The Demon's Curse (2)
"What should I get?"
The menu was far more extensive than I'd expected, and I couldn't quite decide. It wasn't as if I'd never tasted coffee before — but the stuff I'd drunk in my previous life, steeped as those days had been in madness, would surely taste different from whatever they served here.
The girls had each dressed in clothes that suited their personalities, and the change only made them more striking. Besia, who usually wore priestly vestments, stood out the most in ordinary street clothes. Fran had gone for something cute, true to her style. And Raeli, who hated anything restrictive, had shown up in a short-sleeved top and shorts.
While I was still taking in their outfits, Besia offered a recommendation.
"Try the espresso."
"Young master, that one's terribly bit—"
"Just trust me and try it, okay?"
Caron had started to say something, but Raeli, sitting beside her, promptly clamped a hand over her mouth.
She's going to suffocate Caron at this rate, Raeli.
Even Fran, who surely knew more about coffee than the rest of us combined, was staying conspicuously quiet. Had they planned this?
"...I'll give it a try."
"Excellent choice."
It was listed on the menu, so it couldn't be completely undrinkable. With the orders placed, I decided it was time to bring up what I'd actually come here to discuss. I had a lot of questions for Besia.
"How much do you know about the Hero?"
"Huh? About as much as anyone else, I guess?"
"Then can you tell me how a Hero is chosen, and how they're trained?"
My reason for asking about the Hero was simple. Right up until the royal family collapsed, she had trusted them completely. She would have known that the crown prince had driven exam candidates into the forest — that people had died because of it. And yet she never suspected them?
There had to be a reason. Brainwashing, some justification the royals had fed her — one of any number of possibilities.
"Well, Heroes are chosen by oracle and raised by the Church from childhood. And this generation's Hero is an orphan, so the Church is basically her home."
I'd expected as much, but a system like that would have left the Hero deeply trusting of — or dependent on — the Church. She'd grown up there from childhood. The people who'd raised her, who were practically her parents, were all Church officials. Of course she'd trust them.
Even so, it wouldn't have been a problem if the Church itself were still faithful.
...But the Church as it stood now was suspect.
Bishop Revega had made no secret of his desire to root out Ambrosia, and yet the Church as a whole had barely reacted. That could only mean the rot started from within. The Church might have colluded with the royal family. In the worst case, they might even have struck a deal with the Demon King.
Which meant the Hero may have trusted the royals simply because a corrupted Church told her to.
"Your coffee is ready."
The server set down our drinks and desserts. One thing stood out immediately: the girls had all received enormous cups, while mine was tiny.
So this was espresso.
Feeling their expectant stares, I took a sip.
And immediately grimaced.
This wasn't coffee. This was poison. It was just bitterly, unrelentingly foul.
I shot Besia a look that said, quite plainly, why the hell would you recommend this? She burst into a peal of laughter.
"Pff— pfft, well? Not a fan?"
"It's not a matter of taste. Is this even something people drink?"
"This'll be better for a beginner. Here, try mine."
Fran held out her own drink. It had whipped cream piled on top and looked thoroughly sweet. I took a sip through the straw, and the sugary granules that rose from the bottom were genuinely delicious.
When I handed the cup back, Fran's face had gone faintly pink.
...Don't tell me it's because we shared a straw?
I really didn't get it.
"It's good."
"Want to order one of those? We've got plenty of money, after all."
Raeli flashed the check she'd received from the Sword Saint. She wasn't wrong — it was an absurd amount of money for a student to be carrying.
Fran immediately launched an assault on Raeli's spending habits.
"Didn't you say you were sending that home to help your family?"
"Ahem. I sent half. The other half is my living expenses."
"Living expenses? That's enough money to buy a house. Are you really going to throw it around like that? How do you expect to become a respectable person?"
"It's my money, I'll spend it however I want!"
I watched the two of them bicker and let my thoughts turn to what came next.
Two things mattered above all else.
First: I had to reach Transcendence.
That was the minimum requirement for killing the Demon King. The problem was that last time, I'd gotten there through every dirty shortcut imaginable — demonic contracts, shamanic rites, methods that had left my body in tatters. I couldn't use any of those now. If I could help it, I needed to climb the stairs properly this time.
Two paths were open to me: black mage, or mage.
But I could hardly become a black mage in front of a Hero who despised them. Right now I was only a half-measure — borrowing Magi from a dagger — and I could still talk my way out of that. The moment I formed a circle of Magi inside my body, it would be over.
So, become a mage instead?
