Pope Maria Queenpin (7)
Tea time.
The elegant social gathering where noble young ladies gather together, savoring fragrant tea and sweet treats while exchanging graceful conversation.
Something I'd always wanted to try at least once.
But I never imagined it'd happen like this.
And maybe that's why.
I'm ridiculously excited right now.
Sure, one of us is a demon, another is a holy knight in full plate armor clutching her sacred sword.
And the last is a saintess candidate hugging a pillow in her pajamas—an oddly mismatched group.
But whatever. As long as the vibe is good, that's all that matters.
"Tea time? I didn't come here thinking we'd do that…"
"I know, Valoa. You came to apologize to me."
"But why tea time of all things…?"
"If we're going to talk anyway, wouldn't it be nicer in a relaxed atmosphere?"
I have no idea why she was so guarded about whatever it was.
But she mustered the courage to come apologize, so treating her accordingly is only polite.
Besides, she's the top saintess candidate everyone in the Papal State is pinning their hopes on.
"Lady Vivian truly is unpredictable."
Lumina, quietly steeping the tea leaves beside me, murmured softly.
"Why?"
"I never even imagined you'd suggest tea time in a situation like this."
"It doesn't mean anything special. It just popped into my head."
At my nonchalant reply, Lumina gave a faint smile and carefully poured the perfectly brewed tea into our cups.
"Only Lady Vivian could indulge in such bold leisure here in the austere Papal Palace."
"Well, I'm not even a citizen of the Papal State. And above all, I'm a demon."
"…Your pure-heartedness is truly enviable at times, Lady Vivian. I wish I could have that same ease."
Lumina replied softly, gently sliding a steaming teacup toward me.
"But Lady Vivian… Is there some reason you haven't put all the bread on the table?"
Her puzzled question followed.
Lumina tilted her head at the loaves sitting alone in the center of the table.
"And what's that bread you've set aside next to you?"
"Ah, no, that's off-limits. That's for the Goddess."
The moment Lumina finished speaking.
I quickly shielded the stack of bread next to me with my body.
"For the… Goddess?"
"Yeah. Thanks to her, I made it here safely. Going empty-handed would be rude."
"So, in other words, an offering?"
"Less an offering and more like sharing some of the tasty stuff I enjoyed. The meaning's a bit different, maybe."
If not for the Goddess, I'd still be holed up in that abandoned church, too scared to do anything but endure.
Not even noticing how days slipped by.
Just sniffing the same musty mold every day, worrying about my next meal.
Everything I have now is thanks to the Goddess's grace, free of prejudice.
"Ah, I see. I didn't realize…"
"It's just my bedtime routine, so don't worry about it."
For some reason, Lumina's eyes started widening at my casual mutter.
Soon, with clear panic on her face, she asked again.
"Your bedtime routine…? Does that mean you've been offering all the food you've eaten to the Goddess so far?"
"Not all of it—just a portion of whatever I ate that day."
The moment I answered, a strange silence settled around me.
Lumina froze mid-sip, turning to stone.
Beatrice, clutching her pillow, blinked blankly as if she'd forgotten how to breathe.
"Wh-what's wrong…? Is that not okay…?"
"N-no! Of course not!!"
Beatrice snapped out of it first in the suffocating quiet.
She hugged her pillow so tight it nearly crumpled, sliding off the sofa to kneel naturally on the floor.
"I never dared imagine it. Not even the highest priests in the Papal State, not even the archbishops, share such intimate warmth with the Goddess."
She finished in an excited rush, taking a deep breath.
"Now I get it. Why His Holiness fawns over you so much…"
"Intimate warmth? I just shared some of what I enjoyed with the Goddess."
"Isn't that the true meaning of devotion?!"
Beatrice's eyes sparkled like a deer's.
Her gaze locked on me was so intense it felt burdensome.
"We've only offered grand rituals and scripted prayers to the Goddess."
"…"
"But you thought of her in everyday moments and shared your happiness directly!"
"No, that's not why I—"
"Isn't this the purest form of perfect faith?!!"
She wasn't listening at all.
