Stained Glass
The dawn filtering through the pillows tickles my eyes.
I didn't get a single wink of sleep last night.
I spent the night pacing around the room like a lunatic, repeatedly lying down on the bed only to get right back up.
Insomnia is a far bigger pain in the ass than any nightmare.
To make matters worse, I just ran out of cigarettes.
Misfortune always cascades all at once, like falling dominoes.
First, I need to sleep. Right now.
With my head in this cluttered state, anything I do will feel like hell.
I walked over to the sink to wash my face, and, out of habit, smashed the mirror.
Shatter.
My reflection is no longer clear.
It is broken beyond recognition, leaving not even a trace of my form.
Looking at the shattered shards of glass that obscured my features, I calmed down slightly.
"Alcohol. Let's get some alcohol first. No, I should stop by the general store first to buy cigarettes..."
Because of the season, the sun rises rapidly.
The clear sunlight filtering through the window slowly fills the room.
Staring at the light—which I used to loathe even having touch my skin—I finally thought of Mace.
I carelessly stuffed myself into the school uniform I pulled from the wardrobe.
A button popped off from a loose thread and rolled across the floor.
As I bent down to pick it up, I caught a whiff of the air near the floor and realized something.
...I had forgotten to leave the window open.
The moment I lifted my head from the pillow, the sharp, piercing scent of tuberose assaulted my nose.
In an instant, all my motivation evaporated.
Should I just hang myself right now?
But to buy a rope, I would have to go outside.
And thinking about using a dull knife only makes me swear.
Still dressed in my uniform, I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a long time.
Looking at a rotting wooden plank in the corner somehow calms my mind.
You're my new mirror now, I guess.
No. I can commit suicide whenever I want.
It won't be too late to die after I've tried everything within my reach, for better or worse.
Too lazy to even open the door properly, I kicked it open and stepped outside.
The cold wind, which had felt so refreshing on my way home yesterday, now only disgusts me by reminding me of Giselle's warmth.
Since it is still early, there are no students heading toward the Academy.
Walking without the aid of cigarettes or alcohol makes the journey feel incredibly long.
My body screams for sleep, but my mind is sharp, making my steps stumble.
After walking for what feels like forever, I finally reach the annex where the Prayer Room is located.
With no one around, the annex is quieter than usual, and only the sound of my footsteps echoes through the halls.
If anyone saw me right now, they would surely mistake me for one of the beggars under the bridge.
After all, the person I briefly glimpsed in the mirror had bloodshot, hollow eyes.
I dragged my sluggish body past the empty classrooms.
I spot glass shining in colors as vibrant as crayons.
That place, glittering with stained glass, must be the Prayer Room.
I opened the arched door and stepped inside.
Through the door, flung open without a knock or a greeting, I see the interior of the Prayer Room, looking even shabbier than I remembered.
But Mace is nowhere to be seen.
Only a crucifix, slightly different from the one I know but shaped just like the one around Mace's neck, hangs solitary in the center, as if mocking me.
An immediate sense of futility threatens to consume me, so I sink onto a nearby pew.
Right next to me, Mace, dressed in her pajamas, is fast asleep and snoring softly.
"Ha..."
I feel like I could develop faith out of nowhere.
Who else but the person who reaches out to you when you need salvation could be called a savior?
I shook the shoulder of Mace, who lay covered in a thin sheet with an expression of pure bliss, as if she had reached paradise.
"...Huh?"
"Air raid! Air raid!"
"Aaaagh!! Mobilize all military forces!!!"
Mace bolted upright with a shriek, staring at me with a dazed, bewildered expression.
Her half-asleep eyes were still blurry.
"A dream...?"
"Unfortunately, it's reality."
"What time is it..."
Mace said, wiping the drool from the corner of her mouth.
I rubbed away the spot she missed with my finger as I answered.
She smells savory, like a puppy. Maybe she resembles a puppy more than a bird.
"I don't know. But it might as well be dawn."
"Mr. Ain...? Uh... it's a bit too early for a nap..."
I leaned back further into the pew.
The tension that had stiffly wrapped around my entire body melts away in an instant.
"If I sleep like this until evening, wouldn't that count as a nap?"
"You're so unreasonable..."
"I just came a bit early because you told me not to be late."
"This isn't just 'a bit'..."
Mace kept rubbing her eyes, trying to wake herself up.
I gently pulled her hands away from her eyes.
"Sorry for waking you. You can go back to sleep. Just... let me sleep here for a bit? I don't think I can make it to class."
"Oh... That's fine, but..."
My reflection filled Mace's blue eyes.
Her blurry eyes cleared up instantly, and her face contorted in shock.
"Your complexion... why, what's wrong with you...?"
"I didn't sleep a wink. Feel like I'm gonna die."
"Your eyes... they look just like that person who was receiving blessings under the bridge yesterday..."
"Say whatever you want. I'm going to sleep now."
I sprawled out right next to Mace without even taking off my shoes.
This is the first time I've slept in a place shabbier than my own bed.
Even a military tent pitched on a battlefield would probably be easier to sleep in than this.
Yet, my eyes are already beginning to slide shut.
Even though my eyelids usually refuse to close no matter how many bottles of alcohol I pour down my throat.
It has been a very long time since I slept in the morning without the smell of cigarettes or alcohol.
I didn't dream.
When I wake up, the image in the stained glass catches my eye more clearly than before.
Ah, so that was the Assumption.
I guess a myth about the assumption of a holy figure exists in this world's religion as well.
"Well, it's just a world created by humans in the first place. It's bound to resemble reality in some way."
I don't have a deep understanding of religion, but I've visited the parish a few times with Iris.
Watching the clergy, I used to wonder why they went out of their way to suffer like that.
I figured they were probably atoning for some unspeakable, heinous crime they committed in their past lives.
