Memories of Notre Dame Cathedral: I Shouldn't Have Crossed Paths with Angelica That Day
"Sister, may I ask you for a favor?"
"Oh my, Lord Julius, what favor can I grant you?"
"Sister... could you please drop that tone? It's only for official occasions... No, never mind. Anyway, do you remember the girl who barged into the baptism ceremony?"
"Ah, that underwear kid from last time? Sirmia, was it?"
"Yes. Could you protect Sirmia until the Hero departs?"
"Hmm... This is a cathedral. From whom, exactly?"
"You already know the answer better than anyone, Sister."
"Has the child's servitude been decided? I'm sorry, but if it has, I'll have to refuse."
"...I know you hate getting deeply involved in the human world, but I'm asking anyway. You're the only one I can turn to."
With those words, he knelt and bowed his head.
"...Julius, stop. I have no interest in making my only friend kneel."
"Please."
"You've ignored everything until now. Why this all of a sudden?"
"Please."
"Navy-blue hair, blue eyes, and that innocent personality... She really does resemble her. I can understand why you're doing this."
"...Please."
"Ugh, you stubborn fool. You're forty years old and still throwing tantrums like a child. Tsk. Just this once. I won't do it again, no matter how much you beg."
"Thank you, Sister."
Angelica had only one reason for granting Julius's request: he was her sole friend. A human who had reached Transcendence with nothing but his body and a single sword, no mana at all. A genius who became a Transcendent faster than anyone else at the young age of twenty-eight. That was why Julius could be both Angelica's only understanding companion and her friend.
Angelica never wanted to see him sorrowful. To her, any living being that was not her friend was no different from an insect—utterly worthless. Without her friend, she would have to feign laughter or tears based solely on memory. But that was no longer emotion. She never wanted to experience that again.
So the feelings now flooding into her were deeply unsettling. Seeing Sirmia hurt made her chest ache, and soon she found herself worrying about her. It was strange to feel emotion toward a being who was not her friend. Her heart pounded. This was the first time she had felt such a range of emotions since her friend died in the Dragon-Human War.
No. She had to endure. The madness buried deep within her waved its hand in greeting. Intoxicated by the variety of emotions she had not felt in so long, she felt her mind soaring.
'No... I can't hold back. I'm still so weak...'
If she could keep feeling this, she wouldn't mind going mad again. She would never let Sirmia go. The girl was her doll now. Her own little doll. But she pushed the joy and greed aside for the moment. Sirmia's treatment came first.
"Sirmia, look at me."
Sirmia wasn't listening at all. She just kept muttering that she had to keep washing herself with disinfectant. Angelica struck her right cheek hard. Only then did Sirmia recognize her and fall silent.
"Sirmia, listen carefully. You are not dirty."
"...Angelica, I am dirty. You wouldn't understand, but I—"
Another slap swelled her left cheek.
"A-Angelica? That hurts..."
"Sirmia, I know everything. And you are still clean. You are not dirty. And you never will be."
Because I'm going to make you my doll.
Water Beads
Water droplets of various sizes enveloped Sirmia's body. They wiped away the blood staining her skin. More droplets formed on her head. She instinctively held her breath. When Angelica told her it was all right to breathe, Sirmia opened her mouth and carefully inhaled. The sight reminded Angelica of a tiny hamster—adorable.
'Did something good happen?'
It was the first time Angelica had seen her smile. It was only a slight upturn of the lips, but for a moment, she truly thought it was beautiful.
Regeneration
The areas wrapped in water droplets slowly healed. Fresh skin emerged as the droplets cleansed away the dirty blood and foreign matter.
'Wow...'
She never thought she would witness this in person. It was a regeneration spell that only three people across all races could use.
'Just what kind of nun is she?'
Once the treatment ended, her doll returned to her usual porcelain-white skin.
"Sirmia, I'll say it again—you are not dirty. I'll prove it. You're my... friend, after all. So you're clean."
"No. Angelica, listen to me—"
Another sharp slap echoed through the shower room. Sirmia clutched her cheek, her hands trembling.
"Sirmia, what did I just say?"
"Huh?"
Slap. The hollow sound of another slap rang out. Sirmia touched her other cheek, eyes brimming with tears.
"Sirmia, what did I say?"
Angelica's expression as she asked was pure madness. The sudden shift from her usual gentle demeanor filled Sirmia with fear. She shrank like a kitten, hands pressed to both cheeks.
"Sirmia?"
"C-Clean... I'm clean."
Only then did Angelica's face soften into a bright smile.
"That's right. Sirmia is clean. Of course you are."
She pulled the trembling girl into her embrace. Sirmia, suddenly buried in Angelica's chest, tried to pull her head free, struggling to breathe. But every time she did, Angelica only held her tighter—a silent threat to behave—so Sirmia had no choice but to stay still.
"Our Sirmia must have been in so much pain, right? It's because I love you. I had no choice but to hit you because I care for you so much. You understand, don't you?"
Sirmia couldn't say a word to the woman stroking her head. When she lifted her face slightly from the suffocating chest and looked at Angelica, the madness in those eyes was something she could never hope to endure.
"Ah, Sirmia, you must feel uncomfortable inside, right? I'll clean you up in there too."
Water droplets floated upward. It took Sirmia less than three seconds to understand what was about to happen.
"Hnn...!"
After the shower, Angelica dried Sirmia's hair and handed her fresh white underwear and a clean nun's habit.
"Sirmia, you'll sleep in my room for the time being."
"What? No, I'll go back to the reeducation room—"
Slap.
Sirmia stared blankly. What the hell? She touched her right cheek. It burned. When she looked up, Angelica was smiling.
Shit. I let it slide earlier because of the mood, but why the hell does she keep slapping people?
Was that all it took—pretty face, big chest, wide hips? Well, maybe it was. But that was beside the point. She wasn't some saint, and she couldn't take it anymore. The fact that Angelica could use regeneration magic meant she wasn't an ordinary nun, but neither was Sirmia. She was one of the Demon Realm's Four Heavenly Kings, not some punching bag.
"Fuck! I can't hold back anymore—"
Slap.
She couldn't believe it. Another slap to the same cheek. The skin screamed in agony.
"Stop—"
Slap.
What? This time she tried to dodge, but couldn't. She hadn't even seen the hand move. Her dynamic vision was still as sharp as ever—better than when she had been a man, honestly. Yet she hadn't seen it coming.
"Just who the hell are you—"
Slap.
She had endured enough. Further conversation was pointless. She awakened her mana circle and circulated mana through her body. Mana gathered in her right hand, forming a longsword of appropriate length. She had no intention of killing Angelica over a few slaps. She only meant to sever one arm to correct that idiotic personality.
Because of the cathedral's barrier, which she still wasn't used to, it took three seconds to manifest the sword. She needed to fix that as soon as possible. She swung at Angelica's arm while the nun stared blankly. Angelica showed no movement.
There's no way she has no combat ability... What?
Clang. The sword flew from her hand. Something had blocked the blade. It spun away into the distance.
I didn't see it...
It had been the same when she was slapped earlier, and now again. Even with her senses fully sharpened for combat, she hadn't detected any movement. Her pride cracked. She corrected her stance and stepped back four paces, eyes locked on Angelica. She focused all her circulating mana into her legs. In a burst of maximum speed, she accelerated behind Angelica. It was a gamble. She timed the manifestation of her sword and swung at Angelica's neck while expanding her senses to the limit.
Where is she?
Her hyper-sensitive perception, sharp enough to detect a flying mosquito, warned of danger.
Above?
By the time she thought it, a blue sword was already falling toward her shoulder.
Ah, this is going to cut clean through.