Confessions Left Unsaid
Aria met Ashtain’s eyes. His black pupils stared at her steadily. She liked that straightforward gaze of his. It felt as though the warmth of kindness and consideration was conveyed through it. She knew he was the kind of person who repaid trust with trust. Through the past few months they had spent together, she had come to understand what sort of man he was.
But Ashtain… sometimes she was afraid. If she told him everything, wouldn’t he feel disgusted by her? Wouldn’t he look down on her, calling her filthy and base? She knew he wasn’t that kind of person, yet negative thoughts sprouted like bamboo shoots. On top of that, how could she possibly say to his face that she had been embraced by countless other men—dozens, hundreds of times—while she was pining for him? What if, after speaking, she ended up erasing her own place by his side? That thought terrified her.
She knew hiding things wasn’t good. Logically, she should reveal everything. She should ask him for help right away. One part of her screamed that loudly. Yet another part whispered coldly: Do you really think you won’t be abandoned? What right does a whore like you have to cling to Ashtain? She was endlessly self-deprecating as well.
What if… what if she told him everything she had been through and he looked at her with cold eyes? Could she endure it? No. She wouldn’t be able to. Just imagining it made her feel as though her breath would stop. Her chest ached as if a stake had pierced her heart.
I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry for being a pathetic runaway. I’m sorry for being this filthy.
“……I’m sorry. I still can’t say it.”
How would he take her refusal? He had already shared his own wounds, yet she kept hiding hers—he must find it distasteful. She knew it. She was this cowardly. Rotten to the core.
He opened his mouth. “Aria.”
When he called her name, she felt both happy and afraid. I told you my story, so why won’t you tell me yours? She dreaded being questioned like that.
“Yes, Ashtain.”
“I told you about my past because it’s no longer a wound to me. Because it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
That couldn’t be true. His story had been so heartbreaking, so sorrowful. Just listening to it had brought tears to her eyes.
“But it seems you’re different. Am I right?”
“……”
She couldn’t answer. Her throat felt blocked, as though she had forced down a piece of stale bread. Her Adam’s apple bobbed. If she opened her mouth, a sigh would escape on its own.
Ashtain pulled her into his arms and whispered into her ear. “If what I’m asking about is still a wound to you, you don’t have to force yourself to show it. When you’ve sorted out your thoughts, when it feels easier, you can tell me then, as if it just came up.”
Ashtain… how can you be so kind? Why do you care for me so much? I can’t do anything for you in return.
“But remember this one thing.” His rough finger brushed her lips. “If you ever say you need help, I’ll definitely give it.”
“……Are you helping me because I’m your comrade?”
He made a mischievous face. “Why, do you want a different excuse?”
A different excuse. What did she want to hear from him? No—she already knew. She wanted him to say he loved her. That he wanted to protect her. Even if it was presumptuous.
“I like you. Is that not reason enough?”
The way he said such an embarrassing line so casually, as if he had read her mind, made her heart flutter. Why did she like him this much?
“That’s enough. That’s more than enough.”
She wanted to kiss him. But she hesitated. Her body was completely filthy. Wouldn’t she just dirty him too? That thought kept surfacing, making her falter.
“Crying again?”
“I’m sorry……”
He suddenly kissed her. The moment their lips met, the kiss with the person she loved tasted faintly of salt.
“Uwa, ah.”
She pushed him away. Why were embarrassment and shame hers alone to feel? Ashtain spoke as if nothing had happened. “What? Want me to do it again?”
Idiot. You’re an idiot.
* * *
Magdalena’s weekend mornings were incredibly quiet—unlike the bustling weekend mornings of other large cities. The reason for this stillness that pervaded the streets was simple: every weekend, the Sex Cult held morning mass. A significant portion of the city’s residents were followers of the Sex Cult, and they would never miss the morning mass organized by their church. Because of this, Magdalena’s weekend mornings were inevitably wrapped in silence.
Inside the chapel of the Sex Cult’s cathedral, a large crowd had gathered since early morning. This weekend in particular saw more attendees than usual, because after a long time, the Saintess herself was leading the morning mass by reciting the Lord’s Prayer. A pretty girl’s clear voice reciting the prayer was naturally more appealing than a bearded man’s hoarse one.
