Sulky Sara Lorojin (2)
The ranks of the Goddess Church swelled. From two members to four—a precise doubling, given the tiny base they started with.
Balt spent his days in a frenzy, learning the ropes of priesthood. He mostly trailed after Rnier Pterin, absorbing how the temple operated, which meant he often joined Sara's lessons too, rubbing shoulders with her plenty. As a fellow member, he'd grown close to the others.
Joseph, by contrast, spent most of his time with Lenoir Astirnus. Apostle training demanded it. Before diving into anything grand, they focused on basics like reading and writing—and things were going smoothly already. At the very least, Lenoir seemed immensely pleased with him.
"Correct again. You learn with remarkable speed."
"Really?"
"Indeed. Your aptitude ranks among the highest of any I've taught. But what satisfies me even more is your thirst for knowledge. You may take pride in it."
These weren't empty words. Joseph approached learning with genuine fervor—laser-focused, sharp-minded, progressing at a blistering pace.
He had no idea, but the students Lenoir referenced were history's legendary heroes. To hold his own against them was no small talent. How had such a gem rolled in by chance? No such wonder crossed Lenoir's mind.
'A soul marked by fate.'
Born with mana addiction meant possessing a vessel fit for an apostle. It would be stranger if someone like that turned out ordinary. The boy had shown promise from the start, and exceeding expectations was just icing. That was Lenoir's assessment.
One addendum: Joseph struck him as especially fine. His studious passion stood in stark contrast to the last pupil he'd taught.
"If only the goddess showed half your zeal."
"Haha..."
"Once your studies align, we'll hold lessons together. She could stand to learn from your example."
Lenoir sighed faintly, picturing Sara, who'd ditched class again today to who-knows-where. Her mind was sharp enough, but she wasted it on petty schemes, slowing her cultural studies to a crawl. It got him thinking: maybe a wholesome rival to spur her on.
That was a side benefit, though—for later.
"That's enough for today."
"Yes, thank you, Master!"
"Enough. Come back if you have more questions."
"Yes!"
Lenoir's hand twitched toward the boy's head out of habit, then froze. Stroking someone else's hair without permission wasn't seemly. Instead, he clapped Joseph's shoulder.
Joseph beamed brightly, bowed, and vanished.
Suddenly, it hit Lenoir.
'Contact with a human first...'
It had been ages.
Sara's days were a whirlwind. Time studying math as the church's goddess. Time tending to the occasional believers. Time for hobbies. Time bonding with the temple's inaugural priest. No breathing room.
Today was no different.
"Balt, you didn't palm that card, did you?"
"Come on, how could I pull that in front of the goddess herself? You're treating me like some lifelong mark."
"You did. Totally did."
To Sara, Balt was a rare friend who matched her vibe. Same back-alley roots, plus gambling as their shared vice. They'd play cards for pocket change now and then—sometimes just the two of them, sometimes dragging Rnier in for three. Church team-building, basically.
Flip cards, despair, cheer. Before they knew it, dusk had fallen.
"Whoops, dinnertime."
"Joseph's lessons must be wrapping up. Alright, goddess, I'll handle cleanup."
"Sure thing! See ya tomorrow!"
Sara waved wildly, bidding Balt farewell, then headed for the temple annex. Separate from the priests' dorms, it was her private spot. Only Lenoir lived there with her—one of the few places they could relax together.
Thinking about it pursed her lips.
"All that dignity nonsense."
[Sara...! Dignity doesn't matter...!]
"Right! Sincerity's what counts. Sincerity~"
Around outsiders, Lenoir heaped extra formality on her—for hierarchy's sake. But it chafed Sara. Felt like distance creeping in. She preferred their space: her whining freely, him sighing but indulging her.
Heading there now lifted her mood. But only briefly.
She froze.
Her face went blank.
"You've worked hard. Rest well."
"Yes, you too, Master—have a peaceful night!"
"Good. And no reading late. Your zeal is praiseworthy, but I worry for your health."
"Hehe, I'll make sure not to worry you!"
Round the corner: Lenoir and Joseph.
She knew they spent days together for apostle training. But not this vibe.
Shed-bound invalid Joseph, she'd figured, would buckle under the pressure but toughen up.
Wrong.
Lenoir was patting his shoulder. Joseph grinned radiantly. Anyone would call it brotherly warmth.
For some reason, Sara couldn't look away.
In a rather sour way.
'Hand on? Hand on? Hand on? Hand on?'
Her gut boiled. She wanted to scream ownership over that hand.
Even as Joseph bowed and left, Sara lurked behind a pillar, glaring daggers at Lenoir.
Until he sighed and called.
"Little Sara. What on earth are you doing there?"
"...My lord, my heart feels like it's tearing apart."
"Truly, I cannot fathom the reason."
Sara's world crumbled.
Sara had been blissfully content lately. But afterward, tiny cracks spiderwebbed her routine. No external issues—just a nagging disconnect.
What was it? She'd answer without hesitation.
One word from Lenoir's lips.
"Joseph's math is progressing swiftly. He might join your classes soon."
"Joseph has surprising depth in poetry. Some of his questions revealed real insight..."
"Joseph asked about theology..."
"Joseph..."
Joseph, Joseph, Joseph. The church's first apostle-in-making—a 12-year-old boy, sickly till recently, now thriving.
Even in their private time, Lenoir brought him up. Even at end-of-day dinners, swapping stories, Joseph snuck in.
Sara liked Joseph plenty. Son of Balt aside, he was friendly, kind, always flashing cheerful smiles in passing.
But no more.
"My lord, why talk about Joseph when you're with me...?"
"...I'm telling you because it's you. He's your apostle."
"But it hurts! Thinking you're focusing on him over me makes me sad! Like a hole punched through my heart!"
"Perhaps a pang of conscience? Little Sara, you skipped class again today."
"Urk!"
Her heart really did feel shredded. She mulled the emotion endlessly, then it hit her.
"This is that 'despair of the wife robbed of her husband's love by the concubine' Selbes talked about!"
"...I haven't the foggiest what misunderstanding this is, but it's certainly one."
Sara's eyes flashed. She'd heard it once.
"No way! It's no misunderstanding! Selbes said it: when you realize the love you got is going elsewhere, despair stabs like a sword!"
"Quite the florid phrasing."
"She said the signs are obvious! Men sneaking affairs with maids always casually mention their new favorite!"
"Joseph isn't a maid. Nor are you my wife. And I'm no patriarch. Little Sara, nothing fits."
"But your praise is mine! Joseph's hogging it all!"
"Odd way to put it. Do praiseworthy things, and I'll praise you still. Skip fewer classes, and you'll earn it easier. Your bar's lower."
"Liar! You think he deserves it more inside."
"..."
"...My lord, why aren't you denying it?"
Sara halted mid-rant. Lenoir had paused at her last jab.
That instant.
"...By conduct alone, yes—Joseph is upright and diligent."
"H-how can you say that...!"
She clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Y-you said you couldn't live without me! That I'm the best!"
"...?"
Present goddess Sara Lorojin sensed acute crisis in her bond with Lenoir.
"Little Sara, what in the world is going on in that head of yours?"
She was the only one feeling it.