The Holy Sword Reacts to a Janitor
"So, about my daily wage for today...?"
At Nia Varen's words, the plaza froze. The priests couldn't answer. Miel couldn't answer. The Goddess couldn't answer. And I, too, remained silent.
The Holy Sword Lumen was still embedded in my body, but just moments ago, it had moved about three millimeters in the hands of this plaza janitor.
Three millimeters. To humans, it might seem like an insignificant distance. Shorter than a pinky nail, smaller than a breadcrumb, more trivial than a coin tossed by a debt collector.
But to the Holy Sword, it was anything but.
The prince couldn't move it. The knights couldn't move it. The priests couldn't move it. Neither could the mages, mercenaries, nobles, or soldiers.
Yet a janitor, who wasn't even on the candidate list, had moved it.
Three millimeters. That was more than enough to quietly turn a kingdom upside down.
Miel was the first to snap out of it.
"Everyone, keep your mouths shut."
Her voice was low. A wise decision. If anyone screamed right now, that scream would reach the royal palace faster than the morning bells.
But it was already too late. The priest who had dropped the censer was trembling, his lips quivering, while the two assistant priests stared at Nia as if she had just pulled the Demon King's tail.
Feeling their intense gazes, Nia took a step back.
"I seriously didn't pull it."
Miel spoke.
"I know."
"Then can I go?"
"No, you cannot."
"Why?"
"Because the Holy Sword reacted to you."
"It's not like I asked it to."
She had a point. I had only allowed the tiniest fraction of a reaction. The problem was that even that tiny fraction was far too visible.
Miel turned to the priests.
"What you just witnessed will not be entered into the official records."
One of the priests asked in a trembling voice,
"But the Holy Sword—"
"This was not an official ceremony," Miel cut him off sharply. "There was no candidate registration, no temple verification, and no royal presence. Therefore, this is not a 'reaction,' but an 'anomaly.'"
Oh. Her spin-doctoring skills aren't bad. If the High Priest is the head of PR, this woman is the crisis manager.
Nia raised her hand.
"Then do I get hazard pay for this anomaly?"
Miel looked at her. Nia looked back. A brief silence stretched between them.
Miel spoke very slowly.
"Do you understand the situation you are in right now?"
"More or less."
"More or less?"
"I touched the Holy Sword, the high-and-mighty folks got shocked, and I got caught while doing my cleaning job."
Accurate. Scarily accurate.
Miel pressed her temples with her fingers.
"Name."
"Nia Varen."
"Affiliation."
"General laborer at the Sacred Plaza maintenance office."
"Family house."
"Don't have one."
"Guardian."
"Don't have one."
"Temple registration."
"Never offered a single coin."
"Knight order experience."
"Do I look like a knight to you?"
Miel looked down at Nia's worn-out shoes, her dust-covered skirt, and her broom.
"No."
"Then why ask?"
Miel didn't answer. Nia was a truly bizarre human. Yesterday's candidates had all packaged themselves beautifully. The prince spoke of the kingdom, and the knights spoke of justice. The priests invoked the Goddess, and the mages discussed academia. Even the mercenaries at least tried to prove their worth through their battle records.
But Nia didn't dress up her circumstances. If she didn't have it, she said she didn't. If she didn't know, she said she didn't. And because she needed money, she simply said she needed money.
Goddess.
"Yes?"
This is truly strange.
"What is?"
The human who has given the most half-hearted answers so far is the most honest one.
"Perhaps that is what human potential is all about."
You are throwing that word 'potential' around far too loosely.
Miel gave instructions to the assistant priests.
"Close the plaza gates. Do not inform the royal family yet."
"Not inform the royal family?"
"An uncoordinated report is a disaster waiting to happen."
True enough. In human society, nothing is more dangerous than an unrefined truth.
Nia began to slink backward.
"Then, before you close the gates, can I—"
"No."
"But I have a daily quota to fill."
"The Temple will handle that."
"By 'handle,' you don't mean getting me fired, right?"
Miel paused. Nia's face grew dead serious. She looked more serious than she would have at the resurrection of the Demon King.
"If I get fired, I'm in real trouble."
Her feelings drifted into me. It wasn't even through Sword-Contact Resonance. She wasn't even touching the Holy Sword anymore. I could tell just by the sound of her voice. It was genuine. Nia feared being fired far more than she feared whatever destiny the Holy Sword had chosen for her.
Miel spoke.
"You will not be fired."
"What about my daily wage?"
"We will ensure it is paid."
"And the overtime pay?"
Miel's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.
"We will review it."
Nia muttered under her breath.
"So that's a no."
Even as I found myself liking this human less and less, strangely, I didn't hate her.
Just then, a commotion arose outside the plaza. A voice echoed from beyond the closing gates.
"What is the meaning of this?"
A low, solid voice. It was Sir Brandt, the Captain of the Royal Knights.
