The Burrow Duchy (5)
Ever since the day Phoebe had been saved by Lucy Aln, the true Apostle of the Lord God, she followed at Lucy's side whenever she possibly could.
When Lucy attended class. When she ate her meals. When she trained.
Unless Church business forced her away, Phoebe always kept Lucy fixed within her sight — even knowing full well that such behavior had earned her a reputation for playing favorites.
It wasn't as though she was blind to how intrusive her presence might be. Sometimes she even worried that Lucy might begin to avoid her because of it.
And yet the reason Phoebe could not bring herself to leave Lucy's side was simple: standing near her, it felt as though she could sense the warmth of God Himself.
Because lingering beside her made her anxieties melt away.
Because it let her believe in her own faith without a shred of doubt.
And because Phoebe herself cherished Lucy Aln as a precious person. Because something oddly fragile flickered beneath that girl's habitual confidence and unhesitating resolve — something Phoebe simply could not tear her eyes away from.
In watching her so closely, Phoebe came to learn a few things about Lucy.
The first was that she was every bit as strict with herself as she was with others.
Every single morning, Lucy arrived at the training grounds before anyone else, pushed herself through harsher drills than anyone else, and kept moving her body long after everyone else had quit. Her schedule seemed to leave no room for rest — barely even time to study — and yet she carried it out with calm composure day after day, and then went on to post the finest midterm results of anyone.
Watching her, Phoebe could not shake the thought: Does the young lady ever actually sleep?
The second was that Lucy was, without question, a good person.
Her perpetually sharp expression and needling tone made it hard to tell, but unless someone showed hostility first, she always responded in good faith.
She knew people found her intimidating, so whether at meals or in lectures, she made a point of slipping off to some inconspicuous corner.
Whenever someone asked a favor, she nodded along without hesitation.
And if she suspected someone might be in danger — even someone who had envied and hated her, like young Lord Burrow, or like Phoebe herself once had — she would willingly strive to save them.
Having witnessed all of it, Phoebe finally understood why Joy adored Lucy, and why God had chosen her as His Apostle.
She was a person worthy of divine selection.
The last thing Phoebe learned concerned the way Lucy spoke.
Peasant or king, it made no difference — Lucy always met everyone with a provocative tone and a sneering, mocking gaze. But there was a subtle difference between her usual barbs and the voice she used when she truly meant to grind someone down.
A tone designed, above all, to provoke anger.
Biting, vivid, insufferable — the kind of mockery that, just listening to it, made even Phoebe feel a red haze bleeding into her own heart.
Lucy used that voice on occasion.
Against monsters — to draw their attention to herself.
In sparring matches — to shake her opponent's emotions loose.
When cursing someone out — to make that person genuinely, furiously angry.
She was using it now, too.
"Why the long face?♡ It's a rumor so flattering you couldn't possibly own up to it — being loved by a girl like me?♡ You should be apologizing for your presumption, honestly.♡ If anything, I'm the one who should be upset, getting tangled up with a scrub like you, Lord Inferior?♡"
"You're spouting nonsense."
"Oh. Is that it?♡ Are you just a pubescent boy so flustered you don't know what to do with yourself, Lord Inferior?♡ I understand completely♡ That's how it goes for a man who's never once held a girl's hand♡"
Watching young Lord Burrow's face burn scarlet, Lucy giggled away, and there was no mistaking it — she was deliberately trying to enrage him.
The reason was obvious.
Phoebe had made a mistake.
Phoebe had come to visit the Burrow Duchy today at Lucy's request.
Lady Burrow's illness might have something strange about it, Lucy had said. Might you be able to help me detect it?
When Phoebe received that request, she had nodded as though it were only natural.
Lucy had always been the one helping her. If she could offer even the smallest repayment for that salvation — if she could contribute even a little to fulfilling God's will — Phoebe was prepared to do anything. The word "refusal" simply did not exist in her mind.
So she had steeled her resolve and come to the Burrow household... only to find the place impossibly peaceful.
Duke Burrow, whose condition was said to be grave, showed not a single sign of illness. The Duchess was merely a touch fatigued, nothing more. And within the ducal mansion itself, Phoebe could find no hint of anything amiss.
She thought, so even the ever-perfect Lady Aln makes mistakes sometimes — and quietly felt relieved.
Because something strange meant a problem, and a problem meant that someone, somewhere, would suffer for it.
Therefore the best outcome of all was for there to be no problem whatsoever — even if it meant she couldn't repay her debt to Lucy.
But Phoebe had overlooked one crucial fact.
Lucy was the Apostle of God. Whenever she did something inexplicable, there was always divine will behind it.
This was no different. Until now, Lucy had shown precious little interest in the Burrow family — even with young Lord Burrow's absence an open secret. And then, one day out of nowhere, she had declared they must visit the Burrow household and begun steering the situation herself.
What did that mean? It meant this affair was not Lucy's will, but God's.
God had sent Lucy a revelation that something was wrong with House Burrow — so how could there possibly have been a mistake?
Something was wrong in that mansion. They had simply failed to find it until now.
I never imagined so many people would come to see me.
Phoebe only realized the truth when she looked at young Lord Burrow.
It has been a long time.
Only when she saw the desire writhing in his eyes.
Everyone.
