You need to change clothes.
You need to change clothes.
On the day marking a full week since I killed Archbishop Bertion, I sat at my desk in the aide's office from the morning, waiting for a summons to come down from the Papacy.
Nothing had happened so far, which made me feel needlessly anxious.
I had killed an Archbishop, of all people.
Even though the corpse was incinerated, I had killed him out in the open, so there was no way they wouldn't know the culprit.
Moreover, Bertion wasn't some nameless archbishop from the boonies.
He was the supreme authority on the Stigma Imprint Ritual and divine power research, as well as a figure of massive influence within the religious order.
Yet there was no interrogation of me, no trial, and no official disciplinary procedure.
It just ended with his death.
'At this rate, shouldn't an investigator show up at the very least?'
The religious order in the original work was half-rotten to the core, but they took formalities seriously.
Even if a single low-ranking priest died, they would tenaciously investigate who killed him, why he was killed, and whether the order's honor had been damaged.
Yet an Archbishop died right in the Saint's Palace.
Then wouldn't the normal course of action be to at least haul me in and ask for an explanation?
In the worst-case scenario, I could have been handed over to a divine tribunal, so I had even documented all the corrupt deeds Bertion had committed up until now.
And yet, absolutely nothing happened.
Just as I was growing needlessly more anxious, the sound of knocking was heard.
Ttok, ttok.
"Come in."
The aide's office door opened, and a nun walked in carrying a bundle of documents.
"These are the official documents from the Papacy that arrived today."
Has it finally arrived?
I took the documents and checked all of them immediately.
The first was an approval for the maintenance expenses of the Saint's Palace facilities.
The second was the guest list for the upcoming religious order banquet.
The third was a confirmation letter for subsidies to be sent to the Northern Relief Center.
That was it.
"Is this all?"
"Yes."
"No other letters?"
"None."
The nun looked at me with a puzzled face.
"Is there perhaps a letter you are waiting for?"
"No."
After sending the nun back, I checked the documents again.
There really was nothing.
"What are you looking at so intently?"
While I was having a staring contest with these documents, Elisia, who had slipped into the aide's office at some point, poked her face over my shoulder.
Silvery-white hair flowed down over my shoulder and chest.
"They are official documents from the Papacy."
"Boring."
"You haven't even read them."
"Since you're looking at them, they must be boring."
What kind of logic is that?
Are you saying I only look at boring things?
Though working is obviously not fun!
Elisia, remaining standing behind me, draped both arms over my shoulders.
Then she rested her chin on top of my head.
It was a physical protest signaling that she was bored.
"You're heavy."
"Liar."
I put down the official documents between Elisia's arms.
"There isn't a single word about killing Archbishop Bertion."
"And?"
"Did you know?"
"How could I not? It happened in my Saint's Palace."
I knew she knew.
I threw the question out casually to test the waters, but a calm, nonchalant reply returned.
I figured she would know anyway.
And since there's no need to hide it or explain, the conversation becomes much easier.
"Doesn't it seem strange?"
"Why?"
"An Archbishop died."
"Good riddance."
Her face showed that she truly didn't care in the slightest.
Even when she heard that Bertion had died, Elisia didn't ask for the reason.
Her reaction was as if a person who was going to die someday merely died a little earlier.
Was she planning to kill him herself?
Then I kind of feel bad.
Still, rather than having our Elisia dirty her hands, it's better that I do it.
"Is it a problem that you killed that thing?"
"Normally, it would be a problem."
"Then say that I killed him."
I turned my head slightly and looked at Elisia.
Honestly, I was a little touched.
To think the bond between us had reached this level... !
However, the blue eyes that uttered such touching words were utterly nonchalant.
Just in case, I decided to check.
"Are you saying you will take the responsibility instead, Saint-nim?"
"Responsibility?"
Elisia wore an expression of genuine incomprehension.
"If I say I killed him, who could possibly do anything about it?"
"...."
Well, that's true.
Who would dare say anything if Elisia said she killed him?
She really is a woman who knows how to exploit her position to the bone....
Give me back my touching moment.
"Thank you for the offer, but that's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
"I don't understand why no one is reacting."
"Are you scared because you killed that thing?"
"No."
"Then why do you care so much?"
"It's because it's strange that nobody is reacting."
Honestly, I'm not scared.
Since I can always just manufacture a pretext for killing him.
I know everything Bertion did in the game.
It's just that something feels weird.
"There is only one person in this Holy Kingdom capable of covering up and blocking an incident where an Archbishop died to this extent."
"Who?"
"Since it isn't you, Saint-nim, it has to be His Holiness the Pope."