Miel's expression stiffened. Too late. The commotion the Temple had tried so hard to contain had already leaked out.
Sir Brandt pushed the gates open and strode in. Gray hair, broad shoulders. Though his hand did not rest on his hilt, he walked with the stride of a man ready to draw at any second.
He scanned the plaza. The dropped censer. The frozen priests. The janitor standing before the Holy Sword. And Miel.
"Explain."
Miel answered a beat too late.
"There was a minor anomalous reaction during the purification of the Holy Sword's surroundings."
Brandt's gaze shifted to Nia.
"And that woman?"
Nia answered immediately.
"I'm the janitor."
Brandt blinked.
"That much is obvious."
"Then why did you ask?"
Brandt was momentarily left speechless. Excellent. This janitor treated the Knight Captain no differently.
Miel spoke in a low voice.
"The Holy Sword reacted minutely to this person."
Brandt's eyes changed. It was the look of a soldier recognizing a threat.
"How much?"
"One millimeter at first," Miel took a breath. "And three millimeters the second time."
Silence fell over the plaza once more.
Brandt stared at Nia. Nia spoke with an aggrieved expression.
"I didn't do it on purpose."
"Did you lay hands on the Holy Sword?"
"Just to wipe it down."
"Wipe it?"
"Because it was dirty."
Brandt slowly looked at the hilt of the Holy Sword. Indeed, it was noticeably cleaner than it had been yesterday.
He closed his eyes and opened them. This was likely the first report of its kind in his entire career as Knight Captain.
"Is she on the candidate list?"
Miel spoke.
"She is not."
"Is she registered with the Temple?"
"No."
"A royal recommendation?"
"None."
"Her family lineage?"
"None."
"Then why did it react?"
No one could answer. Only I could, but since I was a stone, I couldn't speak.
Nia raised her hand.
"I'm curious about that too."
Brandt looked at her.
"Do you wish to draw the Holy Sword?"
Nia looked genuinely bewildered.
"Me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
That was a remarkably good answer. Usually, a Holy Sword Candidate would say something grand here. For the world. For the Goddess. For the kingdom. For honor. For my family.
But Nia simply asked: Why?
Brandt didn't seem to have expected that response either.
"The Holy Sword reacted to you."
"Then you should ask the Holy Sword. Why are you asking me?"
I was touched for a brief moment. Exactly. Why do humans always ask the human when the Holy Sword reacts? If they want to ask anyone, they should ask me.
The Goddess spoke softly.
"If they asked you, could you answer?"
Not right now.
"And that is the problem."
I'm the one who finds it most frustrating.
Brandt stared at Nia for a moment before turning to Miel.
"This matter must be reported to the royal family."
"It is still too early."
"The Holy Sword reacted."
"It was not an official ceremony."
"Do you truly believe that excuse will hold them back?"
Miel couldn't answer. Brandt was right. Prince Kael was already suspicious of me. And if news got out that the Holy Sword had reacted to a janitor who wasn't even on the candidate list, he would be even more convinced. Convinced that it wasn't the Holy Sword that was broken—but the pedestal.
Just then, Nia spoke up hesitantly.
"Um, excuse me."
Everyone turned to look at her. Nia was gripping her broom tightly.
"I don't really know what I did wrong," her voice grew slightly quieter for the first time. "But I really can't afford to lose my job."
A quiet stillness settled over the plaza.
The Holy Sword, the Goddess, the royal family, the Temple, and the Demon King. Amidst all those grand, heavy words, the only thing Nia clung to was her job.
I found it amusing, yet strangely heavy. This human had no desire to save the world. She only wished for her daily life not to fall apart.
But perhaps... the kind of person who could actually return the Holy Sword was someone closer to this.
Brandt spoke.
"You will not be fired."
Nia looked at Miel. "Really?"
Miel nodded with an incredibly exhausted face. "Really."
"And my daily wage?"
"It will be paid."
"What about the overtime pay?"
"That will be rev—"
"Ah, of course."
Miel shut her mouth. Brandt cleared his throat.
Right then, another set of footsteps echoed from outside the plaza. This time, they weren't light. They were measured, orderly footsteps. Multiple people. Royal attendants and knights. And among them, one in particular.
I remembered those footsteps. Kael Arken.
Miel's face turned pale. Brandt's hand drifted down toward his sword hilt.
Nia, reading the room, whispered in a tiny voice,
"Can I run away now?"
No one could answer. The gates swung open.
Prince Kael stepped into the plaza. He was smiling. A very thin, calculated smile.
"The plaza before the Holy Sword is quite noisy for the early hours of the morning."
His gaze swept past the Holy Sword and landed on Nia.
"Would you care to explain?"
I quietly tightened the Seal Sword lock. The Holy Sword had not been drawn yet. But the threads of this century's fate had already begun to tangle.