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ArabicArknights: The Holy Son's Leisurely Life — Chapter 23
Chapter 23: The Scummy Fallen Angel
Exusiai was Lucian’s childhood sweetheart and his absolute best friend.
Back in Laterano, he held the exalted title of Holy Son. To the masses, he was a figure of absolute reverence, surrounded by deferential bows and hushed whispers wherever he walked.
But Exusiai was different.
That girl was a natural-born disaster, a walking powder keg who treated authority like a mild suggestion. She was a constant, throbbing headache for the local clergy.
The first time Lucian ever laid eyes on her, she had managed to sneak past the guards and infiltrate the Grand Basilica. She was still wearing her oversized children’s choir uniform, her vibrant red hair tangled and her fair little face smeared with mud. She looked exactly like the mischievous little brat she was.
When she spotted Lucian sitting in his pristine robes, she didn’t bow. Instead, she flashed a brilliant, missing-tooth smile and declared, “Holy Son! Let’s play together!”
Sitting in the cafe, reminiscing about that beautiful past, Lucian let out a long, weary sigh. “Where has that innocent, adorable little Sankta gone…? What happened to my sweet Exusiai?”
“Huh? What did you just say?”
The fully grown Exusiai raised a threatening eyebrow. She didn’t even look up from the menu, but her hand was already creeping under the table, her fingers pinching menacingly at the soft flesh of Lucian’s waist.
To protect his precious kidney from being bruised, Lucian instantly caved. “I didn’t say anything! Not a single word. Exusiai, do you want to add anything else to the order? Don’t be shy, just say it!”
Exusiai shot him a smug look that clearly read, You know what’s good for you. She turned back to the waiter. “The steamed milk pudding here is actually pretty good, so I’ll have another serving of that. Oh, and a mango pancake. And a banana split—the big one, with the little flags on top!”
“Okay, okay, okay.”
With his heart and his wallet bleeding in unison, Lucian obediently waved the waiter off to process the massive order.
There was an old saying in Laterano: you might find a Sankta who couldn’t shoot a gun, but you would never find a Sankta who disliked sugar. They were all absolute dessert fanatics, possessing a terrifyingly passionate sweet tooth. Therefore, the universally correct strategy for appeasing an angry Sankta girlfriend was to bury her in pastries.
But why did every single dessert shop in Lungmen have to be so outrageously expensive?
Lucian’s eye twitched as he calculated the bill. “Honestly, if you just wanted dessert, I could have made it for you at the shop. There’s really no need to drag me to this ridiculously overpriced high-end mall, is there?”
“Idiot. You have zero common sense.” Exusiai pointed her silver spoon at him, her cheeks bulging with milk pudding. “It’s about the atmosphere! Desserts taste a hundred times better when you eat them in a place that feels sweet and fancy. Your cooking is delicious, sure, but it’s not refined enough! It’s not cute at all!”
‘Why does food need to be cute? Isn’t it enough if it fills your stomach and tastes good? Women are entirely too troublesome.’
Lucian wisely kept that particular grumble locked safely inside his own head.
To salvage what was left of his budget, he had only ordered a single cup of black coffee for himself, looking every bit like a stingy scumbag taking his girlfriend out on a budget. But this was definitely not a date. Absolutely not. Exusiai was just throwing a tantrum, and dragging him to this luxury cafe was her way of punishing him. She just wanted to watch his face twist in agony every time he had to swipe his card.
After all, they had known each other for over ten years. He knew exactly how her mind worked.
Having devoured half her weight in sugar, Exusiai finally seemed to calm down. Her puffed-out cheeks relaxed into a blissful, contented smile. “Still, putting all these fancy desserts aside… your apple pie is definitely the best, Lucian. I swear, I’ll never eat apple pie made by anyone else for the rest of my life!”
“Well, thank you.” Lucian smiled, feeling a helpless but genuine wave of relief.
Exusiai loved apple pie more than anything, and it was the very first dish Lucian had ever learned to bake.
Most Sankta enjoyed making their own sweets just as much as they loved eating them. But as the Holy Son, Lucian was never allowed near a stove. He had no opportunity to even touch a cooking utensil before Exusiai crashed into his life. She had been his very first friend, the only person willing to sneak into the Grand Basilica just to keep him company, and he had desperately wanted to reciprocate that warmth.
When the young Holy Son announced his desire to learn how to bake, it caused an absolute uproar among the priests. Panicking, they immediately commissioned a dedicated, advanced kitchen to be built inside the temple just for him.
…And then, the woman who stepped in to teach him how to cook, guiding his hands through the flour and sugar, was the very same woman responsible for taking care of him.
Even now, sitting in a bustling Lungmen cafe, the memories were crystal clear. The gentle warmth of her touch when she hugged him from behind, the soft, teasing sound of her whispers brushing against his ear, the faint tickle of her hair against his cheek… every single detail was burned into his soul, impossible to forget.
