Falling in Love with the Supreme Radiant Deity

"Dear Master, in one hour, dawn will arrive, and you will welcome a new week." "Please do not miss today's sun, and remember to repent." At the foot of the cold, rolling machine butler, it stopped beside the sofa. Its steel face featured a large blue screen displaying a big smiley face. In the dark, lightless room, a girl with long, light golden curls lay sprawled on a beige sofa. She frowned slightly, her tightly closed eyelids fluttering, her body nestled in the blanket refusing to budge an inch. Her voice, as if muffled by cotton, lazily emerged, "A weekly dawn, yet it's just an electronic sun-forever cold and devoid of warmth. What's so great about that? Call me when it's time to repent. " "In the morning sunlight, why not take a selfie and upload it? Your fan count rose yesterday after you used high heels to beat up a thief. Strike while the iron is hot and share a beautiful photo!" The machine butler's monotone voice shifted to a cheerful tone as it delivered the latter part of its message, projecting a three-dimensional image onto the coffee table. Cynthia, curled up under the blanket, could not escape the piercing light that penetrated through the thin fabric. Annoyed, she kicked off the blanket, opened her eyes, and blinked her jewel-like blue irises, gradually coming to life as her vacant gaze fell upon the projection on the table. "Are you mocking me too? I wrapped myself up so tightly, yet I was still recognized." "Dear Master, I believe your actions are commendable and worthy of praise. However, your face is so striking that even without clothes, you would stand out among crowds, comparable to the beauty of the Elven race. It's only natural to be recognized." "Don't you think that's a bit of a run-on sentence?" Cynthia propped herself up on the sofa and stretched lazily. At that moment, the entire luxurious living room lit up, and under the warm light, the girl's features shone like a radiant red rose. Her tousled long curls cascaded down her chest, and her disheveled appearance exuded an air of nobility and elegance. "Perhaps your programming is just set incorrectly. Now, it's time to get up for your own good." The butler's mechanical arm extended, automatically forming a mirror in front of her. Cynthia glanced at her reflection, the corners of her lips curling up as the beauty in the mirror mirrored her smile. "Alright, for the sake of my beauty." "The most dazzling red rose of Rydania," the butler praised, "as voted by netizens." Cynthia squinted, then hopped off the sofa, her steps light as she made her way to the bathroom. "I must prove the truth of this title." After washing up and donning a bathrobe, Cynthia put on her watch-shaped light brain, activated the selfie mode on her social media app, and settled onto a cushion in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling window, waiting for the electronic sun to appear. Since her birth, she had lived in Rydania, a land ruled by humans, where the pinnacle of human technology coexisted with endless darkness. The sky of Rydania held no stars or moon, only an eternal night thicker than ink. She had never known what the sun was; her knowledge of it was limited to history books. Every Monday, an electronic sun would be projected high above, merely to warn the people that they had been forsaken by the God of Light, that they were sinful beings. To live was to atone. To this day, she was the hottest star of the Rydania Republic, blessed not only with a face that no one could refuse but also with exceptional acting talent. Every drama she starred in became a hit. "At 22, it's time to consider retirement." Accepting the glass of red wine handed to her by the butler, Cynthia lazily leaned against the glass, gazing down at the nearly hundred-story skyscraper. In the eternal night, the colorful lights of the streets formed a magical cityscape, and the largest billboard displayed an advertisement for a new type of holographic game she endorsed. Cynthia swirled the wine in her glass, listening to the deep, ancient chimes echoing in her ears. She turned her head to glance at the television, from which the sound emanated. "It has begun," the machine butler announced. With that, all the neon lights inside and outside vanished, plunging the world into eternal night. Soon after, at the horizon, dawn approached, the clouds tinged with a faint red as a simulated sun emerged. Dappled light streamed through the giant floor-to-ceiling windows. Cynthia found herself enveloped in the cold, lifeless so-called sunlight. Facing the glaring bulb, she adjusted her posture and casually snapped a few photos of the sunrise, a smirk of derision tugging at her lips. "If you ask me, Ove, where is the God of Light in this world? If he exists, he must have long since fallen. What does it mean to forsake us? He must have never possessed us." "Warning: According to the Republic's regulations, your words violate the supreme authority of the Church. The maximum penalty is death. Please do not insult the deity, and do not repeat this." "Or will you automatically report me?" Cynthia clicked her tongue, lamenting, "Truly worthy of being a cold machine. Too bad that clause is locked; otherwise, I would definitely delete