The Saintess and Sloth [4]
A dank alley reeking of moisture and rot.
The saintess and the Three Swords had followed Natae to the city's outskirts, to a garbage dump.
Natae stared silently at the heap of trash, then stepped around to the back.
In the spot where the stench was thickest, where no human eyes ever strayed, an old wooden crate was jammed into a corner.
A grimy black tarp was slung haphazardly over it, weighted down by hefty stones and filth-smeared refuse.
Scattered beside it were gnawed animal bones and crumpled tin cans someone had discarded.
It was just another part of the dump.
Unless you deliberately rummaged through it, you'd never notice the crate was even there.
“……?”
Se Rena and the Three Swords' eyes snapped to the crate in unison.
It was a standard-issue box, blackened with age-old grime and unidentifiable sludge, stinking enough to turn your stomach.
Natae glanced back indifferently and spoke.
“You lot stay here. Saintess, you're with me.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Gawayne and Kai bristled, blocking his path.
“What nonsense is this? We can't let the saintess go into a suspicious place like that—alone with you!”
“Over our dead bodies! Cut us down first!”
Natae eyed them with lazy annoyance, scanning their bulky frames and gear like he was appraising junk.
Then he pointed at each one in turn, blunt as ever.
“You're too damn big to fit.”
“……What?”
Gawayne blinked in stupid shock, then flicked his gaze to the next guy.
“And you—overbuilt with muscle, you're out. You're the least bad, but that armor's a no-go.”
His flat assessment twisted all three faces in unison.
Natae jerked his chin at the battered, filthy crate and added,
“Just wait if I say wait. But heads-up: damage that box even a little, and you're all dead. Got it?”
The bluster drained from them.
It wasn't the death threat that floored them—it was the idea of crawling into that cramped box.
“……You don't mean we have to go in there? Inside the box?”
As their bewildered questions dragged on, Natae's face started to sour.
“Not going in?”
The short question hung heavy, thickening the air.
Se Rena flinched and reached for the box's edge, kneeling down—when Lian raised her hand with grim resolve.
“I'll go too.”
“Told you, you won't fit. Not with that armor……”
“I'll take it off.”
Her hands flew into motion before the words even settled.
Clank, crash!
Thick plate armor hit the dump floor with pathetic clatters.
From shoulder pauldrons to chestplate, the gleaming steel gear tumbled into the muck.
“……”
What emerged was her silhouette, stripped bare: a sleek black bodysuit hugging every curve and sinew, smooth enough to trace each muscle twitch. Smaller than the burly others, but lithe and agile in a way that screamed assassin, not knight.
Natae gave the skin-tight(?) getup a dubious once-over.
“……Fine. Do what you want.”
He shrugged indifferently, and she moved straight to Se Rena's side.
“Saintess, I'll go first.”
“But Lian……”
“I'm going in first.”
Lian cut her off firmly and pried open the plank that served as the crate's door. Inside: dried hay and filthy rags strewn in a mess.
She took a deep breath, then squeezed her body through the narrow gap.
And in the next instant—
She vanished into the box like she'd been sucked in, without a trace.
“……!”
Se Rena and the remaining knights' eyes bulged in shock. Teleportation? Illusion?
Natae nodded at the box.
“Get in.”
Se Rena knelt in a daze and slipped inside. She too was pulled in and gone.
I glanced at the stunned Gawayne and Kai left behind and tacked on,
“Get bored waiting, go on home.”
Shrugging off their blank stares, I dove into the narrow wooden box.
I stepped through the door and chuckled at the sight of Se Rena and Lian frozen in stunned silence.
A soft fabric softener scent tickled my nose, mingling with the warm glow of lamps.
Furniture leagues beyond this world's crude makes—smooth curves like a master artisan's handiwork.
Plush wool carpet underfoot, heavy blackout curtains sealing out all light.
And in the room's center, under lamp light mimicking sunlight, my daughter Lulu slept on the bed, her breaths faint and fragile.
