Chapter 33
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Misunderstanding (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Everything about how I not only adapted well to this world—so utterly different from my previous life—but even became a proper resident of the continent was thanks to Israfeel.
What if, ten years ago on that day, Israfeel hadn't driven a sharp fist straight into the gut of the me who was trying to rob her of her valuables?
Well, it wasn't hard to imagine. My blessed divine power would have awakened on its own eventually, so I probably wouldn't have dropped dead namelessly somewhere.
'Still, I wouldn't have turned out to be much of a decent human being.'
Setting aside the fantasy world setting overrun by superhumans wielding swords and magic, this continent's civilization level couldn't even be called higher than my previous life's—not even as a compliment.
The place where I opened my eyes was a slum in a small border town even in the great Cabensier Empire.
The fact that an orphan without parents managed to survive unscathed until the age of ten was because a man who ruled the local area—and who, like me now, bore the surname 'Lane'—had taken me in.
He was a man who kept at least the bare minimum of decency, but too flawed to call a sage.
Naturally, to repay the favor... the debt of his care, I became a thug in the back alleys.
And grew up that way. If things had continued like that, I might have succeeded him, bolstered by my talent for divine power?
I might have built a shaky foothold in the underworld of that border town and lived a truly pathetic life compared to now.
What completed the current Evan Lane was Israfeel Hael. No question about it.
She had taken the feral orphan pup—whose modern soul had long since rotted away—and raised him into a proper human being. Not just teaching basic academics and common sense, but force-feeding etiquette and manners too.
Though in the process, I had to endure primal violence and corporal punishment disguised as discipline.
'...Ugh, just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.'
Truly years I had no desire to recall. Especially that era of getting beaten, healed by divine power, beaten again, healed again.
To be honest, up until then, I had no doubt that my benefactor—who was like my sister, mother, and teacher all in one— was definitely a sadist.
I was always grateful that she'd guided me onto the right path, but even Israfeel wasn't 100% flawless.
Never mind her gentle, compassionate personality and temperament... Getting thrashed at least every three days over nearly a decade would naturally lead to such thoughts.
Well, probably some fault lay with me too, for always defying her stubbornly back then.
Israfeel had at least tried gentle scolding at first, but from some point on, she just raised her fist without a word.
'...Hmm.'
Thinking about it this way, was the cause and effect clear? I'd provided the trigger, after all.
What I mean to say is this. I didn't create her violent side. That was purely Israfeel's nature.
Even when I was nearing adulthood, Israfeel Hael would beat me like a dog while somehow panting with excitement.
Just recall right after she returned from that long mission, hearing about Lete and pinning me down by force.
She was a bit clumsy and scatterbrained, but at her core, a truly sadistic woman.
I never once doubted that fact. To me, Israfeel was fundamentally someone I 'couldn't beat,' someone I 'always had to lose to'—except for the rare moments I gained the upper hand.
"...".
And yet, even though Israfeel was surely that kind of existence to me.
At least until a few days ago.
"I'm trash... Recyclable waste? No, scraps that can't even be burned away... A whore who couldn't overcome her desires and devoured her own son, a slut..."
"...Hey."
"Th-the truth is, saying I thought of you only as family was a lie. For us to be like real siblings, I... I just fell too deeply in love..."
"Israfeel."
"Yes... I'm the sinner. A incestuous rapist who committed taboo. I started seeing my little brother as a man. I was wrong, so wrong."
"No, fuck. Listen to me..."
"...Kill me. I have no right to live anymore. Ah, Goddess, forgive me. I, I committed a grave sin!?"
Kudangtang! I couldn't hold back any longer. I kicked Israfeel—who was kneeling with her hands clasped together like she was confessing in absolution—and she tumbled across the floor several times before sprawling out.
I had to make her stop rambling. Muttering to myself, I irritably swept back my bangs.
"Get a grip, Sis. Unless you want your little brother to properly commit lese-majeste against you today."
"Ugh, heu..."
At my sharp growl, Israfeel finally snapped to her senses and struggled to sit up.
Though her cheek looked suspiciously flushed for someone who'd just come around. This woman—was she not a sadist after all?
I couldn't diagnose her as a masochist based on this one instance, so for now, I'd assume she had both tendencies. People like that were called switches, right?
Either way, glossing over the good stuff, I squatted down in front of Israfeel.
Staring at the woman before me with utter displeasure. As my red gaze fixed steadily on her, Israfeel awkwardly turned her head away.
