The High Priest possessed a unique ability to render people speechless. Brukisel couldn’t tell how much of Rou’s words were sincere. He stared quietly at Rou, but when Rou tilted his head in confusion, Brukisel soon shook his head and turned away.
Rou waved his hand for a long while toward Brukisel’s back as he walked away without looking back. When he appeared smaller than a dot and finally disappeared, Rou felt a slight twinge of regret, but it was only momentary.
‘Asking for a holy relic. Has his faith deepened?’
Holy relics were not only difficult to collect, but their management was an even bigger problem. From what Rou had observed at the Goddess’s side, even the most trivial matters related to holy relics absolutely required a priest, and one had to offer prayers regularly to earn the qualification to dare store them.
For Brukisel to volunteer for such a troublesome task!
Rou was purely delighted, feeling as though Brukisel had taken a step closer to the Goddess. He firmly believed that granting what Brukisel desired would also bring progress to his relationship with Brukisel.
By the way, to think that Patricia was called a saint—it truly was an unexpected fact. Rou clearly remembered that snotty little brat. Though he loved all humans and was especially weak when it came to young humans, his memories of Patricia were absolutely not all good.
Born as the daughter of a nouveau riche, she had frequented the temple since she was an infant. The first day Rou saw Patricia, her white, round cheeks were so adorable that he watched the child for quite a while.
‘Don’t be startled, Rou.’
The Goddess had given a soft smile at Rou’s appearance and warned him to be careful of something. While Rou was bewildered by those words, he vividly remembered being startled by crying that echoed deafeningly through the temple and quickly hiding behind the Goddess.
After that, whenever Patricia felt wronged, she would pray while crying every single day. It would have been better if she had quietly shed tears moved by the Goddess’s deep love. But Patricia, while praying, would always wail as though overcome by feelings of being wronged.
Rou had slipped off the Goddess’s shoulder while napping more than once or twice because of that crying. Moreover, even as an adult she hadn’t corrected that crying habit, so on days when Patricia came, Rou would often hide inside peonies that hadn’t yet fully opened their buds.
That Patricia was a saint. Rou recalled how the Goddess, though making a troubled face when Patricia cried, would soon give her a loving response.
‘Did She know that Patricia would be called a saint?’
They say that everything the Goddess does has Her own meaning. Indeed, those words were right.
While Rou was nodding alone, admiring the Goddess’s profound intentions, he heard the bustling sound of hurried footsteps from behind. Rou slowly turned around at that somehow familiar sound and came face to face with Yan, whose entire face was drenched in tears.
Yan, who had been running frantically, somehow managed to stop just before colliding with Rou, then recited long, difficult-to-understand sentences in a sobbing voice.
‘Is today a day related to tears?’
Rou wiped Yan’s wet cheeks with his own sleeve. Yan seemed grateful that the High Priest would wipe away his tears even while soaking his own sleeve, and though he didn’t know what to do with himself, he couldn’t stop talking.
The gist of Yan’s long and rambling story was this:
After discovering the High Priest who had jumped out from the bushes, Yan soon followed after him. Yan called out to the High Priest again, but the High Priest only ran toward his destination. Yan could see him run precisely into the training grounds without Yan’s guidance. A sense of awe toward him and a sense of duty that he must quickly stop him arose simultaneously.
The High Priest, who had been walking through the bushes, suddenly stopped short. Though Yan knew he should immediately go out and grab him, he froze in place, unable to move even a muscle.
That cruel and violent Emperor was holding a sword. The cold gleam of the blade flashed under the moonlight, and it seemed as though it would fly at him at any moment and sever his neck. The Emperor was one crazed by blood. Yan had heard plenty of rumors that he needed no reason to kill people, and would swing his sword merely for being bored or because his mood wasn’t pleasant.
So even though Yan knew in his head that he should immediately get up and block the High Priest’s path, his legs gave out under the Emperor’s overwhelming presence and he ended up crouching down on the spot. He was only able to regain his senses and stand up to run after the Emperor had disappeared from his view.
The fact that even knowing the Emperor could harm the High Priest, he had failed to protect him with his life seemed to plant guilt in Yan. Rou tried to reassure Yan.
“Don’t blame yourself so much. You must use your one and only life preciously.”
Brukisel was actually a kind child, but it seemed humans were frightened of their own accord. Still, Rou understood Yan’s feelings. Though it would never happen, even if Brukisel were to kill him, he would simply return to the Goddess’s garden. That was fine for him, but humans’ circumstances were different.
It would be shortening their already brief lifespan even further.
