I Became a Landlord (4)
In the Catholicism of the modern world, a deacon is both a transitional rank one passes through on the way to the priesthood and a cleric whose vocation is service.
On this continent, the word means something else entirely.
Unlike its modern Catholic counterpart, a deacon here is a disciple who studies beneath a priest — much as a squire serves and learns beneath a knight. For that reason, it is not uncommon for someone to be a priest and a deacon at the same time.
In certain faiths where marriage is forbidden, a deacon is treated, for all practical purposes, as an adopted child. One would do well not to give offense.
I fell silent at the girl's request to take her as my deacon. The Church of the Flower Goddess did not forbid marriage, but even so, the title carried no small weight.
I doubt a naive little girl would see through me. But a priest impostor has no business taking on a deacon.
If I were exposed, it wouldn't matter much to me. In the worst case I'd simply run, and I was confident I could vanish without being caught. A deacon, though, was another matter entirely. Even if she knew nothing, the moment the truth came out her life would almost certainly become a living hell.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that won't be possible."
"I haven't heard the whole of your circumstances, but I have circumstances of my own. I hope you'll understand that I am in no position to take on a deacon."
At that unambiguous refusal, the girl hung her head. The tears welling in her eyes tugged at something in my chest, but this was for her own good. My mind would not change.
I left her there and went up to my room at the inn.
...Still. What could have driven a girl that young to come all this way alone?
The question rose unbidden. I set it aside just as quickly. Knowing wouldn't change the outcome, and if it turned out to be some pitiful story, I'd only end up feeling worse.
Sometimes, though, you get force-fed something you never asked to swallow. Like right now.
"Um, Father?"
Sean, the innkeeper's son, knocked cautiously and called for me, then spoke while watching my face for a reaction.
"About that priest lady from earlier..."
And the story Sean told me was more than enough to leave a certain priest impostor thoroughly unsettled.
"I told you to go get some proper rest. Doesn't look like you managed it."
Margaret clicked her tongue the moment she saw me come in for work.
"It shows that plainly, does it?"
Apparently the fatigue was written all over my face.
"Wouldn't have anything to do with that little Flower priestess who showed up in town, would it?"
"...How do rumors travel this fast around here?"
"In a town this small, it'd be weirder if they didn't. You think the gate guards know how to keep their mouths shut?"
Of course, this wasn't the sort of thing that should have spread at all — if the girl hadn't happened to be a priestess of the Flower Goddess.
"Well. You've gotten famous, so a girl from the same church was bound to draw eyes along with you."
"I'm famous? For what, exactly?"
I blinked at Margaret's baffling remark.
"You lack any sense of objectivity, as far as I can tell. Priest of the Flower Goddess or not, a man who wears that tacky shirt every single day has no business talking."
This lovely shirt, tacky? If anyone's taste was lacking, it was Margaret's, not mine. Still, there was only so much you could argue with an elder. I kept my mouth shut.
"So. What's eating you?"
She poured the tea and waited. I worked my lips for a moment, then finally spoke.
"She asked me to take her as my deacon."
"And?"
"I told her I had personal reasons and couldn't accept."
"That's it?"
Margaret's eyes — how to put it — had the exact look of a mother watching her son do something spectacularly stupid.
"I heard afterward that the girl had been living alone with her grandmother, a priestess of the Flower Goddess."
Her lukewarm reaction somehow made it easier. I spilled the rest like a confession.
"Then her grandmother — her only guardian — passed away, and a newly arrived church pushed her out of whatever place she'd had. That's when she came to me."
In other words, to that girl, I had been something like hope.
Margaret listened all the way through, then scolded me for agonizing over something so trivial.
"The church is going up any day now. Just take her there. I don't know the whole story, but as long as you don't make her a deacon, what's the problem?"
"How could I possibly do that? If there's only one priest under me, everyone who looks will see a deacon."
They had a phrase for that: covering your eyes and playing peekaboo. A distinction without a difference.
"If that's what you're so worked up about, I'll stand as witness."
