Blindness
...?
Why was this girl suddenly acting like this?
I had been about to borrow Rebecca’s lantern to arrange a second audience with the Goddess, only to freeze solid at a reaction I had never anticipated. The eyes that had held their composure mere moments before were now blazing with some unreadable emotion—exactly the same way they had when I shared a private conversation with Matilda.
"Uh… what’s wrong?"
Opening my mouth again after it had clamped shut took more courage than I expected. Last time I had been too uncertain to do anything but pretend not to notice, yet I was not so dense that I could miss the same look twice. The feeling clouding the girl’s eyes was jealousy, clear and undeniable.
Why?
…I still had no idea who she was jealous of, or for what reason.
"There is no problem."
And since the person in question clearly had no intention of explaining, I would have to work it out myself. This was not mere curiosity. She was the Order’s strongest combat asset, the one who wielded Vesta’s sacred relic as freely as breathing, and the closest aide who never left my side for a single hour of the day. Any crack in her composure was a direct threat to my own safety; I needed to understand the cause if only to prevent something worse. Whether pure speculation could reach the truth while she kept her lips sealed was another matter entirely.
"Is that so? I must have been imagining things."
I smiled as if nothing were amiss and withdrew the question. Then, walking naturally toward the lodgings, I began to sort through my thoughts.
The emotion we call jealousy can be divided in two broad ways: by its cause, and by whether one already possesses the object of desire. There is the urge to keep someone you already have from being taken by another, and the urge to snatch someone you do not have away from another. There is the impulse to kick away the ladder when someone beneath you shows greater talent, and the instinct to claim for yourself the privileges enjoyed by those above. Wealth and high station that draw the envy of the many are public; a lover’s affection or a parent’s care that is precious only to one person is private. Guarding what you already hold is possession; seizing what you lack is usurpation. Every true jealousy can be explained by those four words—public, private, possession, usurpation—and anything that cannot is not jealousy at all.
Rebecca’s emotion had been jealousy beyond any doubt. The problem was that it fit none of the four categories.
Faith cannot be privately owned. The myths that lend sanctity to scripture grow stronger in proportion to the number of believers who revere them; under ordinary circumstances one spreads the faith and multiplies companions. Even when outsiders are rejected and monopoly is attempted, it is done at the level of an order or a people. An individual trying to monopolize faith is simply absurd. What pastor drives out the congregation so that only he may pray? What monk hides the sutras so that only he may cultivate? The value of faith ultimately comes from those who believe it true and follow it. Clergy may rank their flock and restrict access to protect their privileges—that happens every day—but across both my previous life and this one I had never once met anyone who tried to monopolize belief itself. It is not something that can be owned or stolen.
So Rebecca’s jealousy likely had nothing to do with faith… yet nothing else seemed capable of provoking it. A cleric who had risked her life to crush the sins of the earth and defend virtue would not suddenly burn with carnal desire for a child of the same sex, and the post of Lantern Bearer—practically the Order’s final weapon—was not about to pass to anyone else. How many people in this land were stronger than Rebecca? I was no expert in sword or spell, but a living weapon who could thrash hundreds of soldiers single-handed did not seem common. Even if a superior warrior existed, once you added skill with the lantern, grasp of doctrine, and loyalty to me, she would still win by a landslide.
Of course I could not swear she would never fear a rival. Jealousy has never been a rational emotion. Yet when I looked back at the two moments she had openly shown it, the office of Lantern Bearer itself was unlikely to be the cause. Matilda was a finance officer whose trade was ledgers and ledgers alone; Roberta was an inventor who carved into the unknown with raw genius as her only weapon. No matter how jealousy clouds the eyes, the idea that the Order’s ultimate weapon, armed with a holy relic, would feel threatened by a pair of people who had poured every point into intelligence was ridiculous. In twenty-first-century terms it was like a top graduate of the bodyguard academy fretting that a business major or an engineer would steal the job. In animal terms it was a whale larger than most fishing boats terrified that a land-bound lion would seize its waters. Had she directed that jealousy at Arturo or the aspiring holy knights beneath him, I might have understood. Directed at Matilda and Roberta, the post of Lantern Bearer could not be the source.
Once both faith and office were struck from the list of suspects, further deduction became impossible. Those two things were all I knew about Rebecca. I knew how devout she was and how perfectly she suited the title of Lantern Bearer, yet of her personal history I was almost completely ignorant. I did not even know her favorite food, the season she preferred, the day she was born, or who her friends might be.
"Hmm."
The moment the thought formed, my steps slowed of their own accord. If this was guilt, then it was guilt. I had sworn to free her from the yoke of blind faith, yet I knew nothing about the girl named Rebecca—and I had only just now realized it. The shame settled on my heart like a stone.
I was not without excuses. The events we had lived through had been too dramatic for idle personal questions; we had not known each other long enough to build private rapport; prying when she herself offered nothing would have been rude. I could invent any number of such trivial, plausible defenses if I wished. But that was not the vow I had made. Turning away from the people around me because the situation would not allow it, because the other person did not want it, because I myself lacked the strength—pouring every effort only into the duty immediately before me—was exactly the method of the senior I had once resented so bitterly. For a moth that had already burned once, it was an atrocity I could not permit.
"Unnie. What would you like for dinner tonight?"
"…Are you speaking to me?"
So I would ask her myself. So that I could cherish her as a person rather than a tool. So that the things I had ignored under the excuse of busyness could be learned, one by one, from this day forward.
"Yes. Who else is here besides you?"
"That is true, but…"
I put on a shameless smile and stepped closer. I still did not know whether this was the right thing to do. Yet looking at Rebecca’s face as she tilted her head a little foolishly, I could not feel that the judgment was wrong either.
"The experiment succeeded, so I feel like eating something delicious, but as you know I don’t know a single good restaurant around here. Since we’ll be eating together anyway, I thought I’d ask you for a recommendation…"
"In that case I shall find a restaurant the Saintess will enjoy. Please wait a moment at the lodgings."
It was clearly not going to be easy. I almost told her I wanted to try the food she liked rather than what I liked, then realized the words would be meaningless and simply nodded. Rushing would only ruin what might otherwise succeed. There would be more than enough shared meals ahead; I could learn her tastes one dish at a time. The same was true of everything else. In the autumn we first met I had known nothing about her; the winter and spring that followed had been swallowed by war and its aftermath. Yet now, at least, I had the leisure to watch her expressions and remember them. Summer was nearly spent; autumn would soon return. If I watched carefully from this day on, by next spring I would know which season she loved best. And as I learned about her piece by piece, I would also learn what she had been so jealous of.
I walked on with a lighter heart.
…It was only the next morning that I realized I had left without ever checking Princess Roberta’s experimental results.