Only when she saw the black miasma coiled within him — an aura all too familiar to her.
She understood.
She was enlightened.
The Evil God of Darkness, the one who had once tried to seduce her, had changed targets. It was now setting its sights on House Burrow.
The realization struck Phoebe so hard she shot up from her seat.
She should never have let on that she'd noticed anything — and yet she'd given it away completely.
Your Holiness? Is something the matter?
When young Lord Burrow's gaze turned toward her, Phoebe, drowning in panic, could not force out a single word.
She knew she had to salvage the situation. She knew better than anyone that hesitating there might doom God's entire plan. But her mind had gone white, and she couldn't manage even the most obvious excuse.
It was Lucy who smoothed it over. True or not, the girl spat out that malicious, humiliating rumor as though it were beneath comment — and in doing so, she drew young Lord Burrow's attention squarely onto herself and erased Phoebe's blunder as if it had never happened.
Phoebe. What on earth was that?
You came here to help Lady Aln, to repay your debt — that's the whole reason, isn't it?
And instead of carrying out God's will, you nearly ruined it, and then needed the Lady herself to bail you out!
Even as Phoebe clutched the hem of her skirt, cheeks burning with shame at her own mistake, the war of words between Lucy and Jackal raged on.
"So that's what you were counting on, Lord Inferior — your own adorableness♡ Fine, I'll admit it♡ Your hair is adorable♡ Your spearwork is adorable♡ Your height is adorable too♡ Why not just put on a dress while you're at it?♡ It would suit you perfectly!♡"
"And you're one to talk, Lucy Aln — you've got all the femininity of a fence post! Who could possibly like someone like you!"
"Pfft-ha!♡ Oh my, your eyesight is adorable too♡ Standing right in front of a girl this cute and you can't even recognize her♡ How tragic♡ At this rate I really do wonder if your line will survive to the next generation♡"
"Ha! A woman so foul-tempered she can do nothing but sneer at people lecturing me about that? Truly hilarious."
"Both of you. Enough. You'll fill this poor quiet mansion with your racket."
The one mercy was that Arthur was there.
The moment the prince spoke in a voice worn thin with exasperation, Jackal fell silent first — and Lucy, following suit, quieted down as well.
While everyone was occupied with the uncomfortable tension hanging between Lucy, who looked down at Jackal as if he were a joke, and Jackal, whose hands trembled as though he might lunge at her at any moment, Duke Patran returned to the parlor.
He surveyed the scene, gave a shrug, and announced that it was time to head back.
Well done. That head of his holds nothing left but seething resentment toward you now.
...Eh. It was nothing.
On the way back from the visit to the duchy, the instant I stepped into the dorm room, Grandpa showered me with praise — and I couldn't quite bring myself to accept it at face value.
At first, sure, I'd provoked Jackal to draw his gaze.
But partway through? No. That wasn't it anymore.
Talking to him just made my blood boil.
Thinking it over again, it still pisses me off. Like, why is that little shit the only one allowed to play the wounded party here?
Do you have any idea how miserable it is to get entangled with a garbage-tier character like that?! Looks, story, stats — all of them mediocre as hell, the kind of guy who exists for one related quest and never shows up again — and I have to watch him screech and flail around like that!
It's genuinely absurd!
If Arthur hadn't butted in, I'd have kept needling that bastard right up until he threw the first punch — and then I'd have flattened him!
While I was consoling myself over that missed opportunity, I heard a knock at the door.
Even before I opened it, I knew who stood on the other side. Of everyone I knew, only one person carried a divinity this gentle.
Come in, Phoebe.
"Come in, scrub Saintess."
"Pardon the intrusion, my lady."
As Phoebe shuffled nervously into my room, I activated the ring's magic to cut off all sound from the outside.
Judging by how badly she'd been shaken earlier, whatever we were about to discuss was not meant for other ears.
The moment Phoebe entered, she bowed her head deep. She'd come within a hair's breadth of ruining today's operation, she said.
I couldn't comprehend the apology at all. If not for Phoebe, we wouldn't even have known something was wrong with House Burrow in the first place — so why was she calling it a failure?
It's all right, Phoebe.
"Do I really look like someone that petty to you, scrub Saintess?"
"What? No! That's not it at all—"
Don't worry about it.
"Forget it. It was nothing."
"...How can you be so merciful!"
After barely calming down Phoebe, who kept bowing her head over and over — truly worthy of being the Chief God's Apostle, apparently — I asked her the single most important question.
What, exactly, had she seen in the Inferior Young Master that rattled her so badly?
"...I sensed the aura of the Evil God within Lord Burrow. The very same aura that once seeped into me."
...
Hold on. Just — hold on.
The trouble with House Burrow is connected to the Evil God of Darkness?
[Quest Cleared!]
[You have successfully uncovered the anomaly within House Burrow!]
[Calculating rewards! Please wait a moment!]
- Ding.
The instant Phoebe finished speaking, several windows popped up before my eyes.
They meant only one thing.
Everything Phoebe had just said was the truth.
...Uh. So, um.
I'm admittedly a little thrown, discovering that something I'd dismissed as impossible was actually real.
But one thing is crystal clear, whatever else may be true.
I now have every justification in the world to punch that Jackal bastard right in his smug face.