The Hero's Memory
"Damn those hero bastards."
The Pope was ready to tear his hair out. He'd been enjoying a pleasant time in his chambers when frantic calls from the nuns sent him rushing over, only to find the hero and Sister Angelica locked in a standoff. Thankfully, invoking the name of the Lord had halted the fight, but that was the limit of what divine authority could achieve. The hero and Sister Angelica glared at each other, teeth grinding in fury.
Hah... At this point, the best course was to hand that Sirmiia girl off to someone—anyone—as quickly as possible. But whose side should he take? One of them was a dragon he'd known since childhood.
"Ferdinand, from now on, you must always show respect to the nun you are about to meet."
"What? What respect? You're a cardinal, Father. Why show respect to some mere nun?"
"You fool!"
"Ow! Why'd you hit me?"
"That woman is no ordinary nun."
"Is she royalty or something?"
"No. She is... a dragon."
That was the truth of it. The Pope could never treat Sister Angelica lightly. She had served at Notre Dame Cathedral since his grandfather's father's time. She was old enough that calling her his great-grandmother would not have felt strange. Yet her face was far too youthful for him to speak to her with formal deference. If the Pope himself showed her excessive courtesy, it would look absurd and erode his authority. So even when her killing intent flared, he had fought to keep addressing her casually. The effort had paid off—his knights' eyes shone with respect.
Damn useless lot. They are supposed to protect me, yet... The cathedral knights were worthless. He should have brought his personal Black Unit. Then he wouldn't be trembling like this. The knight who had insulted Angelica earlier would be dealt with cleanly later. For now, he had to resolve the immediate crisis.
So. Whose side should he take? He glanced sideways at the seething Angelica and the hero.
Heh... It would be better to simply close his eyes. She was no succubus, yet the moment he looked at her face, rational thought fled. Only one-sided, biased impulses surged through his mind. Honestly, considering her age, that face was cheating. As a boy he had secretly admired Angelica, bewitched by her beauty. Look at those sapphire eyes and hair—how could they belong to a grandmother over three hundred years old? A dragon's appearance, nothing more.
Truthfully, he still desired her. The curves revealed by the tight nun's habit were more seductive than any other's. It would not be an exaggeration to say the entire redesign of the nun uniforms had been done solely to admire that sight. Those ample breasts, the slender waist, the wide hips—they seemed crafted to drive men mad. But such feelings must never show. The instant she found them distasteful, his head would roll, Pope or not.
Should he side with Angelica, then? He shook his head. No. The other party was this generation's hero. He needed the hero's name and prestige to check the Saintess, whose influence was steadily growing within the Vatican. The current Saintess, Aria, was sharp and cunning. Once she had secured her position, she had immediately formed the moderate faction and stood against the papal faction, exploiting the fact that many cardinals had been appointed by the 31st Pope, Saint Marcellino II. Sly girl. In the end, he had been outmaneuvered. Most of the current cardinals viewed him unfavorably. The Saintess kept expanding her power as though she intended to create a de facto state within the Vatican. Still, cardinals were divided into bishop, priest, and deacon ranks, so his side, with more bishop-level cardinals, held the advantage. He had also sent letters to the archbishops overseeing each kingdom's dioceses. Eventually, a bishops' conference was convened without the Saintess's knowledge, and he secured the support of many archbishops. He had thought a mere girl trying to beat him at politics was still thirty years too early.
He had gone to open war with the Saintess. The power struggle between moderates and papalists inside the Vatican grew fierce. On paper the papal faction held the upper hand, but there was a problem: because Aria was the Saintess, the Pope's authority was frequently undermined, and cunning cardinals clung desperately to her side. The moderates had obstructed his every move. If the Saintess learned what he had done today, her faction would tear him apart without mercy. His own cardinals would abandon him just as easily. He would be deposed, and a new Pope would take his place. He could not allow that to happen, even in death. That was why he needed the hero, chosen by God just as the Saintess had been. If the hero supported him, Aria could no longer ignore his authority under the Saintess's name.
So he had to stay calm and think rationally. Angelica was a woman he could never have. Why stare at a tree one could not climb? Therefore he must side with the hero. But how was he supposed to separate Sirmiia from Angelica? The dragon needed neither money, weapons, nor any luxury. And Sister Angelica's perfectionist nature made her extremely reluctant to reverse a decision once made.
Hmm... His worries deepened. At this rate he might actually go bald from stress.
"Your Holiness, if you have no answer, I will take Sirmiia with me."
At the hero's words, Angelica's eyebrows twitched.
