I Became a Head Priest (2)

Heeheehee.

A thick floral fragrance had already begun to drift through the chapel. By that point, no matter how hard I tried to deny it, there was only one being that came to mind.

"The Flower Goddess..."

"Bingo!"

"...or something impersonating her."

"Huh?"

Common sense said a goddess wouldn't just appear. It was far more plausible that this was something impersonating the Flower Goddess—or simply a hallucination.

Can't detect it, can't dispel it... at least A-rank, then.

Especially since maintaining the Gallery had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dropped my own rank to roughly B-class. Given that whatever this was didn't even register on my senses, calling it A-rank or higher felt like a reasonable assessment.

"I'm the real deal, though?"

The moment I settled on that skeptical conclusion, the voice responded as if it couldn't believe what it was hearing.

"Then do you have any proof that you're genuine?"

"Uh, the flower scent...?"

The chapel was, admittedly, overflowing with floral fragrance. But a scent wasn't proof of anything.

"One bottle of perfume and I could manufacture all the 'proof' I wanted."

"It's not like it's untrustworthy evidence, though?"

"It's not trustworthy evidence either."

"..."

Faced with that blunt reply, the voice fell silent, as if it had run out of things to say.

"Then how about this?"

In that instant, the voice spoke as though a brilliant idea had just occurred to it.

"It's kind of ugly seeing the statue of me all smashed up anyway..."

And then, from the wreckage of the goddess statue scattered across the floor, something sprouted.

A sprout?

What I had taken for a seedling shot upward in an instant, transforming into vines, and yellow and white blossoms burst open along their length. In the blink of an eye, the flowering vines wound themselves around the broken statue. They wormed into every crack, lacing tightly together, and fused the shattered pieces back into one.

"Ta-da!"

I had nothing to say. Unlike the playful voice, I couldn't bring myself to laugh.

...The density and texture are different, but it's similar to Priestess Margaret's energy.

If Margaret's was a small ember, what I felt from the flowers was something far deeper and richer. I stared at the statue in silence for a moment, then leaned back against the pew. I found myself craving a cigarette I had already given up.

"I had a feeling, but still."

"Hmm?"

"The day I actually get divine punishment has arrived."

"Huh?"

I closed my eyes and let my true thoughts spill out.

"If you're going to do it, I'd appreciate a painless, one-shot kill."

But no matter how long I waited, no lightning bolt came crashing down.

"Pffft—hahaha!"

Instead, a laugh as clear and bright as a child's rang through the chapel.

"That's hilarious, seriously!"

And with that, the voice fell silent.

Is she just leaving me be?

If so, that was a relief. I opened my eyes with a sigh, and the vine-wrapped statue came into view. It was still lying on its side, but at least the separated upper and lower halves were now joined together.

"...If she was going to bother, she could've stood it up before she left."

In the end, I had to cast a buff again and stand the statue up myself. Unlike before, the weight I had to lift had nearly doubled now that the top and bottom were fused—but since I only needed to stand it up without worrying about anyone trapped underneath, the actual effort wasn't all that different.

"The workers might faint when they see this."

I muttered, looking at the newly upright statue. These were people who had been wringing their hands over so much as touching a single broken statue. If they saw that same statue restored overnight, wrapped in flowering vines, their reaction was all too easy to imagine.

"Wow."

Right on cue, a gasp of admiration came from behind me.

"What a truly beautiful statue of Lady Iris."

It was Priest Malza. She must have come looking for me after I had been gone for a while. She had stepped into the chapel and was gazing up at the standing statue, and the way her eyes sparkled told me she was quite taken with it.

"But when we were handing out stew earlier, I don't think it was in this dress form... How strange. It looks like real flowers..."

Well, that was because they were real flowers. But I didn't bother saying so. Explaining it would only make things more complicated.

She can't sense the energy clinging to the statue, then?

I found her completely ordinary reaction puzzling at first, then quickly understood. Then again, even in this entire city, Margaret was the only priest capable of performing miracles firsthand. It wasn't unusual that Malza couldn't sense the energy.

"By the way, where did the workers go?"

