Penalty Time (6)
After the storm named Joy and Phoebe had swirled around Lucy Aln and swept out of the room, Arthur lay sprawled across the floor of the wrecked private study for a good while before finally hauling himself up on unsteady legs.
Truly, it had been one of the most miserable moments of my entire life — the kind you could count on one hand.
Joy, who in all our time together had never once raised her voice in real anger no matter how red her cheeks got, and the Saintess, whom I'd genuinely doubted was capable of fury at all — both of them had turned dead serious on me at the same time.
I prided myself on having weathered just about everything life could throw at me, but in the face of those two women's wrath, all of that experience amounted to nothing.
Who would have imagined that someone like me would end up punished without even being given the chance to explain himself?
Recalling the sight of the two of them advancing on him with murder in their eyes, Arthur felt a dull ache throb through the places they'd struck and let out a long sigh.
Joy. That girl. She'd been shooting lightning at me with the full, sincere intention of frying me alive.
And the Saintess was no better.
She'd tried to sear me to death with the heat of her Divinity. Even now, the spots where that heat had touched me were still stinging.
If Lucy Aln's explanation had come even a little later, I really might have ended up burned.
"Lucy Aln."
The moment the name crossed his mind, Arthur swept a hand back through his hair, sighing all over again.
Arthur had never seriously intended to make Lucy apologize to him in the first place.
Back when she'd first coined the nickname Pitiful Prince, sure — he'd been genuinely furious. And it was true that in the time since, the countless indignities she'd heaped on him had sometimes stung.
But Lucy had given Arthur so much that he could toss all of those slights aside without a second thought.
Lucy had risked her own life to save his.
Lucy had answered his shameless request for instruction without a trace of reluctance.
Lucy had always, always helped him climb toward something higher.
After months at her side, receiving all of that help, Arthur had come to know for certain that beneath her outrageous exterior she was fundamentally kind — and so he simply didn't take her insolence that seriously anymore.
Lately he'd grown so used to her mouth that he could laugh off almost anything she said. Why on earth would Arthur demand a solemn apology from her now?
His request for an apology had been nothing more than an excuse — a pretext to get her to teach him how to clear the dungeon.
'The Third Prince's approach reminds me of Lady Aln's, you know.'
When Joy had first said that to him during the midterm dungeon, Arthur had ground his teeth, realizing he was doing nothing but trailing in Lucy Aln's footsteps. That gloom, however, hadn't lasted long before it curdled into something else entirely.
To say I merely follow behind Lucy Aln is to say that Lucy Aln knows the path I'm meant to walk.
If I asked her to show me the way, then someday I'd be able to match her outlandish feats myself.
Perhaps I might even surpass Lucy Aln one day.
My pride had been thrown away long ago anyway.
If it meant beating her even once, there was no depth of humiliation I wouldn't stoop to.
That was the whole reason Arthur had presented her with two choices.
By offering a path that Lucy Aln would never, ever take on one side, he'd forced her hand — left her no option but to teach him the dungeon's clear method.
The instant Lucy had so readily nodded along, his goal had already been accomplished.
Whatever form her apology took afterward, Arthur had planned to smile and wave it off. The Lucy he knew was simply not the type to apologize in earnest.
'I'm sorry for the way I've treated you so rudely all this time.'
Which was exactly why Arthur froze when Lucy bowed her head with perfect courtesy.
'You're always helping me, and I never once said thank you. I'm sorry.'
He hadn't anticipated this situation in the slightest.
'I'm sorry for calling you a loser all the time.'
Even as he watched the rims of her eyes go red.
'And... sob. I'm sorry for teasing you about the Pitiful Prince thing when I knew how much you hated it.'
His mind had gone completely white, and not a single word came out.
'Sob. And... h hic. Also—'
He'd simply turned to stone, standing there before a Lucy who was crying too hard to even string her words together.
He hadn't been able to summon so much as a thought about soothing her, or comforting her.
Looking back now, I suppose I was relieved when Joy and the Saintess kicked that door open.
I was so focused on how much of a piece of garbage I must have looked that I didn't even register it — just stared wide-eyed at the two women who'd arrived to console Lucy Aln.
Though what came after them wasn't salvation at all. It was calamity.
And the truly infuriating thing about it — the part that still rankles — is that while it was Lucy Aln who shoved me into that calamity, it was also Lucy Aln who pulled me back out of it.
Having cried her fill and finally calmed down, she'd come shuffling over to our side, pushed straight through the berserk Joy and Phoebe, planted herself in front of me, and pressed her own head against my fist.
Then, shoulders thrown back as if she'd never shed a single tear in her life, sniffling loudly the whole while, she'd declared:
'There. Sniff. I've done everything I owed you, right? Pitiful Prince?'
'Did you seriously think I was actually crying? You're all idiots. Total losers. It was acting, obviously.'
'Sniff. Well, whatever. One thing's for sure — you definitely look like the kind of trash who makes girls cry, Pitiful Prince.'
Still dabbing at her eyes, Lucy had gathered up Joy and Phoebe — both fussing over her, asking if she was all right — and walked right out of the room.
"Just how stupid does that girl think I am?"
You cry your eyes out and then claim it was acting? Who in the world is going to believe that?
I heard your desperate, heartfelt apology. How am I supposed to write it off as a performance?
"Damn it all."
If she felt that sorry about it, then she should just stop acting that way in the first place.
Why does she keep piling burdens onto her own heart like that, only to spew out words that wound everyone around her — and herself?
"I don't understand her. I really don't."