Stop! Don't provoke her, you idiot! Julius, the knight commander, was not in the royal capital. Of course, the Pope himself had sent him away. If Angelica unleashed her magic in anger now, no one remained who could stop her. Should he summon the Black Unit even now? Cold sweat ran down his back. If only he had not sent Julius to Erebore. Damn it... He should have delayed Julius's punishment. The man's insolent attitude—interfering with the inquisitor's work and standing boldly before him—had been so infuriating that the Pope, forgetting Angelica, had exiled him on the spot. That was his sin, if it could be called one.
The Pope was deep in thought. Probably because of that dragon pretending to be a nun. I stared expressionlessly at the woman standing before me with arms crossed, glaring. My impression was simple: she was an extraordinary beauty. That was all. Beauty or not, to me this dragon was an enemy. Nothing more, nothing less than an Evil Dragon who kept Sirmiia imprisoned.
Still, I wondered if Sirmiia was safely hidden outside the cathedral. Had she run far? I'd like to see her at least once more... I still had not apologized for failing to help her earlier. I should have been more attentive. I felt terribly sorry. Thinking of Sirmiia brought back the memory of our first meeting. I should have paid more attention then, too. I had been far too indifferent.
The first time I saw Sirmiia was on the day of the baptism. Thud. She appeared suddenly in the middle of the cathedral without any warning. At first I thought she was an enemy. My body tensed and my hand went to the beloved sword at my waist. But the first word that left the girl's lips made all tension drain away.
"Huh?"
She spoke with a blank expression, turning her head this way and that as though she had no idea why she was there. When our eyes met, she widened them in panic. My first thought was that she was cute. The sight of a girl who looked cold at first glance changing expressions so rapidly was endlessly amusing. The more she flustered, grew angry, or frowned, the warmer my heart felt for reasons I could not explain. Having lived as a hero suppressing my emotions as much as possible, I envied how freely she expressed hers. So when the cathedral knights dragged her away, it bothered me greatly. She was no criminal, yet they treated her like luggage with a gag in her mouth. I disliked seeing a small, fragile girl handled that way. But I soon forced the matter from my mind. The hero's baptism was the urgent priority.
After dozens of grueling days, the baptism finally ended. While sheathing the holy sword, I overheard the Pope saying he would interrogate the girl. Under the pretext of protecting both the Saintess and the Pope, I accompanied them. I was exhausted from days without proper sleep, yet I wanted to go anyway. I did not know why, but I wanted to see the girl's colorful expressions once more.
When I entered the interrogation room, the girl I had not seen in a long time was wearing a rather revealing outfit.
Ah... My heart pounded so violently that I quickly lowered my gaze. At times like this, having little change in expression was truly fortunate. Otherwise my face would have turned red and I would not have been able to lift my head throughout the interrogation. There were many nuns in the cathedral wearing habits, yet I had never once harbored impure thoughts toward them. I never imagined I would one day look at a nun's habit with such eyes. Feeling it would be disrespectful, I refused to look anywhere but her face. I focused solely on her face so my attention would not wander.
Thus the interrogation began, and I heard quite a variety of stories. She claimed she had been exploring a labyrinth, triggered a teleportation array, and fallen here. She probably did not realize it, but a teleportation array could not move someone hundreds of kilometers. If a labyrinth possessed that much mana, it would have become uncontrollable long ago and collapsed, spilling monsters everywhere. Therefore her words were clearly false. Still, I decided not to inform the Pope. She must have had reasons she could not speak of. That was what I chose to believe. Yet even without my saying anything, she seemed fated to be discovered. Saintess Aria used the Eye of Truth. The girl's expression as she met the Saintess's gaze was terrible. I could see her face darkening by the moment. I seriously considered whether there was any way I could help her. But she moved faster.
The girl kicked her chair back and stood, condensing mana in her hand. It looked as though she was trying to break the restraints.
0.7s. She gathered mana in her palm. At first I watched curiously, wondering what she was doing. To my surprise, she was shaping pure mana into a sword.
1.5s. I had never seen such a unique application of mana. My interest in her grew even stronger. But I could not afford to waste more time. This was an attempted assassination of the Pope and Saintess. I had to stop her before she committed a greater crime.
2.2s. Attribute mana sparkled in her left hand. I drew the holy sword from its sheath.
2.7s. She was canceling the attribute mana.
"Put the sword away."
Ah... I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth. Why could I not have spoken more gently? Why was I so lacking in tact...? Annoyed by my own stupidity, I frowned.