Natalie twitched the corner of her mouth. "So there's favoritism too? I look good, so my sins are lighter. He looks good, so his sins are worse? How does that make any sense?" Martha put on a mysterious look. "Because you're a woman. When a woman is beautiful, it means her sins are lighter and the filth on her soul is thinner. Women like that have the gift to become a saintess. "But when a man is handsome, that itself is a sin. Men often use their looks to deceive innocent girls." After hearing her twisted logic, Cassian wasn't even angry. He just really wanted to laugh. This shepherd of the cult had to be a man. And not just any man, a very ugly one. He was so jealous of good-looking guys that he'd gone completely off the rails and invented this whole theory. Natalie was also holding back a laugh. "Then what exactly is a saintess?" There was a hint of envy on Martha's face. "She's a woman with lighter sins and a cleaner soul. She can serve Dawnmother as a handmaiden, working in the mortal world alongside the Shepherd." Natalie teased, "So saintesses can talk to the gods too, like the Shepherd?" Martha shook her head. "No. Only the Shepherd is a messenger of the gods. Only he can communicate with them. Saintesses are servants of the divine. They assist the Shepherd and handle support work." She paused, then stressed the point. "Even if they can't speak to the gods for now, once a woman becomes a saintess, she'll receive special treatment when she returns to Heaven later. That's completely different from us ordinary people." Natalie finally laughed out loud. "So there's discrimination even in heaven?" "That's not discrimination!" Martha raised her voice, clearly unhappy with Natalie's sudden laughter.After several seconds, she continued explaining, "You've read the Odyssey, right? Think about it. Would an archangel have the same status as some random angel standing at the gates of Heaven?" Natalie put on a look of sudden understanding. "Oh, I see. Then who are your saintesses right now?" Martha replied, "There are many of them. Over a hundred." Natalie raised an eyebrow. "All of them beautiful?" Martha nodded. "All of them are beauties." Natalie smacked her lips. Something felt very wrong. A title like "saintess" sounded powerful and rare. How could there be more than a hundred of them? Throughout history—whether in holy orders or dark cults—saintesses were usually one per generation, passed down over time. This Dawnlight group sounded like it was mass-producing saintesses. And that was just strange. Natalie asked whatever came to mind. "Can you still find that many beautiful women now?" It had been three years since the apocalypse began. Even the most stunning woman wouldn't survive unscathed. Hunger and constant stress wore everyone down. Dry, brittle hair. Skinny bodies reduced to bone. Pale faces from crushing mental pressure. No matter how perfect someone's features once were, they couldn't hold up forever under conditions like this. This wasn't a TV drama. In shows, a famous actress could smear some dirt on her face, draw a few fake scars, and still look flawless. But in the apocalypse, life drained away from the inside out. That kind of damage couldn't be covered up. Martha explained calmly, "Of course we can! Women with good natural features—once they're chosen as saintesses—receive the goddess's calling and blessing. They grow more and more beautiful very quickly." Natalie was surprised. That powerful? If becoming beautiful were really that easy, rich women wouldn't spend insane amounts of money on skincare and treatments. They'd just start believing in a god. This wasn't some strange beauty parasite or curse, was it? Martha kept talking and studied Natalie's face closely. "Just like you. Your skin looks full and smooth. It even shines." Then she touched her face and sighed. "It's a pity. My sins are too heavy. I can never become a saintess and serve the goddess." From her expression, serving the Dawnmother seemed more important than having a healthy, beautiful body. Natalie looked at her again. Judging only by her features, Martha was fairly attractive. When she was younger, she probably would've been considered pretty. But age had caught up with her. Her skin sagged. Her face drooped. On top of that, she was painfully thin. Naturally, she no longer looked beautiful. And then Natalie noticed something else. Everyone here was extremely thin. Men and women alike had dry, hollow faces. Their cheeks were sunken. Their eyes bulged slightly. If not for their thick clothing making their bodies look fuller, they would've looked like aliens from a sci-fi movie. The place felt lively and peaceful. People looked settled and calm. Yet somehow, they seemed worse off than survivors in other cities—like they weren't eating enough. When Natalie had met Selina and Guinevere in Greendale, they were also thin from hunger. But not like this. These people looked like walking skeletons wrapped in skin.