Training Log [Ronin & Aria & Nermaraud] (5)
I took a deep drag from the pipe. The refreshing coolness and stimulating effect unique to tobacco hit my brain. Under normal circumstances, I would have welcomed the sensation, but right now it only brought discomfort. It forced me to confront with painful clarity exactly what I had done.
I had raped a girl named Aria Lameld.
It was a mortal sin. Rape. What kind of act was that for a man of the cloth? The fact that I wore the mantle of a priest only made the crime feel even heavier. And the victim was none other than the Saintess of the Sex Cult. She might not be able to use Holy Spells, but she was still the Saintess. Had I lost my mind?
It hadn’t even been a drunken mistake. I had been more sober than ever before. There was no excuse that could erase the fact that I had violated that girl. The crime would cling to me forever, like an indelible label. I had become entangled in something I could never bear.
Resentment toward Priest Ronin surged within me. Gourmet tastes? What a load of frozen bullshit.
“……Huuuuh.”
Smoke curled thickly from the pipe in my hand. It was neither purely white nor purely black—an ambiguous, ashen haze. People generally called this color gray. A shade that seemed to declare a half-hearted neutrality, belonging nowhere and yet dipping its toes everywhere. It looked eerily similar to my current predicament, stirring a strange irritation in me.
My head was pounding.
I waved my hand to disperse the smoke, then leaned against the windowsill and looked outside. Tiny white flakes drifted down in a soft flurry. Snow. It was winter, so it made sense.
“Did you smoke, Priest Nermaraud?”
A delicate voice came from behind me. I spun around in surprise. There stood the Saintess with a dry, sand-like expression, standing demurely.
Why was she here?
I tried to speak, but my mouth wouldn’t move. After fumbling for a long moment, I finally managed to open it.
“……Saintess Aria, how long have you been standing there?”
“Not that long. More importantly, won’t you answer my question?”
“…What question were you—ah, yes, the one about smoking.”
She gave a small nod.
“Yes, that’s right.”
Couldn’t she tell just by looking? I couldn’t bring myself to say it so bluntly. Call it pathetic guilt if you want. I tapped the pipe lightly with my index finger and said,
“I suppose I qualify as a smoker.”
“Smoking indoors isn’t permitted, is it?”
Technically, smoking was forbidden inside the church buildings, but what did such a minor violation matter? I had already committed far worse sins.
“It’s not a crime if you don’t get caught.”
“It’s a crime whether you get caught or not, and I’ve already caught you.”
It was a fair point.
“Then… could you overlook it just this once, Saintess?”
“……How shameless.”
She was right. Utterly shameless. Guilt washed over me. What face did I even have to look at the Saintess with? After violating her life and her mind, what right did I have?
My head bowed on its own.
“Was there some reason you came to see me?”
“A reason, you say.”
Aria rubbed her cheek with her palm and narrowed her eyes. The gesture made her look like a pitiful, torn doll. After a moment, she gave a short nod as if she had reached some conclusion.
“I just happened to see you.”
It was an empty echo, completely devoid of the lively spirit one would expect from a girl. The knowledge that I had helped create that emptiness tormented me. My head sank even lower.
“I’m sorry for prying.”
“You’ve been apologizing nonstop lately.”
What else could I do? I was a disgusting hypocrite.
“You’re going to do it again during today’s Holy Spell lesson, aren’t you?”
Aria let out a laugh. Even a child could have told it was mockery. I lifted my bowed head. She stared at me with an utterly blank expression. It was like looking at a human who had been drained of all emotion. Her index finger pointed at my pipe.
“Ah, that. Can I try it too?”
It was far too strong for a woman to smoke.
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Aria gave a small snort.
“Living only according to someone else’s recommendations isn’t right, is it?”
I had no rebuttal. I quietly handed her the pipe.
She took it with the practiced ease of someone who had smoked before and took a long, deep drag. Had she perhaps tried tobacco in the past? I quickly dismissed the thought.
“Kegh, cough, cough.”
It was a harsh, violent cough. I patted her on the back.
“Are you alright?”
Her posture and the way she inhaled had looked exactly like an experienced smoker, yet her body clearly couldn’t handle it. Had she simply imitated what she’d seen others do?
“I’m—cough—fine—cough—don’t—cough—talk to me!”
She seemed to have gotten irritated while trying to answer. I shrugged.
“Would you like some water?”
“Kegh, ugh, I’m… I’m fine.”
Undeterred, Aria took another drag, then settled her expression. A smoking Saintess—what a rare scene of corruption.
“It doesn’t taste as good as you expected, does it?”
“It’s much better than sucking on a dick.”
It was a brutally direct remark. Her throat must have been burning, but my conscience stung far worse. It felt like being pricked over and over by sharp needles.
Several minutes of this awkward standoff passed. Just as I began to wonder if she had truly come only because of the tobacco—
“Saintess Aria!”
A boy with golden hair and golden eyes that suited him perfectly came running toward the Saintess, still dressed in his holy vestments. He had an air of nobility about him. When the Saintess saw him, her expression brightened just a little.