Meanwhile, Mace, who had changed back into her habit at some point, was humming a tune while naturally letting me use her lap as a pillow.
This woman must have sold out her country in her past life.
Seeing how she's being tormented like this by someone she only met yesterday.
"...How long did I sleep?"
Having opened my mouth without any water or alcohol, my throat feels as dry and cracked as a desert.
My mind is also unusually clear, which feels a bit strange.
However, perhaps thanks to the soft thighs resting against the back of my head, I don't feel much pain overall.
Mace looked down at me, folding a few of her fingers without stopping her humming.
"...Six hours?"
Mace simply smiled with her eyes and continued to hum.
Perhaps due to the poor soundproofing of the shabby Prayer Room, I can hear the sounds of a few students passing by outside.
"What about class...?"
"I took a leave of absence!"
"Crazy..."
It was a wonderful answer that chased away my sleepiness in an instant.
"You haven't been staying like this the whole time, have you...?"
"Oh, Mr. Ain, of course not."
That's a relief. I absolutely hate owing debts I can't repay.
Even though what I've received so far is already a massive favor, as long as I didn't completely ruin someone else's precious day...
"It's only been about five hours. I needed time to submit the leave request, wash up, and change my clothes!"
"Sigh..."
Since I can just die later anyway, let's try to take it a bit easy.
For now, I'll just fully enjoy the sensation of Mace's lap pillow.
"...It seems your plans for last night didn't go as expected."
She seems to remember me saying I was going to a tavern.
If I had just holed up in the tavern, Mace would be teaching her class normally right now.
Thinking of the scent that must still linger in my house makes my head ache again.
"I ended up making the worst possible choice. I realized all too clearly that it's best to never do things you don't normally do."
"I'm a bit hurt. Attending my Divinity class must have been something you don't normally do either, Mr. Ain."
"I didn't mean it like that..."
Mace pinches my cheek lightly with a smile.
The warmth touching my dry skin washes away the chill I felt yesterday.
Now that the alcohol has completely worn off, all my bodily senses are painfully vivid.
"If your mind is troubled, would you like to make a confession? We only have a makeshift confessional, though."
As she spoke, Mace pointed with her fingertip to a cloth-draped box in the corner of the Prayer Room.
It is smaller than the bathroom in my cramped room.
I doubt two people could even fit inside.
"You go inside, Mr. Ain, and I'll listen from the outside."
Her expression is not her usual playful one, but the one she makes when she wants me to keep holding on.
Looking at her now, she seems to bear a slight resemblance to the figure depicted in the stained glass.
She is looking down at me, still resting on her lap, as if reading an open book.
"...I have no sins to confess. Surprisingly, I'm not a sinner."
"Actually, it's just counseling. Calling it a confession is just fancy wording."
Is that really something that should come out of a nun's mouth?
My doubts about Mace's piety grow even deeper.
"...Then, will you make me a promise?"
"Tell me anything."
"Once I step out of the confessional, never. Never treat me based on what I said in there."
"Yes. I promise. Shall we start right away?"
I got up from Mace's lap and slowly walked into the confessional—which was really just a box.
The musty air feels somewhat familiar.
Perhaps I am the first person to use it, as the chair is covered in a thick layer of dust.
I roughly brushed off the chair with my hand and sat down.
Judging by the creaking sound, it might have collapsed if someone even slightly heavier than me had entered.
Through the frayed cloth, I can catch a glimpse of Mace making the sign of the cross.
Shouldn't a confessional block the view completely?
I decided to just keep my mind as relaxed as possible, like before.
After all, it is precisely this kind of laxity that might strip away the layers of pretense from my heart.
"I must ask. Have you ever made a confession before?"
Her voice is still like a chirping bird, but it carries a hint of solemnity.
It is probably part of the ritual.
"Never."
I played along with Mace's routine.
Having seen solemn attitudes all day long in my family, I am more than confident in handling them.
Mace remains silent. The interior of the Prayer Room is quiet.
I suppose I should speak of my 'sins' now.
Though in my case, it is merely venting my troubles.
"...I met the person who abandoned me, Ain Magnolia. Yesterday, at my house. No, starting from the front of the Academy."
Mace still does not answer, remaining quiet. She merely keeps her hands clasped in front of her chest.
I continued speaking, letting the words spill out as they came to mind.
"I was abandoned. I was abandoned without knowing any reason. I was cast out. I was cast out without hearing a single word. I knelt at their feet and begged to be taken back. Only cold contempt returned."
"What did you feel?"
Mace's response finally came. However, it was in that familiar tone of hers—one that does not judge, but merely asks.
"I wanted to cry, but here... this place was dry."
I thumped my chest as I spoke. No sound came from my empty chest.
"Only anger remains. An aimless anger that only drives me into a pit I do not know."
"But Ain. You are crying."
Something trickles down my cheek.
The weather outside must be even clearer than yesterday.
Nothing should be able to enter through this solid, unpierced ceiling.
"Among those who abandoned me, I met the one who held the largest place in my heart. She still didn't tell me any reason. It felt like talking to a wall, but at least a wall would break if I struck it..."
My voice begins to crack.
Once again, I've caught Iris's terrible habit of speaking.
This must be some kind of genetic disease.
"Was what I... what I wished for... such a great sin that I shouldn't have even dared to hope for it, Sister?"
"No, Ain. It isn't."
Mace's hand reaches through the cloth, caressing my wet face.
"That lingering scent... that smell... that fragrance torments me, regardless of my will."
"It must have been painful."
"That pain tramples over every single moment of my life."
"You were in so much pain."
I can admit it now. I was sobbing.
I stained Mace's hand with tears that were filthier than sewage.
I simply leaned against the hand that silently listened to my words, and wept.