Even Without Grand Salvation (1)
Sara had gained divinity, and the temple was starting to take shape. Yet it would be premature to say the church's operations were running smoothly. A god, a temple to serve that god, and believers— the basics were in place, but without those tiny gears to mesh with the massive ones, it all ground to a halt.
We need priests. Faith spreads from mouth to mouth, after all. One mouth can only preach so far, so the speed and scale of the word depend on the number of mouths. Those mouths had to belong to people with genuine faith, who could set aside their own greed, who embraced joy in serving the divine without hesitation. As the saying goes, clear waters above make clear waters below. You couldn't rush this, and thorough vetting was essential.
Lenoir scanned the believers and workers for suitable candidates, but no one stood out. Rnier was in the running for now, but she had plenty to do without becoming a priest—and her motivations were far from pure faith. Helping the church would boost her family's standing and bring benefits from her ties to Sara. She was trustworthy enough, but not the type to spread the gospel.
Such worries came amid a busy time. If he had to pick another personal concern, it was Sara herself.
"My lord, look at this!"
"A most ridiculous sight. Have you tied your hair into five braids?"
"...You say it's ridiculous, so why aren't you laughing?"
"I cannot fathom your obsession with my laughter. As I have said before, when your greatness reaches the threshold, a smile will naturally grace my lips."
"I know that already. I'm just wondering if there's a way to see it sooner."
"...Is there a reason?"
"I just wanna see it."
"Such brazenness."
Sara pouted and undid her five braids one by one. Wanting to see his smile—what proof that things had grown peaceful lately. If only she put half that energy into her studies.
"Your studies..."
"I'm working hard on 'em!"
"...And church affairs?"
"Those are always top-notch! Standing in front of everyone is fun!"
"At least your cheerfulness is a blessing."
"You bet! I'm Sara Lorojin, symbol of tough-as-weeds vitality!"
She puffed out her chest with such pride. As long as she was thriving like this, no need for nagging. Still, seeing her grow closer to the believers sparked a thought.
"Little Sara, in your eyes, is there anyone among the faithful whose devotion stands out?"
"Huh?"
"The church needs priests to assist. I have tried selecting someone myself, but suitable candidates are scarce."
"Whoa! You're recruiting my crew? Like a family! Finding your right-hand man—wait, my right-hand as your right-hand? That's multi-level!"
"A cheap metaphor. We are not forming a street gang—mind your words. And I am your right hand, not the other way around."
"...Did you just say you're my right hand?"
"Hm?"
"I wanna pat your head. Right-hand man, at your service."
Sara thrust her head forward. Lenoir sighed in admiration at her cunning.
"You led me into saying that. How are you so skilled at petty tricks?"
"Ehehe..."
He wondered if she'd even listened. Stroking her hair, Lenoir continued.
"Observe the believers closely. There may be one among them pure of heart and full of zeal for you."
"Got it!"
Sara replied energetically, then asked, "But if we find believers like that, will it make you happier, my lord?"
"Likely so."
"Then I'll work super hard!"
Sara clenched her fists, burning with resolve.
* * *
Goddess Sara Lorojin. Time for business.
"Got it, right? Orin? Find someone solid."
[Yes...! Believers...!]
"If we find believers, he'll smile. He promised, so we gotta make it happen!"
[Amazing Sara...!]
"...That's a compliment, yeah?"
Sara narrowed her eyes. Lately, Orin had these cryptic moments.
[Yes...! Sara is praiseworthy...!]
"Hm, if that's what it means."
She danced about, so it must be good. But that wasn't the point.
"Priests, huh..."
Sara pondered as she wandered the temple. By now, she'd fully moved out of the borrowed house into the temple dorms. You couldn't live in a rental forever. The new place was plenty nice—far better than her old shack in the Hilton Back Alley, no matter where you put it.
She slipped between the gleaming white pillars, eyeing the people. It was a weekday without services, but folks were still around. Workers from the Pterin guild cleaned the temple. Laborers hustled on the unfinished annex. And above all, devotees visited even on off days.
"Just one big win, Goddess, please!"
Some prayed fervently by the hearths for luck in late-night gambles. Others stopped by on their way, impressed by the light miracle, offering casual prayers.
Sara thought, If I need the most faithful, it's gotta be folks like them, right? The ones who come without handouts seem truer. An easy conclusion with a bit of thought. So she set her plan: pick from these devoted types.
She stared openly. For days, she hid and observed those praying to her.
That's when it happened.
"Oh, it's Uncle Balt!"
A middle-aged man who never missed gatherings or services—Sara even remembered his name. Gambler Balt showed up at the chapel again today. Not just today; lately, he'd visited daily, praying quietly before leaving. Probably for a hot streak, but still, steady as clockwork. Worth a chat.
"Big win yesterday too?"
Sara bounded over, waving excitedly. Balt jolted up, startled.
"Huh? Oh, y-, you're the Goddess."
His smile was awkward. He glanced around to check for others, cheeks flushing, then asked cautiously—half worried, half hopeful.
"...Did you hear my prayer and come?"
Sara tilted her head. "Prayer?"
She felt faith pour in with every prayer these days. But whose or what? No clue. Just that the light in her body grew a rice-grain bigger each day.
Balt smiled, seeming both disappointed and relieved at her confusion.
"Ah, no. Of course. With so many praying to you, Goddess, you can't hear them all."
He turned to leave. But Sara sensed his prayers weren't about gambling wins. Something deeper weighed on him. That realization wiped other thoughts away—like finding priests.
"Wait!"
She grabbed Balt. A familiar neighbor. Always urging folks at gatherings to pray with heart. As human to human, not goddess to believer, she wanted to help if she could. Pure goodwill toward others, as Lenoir always preached. That lived in Sara's heart.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"Where you rushing off to? You've got worries, right? Spill 'em to me!"
"B-but I prayed..."
"Pfft! With all the prayers I get daily, you think I memorize 'em? And what's the biggest difference between us and other churches? Your prayer-hearing Goddess is right here in the temple—bam!"
Lenoir would call that con-artist talk and tell her to speak with more grace. She shoved aside the nagging that still rang in her ears and thumped her chest.
"C'mon, tell me everything!"
She grinned as trustworthy as she could manage. Balt eyed her dubiously, then chuckled.
"Ugh, might be small potatoes to a goddess, but you sure?"
"Totally! Even if it's poop-won't-come-out level worries!"
"W-well... um."
Balt hesitated, choosing words. Sara perked her ears like she was all ears.
Then he said, "Goddess, can you heal the sick?"
"Huh?"
"...My son's been ill. Forever, really."
Sara blinked. "And you gamble every day?"
"...Goddess, will you at least hear me out?"
"Oopsie."
Sara clapped a hand over her mouth and nodded.