It would be a path I'd never walked before, but I already knew the secrets of reaching a mage's peak. That was a considerable advantage. Becoming a mage was an appealing option.
The catch was that the moment I chose that path, I'd lose access to black magic. One of my strongest weapons, gone. If I could just solve that problem, I'd carve a mana circle into my body without a second thought. But it was a genuinely difficult problem.
And second: the Hero's strength.
Ordinarily, a Hero reaching Transcendence was simply the natural order of things. Receiving the Holy Sword was the turning point. Which meant I had to stop her from receiving it.
That was anything but easy.
I'd even considered killing the Hero outright, but it would have been pointless. The Demon King possessed an authority called the Rule of Exception — the power to ignore the very laws of the Scales she herself had established. If the Hero died and the Scales demanded the Demon King's life in turn, she would simply invoke that authority and walk away.
And even if I somehow prevented the Hero from reaching Transcendence, a host of other problems would remain. If the Hero never became a Transcendent, who would take down the Demon King's executives? Her companions would have to do it — and our current forces weren't enough. A freshly minted Transcendent was still a novice. The Demon King's executives were veterans who had been rotting at that level for a hundred years.
So I needed to strengthen our side.
The promising talents who'd survived this time came to mind. Every one of them had considerable gift, and the courage to throw their own bodies at a high-ranking demon was something worth respecting. There was a reason the Demon King had tried to kill more than half of them.
They were worth cultivating. I was sure of it.
I'd been so absorbed in my thoughts that I'd drained my coffee without noticing. The new one, that is. The espresso sat abandoned in the corner, gone cold.
Besia shot to her feet.
"Alright, let's go somewhere else!"
"Is there somewhere worth going?"
"The area right next to the Academy is a holy district. It's all set up for students to hang out. Everything you'd want is there."
Grinning, she stood and started for the door.
...And how, exactly, do you know that so well?
Was this really a priestess who'd spent her life in abstinence?
"I used to sneak out of the Church all the time to go play. You think I'd forget how?"
"I don't think that's something to be proud of."
"The other priests were always jealous when I told them."
I followed Besia out. Naturally, my body still wasn't in any condition to walk on its own — I needed someone to lean on. Ordinarily that would have been Caron's job, but Fran and Raeli piled in as well.
"Fran, you're too short. Argal's uncomfortable like that."
"Nngh— would you stop attacking people's weak points?"
"...I shall attend to him, young master."
After a thoroughly pointless scuffle, Caron was the one who won the right to support me.
The moment we stepped outside, rain was already falling — a steady, drumming downpour. Besia stared blankly up at the shower pouring from the sky. Fran, who apparently couldn't leave the house without her witch's hat even in casual clothes, gripped the brim and watched the rain come down.
"Was it supposed to rain today?"
"Ugh, we didn't buy umbrellas. Should we just go out in it?"
"...There's a patient right here. What if he catches a cold?"
Catch a cold from a little rain? Would I, though? My body was so frail I honestly couldn't say.
Fran threw herself out into the rain without hesitation.
"I'll just go buy some umbrellas!"
"Fran, are you going to be okay in that?"
"This hat's waterproof!"
...That hat was more versatile than I'd given it credit for.
"I'll go too!"
"Raeli, you don't even have a waterproof hat."
"It's fine! If I run fast enough, I won't get wet!"
...And with that bizarre logic, Raeli bolted out after her.
"I-I'll go as well!"
Even Caron took off, determined to buy umbrellas.
I watched the three girls already disappearing into the distance. Beside me, Besia said something strange. Still staring at the rain pouring down, she voiced a worry that didn't seem to have anywhere to go.
"Something feels ominous."
"Ominous?"
Besia turned her gaze. No matter where you looked, dark clouds blanketed the entire area around the Academy. Even when I shifted my eyes elsewhere, there wasn't a single place the rain wasn't falling.
"...Just a priestess's intuition, maybe."
"That kind of intuition usually only triggers for Magi, doesn't it?"
"Maybe because it feels a little like Magi?"
Besia turned her eyes toward me, looking puzzled. She stepped closer and leaned in, nose first, to take a sniff.
"It's not the scent of Magi coming off you, though."
"...That would make sense."
I'd been unconscious the whole time. No reason to use black magic. The faint trace of Magi that usually clung to me would have evaporated long ago.
But Besia gave a small laugh and named something that wasn't Magi at all.
"There's a different scent on you, though."
...A scent on me.
Had I been washing that thoroughly?
Besia drew quietly closer — perhaps to settle the unease she felt — and breathed in that scent again and again.