“Idiot.”
Exusiai, who had deliberately chosen to sit right next to him in the booth rather than across the table, grabbed a lock of her own vibrant red hair and brushed it lightly against Lucian’s neck.
The sudden overlap of memory and reality sent a jolt straight up Lucian’s spine, snapping him out of his daze.
He quickly cleared his throat. “Sorry, sorry. What did you just say?”
Exusiai looked away, her tone feigning indifference. “I didn’t say anything.”
Lucian felt a sudden spike of guilt, struggling to find the right words to explain his distraction. But Exusiai was far too perceptive to be fooled.
She twirled her long hair around her finger, pouting slightly. “Why are you still pretending in front of me? I know you miss her. You’re probably wishing you could turn around right now, see her standing there, and just hug and kiss her, right?”
“Hold on.” Lucian raised a hand, his expression turning deadpan and serious. “I was thinking about Mostima, yes. But that second part is completely inaccurate. Forget kissing her. When I finally track her down, the very first thing I’m going to do is tie her up and spank her.”
Exusiai’s face scrunched up in pure disgust. “Ugh. You’re such a pervert.”
Despite the insult, the heavy atmosphere between them instantly evaporated. The woman Lucian had been thinking about was never a forbidden topic between them. In fact, finding her was the one wish they both shared.
Exusiai rested her chin on her hand, her eyes softening. “Mostima… I wonder what she’s doing right now.”
Mostima was a name deeply etched into both of their lives.
She was a woman with beautiful, flowing blue hair and an incredibly unique aura, always wearing a relaxed, sweet smile that put everyone at ease. Originally, she had been a high-ranking priest at the Grand Basilica, just a few years older than Lucian, and had been personally assigned to be his caretaker since he was a child.
Given how fanatically the people of Laterano worshipped their Holy Son, being his personal guardian was not a job handed to just any low-ranking cleric. It was a proof of Mostima’s immense talent and high status. She had taken over the position of Chief Priest at a shockingly young age, wielding massive influence within the Laterano Church and presiding over their most sacred ceremonies.
Until the day she suddenly “fell.”
The Sankta were an incredibly unique race, even within the diverse, chaotic world of Terra. Their glowing halos and ethereal wings possessed no physical mass and defied all scientific logic., these traits were not strictly innate; they were tied directly to language. A Sankta only manifested their light the moment they learned to speak.
According to Laterano doctrine, the Sankta existed solely to praise God, making the spoken word a sacred trigger. That first spoken word was considered their true birth.
Lucian, possessing the soul of a modern materialist, naturally didn’t buy into the supernatural religious fluff. He knew there had to be a concrete, structural principle behind it—the Law.
The Sankta strictly adhered to their doctrine, boasting a crime rate drastically lower than any other race on Terra. This wasn’t because every Sankta was a peace-loving saint. It was because, for them, committing a crime was impossible to hide. The moment a Sankta violated the Law, they didn’t have to wait for the police or the courts to catch them. The empathic network of the Law punished them instantly.
Because of this inescapable reality, their faith was absolute. No one dared question the system.
And among the absolute worst of these grave sins was a bizarre, highly specific rule: a Sankta must never point a gun at their own kind.
It wasn’t that they couldn’t kill each other through other means, but using a firearm against another Sankta was the ultimate taboo. Ever since Lucian first learned of this rule, he suspected a massive conspiracy was hiding behind it.
Regardless of the hidden mechanics, the consequence was absolute. If a Sankta committed this sin, they would fall.
That was exactly what happened to Mostima.
One day, without warning, she became a Fallen Sankta. Her pure white halo and radiant wings shattered into pitch black, and she sprouted the dark horns and pointed tail of a Sarkaz.
Once a Sankta fell, the empathic network of the Law completely severed its connection to them. They were no longer bound by Laterano’s strict rules.
Freed from those invisible chains, Mostima simply threw caution to the wind. She did something incredibly audacious to a fourteen-year-old Lucian, stealing away his innocence before vanishing into the night like a heartless scoundrel.
Lucian didn’t know how the rest of Laterano viewed her actions, but personally, he didn’t consider it a tragedy at all. If the woman had just explained her situation earlier, he would have gladly cooperated. He just hated that she had completely suppressed him and left him embarrassed in the aftermath.
Finding her was the primary reason Lucian and Exusiai had eloped from Laterano in the first place.
Before he left the holy city, Lucian had already abused his authority as the Holy Son to officially pardon Mostima’s sins. He didn’t care if a Fallen Sankta could never regain their white wings. As far as he was concerned, the new horns and tail just meant there were more fun ways to play.
Tracking her down, catching her, and finally getting the truth out of her remained one of Lucian’s greatest goals.