Originally, the shorter one’s time dwelling on earth, the stronger one’s attachment to life. Rou smiled gently as if understanding Yan’s heart a hundred times over.
However, that attitude seemed to stimulate Yan’s guilt even more.
“Sniff, hic, sob. Uugh! B-but……”
Yan held out something he had been preciously clutching in one hand before Rou. The long golden thread looked familiar, as though he had seen it many times before. It took a moment to realize it was his own hair.
“When was this cut?”
Yan pointed to the nape of Rou’s neck with tear-filled eyes. Following that gesture with his hand, dried sticky blood came off on his fingertips. Only then did he feel a stinging pain. It seemed he had been wounded by the blade Brukisel had thrown earlier.
Though the wound stung quite a bit, deeper than expected, it actually gave Rou great conviction. The conviction that Brukisel would absolutely never kill him. If he had adjusted the angle just a little, he could have sent him back to the Goddess’s embrace, but Brukisel hadn’t done so.
‘As expected. Brukisel is kind.’
Rou soothed the still-sobbing Yan and returned to the temple. Yan must have thought they needed to treat the wound quickly, as he followed Rou without complaint.
And upon returning to the temple, Rou had to endure Jes’s lengthy worrying.
“Just what were you thinking, appearing so recklessly before the Emperor! And to come back injured like this!”
“Jes.”
“The High Priest’s sacred body does not belong to the High Priest alone! It belongs to the Goddess, to the temple, and to all who serve the Goddess! You must not act so lightly!”
“……Jes.”
“Yes? Do you understand? Please also consider the heart of this old man who can only wait here with anxiety. If the believers see the High Priest injured, how worried they will be!”
It was already done, and saying such things wouldn’t make the injury heal. Besides, looking at the conclusion, wasn’t he quite fine? Rou found it painful to quietly listen to words mixed with worry and concern, not understanding why Jes spoke so pessimistically.
However, he had no ability to stop the nagging that Jes poured out with a voice that sounded like he might collapse at any moment, his face turning bright red. And somehow, a strong premonition told him that if he tried to stop it, the nagging would become twice as long.
So Rou had no choice but to quietly receive treatment without saying anything, even as Jes and Yan slathered horribly smelling ointment thickly on his neck and wrapped it tightly with terribly thick bandages.
‘I’ll have to look for herbs at dawn and apply them.’
The ointment with its terrible fragrance smelled so foul that it seemed it would make even something that would heal on its own fester instead.
“Still, there’s good news.”
Before Jes could say that no matter how good the news was, it couldn’t be good enough to cover the High Priest being injured, Rou struck first.
“Brukisel gave permission for the Eucharist ceremony.”
“No matter how good the news…… Is that really true?”
If the High Priest appeared before the nobles, his standing would be reversed in an instant. The current nobles were prostrating themselves flat before a powerful monarch, but no one knew how things might change if the High Priest—the only existence who could dare challenge that Emperor’s authority—appeared before their eyes.
No one knew what kind of ripples the High Priest’s appearance at the Imperial Palace would cause, but it was certain that the treatment of the High Priest would change beyond recognition. That much could be guaranteed. For Jes, who had been disappointed that the High Priest’s greatness wasn’t known, it was somewhat welcome news.
“I-is that really true?”
However, though Jes was happy, he couldn’t be purely delighted. The opponent was that Emperor. He wouldn’t have just given permission. He must have certainly lured the innocent High Priest with some other dirty method.
“Yes. It’s fortunate. It seems the day when I can help him at his side is rapidly approaching.”
“D-did he not demand something else in return?”
“Ah.”
Rou spoke casually, as if he had forgotten.
“He said he wants Saint Patricia’s belt as a gift. It seems if I get just that, I can go to the birthday celebration.”
Following Rou’s bright voice, only a silence as still as death flowed through the temple. Looking at the somehow stiffened Jes and Yan, Rou carefully added more. It was better to take the beating first—it seemed that confessing the truth quickly was the only way to escape this ominous silence.
“I did promise in the Goddess’s name to give it as a gift…… I’m sure I can get it!”
“……”
“……”
However, even after confessing the truth, the silence did not break. Yan’s face only grew paler, and the wrinkles between Jes’s brows deepened even more. Rou began to feel uncomfortable, as though he had done something terrible to these terribly young humans.
Rou carefully rolled his deep honey-colored eyes, then for no reason took a small sip of the tea placed before him. Because of the pungent smell of the ointment, the tea tasted like sewage, but he dared not utter a single word of complaint.