“Makarof, how many times must I tell you not to run in the hallways?”
“Hehe, I saw you, Saintess, so my feet got impatient. You’re still as beautiful as ever today……?”
His voice trembled as if he had seen something impossible. Aria tilted her head in confusion as she looked at the boy named Makarof. What could have shocked him so much?
Ah. That.
I hurriedly pointed at the pipe still clutched in her hand. Only then did Aria notice what she was holding. Her face turned deathly pale.
“………Ah, um, Makarof?”
“Why does the Saintess have a pipe?”
The boy’s rigid voice made it clear just how great the shock had been. He wore the expression of someone who had lost his entire world, like a fanatic witnessing the fall of his idol. Aria, seemingly startled by his stiffness, had her facial muscles twitching. The girl who had looked like a dead fish moments ago now began desperately trying to explain herself.
“Ah, th-this is—um, Priest Nermaraud! He was smoking indoors, so I—I confiscated it! R-right?”
A clumsy wink was shot in my direction. She was incredibly desperate. Paradoxically, it was only in the face of crisis that the Saintess showed a human reaction. My conscience would not allow me to abandon her here. What a spineless, unprincipled conscience I had.
“Yes, that pipe belongs to me.”
Any ordinary child would have accepted it and moved on. But this boy had a persistent streak.
“………But why were you holding it to your mouth?”
Oh dear. We had been caught red-handed in the middle of the crime scene. Well then, Saintess. What excuse will you pull out now?
“Y-you must have seen it wrong. H-how could I possibly be smoking?”
It wasn’t even a duck’s foot—it was a chicken’s foot she was offering. Who on earth would believe that?
“……I suppose so, right?”
The little brat actually bought it. He really was just a kid. I decided to put an end to this farce and spoke to the Saintess.
“It’s about time you returned it. My pipe.”
Aria made an angry face and replied,
“If I give it back, you’ll just smoke it again!”
Because I couldn’t endure without it. In this situation or any other. I smiled bitterly.
“It’s like a friend that comforts me when I’m bored. Without it, my hands and feet start shaking.”
“We call that withdrawal symptoms.”
It seemed the Saintess intended to confiscate my pipe. Or was she planning to smoke it in secret?
“How cruel. To think that the Saintess would steal my pipe and then sneak off to some place where that boy can’t see to take long drags…”
“When did I ever say I would smoke it!”
Struck a nerve, did I? Her voice had gotten quite loud.
“There are plenty of things one can tell without seeing.”
At my sarcasm, she took an extreme measure.
“Here! Makarof! Take this!”
The boy named Makarof looked so dumbfounded he repeated her words.
“Huh? The pipe?”
I pressed a hand to my forehead. Indeed. She had just handed the pipe she was holding to the boy who had only just arrived.
“Looking at the current scene, one might think the Saintess is offering tobacco to a child.”
“You know I had no such intention at all.”
“I know, but what can I do when the image pops into my head?”
Makarof made a strange face, then handed the pipe back to me. When I looked at the boy with a questioning expression, he gave an awkward smile.
“I thought it should go back to its owner.”
Was this boy a Saint in the making?
With that, the small quarrel came to an end. Makarof handed me the pipe, bowed to the Saintess, and went on his way. Since it felt awkward to just stand around in the hallway with the Saintess, we headed to the training room. Not the strict disciplinary one—the Holy Spell training room.
Click.
Upon arriving at the training room, I closed the door.
“Saintess Aria.”
“……Yes.”
The bright expression she had maintained earlier must have been an act. Her reply was emotionally barren. The only feelings visible were hostility and wariness. Yes, this was exactly the kind of relationship we deserved.
I rolled my tongue and continued.
“During the process of learning Holy Spells, I will not lay a hand on you.”
“……Pardon?”
Her face, which had been braced for something terrible, changed dramatically. Confusion, bewilderment, and doubt. I continued without pointing out her reaction.
“Still, we should get our stories straight. Priest Ronin seems extremely curious about how I have been educating you.”
“What do you mean……?”
“I mean we should coordinate our words appropriately.”
Now that I said it, the line had a double meaning. Perhaps because this kind of approach was new to her, Aria’s eyebrows drew together in a frown.
“……Is that really okay?”
“Didn’t I tell you before? It’s not a crime if you don’t get caught. No, in this case, the one doing it would actually be committing a crime.”
When I said it mischievously, her voice trembled.
“……If Priest Ronin finds out, you won’t get away unscathed.”
It was a direct statement. Indeed, given that merciless man’s personality, if I were discovered, I would be in serious trouble. Even so, it would not break my resolve.
“I hope that during this time, at least, you can have a rich and peaceful moment.”
It was sincere. A meager way of atoning for what I had done to the young Saintess. If she had refused me on the spot, Priest Ronin would have quickly found a replacement. But if she appeared to be complying like this, I might be able to secure at least a little comfort for the ‘Saintess.’
Was there really a reason to go this far?
There were more reasons than I could count. If you hurt someone, you must atone in equal measure. That was how I lived my life.