Suspiciously Suspicious... (4)
Twitch. Twitch.
"…What is this."
In the mirror, perched atop her head, a pair of black, fluffy ears gave a little flick.
Cat ears.
Neat little triangles of fur — unmistakably a cat's.
"Cat… ears?"
Sway—
Selina's eyes, fixed on the glass, began to tremble. From the edge of her vision something black brushed lightly past her hand.
Fur again. The feel of it.
Gulp.
She swallowed hard. Forcing her stiff neck to turn, she looked down to confirm what it was.
"…Ha."
Starting from the small of her back, a cat's tail swayed with wicked grace, dancing this way and that. Jet black from tip to base.
A tail, too. Of all things.
Selina clutched her head and sank to the floor. Her skull throbbed.
What in the world had happened? Why had her body turned into this?
A curse? Is it a curse? No — there's no way anyone would have the guts to cast a curse right in the middle of the Holy City…
Then again, nothing was absolute. Hadn't she seen it a hundred times in the slums? People did not always behave rationally.
Crunch—
Her teeth ground together with an ugly sound. Inside her head, a roster of likely suspects was already taking shape.
That filthy Big Bob? Or Fang Justina? Or maybe bald Paul?
Born and raised in the slums, she had no shortage of people who might hold a grudge. Selina shoved herself back to her feet.
She could not go outside looking like this. The paladins would snatch her up on the spot — and it would not end well for her.
Wait… these ears and this tail. Isn't this exactly the look those perverts at the banquet go wild for?
A full-body shudder ran through her. Her bristling tail shot up at a sharp diagonal.
Cat ears on her head. A cat's tail at her back.
These were the beastkin features Marquis Perius and his degenerate friends adored!
Had those perverts done this to her? Why? To what end?
Don't tell me… they want to use me as a plaything?
She had been feeding the marquis a steady stream of drawings, taking his money, thinking she had earned his trust — only to get stabbed in the back like this.
Her own carelessness, maybe. But if the culprit really was Marquis Perius, she had no good options left.
If those degenerates had cursed her to turn her into a toy, stepping outside was extremely dangerous. Perverts they might be, but they were also celebrated figures in their fields — devout clergy, renowned scholars, and rumor even put a high priest among them. A back-alley pickpocket would look smaller than a flea beside people like that.
"Ha— what is going on."
She dropped onto the bed in hollow defeat. The sheets still held the warm scent of sunlight. Her tactless tail swayed back and forth like a reed in the wind.
Sway— sway—
…Where even is this place?
Only then did Selina start taking in the room. A clean bed, modest furnishings, the emblem of the Six Gods hanging on one wall — the kind of ordinary setup you could find anywhere in the Holy City.
Nothing useful.
She furrowed her brow and groped for her last clear memory.
She had been tailing a man. Suddenly her heart had hammered and her whole body had throbbed. She had blacked out mid-collapse, and someone had caught her…
And then—
And then I ended up here, I guess.
As she looked around, a board creaked under a footstep outside. Her newly keen cat ears snagged the faint sound beyond the door at once.
Creak— creak—
Someone was walking this way, pressing hard on the squeaking planks. Selina's black ears twitched wildly, tracking every noise.
Coming straight toward her.
She muffled her steps, snatched the mirror from the desk, buried it in several layers of blanket, and smashed it with everything she had. From the silently shattered pieces she selected a large, sharp shard and hid it in her grip.
It would do as a weapon if things went wrong.
Creak.
The old door and its rusted hinges screamed as they swung open, and a man stepped into view.
"Ah, you're awake? Good thing I brought food up to the room, just in case."
It was the same man she had been tailing. Still wrapped head to toe in that oversized coat, face completely hidden.
Was he in league with Marquis Perius too?
Selina adjusted her hold on the mirror shard behind her back. If he tried anything funny, she would put it through his throat in a single motion.
"You've been out for three days — you must be starving. Why not eat a little of this? The innkeeper here is quite skilled. It should taste good."
"…Three days? I was lying here for three days?"
The fragrant soup. The rich smell of browned meat. The man carefully set the plate down. Only then did Selina realize just how hollow her stomach felt.
Her fingers crept out, hesitant. Under any normal circumstances she would never have touched it — food from a stranger, in a place she did not know. She would not even have come near it.
"…Get back. Are you going to keep staring?"
"Ah. My apologies."
She had felt his gaze locked on her ears and tail, and her voice came out loaded with wariness. Only when he finally looked away and retreated as far as the door did she move.
Slurp.
Swallowing hard, Selina carefully brought the soup to her lips — and still did not forget to shoot Iscal a sharp look every few bites, staying on guard.
The mirror shard was still clenched in the hand behind her back.
…Is it the ears and tail? She's acting exactly like a stray cat.
Watching her, Iscal could not help thinking of a wary alley cat — the kind that hisses at strangers even while it eats.
Whether she knew what he was thinking or not, Selina had her nose buried in the bowl, eating with single-minded focus. Fortunately, it seemed to suit her taste.
I should ask the innkeeper to make a few more bowls.
One serving was clearly not going to be enough.
"Rest. I'll go fetch some more soup."
Thud.
Iscal stepped out and shut the door — then immediately came back, as if he had forgotten something, and spoke toward Selina.
"Just so we're clear — it would be best if you didn't try to leave. The moment you vanish from my sight, I head straight for the paladins."
"Slurp— What? Paladins?"
At that word, Selina's eyes went sharp. Her ears, which had softened and rounded in the soup's warmth, shot straight up in full alarm.