it." "Dawn is nearly over. Please begin your repentance." Cynthia pouted, finding it rather dull as she set down her wine glass and walked to the bar, retrieving a snow-white-covered holy book. Year after year, she recited the same phrases, using the same emotions, monotonously repenting to the deity. Cynthia hugged the book and returned to the window, kneeling on the cushion. Her light golden curls flowed like liquid gold, illuminated by the electronic light, creating a halo around her. The book was already worn from frequent use. She opened a page with her delicate fingers, placing the book on her lap, palms together, her indifferent gaze fixed on the electronic sunlight as she began to repent. "Creator God of Light, God of Light who loves me, please forgive my frivolous actions, listen to my repentance, pardon my foolishness, and with your great power, help me through the trials of life..." Her words faltered here. What came next? She had forgotten... Cynthia glanced at the holy book, raised an eyebrow, and oh, she was supposed to mention her sins. "What sins have I committed recently? Let me think." "Yesterday, I had pork stew with vermicelli, which caused my weight to increase by a pound this morning. Truly a sin." Cynthia tilted her head, staring at the sun, and added, "Knowing I’m allergic to mangoes, Natasha Twain still gifted me an entire box on the red carpet just two days ago, forcing me to eat one in public. You must punish her severely." At this point, Cynthia felt a bit irritated. She completely ignored the electronic sunlight, tilting her head back to gaze at the illuminated sky, mockingly saying, "But I know you won't respond. That's fine; I was meant to atone. She caused my allergy, and the next day, I posted her and her little boyfriend's intimate photos online." "God, you will forgive my sins, right?" As Cynthia spoke, a smile crept onto her lips, her face illuminated by the light, filled with malice. Unbeknownst to her, the machine butler, which usually would intervene to stop her nonsense at this time, had fallen silent. Beneath the stacked stones and the heaps of bones, a hand as white as freshly fallen snow broke through the pile of bones. From beneath the buried bones, in the gaps between the bone fragments, a pair of crimson eyes suddenly opened. "Heretic, unforgivable... Cynthia." "Xiya..." An ancient call from the depths of hell. ... As the sunlight faded once more, the lights in the house and outside illuminated, marking the start of a new day. Only then did Cynthia conclude her repentance. In a good mood, she opened her light brain to prepare to upload her beautiful photo, saying,"Ove, I remember I have a shampoo commercial this afternoon. Please call the driver for me." She waited for a long time but received no response. Cynthia fiddled with her photos, curiously looking up to find that her Ove had frozen. "Ove?" Cynthia approached, feeling quite helpless. "I clearly had you serviced just the day before yesterday." She slapped the metal head of Ove but received no response. She had no choice but to contact the outside world using her light brain. However, the usually lightning-fast device was also unresponsive at that moment. The screen froze on her meticulously edited selfie, and no matter what Cynthia commanded, there was no reaction. "What’s going on?" Cynthia furrowed her brows, beginning to feel the heat radiating from the light brain on her wrist. She tried to remove the light brain, which was merely implanted in a black strap, but it wouldn’t budge. The strap burned against her skin, the scorching heat threatening to explode at any moment. "No way!" As she spoke, the light brain exploded on her wrist, a blinding white light filling the entire luxurious living room. Cynthia instantly lost consciousness. ... "The noble lady Cynthia, capable of serving as the Saintess of the God of Light, has been involved with Marquis Curtis. This is an unforgivable and heinous act!" "Regardless of whether she is the beloved sister of the Crown Prince or the most favored princess of His Majesty the Emperor, she shall atone for her blasphemy against the God of Light!" When Cynthia awoke from the explosion, a sharp, high-pitched male voice filled her ears, brimming with disdain. "She should be sent to the embodiment of the God of Darkness; she should wash away her sins there..." Cynthia lifted her head, her heavy gaze struck by the extreme opulence of the hall. Unfortunately, she had little time to admire the scenery, as she was kneeling, and tilting her neck was exhausting. Before her stood a middle-aged man clad in a red robe, wearing a white shirt underneath and a tall hat. His attire bore a striking resemblance to that of the clergy of the Republican Empire, though the silk fabric was more exquisite and luxurious. "Cynthia, do you have anything to say in your defense?" The authoritative female voice pulled her back to reality. Cynthia's gaze followed the red carpeted steps upward, finally resting on the elegantly dressed queen seated on the throne. In an instant, all memories of Cynthia's childhood flooded her mind, overwhelming her to the point where she had to prostrate herself on the ground, her golden curls cascading like a halo, her exquisite features tinged with pain.