“O Mother who bestows impartial love. Through our prayers, may Your holy name be made holier still, and through us may Your love reach farther……”
Ashtain sat in one of the chapel pews like everyone else, watching Aria recite the Lord’s Prayer in a bright soprano. Dressed in her classic nun’s habit, she neither slurred her words nor stammered as she sometimes did. Of course, she didn’t blush either. Was she capable of wearing such a businesslike expression? To Ashtain, her appearance felt strangely unfamiliar.
“Seeing her like this, she really is the Saintess.”
“Does that mean the Saintess doesn’t usually act like one?”
When he turned toward the voice, he saw a brown-haired man—Ronin. Even when Ashtain narrowed his eyes, Ronin showed no sign of discomfort. Instead, he smiled and boldly took the seat beside him. The man had both a thick face and thick skin.
“I didn’t realize a bishop had the habit of twisting other people’s words.”
“It was a joke. Lighthearted.”
Ashtain scratched his ear with his pinky finger. “Your sense of humor is catastrophic. Doesn’t anyone around you tell you to shut your mouth?”
Ronin didn’t even crease his brow at the rude remark. “Unfortunately, there’s no one by my side who offers such candid advice.”
Ashtain snorted. “You must be quite adored.”
“It seems so, to my embarrassment.”
The two men’s gazes tangled like tree roots. Their eyes exchanged glances as if probing each other. Ronin smoothly changed the subject with his usual nonchalance.
“By the way, it seems the Saintess shows a different side when she’s with you, Hero?”
A different side. Certainly, she showed far more expressions around him than the dry-faced girl standing at the front. She got flustered, embarrassed, or shyly expressed her likes and dislikes. Ashtain found those reactions unbearably cute.
“Want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Not telling.”
With that, Ashtain closed his mouth. He had no desire to talk with this man any longer. Ronin put on an awkward expression.
“That’s a shame. By the way, when do you plan on leaving, Hero?”
When do you plan on leaving? He was referring to the Holy Sword’s trial. Normally, Ashtain would have already moved to take the test. That was his personality—he couldn’t tolerate meaningless waste of time. And yet… strangely, Aria kept coming to mind. He kept wondering if it was really okay to leave like this.
The Holy Sword’s trial could take hours or even days. During that time, he wouldn’t be able to look after Aria. There was every chance she could be harmed. After a brief moment of contemplation, Ashtain stood up.
“I’m going now.”
“I’ll escort you.”
Aria had wanted him to obtain the Holy Sword. So he had to take the trial.
* * *
After finishing morning mass, Aria tried to find Ashtain. Instead, she was told he had already entered the Holy Sword’s trial.
It’s Ashtain, so I’m not too worried, but still… I hope nothing goes wrong.
She had heard the Holy Sword was a finicky and strict existence. Apparently, the previous Hero and the one before that hadn’t even been able to draw it. It was clearly going to be a difficult trial. Even so, Aria believed that if it was Ashtain, he would succeed. It was a vague faith.
Thud.
Perhaps because her head was filled with thoughts of Ashtain, Aria bumped into someone in front of her.
“Ah, I’m sorry. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine…… Saintess?”
“……Ah, Makarof.”
It was Makarof—the boy who had witnessed Aria and Ashtain’s embarrassing position the night before. His face flushed red as he hurried away.
“I-I’m sorry. I-I’ll be going!”
Aria reached out to stop him, but her hand only grasped empty air. It seemed it would take quite some time to clear up the misunderstanding. ……Though, was it even a misunderstanding? Hadn’t Ashtain suggested making it official when Makarof caught them? It had probably been a joke, but still…
Th-that means Ashtain must have at least some f-feelings for me, right?
Her cheeks burned. Aria pressed both hands to her face, recalling their conversation from the night before.
“I like you. Is that not reason enough?”
Of-of course it’s enough. I-I like it.
“Hehe.”
A silly laugh escaped her lips. It took her a moment to realize the sound had come from her own mouth. Was it really okay to be this happy over a single kiss?
Still, what can I do if it feels good?
The more she thought about it, the more her lips curled into a loose smile and her head felt light, as if floating. Was this what it felt like to walk on clouds?
“So you were here. I looked for quite a while since you weren’t in your room.”
“……Bishop Ronin?”
He smiled as usual. “You’ve been summoned.”
Summoned. By whom, it was obvious.
“Why?”
“There are many followers who miss the Saintess.”
Did she know Icarus? Like the man whose wings melted because he flew too close to the sun and fell into the sea, Aria’s emotions plummeted to rock bottom in an instant.