The Reason He Became a Priest
"What is this? I don't think there's anything wrong with my eyes."
I stood there doubting my own vision as I stared at the man waiting inside my room. My damned father reacted with pure disbelief at my words.
"Well, well. Is that any way to greet your father? And what in the world is this corner of the room? It's so barren a wasteland would look lively by comparison."
I let my father's nagging wash over me without really listening.
"Yes, yes. I understand."
More importantly, what brings you all the way out here? While thinking that, I fetched some tea leaves from the cabinet and began preparing a brew.
"Do you truly enjoy living in a place like this?"
Father asked with a thoroughly fed-up expression as he surveyed the room, which contained nothing but a bed and a few pieces of furniture. I nodded.
"I do. Besides, my room back at the estate is practically the same."
The room I had in the monastery and the one in my father's territory were likely identical in their sparse arrangement. Father responded with heavy sarcasm.
"Except it's twice as large."
As always... he never missed a chance to criticize.
Clack.
When I set down the hastily brewed tea, Father picked it up with obvious displeasure and took a sip.
"So what brings you here?"
At my question, Father widened his eyes as though he'd heard something utterly outrageous.
"How astonishing. Does a father need a reason to visit his own son?"
It wasn't that exactly. I simply never imagined he would come see me without one. In that sense, I almost wanted to call him the surprising one.
Watching me, Father continued without pause.
"Are you still running around playing adultery investigator?"
"Well... it is my job."
Job my ass. I caught the muttered curse, but I shamelessly ignored it. After all, ignoring it wouldn't change anything.
"Damned son of mine. Just because you've grown a little stronger, you think you can talk back to me now."
As if he'd read my thoughts, Father grumbled. I answered with a smile.
"You're the one who taught me how, Father."
He muttered something under his breath, but I let it slide. Experience had taught me that was better for my mental health.
"So... what do you plan to do about Lilith at tomorrow's meeting? Do you honestly believe a human can do anything to a high demon?"
As Father said, she was indeed a high demon. Even Archbishop Hermann had only managed to flee with his surviving subordinates against that monster. Subjugating even an ordinary demon usually required mobilizing regular paladins. Mid-tier demons demanded an entire unit before victory became possible. Against high demons, one needed at least legion-level forces to even hope for a chance.
In all of history, there had only been one recorded instance of a high demon being exorcised. Excluding Amon's death, nowhere in the annals could one find a single case of a high demon falling to human hands.
So Father's concern seemed reasonable enough on the surface. But...
"When the very human who did it is standing right in front of you..."
Saying such things in front of the man who killed Amon... As for Lilith, if we could simply prevent her from escaping, dealing with her wouldn't be particularly difficult.
"Yes, yes. Go on using that magnificent ability of yours to dig up dirt on other people."
As always... this line of work clearly displeased him to no end.
Even so, I had no intention of yielding.
"Why are you so stubborn about this..."
Father shook his head with an expression of complete exasperation, then rose from his seat. He patted my body a few times before speaking with visible relief.
"Still, it's good to see you looking healthy."
Perhaps that was simply what it meant to be a father. The strange warmth that bloomed in my chest made me soften my own expression.
"Whose son do you think I am? Even if I turned the entire world against me, I'd be fine. So don't worry."
"...That statement is far more terrifying than reassuring."
Father spoke with a thoroughly fed-up look, then left without another word.
Left alone, I stared blankly at the ceiling while my fingers toyed with the inverted cross rosario I'd pulled from my pocket.
Why am I so stubborn about this? The reason I insist on the priesthood...
'It's a little embarrassing to say out loud...'
The reason was simply too shameful to admit honestly. So I couldn't say it.
When I closed my eyes, the words of my long-missed mentor rose unbidden in my mind.
"You are strong. So... use that power correctly."
"...That's right."
I smiled, recalling the words of the mentor who had taught me as a child. He had said those words while gently stroking my still-young head, and I... had believed them completely.
To me, that person's words were scripture, the truth of life, and the compass for all my actions.
That was why I had constantly pondered how to use that power correctly, and this was the answer I had reached after long deliberation.
Humans are foolish and insecure; they do not know how to wield power properly. Then... what about God? If one simply followed God's will, wouldn't it come naturally?
One day that thought had struck me... and that became my reason for choosing the priesthood.
To admit that I had entrusted myself to God because I lacked the confidence to live rightly on my own... how could I possibly say that aloud? It was far too embarrassing a reason, even to myself.
'He's the same as ever.'
Greg shook his head with a fed-up expression as he left the monastery. Even though it was his own son, moments like that honestly sent a chill down his spine. Especially when the boy claimed he would be fine even if the entire world turned against him... Greg felt genuine goosebumps despite it being his own flesh and blood.
If the statement had lacked realism, he might have simply thought it reassuring and let it pass. But the moment his son said it, the words gained an undeniable weight that made them impossible to laugh off.
