Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 25
>Chapter Title: The Saintess and the Woodcutter (3)
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*
“The department head's office is not an infirmary.”
The Saintess said something strange. Ivan tilted his head.
The so-called infirmary would, at best, dab a healing potion on an external wound or have a newly ordained priest cast a simple healing spell.
Did she mean the students had to go through such a terrible experience when a Saintess was right here?
Seeing Ivan's expression, the Saintess pounded her chest in frustration. (Despite the violent shaking, Ivan made no effort to look away. The Saintess was a woman of the cloth, after all.)
“No! I have my own work to do! Do you have any idea how busy I am? This is my first year in this position! The handover was a mess, freshmen and undergrads and professors are constantly barging in to chatter away, and there isn't a single class curriculum in place! What is wrong with this university!”
“Hm.”
“Hm.”
Watching the Saintess condemn the primitive, pre-modern curriculum, Ivan and Enrique nodded in unison.
They had nothing to say, but they had to agree.
Ivan ignored the poor cleric who was so passionately lamenting her circumstances. The department head's office had a certain lonely charm.
He couldn't tell if it was the taste of the previous department head or the Saintess's own, but there were a great many plants.
An orchid...? Was it an orchid? Ivan, who had little knowledge of plants, killed time by taking hold of a leaf from a stylish plant that was drooping gracefully in its pot and stroking it. (He was a gardener.)
-Snap.
The orchid's leaf snapped clean off. It happened to be the thickest, most impressive stem, which made the break all the more crisp.
Ivan turned away, his expression unchanged. Fortunately, the Saintess didn't seem to have noticed. She was still shouting at Enrique about the curriculum.
Was it *New World*? He thought he remembered a similar scene from that noir film. He expressionlessly turned the pot. It rotated without a sound, hiding the broken leaf.
“Alright, alright, I get that it's tough, Patty. I really do. So could you please turn off the light? It's my fault.”
“Why not take this opportunity to devote yourself to the faith? My arms are always open, waiting for you, Enrique.”
“That sounds less like devotion and more like being sent to the heavens...”
The Saintess was the person closest to the heavens in this world. Excluding the Pope, that is.
In other words, the divine power bursting forth with her emotions was crushing Enrique in real time. Ivan couldn't be sure if it was his imagination, but it seemed Enrique had shrunk a little.
Enrique adopted a submissive posture and spoke cautiously.
“Uhm. Mm. Oh, right. Patty, you know. Don't be alarmed. I came here to tell you this but I forgot. Look at me, so scatterbrained.”
“Yes, but before you say it, please tell me it's less shocking than hearing about fifty freshmen in critical condition.”
Accustomed to Enrique's theatrics, the Saintess lifted her teacup with a gentle hand. Her throat was parched after her passionate tirade.
Enrique chuckled, "Hoo hoo," and opened his mouth.
“This guy was actually dragged here.”
“Yeees, I was already thinking of visiting Elizaveta when I heard the orphanage director was suddenly working as a gardener. To ask her what she was doing to a retired man.”
“No, you fool. Dragged here. You know. Like Maximilian. From another world.”
“*Pfft?!*”
The Saintess sputtered out her tea, her eyes welling up with tears. She coughed for a moment before finally composing herself.
“Why are you only telling me this now...?”
“He said he thought he was the only one. Is this guy the type to seek psychological counseling?”
“Good heavens...”
The Saintess looked at Ivan and swallowed. She spoke in a trembling voice.
“How lonely you must have been... To grow a beard from the shock... Brother Kirilts...”
“No. That's not the reason.”
“It's alright. Everything is alright...”
The Saintess smiled benevolently and warmly clasped Ivan's hand. A gentle divine power spread out, flowing through Ivan's veins. It was warm.
Even as Enrique recoiled and scrambled to the far end of the sofa, the Saintess continued to smile warmly at Ivan.
“It's alright, Brother... You are not strange. There have been many like you, and there will be more. Ah, Lord. Guide this poor, lost lamb...”
“I find this situation strange and awkward.”
“It is only natural. Only natural... The Hero was the same...”
She recalled the day she'd felt a lump in her throat upon hearing he was retiring to run an orphanage.
This poor young man, despite the brutal war he had endured since childhood, had grown up so steadfast and cultivated a kind heart that could embrace unfortunate children.
Was that not proof of the Lord's existence?