"You— you! Don't tell me you're trying to turn me in—"
"While you were out, I did a little digging of my own. You're quite a well-known thief in the Empire, Miss Selina. Came as something of a surprise, I must say."
Shak!
Selina yanked the glass shard from behind her back and leveled it at Iscal. Her tail stood rigid — the exact posture of a cat on full alert.
"Easy now. Easy. Why do you think I'm telling you all this?"
"…You want something from me."
"Exactly."
Iscal pulled off the coat that had been hiding his face. As his features slowly came into view, Selina's pupils — still sharp with hostility — began to widen. The man revealed beneath the coat was—
"…Why are you suddenly taking off your coat?"
"Ahem. Ahem! To think you don't recognize me… I'm rather disappointed."
Having removed the coat with maximum dramatic flair, Iscal cleared his throat repeatedly as a wave of awkwardness rolled over him.
"Ahem. Ahem! I am the Apostle of the Sixth God — Iscal. It's a bit much to say of myself, but I carry a fair amount of weight even within the Pantheon."
"…You?"
Doubt filled Selina's eyes. In truth, her suspicion was not far off — Iscal's influence inside the Pantheon was not particularly overwhelming. Still, the Pantheon tended to grant the Apostles nearly any reasonable request.
As long as the ask was not outrageous, they almost always said yes. So in a manner of speaking, yes — he had power.
"I was conducting an undercover investigation into Marquis Perius's banquet when I found you and brought you here. I meant to take you to the temple, but even unconscious you thrashed so violently I could hardly manage it."
"If I go to the temple, I'm headed straight for a cell. Why would I be crazy enough to walk into the temple?"
"Fair point. Still — you don't want prison, do you? And as long as you stay in the Holy City, dodging the temple and the paladins forever won't be easy. Am I wrong?"
"Of course not. If it weren't for the work I'm doing now, I'd have left this place ages ago."
"How long do you plan to live on that knife-edge? A life of thieving in the shadows and the underworld."
"What are you getting at? You want a fight?"
"I want information on Marquis Perius. In exchange, you get your criminal record expunged. Does that sound appealing?"
"Expunged? Is that even possible?"
Selina leaned in hard toward Iscal. As the distance closed, that fragrant scent hit her nose again.
Perhaps because she had closed in so suddenly, a flush rose in Iscal's face and he looked away.
"I-it's possible, of course. Fortunately your record is nothing but petty theft. If you render sufficient service and show genuine repentance, it shouldn't be a problem."
"…And why should I trust you? Do you have anything to prove what you're saying?"
Wariness and suspicion still filled her eyes. Those green irises, sparkling so close their noses nearly touched — what exactly were they holding?
"H-here. Look at this."
Iscal's hand went slowly to his coat and drew out a sheet of parchment. There was a great deal of writing on it, but the most important part sat at the very bottom: a clear seal bearing the emblem of the Pantheon.
An officially recognized Pantheon document. In the Holy City, there was no stronger proof of trust.
The paper fully entrusted the investigation of Marquis Perius to Iscal — and listed compensation for any collaborators.
"Good heavens… is all of this real? Really — truly — if I help you, you'll wipe my criminal record? And help with the ears and tail too?"
"Ahem. Ahem! That's only provided you aren't a heretic, so we'd need to stop by the Pantheon for an examination first… F-for now, please step back a little…"
Selina's eyes blazed with excitement, bright with naked hunger. At a range where he could feel her breath, Iscal caught her by the shoulders and gently pushed her away.
"Whew— The document does say expungement, but… well. Contracts are always like this. It isn't a complete erasure. Sin remains on the soul; what we can help with is only the paperwork. For true repentance, you must sincerely confess your sins before the Six Gods and—"
"Kyaaaa!"
Scanning the document with trembling hands, Selina let out a high, piercing shriek and threw her arms around him. A soft, full pressure registered against his chest. Iscal tipped his face toward the ceiling and began reciting scripture under his breath.
"You're the best — the absolute best, darling! To think the day would actually come when I can wash my hands clean!"
"E-even so, you'll still need to hide the ears and tail from people, so be careful—"
Selina bounced in place, too delighted to hold still. Her thoroughly excited cat tail puffed out thick and full. Something of considerable weight swayed along with its owner, making its presence known with every bounce.
"Ahem. Ahehem!"
Iscal kept turning his head away, clearing his throat again and again. Inwardly, the scripture continued without pause.
"…What? She's running around with who?"
In a small clearing deep in the forest, Friga — mid-swing with her axe — made the face of someone who had just heard something she very much did not want to hear.
Right now, Iscal was.
Going around with who?
"Ha. Say that again. What?"
Hiccup!
The servant, guilty of nothing but delivering a rumor, opened his mouth while shaking from head to toe.
"Th-that is… Apostle Iscal has, hiccup! f-formally re— requested of the Pantheon…"
"He's running around with some girl?"
"Y-yes…"
"Ha! This guy's looking to die…"
She had given him a little space lately, and apparently his discipline had gone soft.
Friga swung the massive axe up as if it weighed nothing and settled it across her shoulder. The blue-steel edge caught the light and seemed almost to snarl. The poor servant's face had gone past blue and was heading straight for white.
"Hey. Lead the way."
"E-excuse me?"
"Take me to where the two of them are."
"Ah— ah! Yes, ma'am!"
With the trembling servant out in front, Friga started down the mountain.
The northern duke's daughter. Friga.
She was going to Iscal.
And she was bringing a very large, very sharp axe with her.