TNDOBM 11

Chapter 11

What he held was a white handkerchief. When he unfolded a layer of the cloth, inside lay the hardened corpse of a bird.

“It fell directly beneath the prayer room window. It appears it didn’t recognize the glass pane during flight and collided with it.”

As he said, the area around the dead bird’s head was covered in blood. Its half-crushed head was quite gruesome.

*Ah,* the Pope let out a short sigh as he took the dead bird. He covered it with the handkerchief again and offered a brief prayer for the pitifully fallen life.

“Born of the sky, returning to the sky, may you be forever free under God’s call.”

“The bird is so small… It’s so pitiful.”

Perhaps compassion outweighed fear even in the face of such a gruesome sight, tears welled up again in Sena’s still-moist eyes.

“All life and death are God’s will.”

The Pope replied, stroking the child’s head.

*God’s will, huh.*

Was it also God’s will that the bird smashed its head against the window and died, and that because of that, *my* head nearly got pierced and killed?

If so, that god is closer to a demon, isn’t it?

I should have not just flipped him the bird, but cursed him out too.

While glaring discontentedly at the small goddess statue placed on the table, harboring such disloyal thoughts, a calm voice suddenly interjected.

“However, it seems God has made a misjudgment this time.”

*’What? Did I say that out loud again?’*

She hurriedly clamped her mouth shut, but everyone’s astonished gazes were directed not at her, but at the Pope.

“…Your Holiness?”

It was an irreverent remark hardly believable to have come from God’s representative. Yet, the person in question merely shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

“They say hot fire and hundreds of hammer blows create sharp weapons, but isn’t an innocent life extinguished, hard to consider this a meaningful hardship or trial?”

“……”

“Above all, the Holy Maiden could have been hurt.”

His voice towards her was infinitely gentle and affectionate.

Just like back then.

[I happen to enjoy walks as well. May I accompany you? It’s a bit worn, but please accept this as a bribe.]

It was when she was wandering, lost in an unfamiliar body and environment after waking up in the temple. The Pope, who had readily knelt before her as she ran out of the room barefoot, gladly took off his own shoes and put them on her feet.

She stared blankly at his kind smile, which reminded her of that time.

Was that consideration because he was a man who served God? Or because he was Cecilia’s godfather?

The man’s warm hand was now gently patting the back of hers.

*Ah.*

A heartwarming atmosphere formed, enough to make one side of her heart feel heavy for no reason.

“I will ensure proper measures are taken so that such an accident does not happen again.”

No, it formed and then disappeared.

*’Surely he doesn’t mean the next time as in the Relief Ritual ceremony, right?’*

“So that the Holy Maiden can participate in the ceremony with peace of mind.”

*’Yep.’*

Since an accident had occurred, I thought that talk would be vaguely swept under the rug.

*’Was all that concern just a build-up to make me go through with that ritual or whatever?’*

The emotion that had bloomed so prettily in her chest like a sprout was uprooted in an instant.

Cecilia clicked her tongue inwardly and glanced down at her hand held by the Pope.

*’Maybe living a life with a self-luminescing hand would have been better than being pointed at as a Holy Maiden who can’t even use divine power.’*

Unfortunately, however, her hand hadn’t shone even a little for some time now.

—

It was around sunset when she finally escaped the recovery room, which was really just a one-on-one meeting room with the Pope in disguise. After fleeing from the Pope who asked about her next temple visit date, Cecilia, along with Sena, buried the bird in a sunny spot and only then prepared to return to the mansion.

*’I want to lie down in bed quickly. I desperately want to do absolutely nothing.’*

Whether before or after the possession, today’s schedule was excessively harsh for someone who spent 23 out of 24 hours a day cooped up indoors.

As a drained Cecilia trudged along, she suddenly felt the left side next to her feel empty.

“Why aren’t you coming?”

Nox, who had been annoyingly clinging to her, had stopped a few steps behind.

“See ya, go home first. I’m going to check on a few more things and then come back.”

“What kind of things?”

Hadn’t they just personally buried the cause of today’s accident in the ground?

