A Mesugaki Never Backs Down (2)
"I've cast a spell to keep you stable for now, so you should be fine for a while."
Phoebe said this to Joy as she dispersed the divinity-laced mana she had been holding within her palm.
Up on the bed, Joy watched her with a completely blank expression. Her face was cool and detached, as if nothing in the world could interest her — but Phoebe, who had known Joy for many years, could see straight through the mask to the thoughts behind it. And so, unlike everyone else, she wasn't frightened in the slightest.
"Joy."
At the sound of her name, Joy slowly turned her head.
"Look at me."
But with those words added, Joy's cold eyes met Phoebe's once more.
"You know better than anyone that you haven't fully settled yet, don't you?"
"Yes. That's true."
"Then why on earth did you do something that provokes your trauma?"
Pressed by Phoebe's questioning, Joy had no adequate answer. How was she supposed to admit that she'd agreed to enter the dungeon because she'd given in to her material desires? She could already picture the Saintess sighing in sheer disbelief.
When Joy kept her silence, Phoebe took both of her hands and squeezed them tightly.
"Joy. You are a strong person. But even strong people need time to overcome. Forging iron before it has hardened only breaks it."
"I suppose so."
"According to Lady Armadi's teachings..."
As Phoebe's nagging began in earnest, Joy felt her breath catch in her throat. Phoebe was, without a doubt, a saint. In all the decades she had lived, Joy had never once seen her angry; no matter how unreasonable the treatment she received, she would simply smile it away, saying it was all part of the divine will. Even when Lucy hurled rude words at her, she would only manage an awkward smile.
But perhaps it was the trade-off for all that — just as a normally gentle person becomes terrifying when they finally do lose their temper, someone who usually let even serious matters slide with a light reprimand would nag endlessly once they got started. Having been on the receiving end of Phoebe's lectures a few times before, Joy knew that once the Saintess invoked scripture and began her sermon, she could keep going for a solid two hours. For a woman who had preached at countless occasions both official and informal, sermons were something she could deliver anytime, anywhere, with practiced ease.
Should I pretend to collapse and complain of mental exhaustion?
Just as Joy was seriously entertaining the idea, the infirmary door swung open.
Deep pink twintails and slightly upturned eyes. A mischievous grin. Movements so flighty it was hard to believe she was a count's daughter — and, in the worst possible sense, the most famous person in Soul Academy right now.
Lucy Aln.
She told her knight, "Noob Dog. Wait outside. You can manage that much, right?" before strolling into the infirmary.
"What's this? The noob Saintess was treating the Airhead Lady?"
For Joy, the voice of Lucy Aln — a girl who cared nothing for the atmosphere of a room — had never sounded so welcome.
"Lady Aln. How do you do?"
"You can see for yourself, can't you, noob Saintess? Or is my face blocked by that lard ball of yours?"
"M... my lard ball?"
At Lucy's words, everyone in the infirmary froze. The school nurse, who had been drinking water, choked and coughed repeatedly as if he'd misheard; Joy doubted her own ears; and Phoebe — Phoebe of all people — stood rooted in place, her face flushing crimson beneath a stiff smile.
The only one perfectly composed amid it all was, of course, Lucy herself.
"Is 'lard ball' strange? Then how about f—"
"A-Anyway! Lady Aln, what brings you here?!"
It was the first time Joy had ever seen Phoebe so flustered. Phoebe, who as a high-ranking member of the Church of the Main God had met every sort of person and weathered every sort of situation — and there was someone who could shatter that composure.
As expected of Lady Aln, I suppose.
"The Airhead Lady called me, so here I am."
"I see! Then— I'll step outside and give you the room!"
"That's fine, isn't it?"
"No! We've finished everything Joy and I needed to discuss anyway!"
Phoebe, who had been scrambling about with her eyes darting everywhere, suddenly turned calm. As if something had bewitched her, she stared at the cross hanging around Lucy's neck, then asked in a faint voice:
"Lady Aln... has a blessing been added to your necklace?"
"Ooh, good eye there, Saintess. You noticed? Yep. Why?"
"I'm simply astonished. To think your divinity could grow this much in such a short span of time. Lady Aln, you truly are beloved by God."
At the pure admiration in Phoebe's voice, Lucy let out an infuriating little laugh.
"Not really? Doesn't everyone get this much attention?"
"I wish that were so, but sadly it is not, Lady Aln."
"What's that, noob Saintess? Jealous? Pfft. That's basically disqualifying yourself as a Saintess."
The same insolent, self-important behavior as always. An ordinary person would have grumbled, Are you bragging? — but Phoebe only smiled.
"I've let our conversation run long. I'll take my leave now — but first, just one moment."
Rising from her chair, Phoebe turned to Joy, leaned in close, and whispered:
"We'll continue what I was saying earlier later. All of it."
At this declaration that the sermon was far from over, Joy's eyes trembled.
The Saintess is going to drag me down to hell.
I want to die.
Favorability, quests, all of it — maybe I should just give up and watch the game over screen.
No. It'd be way too late by then.
For a quieter, more peaceful death, I should probably ask Alsaetin to get me some poison. Yeah. That's the best option.
<Young lady, um...>
'Grandpa. Please be quiet.'
Nothing I could say right now is going to bring my shattered heart back anyway.
Grandpa seemed to sense how thoroughly broken I was, because he said nothing more.
Haah.
Oh incompetent, useless, petty Chief God? Look what you've done. YOU'RE the one who empowered the Mesugaki skill into this.
Huh?!
