Adaptation (9)
Ever since I set foot in this world, I had lived beneath countless stares—stares so openly hostile that even someone as oblivious as me couldn't help but notice them.
Starting from the mansion and continuing through my entire time at the academy, perhaps because I'd endured such brutally direct gazes for so long, I had somehow developed the ability to read a fair amount of emotion from the way people looked at me.
For instance, the gazes of the Art Cult members watching me right now were, for the most part, burning with fervor.
Just like the pervert Apostle, just like the degenerates I'd spotted on the street a while back—they were all trying to etch the person known as me just a little deeper into their memories.
But this old man was different. He was imitating the other Art Cult members, yet he couldn't keep pace with the madness that fueled them.
It was the same when I hurled my insults right in his face. While the other cult members strained to catch every word of my voice, this one had been furrowing his brow.
Through those two facts, I became certain this man was no member of the Art Cult, and I drew up my divinity to peer into his eyes.
The divinity newly bloomed within me as I passed Mira's memorial day responded instantly to my will, revealing the power coiled within the old man.
A turbulent energy lurking beneath the harmonious divinity possessed by the Art Cult's faithful.
He had hidden it quite well—no one else had noticed him—but he couldn't fool me.
After all, I was the Apostle of the Chief God and the adversary of the Evil God.
Having identified his true nature, I was about to tear away what he had hidden behind it when an amusing idea struck me, and the corners of my mouth curled upward.
There'd be no problem even if I exposed his identity myself. The pervert Apostle would never doubt my word, so the fact that this man served the Evil God would come to light easily enough.
But here's the thing. If things played out that way, it would give this idiot plenty of room to stir up a massive fuss.
I could see it coming from a mile away. And who are you to suspect me? he'd say. The infamous girl who drags every terrible rumor behind her, trying to torment an innocent man? He'd kick up an endless storm, stall for time, and then meet an ignoble end.
So let's make him declare, with his own mouth, that he's a fake. Let's make him lose his reason to rage and come charging at me.
I approached the old man, arranging my expression into perfect innocence.
"Um, excuse me. Excuse me~ Grandpa. There's something I'd like to ask you."
"...Yes?"
Seeing my guileless face, the old man seemed baffled as to why I had come to him at all.
"Why are you staring at me with those creepy eyes when you can't even get it up?"
But that didn't last long. The moment the words left my mouth, his face flushed crimson.
The fury seething across the old man's twisted features was vicious enough to send little children running away in tears—but sadly, it didn't intimidate me in the slightest.
What his rage actually brought me was the euphoric rush and delight that the Mesugaki skill provided.
Yes. This is it. You've got to see them spring up when you poke them—that's half the fun of teasing.
Having met an entertaining new toy for the first time in ages, I continued with a snickering giggle.
"Why are you scowling like that?♡ Puffing yourself up with all that strength won't bring the dead back to life, you know?♡"
"...Insolent and arrogant, and utterly devoid of dignity besides."
"Oh!♡ Don't tell me you're supposed to be standing right now?♡ Pfft♡ My bad~♡ I couldn't tell at all, so I had no idea~♡ My mistake~♡"
Perhaps my words had cut a little too deep, because the expressions of the cult members savoring my voice turned ashen. But I didn't stop.
"Angry?♡ Want to punish me?♡ Go ahead~♡ Not that a limp old geezer like you could do anything about it, body or heart or anything else♡"
I thrust my face forward as if daring him to hit me, and I saw the old man's tightly clenched fist shoot out.
His fist was far more powerful than anyone could have guessed from his wrinkled hide, but from my perspective, it was simply amateurish.
Honestly, Arthur's wild flailing after he exploded from my teasing—begging me to let him land just one head rap—would probably be more threatening.
I caught the old man's fist with ease and began applying pressure bit by bit into the joints between his fingers.
Unable to endure the twisting agony of the joint lock, the old man collapsed to the floor with a scream.
"Was it that delightful when I took your hand?♡ Bowing all the way down on your knees to thank me♡"
"You... you wretch!..."
"BWAAAHAHAHA♡ I can tell it's your first time holding a woman's hand, but honestly, it's kind of gross♡ I think I'm gonna throw up♡"
"Lady Aln! That is quite enough! No matter who you are, this—!"
The moment the high priest, barely regaining his composure, shouted to hold me back, the Evil God's follower tore off his mask and drew up his true power.
With the harmony of the Art Cult's divinity gone, what filled its place was void.
A power that, being nothing at all, could become anything. A thing that existed because it did not exist.
The follower tried to encroach on me with his void, but that was impossible.
The Chief God's divinity I carried flooded his emptiness to the brim with light.
Sensing the unbridgeable gulf that yawned between us, the follower's face went deathly pale—and I laughed at it, openly and cruelly.