'Well, it can't be helped.'
He had only meant to test the waters, but with that level of stubbornness, retirement was clearly still far away. Honestly, Greg had hoped the boy would begin preparing to inherit the family soon.
Yet his son still seemed determined to continue this dishonorable line of work. It was frustrating, but who could possibly break that iron will?
It simply couldn't be helped.
The moment Greg thought this and opened the door to the inn—
"Welcome back?"
"..."
Greg frowned at the sight of Limia greeting him. Honestly, he didn't particularly like this woman. He had never cared for females who behaved without proper restraint.
"How disappointing. And here I thought we were comrades who once exchanged fists."
Limia put on an exaggeratedly hurt expression and recalled that time. In the tournament hosted by her father... she had faced the guardian deity of Rucella. She had lost miserably back then, but things would be different now.
She looked at Greg with clear competitive spirit, but after his bout with Gilbert, Greg had become certain of one thing: he was simply too old to fight against such young prodigies anymore. That competitive spark from her now only felt tiresome.
He would fight if the situation demanded it, but there was no need to seek combat otherwise.
"You're leaving just like that?"
When Greg ignored her and tried to walk past, Limia called out with clear regret. Greg answered.
"...Isn't the meeting tomorrow anyway? We'll have more than enough time to talk then."
Whether Limia felt disappointed or not, Greg had no desire to become further entangled with her and continued on his way, but—
"Isn't it rather cold of you when I might become your daughter-in-law?"
Cough!
What kind of insane nonsense was that?
Hearing her words, Greg inhaled the wrong way and began coughing violently. Limia watched him with a sly smile.
"Why do you look so surprised?"
"What kind of insane nonsense—"
To the flustered Greg, Limia continued with that same smiling face.
"Why? These things happen between men and women, don't they?"
"...You really are Gimore's daughter."
If she was being serious, he had nothing left to say. Such words could cause chaos throughout the Yura Kingdom. Given her position, what she had just said was an absolutely enormous statement.
But... if a madwoman who could speak so casually carried Gimore's blood, it made a certain kind of sense. Count Gimore, owner of the continent's largest iron and coal mines, was undeniably its richest man—and an eccentric who frequently used that wealth in bizarre ways.
Yet his business acumen was genuine. The magic trains that traveled the entire continent were operated by the Ofrel family. From the beginning, nearly every major magic tool development project and resource initiative had been his doing.
The budget poured into such ventures would bankrupt most noble houses, yet he possessed an almost insane talent for investing that much and reaping even greater returns.
Since Rumel—the one who created the magic trains—worked as the Ofrel family's chief researcher, it was no exaggeration to say that most groundbreaking magic tools circulating across the continent originated there.
Recently there were rumors they were developing ways to utilize petroleum, previously only used as a coal substitute. It was one of Count Gimore's mad ideas, and honestly Greg wasn't sure it would succeed.
Well, it was simply one of the man's abundant resources. The desire to make use of it was understandable... and if a new method to utilize the plentiful petroleum here emerged, it would certainly be welcome. But for now, it remained unrealistic.
Anyway, perhaps it was only natural for the daughter of such a madman. She was speaking as if casually declaring she would marry into Rucella.
Her becoming his daughter-in-law meant entering the Abnaigel family. And that would be no different from the ancient, prestigious Ofrel family forming an alliance with the Abnaigels.
In the Yura Kingdom, such words could be interpreted as treason.
'If those two houses combined, creating a new kingdom would be child's play.'
The union of Gimore's wealth and the Abnaigel family's core military power would create something greater than most kingdoms. Naturally both Yura and Rucella would view such a union with extreme caution.
It was not the sort of thing one said unless they intended to make enemies of both nations...
"Are you planning to turn both countries into your enemies?"
At Greg's question, Limia nodded.
"Yeah. Even if we do, what does it matter?"
"..."
As expected, this woman was not in her right mind.
Greg decided to treat it as nonsense and headed up the stairs.
"I was being somewhat serious, but it sounded like a joke?"
Watching Greg's retreating back, Limia muttered quietly with a serious expression.
If it had sounded like a joke, that was truly unfortunate. Because every word she had just spoken... had been completely sincere, without the slightest trace of falsehood.
Time flowed on, and finally the day of the meeting arrived.
The first to reach the conference room was, naturally, Jenkinson. He arrived thirty minutes early, took his seat, and began to pray.
The next to arrive was Gilbert. He appeared exactly ten minutes before the scheduled time and meticulously arranged his place.
After him came Limia and Hermann. They arrived precisely five minutes early, waved to Jenkinson, and took their respective seats.
The last to arrive was Greg. He appeared exactly on time, let out a long yawn, and dropped heavily into his chair.
Once they had all gathered, the Pope took the seat of highest honor.
With that, everyone was present—the representatives the Pope had chosen to discuss the current Lilith situation.