Look what you've done, I said! Spewing filth at the Saintess wasn't enough — now I'm twisting the knife?! Dammit all. What even is a "lard ball"?! A lard ball!
If this thing empowers even a little further, am I seriously going to start calling her the Lewd Saintess? Huh?!
As I fumed inwardly, an unsettling thought struck me: I might actually do it.
Take what I call Karl. The moment the Mesugaki skill empowered, "noob" escalated to "Noob Dog," didn't it?
Right now I've dropped the extra syllables and just call her "noob Saintess" — but the second I cross the line, I know I'll blurt out "lewd Saintess."
And if that happens? Buried. Six feet under.
Sexually insulting the Saintess, who is practically the living symbol of the present-day Main God's Church? I can't even imagine what would unfold.
There was no scenario like that in the game!
"Lady Aln?"
I'd been so busy lamenting internally that my mouth had been pressed firmly shut, and Joy called out to me carefully.
"Are you all right?"
Thanks to the Mesugaki skill, my expression was surely the picture of relaxed composure — so why was Joy worried about me? Was keeping my mouth shut the problem?
Well. If she asks whether I'm okay... I am okay, technically.
I'd made quite a few slips of the tongue, but Phoebe would let them slide well enough. My only real worry was whether something even bigger might happen next time.
So I shrugged and put on a smile.
'I'm fine.'
"Aw, were you worried about me, Airhead Lady? Pretty composed for someone who nearly became the Pants-Wetting Lady, huh?"
Mesugaki skill. Isn't today's bonus a little excessive? Keep stuffing me with these overflowing servings and I'm going to be in serious trouble.
"I don't believe I ever wet myself."
'That was a joke.'
"Airhead Lady. You can't even tell a joke from the real thing? Zero perception, huh."
"...I don't know about anyone else, but I would prefer not to hear the words 'zero perception' from Lady Aln of all people."
Right? Even I'd be furious if someone like Lucy told me I had no perception.
'Joy. So why did you call for me?'
"So, Airhead Lady. What's up? Can't sleep alone? Want me to sing you a lullaby?"
"A lullaby from Lady Aln... sounds horrifying, so I'll decline. I asked for you because I wished to offer an apology."
She apologized — in that dignified, earnest voice so characteristic of her — for declaring she'd bravely enter the dungeon only to freeze up in fear and fail to go in at all; for throwing my schedule into disarray because of it; for causing a needless misunderstanding. And above all, for having received my aid without ever being able to repay it.
Listening to her, the only thought I had was: Why is she apologizing to me?
If you really pressed the matter, I was the one who'd given Joy her trauma trigger, so if anyone owed an apology it was me — there was not a single reason anywhere for me to be receiving one.
A wasted day? It's not like I was speedrunning right now. Why would I throw a fit over losing one day? For a veteran of Soul Academy like me, this wasn't even a loss.
'Don't worry about it.'
"Airhead Lady. How timid of you — so very noob-like. Whether you repay your debt or not, I couldn't care less. Why would I ever take an interest in a noob like you?"
"But still—"
'She says it's fine.'
"Airhead Lady. Would you stop clinging already?"
With that, I stood up from my seat. I couldn't stay here a second longer — I had no idea what kind of verbal filth I'd end up spewing at Joy. She'd only just clawed her way out of her trauma, and I couldn't pile any more abuse on her!
'Well then, I'll be off!'
"Take care, Airhead Lady. Let's hope that airheaded face of yours is a little better by next time, hm?"
Avery of the House of Rumly — a count's family numbered among Joy Partran's close circle — found herself unconsciously gnawing at her fingernails.
Lucy Aln. That damned woman.
Not long ago, Avery had blocked the path of that degenerate who, without any sense of her place, had picked a fight with Lady Partran. She had done it purely for Lady Partran's sake. Dragging a young lady with painful dungeon memories all the way to the entrance just to dredge up her trauma — how could Avery stand by and watch such a vicious creature go anywhere near Lady Partran again?
But that degenerate had revealed her thuggish nature in full. She'd insulted Avery, shoved her aside, and sent her sprawling to the floor.
Humiliated in front of a crowd of onlookers, Avery still ground her teeth whenever she relived that moment, even days later. Born the daughter of the venerable House of Rumly and waited upon by countless people all her life, she simply could not bear the disgrace.
It's intolerable.
It had been intolerable when the wretch ran rampant through high society, hurling insults like some common thug — but the sight of her now, carrying on like she owned the sky just because she'd done well on one entrance exam, was beyond what Avery could watch with a straight face. If Lucy Aln had held some middling title, Avery would have taught her manners personally.
But against Lucy Aln, she could do no such thing. Sole heir to House Aln, one of the continent's foremost martial families. A rising star who had claimed first place in the Academy entrance exam and broadcast her talent to the world. A monster of a degenerate who had defeated Frey Kent — widely regarded as the next Sword Saint — in sheer combat. She was not someone Avery could handle alone.
Ordinarily, she could have borrowed Lady Partran's influence to say a word or two, but Lady Partran looked upon that damned witch favorably. Called her the benefactor who saved her life, no less.
That degenerate, saving someone's life? Impossible. It was surely nothing more than a coincidence — but regardless, Lady Partran believed it, and firmly: 'If you insult Lady Aln any further, I may find myself a little angry.' Firmly enough that Avery and the other young ladies' persuasion had completely failed to move her.
And so Avery and the others chose a second option.
There was, without question, someone who harbored hatred for Lucy Aln even now. Someone grinding their teeth over their recent defeat, swearing revenge.
Arthur Soladin.
They would borrow the strength of the Third Prince of the Soladin Kingdom.