Jes lowered his voice as much as possible. In a small, faint voice, he explained that the Emperor didn’t originally enjoy such banquets and had never once shown himself dancing in front of people.
Rou looked at Brukisel once, then at those dancing in the center of the hall. Unlike those moving their bodies to the lively song, Brukisel sat on the golden throne with a bored expression. Even though it was his own birthday banquet, even though he was the one who should be celebrated more than anyone, Brukisel didn’t look the least bit happy.
Perhaps he’d only come out to show his face as a formality, as he soon left his seat. Rou found that regrettable. The one who should be celebrated hadn’t been properly celebrated.
Then suddenly, Rou realized that Brukisel hadn’t welcomed anything he’d done. Not when he brought the holy relic, nor when he gave his blessing.
Rou quietly watched the curtain behind the throne where Brukisel had disappeared, then suddenly asked Jes:
“Jes, did Brukisel not want me to come here? The gift I prepared, the holy relic—none of it pleased him, did it?”
Jes felt at a loss for words. If it were anyone else, he might have made a vow to confess to the Goddess and told a white lie, but his companion was the High Priest. He couldn’t bring himself to tell lies to him alone.
“I… I’m sorry.”
In the end, Jes could only leave behind words of apology. Having received confirmation from Jes, the feeling struck even more clearly. Rou muttered to himself, “I see…”
He had only wanted to make Brukisel happy. To that end, he’d given what he thought was the best thing. But if that didn’t make him happy or joyful, what should he do? Rou felt a little lost.
Without realizing it, Rou bit his lower lip slightly. Though desserts emitting sweet fragrances were right in front of him, his hand didn’t reach for them. Even if he put a sweet sugar cube in his mouth, it didn’t seem like it would soothe this hollow feeling.
Without knowing Brukisel’s deep, dark wounds, he had rashly descended to earth. He’d simply thought that if he met Brukisel again, he’d be able to help him.
‘Was it my arrogance? Am I experiencing this trial because I approached him rashly without properly observing Brukisel?’
Rou’s mood sank a little.
Watching Rou’s complexion, Jes fidgeted beside him. One regret—maybe he should have lied. One resolve—but he couldn’t lie to the High Priest. After his thoughts spun in circles like that, Jes finally offered comfort that wasn’t quite comfort.
“Still, someday… someday there will come a day when he’s grateful for the High Priest’s actions.”
Rou smiled faintly at those words. Not because Jes’s comfort was truly consoling. It was because he found Jes, who was sweating profusely trying to say something good somehow, a little pitiful and very grateful. That warmhearted intention to comfort Rou’s wounded heart felt warm.
‘I’ve made this human, who hasn’t even lived a hundred years, worry about me.’
He’d received comfort from one so terribly young. Rou smiled gently and stroked Jes’s snow-white hair. Even though he hadn’t lived a century yet, he cared for others like this. Jes was so admirable.
Stroking that snow-white hair, Rou briefly looked at Brukisel, who sat on the throne with a face that still seemed bored.
‘Right. When Brukisel is right there before my eyes. When he’s not disappearing immediately. What am I moping around for?’
Besides, he wasn’t a bumblebee but a human, and he’d even gained the title of High Priest. Someone like him couldn’t be ignored even by Brukisel, so there would be plenty of opportunities ahead. His mood, which had sunk a little, bounced back up again.
Meanwhile, Jes blushed his cheeks slightly as if a bit embarrassed, but docilely entrusted his head.
‘Someone this kind…’
During that time, the unusually long waltz gradually approached its end. In Jes’s dim eyes, a particularly fluttering skirt hem caught his attention. And when the musicians stopped their movements, Jes had completely made up his mind about something. With a determined face, he headed in one direction.
The nobles, who usually clung to plush chairs and had less muscle mass than a newborn bee, were still busy catching their breath. Among them, Jes found two people and brought them before Rou.
“High Priest. You’ve worked hard conducting the Eucharist ceremony.”
“Mm. You’ve worked hard too, Jes.”
Rou wasn’t stingy with praise. In his eyes, the efforts of these terribly young humans were simply lovable. This time too, Rou generously praised him and tried to stroke Jes’s abundant hair, but perhaps that wasn’t what he wanted this time, as Jes took a step back.
“The noble young ladies who agreed to sing songs on that day are here. Would you like to meet them?”
“That day?”
“The day when the sun is longest.”
“Do they commemorate the ‘Day When Night Is Precious’ in the north too?”
