

Because of the issue of his being labeled an "angel," he has been deliberately assigned the worst job in the village.

Every day, he has to work like this until late at night before he can come back.

However, Ian did not tell Joan of this.

He could bear this unnecessary trouble alone; there was no need to make Joan of Arc suffer as well.

With a creak,

Ian pushed open the door, only to see an unexpected scene.

A large hole was visible in the window, and a gust of cold wind blew in, making the entire room extremely cold.

In the darkness, Joan of Arc was clutching her blanket tightly, curled up on the bed.

She had a scratch on her face and looked terrified.

Her pale pink lips were trembling uncontrollably, and she kept repeating the same sentence over and over again.