*’Is he not trying to slack off using that as an excuse?’*

Cecilia narrowed her tired eyes. She heard Nox had been quite busy helping the Marquis after returning from the capital. It seemed plausible he wouldn’t want to go home easily.

When she questioned back, unable to hide her distrust at the plausible hypothesis, Nox replied with unusual firmness.

“Because it might not have been an accident.”

What was that meaningful line supposed to mean now?

*’Isn’t he just trying to sound serious to deflect the conversation?’*

It was another reasonable suspicion. However, she was too exhausted to press further. Cecilia nodded vaguely.

“Fine, do what you want.”

“So don’t get distracted and go straight home, got it?”

“I’ll manage myself.”

“Miguel, take care of my kid for me!”

He seemed genuinely intent on investigating directly, as he turned away without much reaction to her bickering retort.

What remained was Miguel, who had followed to escort her to the main gate.

“Um, shall we go?”

“Yes.”

When she was first guided to the prayer room, it was fine because Nox was there, chattering nonstop. Walking side-by-side with a taciturn man she wasn’t close with was suffocatingly awkward.

“Ahem!”

Unable to bear the ensuing silence, she deliberately cleared her throat.

However, the steadfast holy knight seemed to interpret it as an early sign of illness, and his expression instantly turned serious.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, this is just…”

“As expected, you went through such a big incident. I was short-sighted.”

“Huh?”

“I will carry you.”

Did everyone in the temple have a habit of forging ahead without listening to others?

Cecilia shouted out at the absurd proposal.

“That’s enough!”

*’Ah, was I too repulsed?’*

Of course, the experience of being held in those broad, sturdy arms would be quite valuable, but the opponent was none other than the Vice-Captain of the Holy Knights.

He wasn’t someone to be trifled with like Rien, and more importantly, her conscience, though perhaps as small as an ant’s eye, still remained, preventing her from shamelessly letting herself be carried.

“…You dislike it that much.”

Her voice must have been too loud after all.

His half-raised arm dropped back to its place. Was it her imagination that his drooping shoulders looked dejected?

Cecilia quickly added an excuse.

“It’s not that I dislike it, it’s that I’d feel bad.”

“You don’t have to console me. I’m used to being rejected.”

“Huh? Sir?”

Cecilia looked up at the man askance, momentarily dumbfounded.

Shimmering silver hair fluttering in the wind. Blue eyes rippling in the sunset. A plain white robe that seemed almost too tight for his broad shoulders and solid build.

“Yes. Especially since all the ladies I escorted reacted with such displeasure that they blushed and trembled…”

*’It must be because they’re thrilled and nervous.’*

It was a familiar trope. Introverted, quiet, good at fighting, and handsome on top of that – explosively popular, but he doesn’t know it himself. The protagonist, even passing extras, all cast admiring glances, but only he doesn’t notice!

And the protagonist of that unbelievable trope was right here.

“It’s probably not because they’re displeased. I guarantee it in the name of Weberdin.”

The man tilted his head slightly. He seemed curious about the reason.

*’Wouldn’t it be because they’re excited every time, Sir?’*

Cecilia swallowed the very inappropriate line to say to a clergyman and hurriedly turned her head. Although she and Rien weren’t in any defined relationship, the Confucian standards within her would never allow her heart to flutter for another man.

Just then, a group of priests caught her eye. The place they were passing happened to be near where the accident occurred, and they were doing cleanup work beneath the now-familiar building.

“It looks like the cleanup isn’t finished yet.”

“Yes, unfortunately, the accident happened in the Second Prayer Room…”

Miguel trailed off, looking troubled.

Unlike the main prayer room the Pope and the faithful had come out of, the Second Prayer Room was smaller, but one side of its ceiling was entirely made of stained glass.

What on earth caused a bird to fly into that very place.

‘Unbelievably unlucky.’

“I see.”

Cecilia stared blankly at the open ceiling and the colorful debris scattered outside the building.

The glass fragments reflecting the sunlight looked just like broken soju bottles…

*’Wait, outside the building?’*

She stopped dead in her tracks.

She had been so flustered at the time of the accident that she hadn’t noticed, but…

If the bird had flown in from outside, shouldn’t most of the fragments have fallen *inside*?