The day when the sun lengthened and night felt short. In the south, they held grand festivals to commemorate the Goddess’s power growing stronger. Torches were lit on every street, making the already short night feel even shorter, and when that day came, relatives gathered to savor the night.
And by the time dawn broke, the cheerful music and endless food stopped, and they napped until the hot sun set and the air grew cool.
“It will be a bit different. The north commemorates not the ‘Day When Night Is Precious,’ but ‘the Day When the Sun Is Most Intense.'”
“I see.”
Well, there was no reason for night to be precious in the north. What overflowed here were long, stretched-out shadows.
“So who’s going to sing?”
Jes hurriedly gestured. Two noble young ladies with faintly flushed cheeks carefully stepped forward. Jes winked one eye so only Rou could see. It was that wink that had made many people cry back when he was young and in his prime.
The Goddess didn’t demand celibacy or chastity from the High Priest. Rather, Goddess Kaine, a symbol of abundance, hoped the High Priest would have many children, so that the bloodline of the humans she loved would multiply across the continent. The scripture even recorded that fertility was a blessing.
Jes too had attempted romance a few times in his youth in accordance with the Goddess’s word, but unable to find anyone who met his standards, he ultimately left no descendants.
But was the empire a bit different after all? In Jes’s eyes, several people who would be fine standing beside the High Priest caught his attention. Especially the two young ladies who had been at the center of high society before the High Priest became known to the world greatly satisfied Jes’s standards. Either one standing alongside the High Priest would make a wonderful picture.
Even inheriting half of the High Priest’s traits would give the child a face worthy of representing the next generation.
‘I hope he can refresh his mood by meeting other people.’
But naturally, Rou didn’t catch Jes’s intentions. Had something gotten into those white, long eyebrows of his? Rou watched Jes with a bit of concern. If that wasn’t it, he must be having an eye spasm right now, and it seemed like he should call a doctor immediately.
“We greet the High Priest.”
The two young ladies bowed to Rou in unison. Another spasm occurred in Jes’s eyes, and soon he grabbed Yan and moved a bit farther away. Rou could rest assured, thinking Jes had hurried off to see a physician.
“Pleased to meet you.”
At Rou’s greeting, the two women smiled shyly.
“With hearts hoping that Goddess Kaine will bless the northern summer, we would like to sing.”
Lilian approached Rou with her white dress fluttering. When she said that with a clear smile, Rosaria standing behind her looked regretful as if her initiative had been stolen.
“To always think of the Goddess. The Goddess will be pleased to receive that sentiment.”
Before Lilian could continue that conversation, Rosaria took the initiative. Clutching a handkerchief made of red silk, she dabbed at tears welling in her eyes as she pleaded:
“High Priest. Lately I’ve had worries about my faith and spend every night in tears. Would you please listen to my troubles?”
“Everyone has times when they worry about their faith. The temple doors are always open, so please visit anytime.”
Ever since they came to regard each other as rivals, Lilian and Rosaria competed in everything. How actively they led high society, how many trends they set each year, and how quickly they changed romantic partners, among other things.
Through such countless competitions, the two solidified their positions in high society even more. And without a doubt, the High Priest, who looked as sweet as honey dropped in whipped cream, was the best prize they could obtain through competition. (This was possible because the Emperor had been excluded from consideration as a romantic candidate from the start.)
The two women stealthily approached both sides of the long sofa where Rou sat and claimed both arms. In the two women’s arms were desserts giving off sweet fragrances in abundance.
Rosaria held out a chiffon cake as sweet as if it had been preserved in honey water toward Rou’s lips.
“I heard the High Priest enjoys sweet things. This is my favorite dessert here—would you like to try it?”
“Ah. Thank you.”
Rou, who had no aversion to food offered by others, ate the cake without hesitation. Indeed, as recommended by this woman who resembled a rose, the soft cake melted away in his mouth without needing to be chewed. He liked the sweet taste of butter remaining on his tongue and the burnt-like fragrance.
Not to be outdone, Lilian picked up a black cherry simmered with brown sugar. As Lilian held out the fruit with her hand, she had a moment of realization. No matter what, her companion was the High Priest—it was rude to hold out food with her hand and hope he would eat it.
When Lilian turned pale upon realizing her mistake, Rosaria smiled triumphantly. To commit such a foolish act because greed clouded her vision. As expected, Lilian still had a long way to go. Rosaria had a premonition of her victory.
But only for a moment—Rosaria’s triumphant smile shattered when Rou grabbed Lilian’s wrist and accepted the black cherry.