The Saintess had gladly supported Ivan's retirement, sending a considerable sum in donations each year. She had even named the orphanage herself!
On top of that, look at Ivan now.
Orphanages were fundamentally poor. This was partly an issue of donations, but also the fault of wicked directors who tried to profit from the orphans.
It was a world where cases of directors pocketing donations and selling the children they raised into the back alleys were reported several times a year.
But this man... wearing dirty work clothes and wiping his sweat with a singed towel, was diligently earning an income through labor.
Was it not clearly for the sake of raising the children in greater comfort?
“Ahh...”
He was even from another world? And yet he was a man who took in and raised the orphans of this world, 'alien' orphans with whom he had no connection...?
My.
The Saintess's eyes grew red.
“Brother Kirilts...”
“I would prefer you not call me by that name.”
“I like your baptismal name.”
“I was too young when it was chosen.”
Ivan glanced at Enrique's mischievous face and pulled his hand away. The Saintess naturally made the sign of the cross and placed a hand over her heart.
“I was utterly convinced you were a sodomite, Brother.”
“*Khak...!*”
Enrique choked and pounded his chest.
“Well, considering all the people you so coldly rejected, it was the only possible conclusion.”
“...There were circumstances.”
“Of course. Of course.”
A member of the Royal Guard was forbidden from becoming privately intimate with nobles or influential figures.
The time when he was renowned as 'Little' Ivan—that is, the period when his stock in the marriage market skyrocketed—happened to be when he was a Royal Guard.
And how could he indulge in romantic dalliances when his goal was to return to Earth?
His feelings on the matter hadn't changed much. If anything had, it was that he was no longer a sought-after commodity.
“It was because of your vows, wasn't it? For a brother as devout as you, it must have been because of the vows you took at your baptism...”
The three evangelical counsels vowed at baptism: poverty, chastity, and obedience.
Ivan's appearance was the very picture of poverty; having passed thirty without a single romantic scandal, he was the very picture of chastity; and having relinquished all honor and position to return to the wilderness, he was the very picture of obedience.
A textbook case of piety...! The Saintess nodded.
“Please don't become a priest. You truly won't be able to marry then.”
“...Hm.”
“But if you continue to live so chastely, perhaps... perhaps the Lord will grant you a favor. The Lord is one who embraces with love, and the love between people is the greatest blessing under heaven.”
“...Hm...”
“I must visit your orphanage today, Brother. It is nearly the end of the workday, so let us go together.”
“You said you weren't finished with your work.”
“The only person at this university higher than me is the chancellor, and the only one under this sky higher than me is the Lord God Almighty, Enrique.”
“Wow.”
Enrique quietly conceded.
*
The Saintess was uncomfortable to be around. Ivan was once again reminded of this obvious fact.
There were many reasons. Perhaps because she had tumbled through battlefields since childhood, the Saintess was overly emotional, severely devout, and even when dressed modestly, required him to manage his gaze from time to time. (Of course, Ivan was a man of common sense and held no interest in the body of a cleric.)
Of course, the biggest reason besides all that was that she was one of the orphanage's biggest patrons, on par with Elizaveta.
One can never have a relationship of equals with the person who holds the purse strings. Following this logic, Ivan always maintained a proper distance from the orphanage's patrons.
“Ah... Lord. Look upon this beautiful sight...”
The Saintess walked from the orphanage entrance, sobbing. Naturally, the children had gathered around her, squealing with delight.
Lively expressions and chubby cheeks—there was no sign of poverty anywhere. The most impoverished-looking person at this orphanage was Ivan himself...!
The facilities were excellent, and every door opened smoothly on well-oiled hinges. The ends of hallways and the corners of furniture were thoughtfully padded with soft sponges.
Such meticulousness...!
The Saintess, her eyes glistening with tears, gazed at a large drawing scribbled on a corner of the orphanage building.
The doodle, drawn by some mischievous child, depicted a bearded fiend scowling as he handed out gifts....
It was a scene that so keenly conveyed the children's love that the Saintess finally pressed her eyes and had to lean against the wall.
“You have already become a good father...”
“Oh, for heaven's sake.”
“The most wonderful relationships are those born of the heart.... Brother Kirilts... It is too dazzling for my eyes... Ah, Lord...”
“I think she's trying to kill me with laughter, my disciple. This is starting to get uncomfortable. Can I leave first?”
“No.”
Enrique clutched his forehead in agony.
*