This Is Basically Heaven

It was, quite simply, heaven.

Her visuals were nothing short of peerless—absolutely overwhelming. Skin like polished white jade, a voluptuous figure with curves in all the right places. Every time the bathwater rippled, her bare body swayed without mercy, a physique so flawless it could only be described as divine favoritism. No wonder everyone kept throwing themselves at her despite the fact that she was supposedly impossible to capture.

And yet, with the naked body of this game's most stunning beauty right in front of my eyes, my brain remained eerily, almost disturbingly calm. With my libido cauterized clean away, looking at her was about as thrilling as admiring a beautiful sculpture in a museum.

Splash. Alicia slid in close behind me and settled into place. A soft, yielding warmth pressed directly against my back.

"Ahh…."

Alicia began washing me down with a soft towel. "How on earth does such a small, delicate little body…."

Blushing furiously, she wrapped me in her arms. libido aside, the sheer pillowy softness simply felt good. I wanted to stay nestled in her embrace forever. So this was why girls were always fidgeting with stress balls.

"A sacred bathing rite shared between the Saintess and the angel herself…."

"Are we truly worthy of witnessing something so holy?"

The sisters of the White Wing Sisters' League clasped their hands together, expressions rapt with ecstasy. I wanted to sink beneath the water out of sheer embarrassment. If not for the unflappable-composure trait keeping my equilibrium intact, I probably would have died of shame on the spot.

Watching Alicia's ample chest sway gently above the water, I simply burrowed deeper into the steaming holy water.

"Now, dear angel, let me clean your front as well…."

Face flushed, Alicia turned my tiny shoulders around to face her. Swoosh, swoosh. Clouds of frothy lavender soap suds drifted softly across my chest and stomach.

"Ohh… Lord, what cruel trial is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this? What hardships must you have endured, to have wasted away until your ribs show through…."

"That's not it—this is just my baseline physique."

Around us, the waiting sisters of the White Wing Sisters' League began dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs and quietly sobbing.

No, it's not malnutrition. My body type is locked to petite, I'm telling you. A month without a single proper meal and I hadn't changed one bit—body-type lock, confirmed. At this rate, I might never grow any taller either.

I wanted to protest the injustice, but nobody showed the slightest intention of listening. I gave up on explaining myself.

The bath concluded with the solemn gravity of a full religious ceremony. When I stepped out of the tub, the sisters were already waiting, holding garments aloft. What they'd brought was a miniature priest's robe embroidered in pure white.

"There we go, dear angel. Put this on before you catch a chill."

With meticulous, loving care, Alicia dressed me in the robe.

But of course, my modest little hardware was a size too small for the garment. Alicia carefully gathered the billowing hem and tied it snugly into place.

And then, at last—my complete form, draped in pristine white, stood revealed. The sight of the white priest's robe set against my slightly damp black hair was, honestly, a little unreal even to me.

When she laid eyes on it, Alicia swallowed a low breath and clasped her hands together. "Truly… you look like an angel who has only this very moment descended from heaven."

"Your meal is prepared, Saintess," one of the sisters said, approaching cautiously.

"Perfect timing."

Alicia's face lit up.

The moment we entered the dining hall, I stood there gaping. Pumpkin soup with steam curling gently off the surface. Soft white bread, fresh from the oven. Potatoes cooked fluffy and light. Dried fruits ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drizzled with honey. And on top of all that, fragrant herbal tea. My mouth watered before I could stop it.

"Please, sit down, dear angel."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Alicia pulled out my chair for me personally. I sat down obediently, and she settled in close at my side. The golden soup swayed gently in its white bowl.

And yet—there was no spoon in front of me. I glanced around in confusion, and at some point Alicia had already scooped up a mouthful of my pumpkin soup and was blowing on it gently.

Is this really happening?

The worst uncapturable boss in the game's history, the one who had ground countless players' spirits into dust. The Fallen Saintess, Alicia. That very woman was now cooling down my soup for me.

"Say ahh~"

I accepted the spoon-fed pumpkin soup as if under a spell. It was warm. Soft, sweet, and delicately salted. The flavor of pumpkin and herbs blossomed across my tongue, and a gentle warmth slid down my throat.

Ahh. This… this is the taste of civilization.

Memories of wandering forests and abandoned houses for a month, scavenging whatever unidentifiable berries I could find, flickered past like a lantern show—and a deep, overwhelming emotion welled up inside me.

"It's delicious."

The honest observation slipped right out of me.

"I'm so glad. Then here, this too." Alicia dipped a piece of bread into the soup and held it to my lips. I took a small bite, and nutty sweetness spread through my mouth all at once.

"Have some potato as well."

"Okay."

"A little of the dried fruit too."

"Okay."

"Shall I get you more soup?"

"Just a little."

"Of course."

By the time I'd finished accepting everything Alicia offered, like a baby bird being fed, my stomach had swelled up nice and round. It was the first proper fullness I'd felt in a month.

A hot bath. Clean clothes. Warm food. The moment all three were complete, the exhaustion I'd been carrying came crashing down on me all at once. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy.