Margaret solved the whole thing as if it were nothing at all, rendering my agonizing faintly ridiculous. I bowed my head in thanks — after just a moment's hesitation.
"Then I will gratefully accept your kindness."
"Oh, so this you don't refuse?"
"Is that not simply proof of how much I rely on you, Priestess Margaret?"
"Spare me the flattery."
For the record, it wasn't flattery. It was fact. A woman who could talk down to the lord himself could keep the damage from spreading even if my imposture came to light.
"In that case, I'll be taking the day off."
With the problem solved by Margaret's goodwill, I set down my teacup and left.
"You've been on the job less than a week..."
Her incredulous muttering followed me into the clinic. I pretended not to hear it.
"Ah, the priest lady left a little while ago..."
The timing hadn't worked out. By the time I reached the inn, the girl was already gone.
Too late, then.
I even went as far as the city gate, but the soldiers on duty — a shift change, apparently — only shook their heads and said they didn't know.
"I'm sorry, Father. If it's urgent, I can call in the previous watch and have them asked."
"No. I couldn't possibly drag off-duty men back for this. The thought alone is kindness enough. Thank you."
Even if she had left, there was no telling which way she'd gone. Finding her would have been nearly impossible.
Now I'm just going to feel sour about it.
In the end, I gave up looking. I had no hobby of clinging to things that couldn't be done. I went back to the inn instead. Today was my last night there, and I at least needed to collect my things.
"Heading somewhere else, then?"
"My stay was only booked through today."
"You could've just stayed on, Father. You know that."
The innkeeper said it from the kitchen, sounding genuinely sorry to see me go. I only shrugged.
"If you keep giving things away like that, you'll have nothing left."
"Not sure you're the one who should be saying that, Father."
Hilarious. There wasn't a soul alive who loved money more than I did. But there was no need to go around correcting a good image, so I smiled easily and finished my goodbyes.
"Sean and Evie will be sad to see you go, you know."
So the daughter's name is Evie. I'd never even learned it until now. Being busy was a convenient excuse, but the truth was I simply hadn't bothered to take an interest.
"Parting is always a little sad. I'm not leaving the city, though. Next time we meet, it'll be as neighbors."
There was no long farewell. Starting tomorrow we'd be seeing each other around town, and a drawn-out goodbye would only have been embarrassing.
So that's the church.
I packed my things and headed there — not Gaia's church, but my own, the one granted by the lord's favor.
They said it was nearly finished. Looks like they meant it.
From a distance, the church cut a reasonably respectable figure. The weeds had been cleared, and the outer walls looked freshly painted. At the very least, it didn't look dilapidated.
Judging by where the noise is coming from, the chapel is the only part still unfinished.
Which meant everywhere else had already been refurbished.
Swish. Swish.
As I drew closer, a sound that had been buried under the construction noise resolved itself: someone sweeping the yard. I was just wondering why anyone would bother tidying the courtyard when the chapel still wasn't done —
"...What are you doing here?"
The young Flower priestess who had come looking for me was sweeping the yard.
"Ah—! Father Plawi! Hehe, I, um, I was sweeping the yard!"
I'd assumed she'd left through the gates and gone home. The last thing I'd expected was to find her here with a broom. The time I'd wasted hunting for her made my voice come out sharper than I intended.
"I'll say it again. I will not be taking a deacon."
Her face fell so plainly it was almost painful to watch.
"However. I will permit you to stay at the church."
The face that had been a breath away from tears froze, as if she couldn't believe what she'd just heard — and then lit up completely.
They say if you laugh right after crying, you'll grow hair on your ass.
A terrible joke. I kept it to myself.
"Come to think of it, I never even asked your name. We're family of the same church now. I ought to hear it at least once. For the record, as you already know, I am Plawi — a wretched servant of the Flower Goddess Iris."
I heard her name only after she had finally calmed down enough to stop crying.
"A tiny little leaf in service of the Flower Goddess Iris..."
And when I heard that name, I had no choice but to be thoroughly, completely confused.
"My name is Kim Malza."
"...?"