Looking Into the Past (5)
Back when I was hashing things out with Grandpa during practice mode, there was one overarching premise we'd agreed on from the start.
First, I had to get Phoebe to acknowledge that I was Armadi's apostle.
Otherwise, no matter what I told her, Phoebe wouldn't have listened to a single word of it.
She'd let it slide in one ear and out the other, then act however she pleased later on.
But if she accepted that I was Armadi's apostle, things would be different.
For someone like Phoebe—who believed in God and longed for His love, yet had realized she could never receive it because she was a false saint—to have an actual apostle of God appear before her? She'd take my story dead seriously.
As long as our pathetic, incompetent Chief God didn't butt in and say anything to Phoebe, my word to her was the word of God.
How could she possibly not believe it?
Of course, that meant I'd have to put up with her venting and complaints, but if it was enough to convince Phoebe, that was nothing.
I had no idea what kind of answers the Mesugaki skill would force out of me, but I figured if I just soothed and coddled her as best I could, her mood would settle eventually, right?
That was roughly the plan I'd laid out—and then Phoebe went and asked whether I was Armadi's apostle herself, which honestly threw me for a loop.
Had she figured it out? How on earth?!
No, wait. That's impossible.
Think about it rationally. Who would ever guess that a lunatic who calls Armadi the "pathetic Chief God" is Armadi's apostle?
Me using divine magic?
Please. Most people think, "Ah, so Armadi extends His mercy even to a lunatic like her."
Even the bishop who taught me divine magic thought exactly that!
"How did you..."
"Pathetic Saintess. How'd you find out?"
Seriously! It makes no sense!
What, did you learn mind reading, Phoebe?
Did you pick up some cheat skill that lets you see other people's status windows?!
At my demand, Phoebe's eyes went wide and the corners of her mouth lifted.
That joy had been granted to her the moment she became certain that I was Armadi's apostle.
If this bratty little brat calling her "Saintess" was the Chief God's apostle, then maybe the person she herself was—false Saintess and all—wasn't a complete lie after all. That was the hope she'd found.
But the joy blooming on her face vanished in an instant.
Phoebe, who had been about to open her mouth, closed it again, lowered her gaze, and began fidgeting with the two hands folded neatly in her lap.
It was so unlike the usual bold, bright Phoebe that I knew for certain she was hiding something—but I didn't press her.
Instead, I waited for her answer to come.
"It's... well, you see..."
Phoebe spilled out lie after lie.
But Phoebe, who hadn't had much practice with lying, wore her dishonesty on her sleeve.
Her voice trembled. Her eyes darted away. Her hands had nowhere to go.
Every one of her gestures practically screamed I am lying right now, and after I pressed her on it a few times, she fell into a long silence before finally forcing out a voice so small it wanted to crawl into the floor.
"...I heard it from the Apostle of Tariki."
What Phoebe had just confessed was staggering.
She'd made a deal with the apostle of an evil god!
<Well, that would explain why dark mana had taken root inside that girl.>
"...Yeah, I suppose so."
The reason Phoebe, who possessed divine power befitting the title of Saintess, had been abducted by Nakrad was because darkness had taken root within her.
At the time, we couldn't guess why—but if this was the truth, it all made sense.
She had made a bargain with Nakrad, and the darkness had settled into her as a consequence.
"What will you do now?"
"About what?"
"Striking a bargain with the apostle of an evil god is a grave sin."
Grandpa continued, his voice low and hard.
Back in his day, it was a sin that would have warranted having your neck on the block without a second thought. Once corrupted, there was no coming back. She needed to be denounced immediately—he went on like that.
Each and every word was soaked in a deep, festering hatred. A hatred even fiercer than the one he showed when facing an apostle of the evil gods.
The emotions in his words surely stemmed from the people Grandpa had dealt with in his ancient past.
For me—someone who knew nothing of what had happened back then—it was hard to sympathize with his feelings.
So what if she cut a deal with an evil god?
If the situation called for it and that option was the efficient one, you'd pick it, wouldn't you?
When I played the game, I made pacts with evil god apostles plenty of times when the need arose.
I even ran an evil-god-apostle roleplay build and helped that guy out openly. Sadly there was no actual story content for it, so it fizzled out as a boring gag run, but still.
Anyway, I had zero intention of denouncing Phoebe for it.
If it were efficient, I'd gladly bargain with an evil god myself. That's just what gamers are.
What actually shocked me was something else entirely.
The shock of realizing I'd never once suspected that Phoebe was wavering this badly inside.
Like I said before, Phoebe is a person who more than lives up to the name of Saintess.
Which is to say, she's not the type to compromise with an apostle of an evil god under normal circumstances.
And yet the doubt she'd been carrying in her heart had grown that heavy.
Meanwhile I'd been blithely spouting things like "Phoebe will be fine" without knowing any of it.
Haah. How pathetic can I get.
What happened to being the Soul Academy veteran, huh?
This world is reality built on top of a game. Stop drowning in your own head-fantasies and look at what's right in front of you, idiot.
I ignored Grandpa's voice, rose from my seat, and walked over to Phoebe.
At the sight of me, Phoebe's eyes went wide, then filled with resignation, then squeezed shut in fear.
I spread my arms to embrace her and... couldn't.
Like the Mesugaki skill would ever permit an act that sweet and heartwarming.
Instead, I planted one foot up on the bed, looked down at her from above, and hid my wicked little grin behind my hand.
"Phoebe. Did you really think I wouldn't know?"