"Pathetic~♡ You can't even control your own emotions~♡ Your acting is full of holes~♡ So fragile you get crushed by a girl half your size~♡ And on top of all that, a limp pathetic eunuch who can't even stay standing♡ Seriously, why do you even bother living?♡"
"You... ngh—!"
The old man tried to unleash his rage through a face swollen red as if it would burst—but my heel reached the bridge of his nose first.
With the satisfying crunch of breaking bone, the old man rolled across the floor, slammed into the wall, twitched a few times, and lost consciousness.
As he blacked out, the divine authority concealing his true identity dissolved, revealing his original form. Beneath the old man's shell was, at oldest, a man in his mid-twenties.
"...What is the meaning of this."
"What do you think? It means your cult's standards are so low you got fooled by that limp nobody."
Having fired that rebuke at the high priest, I strolled out of the conference hall with a hummed tune.
Getting to play with a fun new toy after so long has put me in a great mood. It's like all my stress is melting away.
<Lucy.>
'...What is it now, Grandpa?'
Hearing his voice sterner than I'd ever heard it, I stopped humming and warily gauged his mood.
<Are ye truly asking because ye do not know?>
'Uh, well, that is...'
Did I do something wrong just now? I did get a bit carried away emotionally, but the results were good, weren't they?
I kept the Art Cult from falling into a trap, and I even flushed out the Evil God's follower lurking among them. Ah—unless...
'Do you mean me recklessly approaching the Evil God's follower like that?'
'...Uh. Then what is it? I genuinely have no idea.'
<Haaah.>
At Grandpa's long-suffering sigh, my shoulders flinched without my meaning to. Carl and Erin, seeing this, asked if something was wrong, and I shook my head, told them it was nothing, and hurried off toward the drawing room.
'...Oh. So it's that.'
<Then tell me what graver offense there could possibly be!>
'I mean, come on. Me spouting that kind of language isn't exactly a one-day affair, is it?'
This was hardly the first or second time I'd spat filthy provocations at an opponent, so pointing it out now, of all times...
'Besides, I end up saying things like that whether I want to or not.'
<Where do ye get off trying to deceive me?! From the middle on, ye said it of thine own will!>
'I figured that's what would really get under his skin.'
<This is not the sort of thing to brush off so carelessly! A girl not yet even betrothed, putting such words in her mouth! Others may permit it, but I never shall!>
Grandpa clearly took the matter deadly seriously, and his nagging showed no sign of ending.
Of course, I wasn't listening to any of it. Lucy's refinement, her dignity—all of that had been smashed to pieces before I ever set foot in this world.
As long as the Mesugaki skill existed, restoring it was impossible anyway, so what would be the point of taking Grandpa's lectures to heart?
The pervert Apostle returned before Grandpa's lecture had finished, and sorrow was written across his face.
The source of that sorrow was obvious. It was mourning for the old man whose identity had been stolen by the Evil God's follower.
Straining to mask his heavy heart behind a smile, Frete relayed what had happened in the conference room after I left.
"Thanks to you, my lady, everything was resolved. That Evil God's follower was, after all, the very person who had been pushing this matter forward more aggressively than anyone."
When I exposed the follower's identity, public opinion tipped decisively to one side, and the plan the Art Cult had drawn up was scrapped.
"In its place, we've decided to conduct an internal purge of the cult. There may be other infiltrators, after all."
Having said that much, the pervert Apostle—with a gravity unlike his usual self—thanked me.
"Truly, I thank you, my lady. Had it not been for you, we would never have realized that someone had slipped into our midst. We would never even have been able to pray for Bishop Yurik's soul."
Still bowing his head, he went on to say that if there was anything I desired—anything at all—I had only to speak it.
He wished, by any means necessary, to repay his debt to me, the savior of his cult.
Hearing this, I opened my mouth without a moment's hesitation.
"First, teach my pathetic little Erin whatever perverted technique you've cobbled together from your degeneracy. She was hopeless enough as it was, and now her self-esteem has hit rock bottom too—it's so sad it's not even funny anymore."
"If Lady Erin wishes it, gladly."
"Second, do what you did at the semester-end party. Right now. Your hands are creepy and disgusting, but I'll specially endure it."
"It would be my honor. Gladly."
"And last—make it possible to send a message to that limp old fool who got played by the Evil God. I've got a word or two for the idiot who lost to such a pathetic excuse of a man."
At my final request, the pervert Apostle's head snapped up. He met my eyes, the rims reddening, and bit down hard on his lip.
"I, Frete, swear upon the Goddess's name that by any means necessary, your voice shall reach Bishop Yurik. I shall make certain that the mourning of a lady bearing the most supreme beauty in all the world lays Bishop Yurik's restless soul to rest!"
I didn't answer the pervert Apostle. I simply turned my head away.
And from behind me came the soft sound of falling tears.