Her lustrous water-blue hair, usually so shiny, was a total mess, and her complexion was pallid enough to make one wonder if she'd even eaten while avoiding me these past days.
"Hey, you..."
"...".
"Sigh."
I glared at her discontentedly, about to say something, but quickly shut my mouth.
The harsh words that had risen to my throat felt off to spit out as-is. Her current state was so grating it gave me a headache.
'No helping it.'
It was an inevitable choice. I'd come to talk, but at this rate, she'd faint before we even got to that.
"...Wait here a sec."
With a sigh, I lightly patted Israfeel's shoulder. She flinched as if terrified at even that touch.
Ignoring it, I stood and left the bedroom. The luxurious residence of the Sun Church's First Apostle, with three rooms, a spacious living room, and kitchen.
Nothing surprising, since we'd lived together here for nearly six or seven years before I got my own room as a Saint Candidate.
This woman still couldn't properly clean the house on her own, it seemed. Clicking my tongue, I summoned a small amount of divine power.
Wuuung...!
Scattered underwear and clothes everywhere, dust piled up from what seemed like the bare minimum cleaning—everything floated up in an instant.
"Aigoo."
A crude imitation of telekinesis via divine power. Even this simple measure was enough to tidy up the trash and objects.
'Does she have hoarding disorder, or is she just too lazy? Damn it.'
Either way, it made me want to smack her on the back. Leaving the house like this, then sluggishly cleaning only when it got unbearable.
Or maybe calling me or Isabel to help with a big cleanup.
"If you want to be treated like a big sis, at least act a little like an older woman. Right? Don't you think so, oh hoarding big sis?"
"...".
I grumbled loud enough for her to hear, glancing toward the bedroom, but got no response—as expected. Not that I'd hoped for one. I opened the windows for ventilation, sending the dust outside.
Next stop: the kitchen. Even if Israfeel—with her disastrously womanly domestic skills—never cooked for herself...
She must have wanted to keep up appearances? Ingredients were stored here and there.
'At least that's something.'
Not entirely reassuring without expiration dates, which felt creepy. It was dubious, but I decided to use them anyway.
She was the Sun Church's strongest Apostle, after all. No way spoiled food would take her down.
'Whatever~'
If it did, that was her problem. Forming a red blade at my fingertip, I finely chopped mushrooms, pumpkin, onions, carrots, and swept them into the prepped pot.
Then reached into the cupboard for a bowl. The staple grain from the eastern empire that Israfeel had procured during her dispatch there, to suit my childish tastes.
A small chuckle escaped as memories surfaced of my old picky eating habits.
And of Israfeel smacking my head over it, yet still caring enough to bring back rice a few months later.
"Hmm..."
A meaningful hum slipped out involuntarily. Perhaps because of it, I sensed a flinch from the bedroom.
I just curled my lips wordlessly and continued leisurely.
After processing the rice with holy arts into steaming hot rice, I dumped it atop the sweetened stir-fried minced veggies with sesame oil.
Then it was simple. Mix thoroughly, add water, and while at it, sprinkle some holy water conjured from divine power, stir again.
Finish with seasonings. I transferred the surprisingly aromatic vegetable porridge into a clean bowl that had sat unused for ages.
"Looks decent."
Hwarak!
The flames heating the pot's base scattered at a gesture.
Carrying the satisfactory result back to the bedroom.
"...What are you doing?"
I had to frown at the sight inside. What kind of mental state was this? Israfeel had rolled herself into the blanket like a water-blue kimbap roll.
I considered yeeting her out the window, but sighed and calmed myself.
"Whatever. Come out and eat. It's gonna get cold."
"...Ungh."
Fortunately, despite her full infantile regression, Israfeel still understood human speech, gripped a spoon, and showed impressive intelligence.
'She's eating well.'
At least she took whatever I gave her. I quietly observed her meal with quiet satisfaction...
"Hey, Israfeel."
"...?"
I called her name lightly. She paused mid-chew, looking up at me with puzzled round eyes.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I crossed one leg over my knee.
And drawled indifferently.
"Wanna have sex later?"
'Do you really like me?'
In a perfectly nonchalant tone, I dropped a proper bombshell into the bedroom. A beat late, I realized my thought and words had come out in reverse.
Whatever.
It didn't matter soon enough. The nuance differed slightly, but the core was the same.
"Puhup...!"
And Israfeel sprayed the mouthful of vegetable porridge right onto my face.