"...They'd worked hard, so I sent them home early."

There was no need to tell Priest Malza that the statue had been smashed to pieces, so I made up a convenient excuse. As expected, it never occurred to her that I might be lying. She just accepted it with a nod.

"It looks like all the work should be finished by tomorrow, more or less."

Meanwhile, I looked around the chapel. There were still a few things left to tidy up, but the major construction was mostly done. Once the workers came tomorrow to wrap things up, the church would essentially be complete.

"Then we'll be able to hold services with the congregation soon!"

I wasn't particularly enthusiastic, but I nodded at Priest Malza's excited remark.

I doubt anyone would bother coming here when there's a familiar Church of the Earth nearby, but I should still be prepared.

I quickly ran through possible time slots in my head.

Factoring in clinic hours, it's either dawn or evening.

Neither appealed to me, but if I had to pick, early dawn seemed more appropriate.

That was when the voice returned.

"If possible, I'd rather do early evening than dawn or morning."

The voice that had been quiet for a while chimed in as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Dawn makes me sleepy."

I glanced at Priest Malza. She hadn't heard a thing. She was still beaming as she admired the statue. So it was only audible to me, then.

"...On second thought, evening would be better for services. I have clinic work to consider, after all."

"Hehe."

I definitely did not set the service time based on anyone's preferences.

Time flew by in a blur, and before I knew it, evening was right around the corner.

I did say I'd cook, though.

But now that I was actually about to start, I couldn't figure out what to make.

I've got plenty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of ingredients, but I have no idea what to do with them.

I stared at the ingredients spread out on the table. Thanks to the market merchants' goodwill, I had more than enough. The problem was that having too many ingredients made it even harder to decide. Once I sorted out what I had and what I didn't, a rough list of possible dishes came to mind, and I finally settled on a menu.

I've got butter. I'll mince the meat into something like tteokgalbi, then fry a few eggs in the leftover oil.

The tteokgalbi was for Priest Malza, of course. A couple of fried eggs and some bread would be enough for me. Once I had decided, my hands moved quickly.

"You look pretty used to this."

The voice piped up again, apparently watching.

"I've watched people cook quite a lot."

"Oooooh."

"But why so little meat? That's only enough for one person."

"Well, I don't eat meat."

"Why?"

The question came right back.

"I just stopped eating it."

"Why'd you stop?"

"It's a preference. Not everyone likes meat."

"So you've always hated it?"

"Something like that."

"Really?"

She latched onto my words and wouldn't let go, like a child.

"Is that really the reason?"

My hands paused over the cooking.

"If you keep pestering me, I'll run off and convert to another faith right now."

She didn't seem inclined to smite me anyway. I decided to push my luck.

"Ah, you can't do that!"

The effect was immediate. The voice instantly backed down.

"Then stop asking. It's annoying."

"Fiiine..."

"But I am the Flower Goddess you supposedly worship, you know..."

I ignored the dejected voice and placed the finished tteokgalbi patties onto the frying pan.

Sizzle—

A mouthwatering sound spread from the buttered pan. I put a lid on to keep the oil from splattering and turned the heat down a little.

"That smells so gooood..."

The voice that had been sulking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just moments ago sprang back to life as if nothing had happened.

"...Don't you eat food where you are?"

"I do eat."

"Then why are you reacting like that?"

"All we have here is nectar and ambrosia. Same thing every single day..."

Even the divine neighborhood isn't all that easy, huh.

Even the most delicious food would get old if you ate it every day. Whether you could even lump the food of the gods in with ordinary meals was another question entirely.

"At least when I lived with Mom, all kinds of tasty offerings used to come in. That was nice."

"So even gods move out on their own."

"Yeah, it's only been about a thousand years, though."

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clicked my tongue at the staggering number.

"Compared to that, flowers as offerings are totally lame. You can't even eat them."

The goddess kept complaining about offerings, but I had grown used to it by now and let it go in one ear and out the other. One side of the tteokgalbi was getting nicely browned. I was just about to flip it over when I heard a gulp, and the goddess's voice suddenly made a proposal.