I lifted my herbal tea, trying my best to look perfectly composed. But Alicia read me like a book.

"Are you sleepy?"

"No."

"Your eyes just closed."

"…That was meditation."

"Then let's meditate together in bed."

The sisters of the White Wing Sisters' League began moving with military precision. "The guest room is ready." "The fireplace has been lit." "The bedding has been changed to fresh linens." "We've hung a sachet of herbs." "A sacred lamp for sleep has been prepared." "Saintess, all preparations are complete."

One after another after another. The sisters moved like soldiers executing a rehearsed operation. Hand in Alicia's grip, I was led out of the dining hall.

"Um… I can walk by myself, you know."

"I know."

With that faint smile on her lips, Alicia opened the door to the guest room. A gentle fragrance and the warmth of the fireplace greeted me. The room was far cozier than I'd expected—so cozy it actually felt unfamiliar. Not that there wasn't one small problem… the fact that there was exactly one bed in the room?

"Come now, lie down."

Whoosh! Alicia slid her hands under my armpits, hoisted me up like a stuffed doll, plopped me down in the middle of the mattress, and half-forcibly laid me out. Sheets soft as feathers, a mattress that cradled my whole body in a snug embrace. Swoosh—Alicia drew the covers up over me.

For someone who'd spent a month sleeping rough on cold stone floors, this wasn't a bed—it was heaven itself. Being a man of iron on the inside or whatever? Forget all that. A full belly and a warm back is heaven. Period.

Shift, slide. The spot beside me dipped, and a waft of lavender fragrance washed over me. At some point Alicia had shed her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠priest's robe and slipped under the covers in nothing but her undergarments. She pulled me snugly into her embrace. Whoosh—my tiny head slotted perfectly between her ample chest and locked into place.

That overwhelming pillowy softness from the bath teased my whole body all over again. Was this what an ergonomically designed pillow felt like? My inner self might be a man of iron, but with my libido completely nonexistent, this situation registered as nothing more than a desperately comfortable, soothing rest.

In the end, I gave up resisting and buried my face completely in her chest. Stroking my black hair with the blissful expression of someone who owned the entire world, Alicia murmured softly.

"Ahh… Lord. So this is why You sent me such a trial—to deliver this small, precious angel into my care."

I honestly couldn't tell anymore. And so, using the continent's greatest—and worst—Saintess as a human body pillow, I drifted into the most comfortable sleep of my life.

Consciousness slowly rose back to the surface. A pale bluish dawn was brightening beyond the window.

"Mmm…."

The first thing I felt upon opening my eyes was the rich scent of lavender lingering at the tip of my nose—and a heavy, warm pressure softly enveloping my entire face. When I tried to tilt my head, Alicia's arms instinctively tightened around me, pressing my face even deeper into her ample cleavage.

"Mmph."

Can't. Breathe. Look, I'm turning down the suffocation route even as a joke, okay? As I squirmed my delicate little limbs, Alicia finally blinked awake.

"Mmnya… oh, dear angel? Did you sleep well?"

"Hk—get off…."

"Oh! I—I dared to hold the angel! I'm so sorry!"

Alicia sprang back in alarm and released me. Flopped face-down on the bed, I gulped down air. Beside me, she fussed over me, utterly beside herself—the most beautiful woman in the Holy Radiance Church, cheeks flushed pink, flustered beyond all composure, completely forgetting she was in her undergarments. If the players could see this, they'd probably classify it as a national treasure.

"Your chest armor was a bit of a hazard there… but it's fine."

"Ohh… such boundless mercy."

Leaving Alicia clasping her hands in gratitude behind me, I turned my attention to the new sub-trait I'd gained from saving her: Great Original Veneration. The part that caught my eye was this:

The explanation was spectacularly unhelpful. Empowerment was probably physical reinforcement of my own body. Benediction would be a buff for someone else. Miracle meant, well, miracles. Guardianship was anyone's guess. Either way, the gist was that if I diligently rescued and raised heroines, I could pull on all sorts of gacha. My dopamine was already firing.

"Dear angel."

Out of nowhere, Alicia spoke to me. Her voice was gravely serious.

"Yes?"

"The sisters and I have somewhere we need to go, so… I'm afraid you'll have to wait here alone today."

A place she'd be visiting with combat nuns? I could already smell the blood in the air.

"Where exactly?"

"That's…."

Alicia averted her eyes awkwardly. At that very moment, hard footsteps sounded from outside the door.

Knock, knock.

"Saintess." It was the Mother Superior's voice. "All sisters have completed arming themselves and are standing by."

"I'm coming too."

At my words, Alicia shook her head firmly. "No."

"There might be others being hurt the way you were, couldn't there? If there are, I'll just support everyone from the back with healing."

"Even so."

"Or would you rather I sneak after you alone?"

Alicia let out a long, deep sigh. "…We're going to execute Bishop Casimir—the one who drugged me. He is a wicked man, so you are absolutely, unconditionally staying in the rear. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I knew it. I simply cannot resist watching a fight.