Even Without Grand Salvation (3)
It was utterly absurd for her to ask to borrow money right off the bat, even if it wasn't some grand act of salvation. Separately from that, after hearing the story, Lenoir thought to himself that he must first teach little Sara how to clearly state her business.
That was one matter; another was this.
"One of the faithful has a son suffering from mana addiction. A great sum is needed to treat the child. Such is the tale."
"Yes! It's that Uncle Balt you know too, milord! He prays so fervently during services and even comes separately on weekdays to pray!"
He knew the latter part was meant to persuade him. Whether the man prayed diligently probably mattered little to Sara. Her pure desire to help was commendable. The sense of responsibility to answer a believer's prayers was a virtue every goddess must possess.
But let us consider the practical side.
"Indeed, as you thought, pouring a fortune into turning him into a mage would cure the illness. There are countless other ways in this world to raise one's mana aptitude."
"Right!? If we can just keep him alive somehow...!"
"But little Sara. Could that truly be the answer?"
Sara froze abruptly. She seemed not to understand, which was natural in some ways. She was a child with grand, kind dreams, yet utterly ignorant of the world. Her experience was still too shallow to grasp how high the walls of reality truly stood.
"Pardon?"
"We can surely help one. If that man Balt and his son become faithful through your aid, they will be most devout. The grace of salvation is such, and being the benefactor of one's child only heightens its worth."
Yet those were not the only ones Sara needed to care for.
"One we can save. You are a child good with numbers, so you will surely repay the debt you owe me somehow. All would be perfect. If only that man Balt were the sole one harboring such hopes."
Sara's expression clouded over. She seemed to grasp his words at last.
"...You mean we can't save everyone that way."
"Yes. The families of all those afflicted with mana addiction will hear the rumors and come seeking answers from the goddess's church. You lack the resources to save them all by the same method. It cannot be helped. But to them, it will be different."
This was one reason Lenoir despised humans.
"They will resent you: why save that man's family but not ours? Whether it is reasonable matters not. Anger lost without direction easily finds a target for hatred."
Sara would grieve deeply over it, feeling guilty. It was plainly unnecessary, but pure goodwill was like gazing upon the sorrow of the hand that wields the sword even as it pierces one's own heart. Just as Lenoir's soul, yearning for Sara's happiness, could foresee it as an inevitable truth.
Lenoir did not wish to see her so.
"We cannot save them all. Yet what will happen is plain, so it may be wise not to create a chain of malice needlessly."
Sara visibly drooped. Lenoir's heart was unwell too.
"If the authority dwelling within you grows greater, the story changes. Your potential is the power to definitively draw the most beautiful future. Granting respite until that day could be a way."
He offered comfort. It was then.
"...I understand."
"What do you?"
"Pushing through with money alone won't work."
A glint entered Lenoir's eyes. He sensed fervor from Sara.
"Will you seek another way? Without giving up."
"Huh? Of course! I already swore on the goddess's name! It's a matter of the church's credibility!"
Sara put strength into her eyes.
"You're right. If I rack up a huge debt, it'll be tough for me, and Uncle Balt would feel bad too. Hmm, I jumped the gun."
She nodded vigorously, then said,
"I'll handle it with my own money! Covering the medicine costs should do it! Full cure can wait!"
She grinned broadly. The dark cloud over Sara's face vanished completely in that moment.
Lenoir said,
"In the end, it eats at your own flesh."
"It doesn't."
"Is it not the coin purse you cherished so? I already know the gold and silver within are your treasures."
"Of course they're precious! But money's just money."
Sara stroked the pouch at her waist and said,
"Since you praise me for spending it, the coin purse is my praise savings box. I can bear the loss if I get praise in return."
"For such a trifling reason?"
"It's not trifling!"
Firmly, Sara declared. It was exactly what Lenoir had longed to hear.
"You know, a goddess who can't perform miracles can't be worthy of worship. It's not that the goddess is great so she works miracles—it's that the miracles are great, so we worship her."
Sara glanced at Orin.
"It'd just add one more pitiful soul. She'd be so lonely."
Orin leaned his head against Sara. She giggled, tickled.
Lenoir felt a refreshing clarity. It was the right answer.
What mattered most was the heart. Miracles arose from goodwill. A god's greatness was not born from wielding miracles, but from bestowing them with love.
Encountering such truths was Lenoir's joy. He was not wrong. They were on the right path. At this road's end lay surely a beautiful world beneath the goddess's radiance.
That was why he could think such things.
Only after scooping Orin into her palm did Sara catch her breath. She seemed fully recovered. Lenoir stroked her hair.
"Little Sara. You are such a tomboy, yet so chaste."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"It means I am exceedingly proud of you."
Sara blinked. Then she beamed.
"Heehee, that makes me proud! Your praise always sounds good."
She thrust her head forward as if demanding more, her stride bold enough to pierce his solar plexus with her crown. Of course, Sara lacked the strength for that.
Lenoir said,
"Go on your way. If you ponder what you can do and find the answer yourself, that alone holds great meaning."
"Yes! I'll be back!"
"Yes. And stop sniffing my scent."
"But milord, you smell so good right now! Super sweet!"
"Joy makes it so, perhaps."
"So don't I deserve sniffing rights for making you happy?!?!?"
"No."
He pushed her away gently. Even straining, Sara could not resist.
"Eeeek!"
Her face soured in an instant—never had peace been so fleeting. How she crossed so easily between solemnity and levity was a mystery. But he felt no worry.
Mana addiction, Sara's presence. The mindset to face the end. All was prepared. Voicing it would only impose intent and hinder, so he held his tongue, but good news would come soon.
The plan to crush the illness with a fortune and cure it outright had failed. But the talk with Lenoir taught Sara much. She knew what to do.
Thus, early one morning, Sara finished preparing, dressed properly, and was about to leave the church.
Lenoir saw her off.
"You go today?"
"Yes!"
"You have settled firmly on what and how?"
"Um, probably!"
Sara clutched the pouch in her bosom dearly. Her gaze turned to Lenoir. He was always in the same place.
Yet to Sara, Lenoir was a new person every day.
She still remembered her life before meeting him.
"I thought about it all night."
"Speak."
"I don't think salvation has to be grand."
Sara Lorojin, scraping by as a street trickster haunting Hilton's back alleys, had been just another unremarkable girl. One who could vanish without a soul noticing.
She had never thought tomorrow might bring anticipation. Survival till today was blessing enough.
For such a Sara, what was salvation? If asked, it was Lenoir.
But not his miracle driving off the Orin cult threatening Hilton.
"When I first met you, milord, I started looking forward to tomorrow—meeting you every day."
In that short time, chats with Lenoir—who tossed her a silver or two, asked questions, and left—had been joys. Knowing she'd see him tomorrow let her sleep smiling. Only then did Sara's todays gain tomorrows.
So,
"Even if nothing amazing happens right now, if tomorrow feels worth waiting for—isn't that a miracle?"
For Balt, for his son. The illness gnawed at their hearts. What they needed now wasn't a miraculous today, but faith in a better tomorrow.
"I'll be back!"
Sara waved and strode confidently from the temple. It was a refreshingly clear day, as if her chest had opened wide.