The Pope.
This is the reason I feel anxious.
The person presumed to have broken Elisia, and the person who personally poisoned me in the playthrough where I was able to clear Elisia's route.
That very Pope condoned Bertion's death.
Why?
Is it because Bertion had outlived his usefulness?
Or was he watching to see what choice I would make?
'Could it be that he deliberately let him die?'
Bertion said he would bring an order from the Pope.
He didn't even intend to hide the fact that he was connected to the Pope.
For such a man to die without a single word being said means the Pope buried the incident.
Circumstantially, it couldn't be anything else.
The reason it's merely circumstantial is that no matter how much I investigate, I cannot obtain information about the Pope from anywhere.
I had no choice but to speculate.
"You're curious why the Pope is leaving you alone even though that old man died?"
"Yes."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"For now, that is."
However, being this quiet is rather ominous.
I can't help but worry that they might raid us without warning one day.
Elisia saw through my anxiety and spoke.
"If someone comes to catch you."
"If they come?"
"We can just kill them all."
"Is that a solution?"
"It's the fastest."
"Are you saying you will protect me?"
"Who's protecting you?"
Elisia immediately scowled.
"I just find it offensive that they would take my aide from my Saint's Palace as they please."
"That's literally what protecting me is."
"I told you it's not."
"Understood."
"Don't let it slide so easily."
"Then shall I keep asking until you admit you'll protect me to the end?"
"Want me to rip your tongue out?"
What do you want me to do?
Still, it's reassuring.
Since Elisia has my back.
Elisia brought up another topic, as if she didn't want to talk about this anymore.
"How many days until the banquet?"
"Four days."
"Did you prepare your outfit for then?"
"There's the dress you bought me, Saint-nim."
"Wear the black one."
"I was planning to wear that one too."
I recalled the banquet dress that I went out and bought together with Elisia on our last day off.
It was a black dress interwoven with flashy gold thread.
As flashy as it was, it showed quite a bit of skin, but since Elisia bought it for me, I should wear it.
"You're wearing it because I told you to wear it."
"Yes."
"I don't like this."
"Why are you doing this again?"
"Because you listened too easily."
Seriously picky.
It's a problem even if I wear it for you?
Was I supposed to act coy by saying no first, and then reluctantly agree to wear it?
While I was searching for the 100-point correct answer, Elisia's fingers entwined with my hand like a snake.
"Please let go."
"I don't want to."
"I have to work."
"I'm doing this so you won't work. Play with me."
"Please let me get some work done."
"Do as you like. But I'm bored, so take responsibility for it yourself."
Agh.
Give me back my tiny bit of touched emotion.
In the end, I had to sort through the official documents with one hand while handing the other hand over to Elisia.
Having taken my hand, Elisia didn't even do anything with it except hold it and flick my fingers.
If you're going to do that, just let go of it!
.
.
.
Another four days passed, but Bertion's name did not appear even once in the official documents that came down from the Papacy.
According to my personal investigation, even his attendant priests had disappeared.
Every trace of Bertion was erased.
"It really is the Pope."
Just what is the Pope scheming?
Why on earth is he turning a blind eye to what I've done?
Questions kept sprouting one after another without end.
"Rhea."
Just then, my door flew open without a knock.
Outside the door, Elisia stood holding a black dress.
It was the banquet dress I had to wear today.
The attire she was wearing wasn't her usual Saint robes either.
She was wearing a silvery-white banquet gown that exposed her snow-white, smooth shoulders.
The form-fitting fabric did not hide her voluptuous chest, slender waist, and the softly widening curve of her hips.
The long hem of the dress flowing below her waist cascaded like silver waves every time she moved.
Atop her head, instead of her usual ornate Saint's Crown and black veil, a slender, jewel-encrusted accessory glittered through her silver hair.
"You're ready already?"
"Yes. You get ready too."
"And here you usually hold out and demand that I dress you."
"Because today, I have to dress you."
Elisia was about to throw the black dress at me, but remembering that it was a dress, she walked over meekly and plopped it onto my head.
I held the dress that had accurately covered my face and rose from my seat.
"Change right now."
"I'll put it on by myself."
"I don't want to."
"Why is Saint-nim the one saying no?"
"I bought it, didn't I?"
Elisia was already closing the aide's office door.
It seemed she had no intention of leaving whatsoever.
Why on earth does this person keep trying to watch someone else change clothes?
Was she that displeased that only her body was shown while I dressed her?
If it's Elisia, that actually makes sense....
"Saint-nim."
"What?"
"Please leave."
"No."
"I need to change my clothes."
"That's why I'm watching."
Agh, seriously.