Gripping his head hard enough to tear his own hair out, Arthur soon slumped forward onto the desk like a puppet with its strings cut and exhaled a long, long breath.
"Lucy Aln. I cannot, for the life of me, understand what sort of person you are."
Is that attitude of yours something you truly hold onto because you want to?
The day after that washed-up geezer named Arthur came begging to be taught the dungeon.
Having woken up unusually early as if to make up for two days of luxurious oversleeping, I finished my morning routine and, just like every other day, offered my prayers to the Loser Chief God.
My faith in the Loser Chief God had sunk even lower after crying my eyes out over yesterday's penalty, but prayers were the only way to collect my daily quest reward, so what could you do.
Aaargh. Seriously, the more I think about it, the more it pisses me off.
That pedo-pervert-lolicon Chief God obviously just wanted to watch me burst into tears.
What other reason could that disgusting pervert possibly have for slapping a sincerity penalty on me?!
Just as I was plotting to add another page to my Book of Grudges, I felt the warmth of Divinity drawing steadily closer and got ready to head out.
Today was the day Phoebe borrowed my day. She's got such a pure heart that she surely wouldn't ask me for anything weird.
At worst it'd be changing what she calls me, or putting on a different outfit, or saying a prayer on her behalf, or something like that.
...Hm? Something's off.
I'm standing right in front of the door. Why isn't she knocking?
After waiting an awfully long time and finding it strange that Phoebe was just standing there motionless, I lightly hopped over the Face-Con Fox — conveniently stationed exactly where a foot was guaranteed to land — and pulled the door open.
"Ah. Um. Uh—"
Phoebe, standing directly in front of the door with her hand still frozen mid-knock, met my eyes and flushed crimson.
"G-good morning, my lady."
'Good morning, Phoebe.'
"Morning, Loser Saintess. Even today, you've got a face so dumb I can't believe they call you a Saintess."
"It's just... today you look even more, um, noble than usual, my lady."
Only after hearing Phoebe fidget through those words did I remember that I was still wearing the Pervert Apostle's accessory.
I'd been wearing it because praying with it on made the Loser Chief God pay out bigger rewards — I almost walked outside with that thing still on me. Close call.
It wasn't until I'd pulled the accessory off and tucked it into my Inventory that Phoebe finally let out a sigh of relief.
To think it could rattle even the normally unflappable Phoebe this badly. That Pervert Apostle is without question a piece of trash I never want to associate with — but I suppose his craftsmanship really is the real deal.
But hey, hang on. There's such a thing as too much power, you know! When the thing is this strong, it's a problem! I can't use it for anything except praying to the Pedo Pervert Chief God!
Grumbling as I fished out the accessory I normally wore, I decided I couldn't exactly leave Phoebe standing in the doorway forever and ushered her inside.
"Hwagyaaaagh!"
"I-I'm so sorry."
Ignoring the Face-Con Fox's furious grumbling — it wasn't as if I'd volunteered to get stepped on, you know! — I tied my hair back up.
Hmm. The way I see it, there's no visible difference between now and when I had the Pervert Apostle's accessory on.
What exactly do other people see that makes them lose their minds over it?
Once I was fully put together, I scooped up the still-muttering Face-Con Fox, ruffled her face with abandon until she went limp and retired from the field, then turned to Phoebe.
'So today...'
"Loser Saintess. You came this early because you're planning to make me do something perverted today, didn't you?"
"P-p-perv—! It's nothing like that! I would never. I just wanted you to pray f-for... for me..."
Listening to Phoebe's voice shrink smaller and smaller with every word, a laugh bubbled right out of me.
Is this seriously the same Phoebe who ground Arthur into the dirt yesterday?
She was genuinely terrifying when she was handing down punishment back then, but right now she's nothing but adorable.
'Shall I do it now?'
"Pfffahaha. You were that desperate? Want me to do it right now?"
"Wha—? Oh. N-no, that's all right for now. I'd like to receive your prayer after everything is over, my lady."
The moment I watched Phoebe fidgeting with her own fingers, I understood why she'd come here at this hour.
Today wasn't just the day Phoebe asked something of me — it was also the day she was scheduled to hear about the Church's dark underbelly, the part that Johann and Karia had been investigating together.
Phoebe knew the Church was rotten, sure. But she had no idea of the specifics of that rot.
It was only natural that she'd feel anxious about what she was about to learn.
The reason Phoebe had come to see me was obvious: she was trying to shake off even a sliver of that anxiety simply by being at my side.
The moment that thought landed, I walked around to face Phoebe, whose head was bowed, and met her eyes directly.
'Is that really...'
"Loser Saintess. All you want from me is a prayer? Nothing else? Aren't you being a little too fake about it?"
"Fake? My lady, how could I possibly ask for more from the Apostle of the Chief God? After everything you have already given me, I am the one who falls short. How could I ever—"
"Must be the Loser Saintess in you — you're a pretty good liar too♡ You'll have to stay up all night doing penance later, hm?♡"
Stunned silent by my taunt, Phoebe worked her mouth open and shut for a long moment before finally hiding her burning-red face behind both hands.
"C-could you... call me Phoebe?"
'Of course I will, Phoebe.'
"Pfffahaha. Phoebe, you are suuuch an embarrassment? That's honestly adorable."
I mapped out the whole day's schedule.
Before heading off to meet Johann and Karia later, I was going to drag Phoebe all over the place, here and there, having fun.
So that until then, she wouldn't have room in her head to feel anxious about anything at all.