"Puhahaha. You pathetic-excuse-for-a-Saintess. You thought I wouldn't know? That's about the intelligence I'd expect from an idiot gullible enough to get seduced by an evil god's apostle."
Amid my snickering, Phoebe opened her eyes.
In those dazed pupils, the shock was written plain as day.
"It's all right, Phoebe. Everyone wavers sometimes."
"What can you do? You're a pathetic-pathetic-hopelessly-pathetic Saintess, after all. Of course you're an idiot."
"What do you mean by—"
"No matter what you may have done, to me, you are still a saint."
"Haah. You're such a hopeless moron that it just doesn't get through, huh. I don't care about any of that. Either way, you're a pathetic Saintess."
And as it finished speaking, the Mesugaki skill jabbed Phoebe in the forehead, poke, poke.
I never meant to go this far! Well, at least the message seems to have gotten across. Silver linings?!
As I rested my arms across my knees, waiting for Phoebe's answer, I noticed droplets welling up at the corners of her eyes.
Uh.
Huh?
No. Wait. Hold on.
"WAAAAAAAH!"
Where had her usual calm, dignified demeanor flown off to? Watching Phoebe bawl her eyes out like a high school girl her age, I couldn't do anything but stand there flustered.
What. What?! Why are you crying all of a sudden?!
I didn't say anything mean to you, did I?!
No matter what you did, I just told you I believe in you—so why are you crying?!
<She's moved, most likely. That girl had braced herself to be denounced.>
"Right?! So I didn't do anything wrong?!"
I'd genuinely panicked, thinking I'd said something I shouldn't have. Honestly.
Just as I was calming down after the explanation, Grandpa let out a sigh loud enough to be pointed.
"Do you truly intend to forgive her? Someone who abandoned doctrine and bargained with the apostle of an evil god?"
"Yes."
Unlike a crusty old fossil sealed inside a mace and stuck in the past, this MZ-generation gal actually understands Phoebe, you know?
Phoebe is the kind of person who, even if she wavers once, can hold firm to her faith again.
So I have absolutely no intention of denouncing her for her mistake.
Frankly, I don't even understand what wrong she's supposed to have committed.
So what? If it's necessary, you can bargain with an evil god too. That's all there is to it.
"...Is that your will? Or the will of those who believe in you?"
At my answer, delivered without a flicker of hesitation, Grandpa asked this in a low voice.
He was asking whether what I'd just said was the garbage rambling of the pathetic Chief God—or my own words.
Grandpa. You dummy. That's already been decided, hasn't it?
"My will is Armadi's will."
If that petty, stingy, perverted Chief God—pathetic and incompetent as she is—had disapproved of something I did, she would've intervened the instant it happened. One way or another.
So the fact that the pathetic excuse for a deity said nothing at all means she consented to what I'm doing!
My will IS the pathetic Chief God's will!
Do you get it now?!
When I declared it so proudly, Grandpa was at a loss for words for a moment—then he chuckled.
"Hmhm. Right. Of course. You are Armadi's apostle unlike any who came before, child. It was wrong of a humble believer like me to presume to question that will."
"Grandpa?"
"Ha. Napping for so long has turned me no different from those church fossils. Puhaha. What a sorry state of affairs. So sorry, in fact, that I can hardly contain the laughter."
With Phoebe wailing in front of me until her eyes swelled up, and Grandpa cackling away inside my head, I honestly had no idea what to do.
...Maybe I shouldn't have kicked the face-obsessed fox out. At least watching her would've given me some peace of mind.
After some time had passed, Phoebe finally managed to stop crying, washed her face in the bathroom, and came back out.
Her eyes were rimmed scarlet—a sight utterly unimaginable from the usual Phoebe.
Ahhh. If I took a screenshot of this and posted it to the community under a title like "The Refined Saintess's Ruined Face," the reaction would've been absolutely insane.
The Saintess faction would've totally lost their minds. How dare you defame our Saintess with doctored photos like this!—that sort of thing.
Their reactions were half the fun of teasing her, honestly.
Of course, all of that vanished once Soul Academy rotted into the most dead-on-arrival dead game imaginable.
"I-I'm sorry, Lady Alrn."
She must have been wailing at the top of her lungs, because Phoebe's voice was completely wrecked.
"It's fine, Phoebe. These things happen."
"Puhahahat. What a cheerful and ugly face, so fitting for a hopeless loser. It's hilarious. You shouldn't go around looking like that in public, you know?"
"Uuuu..."
Even Phoebe herself must have thought she looked wretched, because her face flushed bright red.
One more push and she'd burst again.
To think I could watch the eternally composed Saintess's face shift so dramatically. This is kind of fun, actually.
For a split second, the thought of milking this teasing opportunity for all it was worth flashed through my mind—but I forcibly crushed it.
If I made her cry again, I genuinely doubted I could handle the fallout.
And besides—I hadn't even started on everything I still needed to tell Phoebe!
First, I had to tell her that she really was destined to become the true Saintess someday, so she shouldn't crumble and should keep striving!
Then I had to ask her to put up with the Church, however much it disgusted her, until she could build her strength!
And on top of that, there was the whole matter of Phoebe's past to talk through.
Come to think of it, I had a mountain of things to say.
If I made her cry in the middle of all that, we'd never finish before sunrise.
So—teasing could wait until later.
"Phoebe..."
"Hey. Pathetic Saintess. I'm about to tell you something important. Listen carefully."
"Yes."