Beatrice's face flushed as she lunged to grab my hand—then flinched back, suddenly remembering something, and hugged her pillow fiercely instead.
"I was a frog in a well. To think a demon could hold such pure faith…"
"Why are you suddenly making this weird…"
"I sincerely apologize for my blasphemy earlier. Please forgive me for judging you solely by your demonic shell!"
What the hell? I just answered casually, and now the mood's gone off the rails.
These people, who perform rituals way fancier than mine, are overreacting like this.
It feels like some high-level backhanded compliment.
"Lady Vivian, do you know of the child born from the Goddess's tears?!"
"…Huh?"
"The child born from the Goddess's tears. It's a legend whispered secretly in the lower village."
As the atmosphere grew weirder, making it hard to keep up.
Beatrice dropped an unexpected bombshell that perked up my ears.
"A blasphemous legend, taboo to even mention outside the lower village."
She whispered quietly, narrowing her eyes slightly.
"When peace-blinded humans lose faith, and the world fills with impure energies again…"
"I know. I just came back from the lower village."
At my offhand reply, Beatrice shut her mouth and pursed her lips in bewilderment.
She forced an awkward smile, fiddling with her hair unnecessarily.
"R-really? Ah, so that's why you came back late…?"
"Yeah. Got this bread from there too."
"Y-you should've told me sooner…"
"Didn't expect it to come up here."
Beatrice buried half her face in the pillow, chuckling awkwardly.
She glanced sideways, trying to steer the conversation naturally.
"A-anyway… Seeing you makes me think that legend isn't just fantasy."
"Just to be clear, I'm not the child born from the Goddess's tears."
"…Huh? How did you know I was about to say that?"
Beatrice blinked blankly, as if caught off guard.
I half-suspected, but damn, she really was going there.
That could've gotten even more embarrassing.
"I'm not that child. I'm just a demon."
"But your pure faith is obvious to anyone…"
"Pure coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less."
I'm just a lucky demon who got picked by the Goddess and can use holy magic.
Why is everyone so desperate to make me that tear-born kid?
"Anyway, how do you know that story, Valoa?"
"Huh?"
"It's taboo outside the lower village. As a saintess candidate, you wouldn't have heard it."
At my blunt question, Beatrice clamped her mouth shut and blinked vacantly.
But only for a moment—
"Hehe, it's a bit embarrassing to admit now, but… I'm actually from the lower village."
Her unexpected confession slipped out softly.
"Until a few years ago, I lived there ordinarily."
Lumina froze too, gripping her teacup—it was news to her as well.
"No way. You have holy power."
"Precisely, I had it, but it hadn't awakened."
"Then how did you become a saintess candidate…?"
At my cautious question, Beatrice hugged her pillow tighter.
After a pause, she gave a wry smile over the pillow and continued calmly.
"The archbishop happened to discover me growing like a weed in the lower village."
"…"
"What I held wasn't scripture, but a handful of wild strawberries fresh from the forest."
Thus began Beatrice's backstory.
The mood sank heavily in an instant.
"He said my lack was a thirst, and that thirst was the most primal faith toward the Goddess."
Lumina and I clutched our teacups, holding our breath to listen.
"He took me in as an adopted daughter of the Valoa family and placed me as a saintess candidate."
With that quiet line.
Beatrice slowly lifted her face from the pillow and stared blankly at the bread on the table.
"The archbishop wants me to become the saintess more than anyone. I don't know his motives, but to repay his grace, I have to become one somehow."
Her words tumbled out flatly, ringing strangely hollow.
Like watching a puppet moved by others' strings, not her own will.
"But that ambition ends today. Someone far more perfect and amazing than me has appeared."
"Valoa…"
Her resigned murmur followed.
The moment she carefully opened her mouth to explain—or not.
- Creaaaaak…
The firmly shut door groaned eerily, slowly creaking open.
"Excluding just me… what fun story are you all having without me…?"
A chilling silence passed.
Then, from the sliver of the door, a cold whisper drifted in.
Beyond the dark gap, sad eyes gleamed faintly.
The voice belonged to none other than… Pope Queenpin.
"Is it something I shouldn't hear…?"