“……”
I ignored their gawking and headed to the table, nodding at chairs.
“Quit gawking. Sit.”
They shuffled over like roots had yanked from the earth and plopped down.
Lian ran her fingers reverently over the table's polish; Se Rena fidgeted, clearly shocked by the chair's comfort.
I watched, then spoke.
“Enough. Before you heal Lulu, things you need to know. Call 'em precautions.”
Se Rena's eyes sharpened instantly.
Lian straightened, locking eyes with me.
“Hm…… Lots to cover.”
Laziness hit as I started. Explaining point by point would take longer than Lulu waking. I sorted my thoughts and cut it short.
“First off.”
I flicked my hand lightly, draping a thin Sloth Force barrier around sleeping Lulu.
“She'll sleep a bit longer. What I'm about to show is Lulu's life. Watch and decide for yourselves.”
Showing beats telling. Ignoring their puzzled looks, I snapped my fingers.
Snap!
A clear pop echoed as room lights dimmed. Magic light gathered on the blank wall ahead, forming a massive screen.
Se Rena and Lian's eyes sparkled with wonder—until the first scene hit, stealing their breath.
I murmured quietly.
“Dunno why. No memories before age four.”
On screen: a child sat amid trash heaps, munching a dirt-caked bread scrap like treasure. Maybe four years old. Beside her, a big dog sat guard like a protector. Bread the dog had fetched.
The speechless toddler babbled “Woof! Woof!” imitating the dog in joy, thrilled at the gift.
She finished, clutched the dog's shaggy fur with tiny hands.
“Woof! Woof woof!”
Giggling wildly, she buried her face in its scruff. Filthy and unwashed, but her smile outshone the world.
The dog wagged, lapped her cheek with a huge tongue. She squirmed, giggling, burrowing into its warmth.
They rolled in the trash piles like a playground. She'd toss a dented can; dog fetched. She'd pet its head like priceless treasure.
Under shaded scrap, she pillowed on its belly. Steady heartbeat, warm body heat. There, in that untouched dump, Lulu first learned “rest” with her body.
That forsaken trash heap was her sole paradise.
But joy was fleeting. One day, the dog vanished.
Tiny legs pattered everywhere, searching alleys—no trace.
The little girl wailed in a corner, face tear-streaked. Her one rest, her paradise, gone.
Screen shifted. Older now, she staggered out of the alley. Fresh-baked bread scent stung her nose. First warm sunlight, people's laughter.
Enchanted, she stepped into the square. To her, it must've looked like heaven.
But stepping into that “heaven” cost dearly.
“Filthy rat—how dare you!”
A rough shout, a man's hand yanking her hair. Tossed like trash back to the alley, she didn't scream—instead curled tight, hands over ears.
That day, she learned the world rejected her. And curling up hurt less.
Screen changed. Age seven. A ghost of a girl, life drained. Rummaging bins, shoving rotten scraps in her mouth—then a heavy boot slammed her ribs.
“Gah!”
She tumbled, shrieking. Man loomed, spitting mad.
“Filthin' up the street—scram!”
He hawked phlegm-laced spit at the trembling child.
“Thought we culled all you mutts clean. Where'd this stray crawl from?”
First taste of others' violence. From then, people spat curses at her sight, swung fists freely.
She burrowed deeper into outskirts, under rotting trash.
One day, amid refuse, Lulu found a rag doll mirroring her own wretchedness. Too pitiful, like a mirror—she clutched it close. Age eight: her first family.
“Me…… Lulu…… You, Mimi…… Heehee, Mimi…… good……?”
Age eight Lulu eavesdropped kids calling parents over walls, learning words. Naming herself, chatting with her doll family, she kept smiling in hell.
Screen shifted. Sky darkened, torrent poured. Thin rags no shield—Lulu clutched perfect-fit doll Mimi to her chest, lips blue, shivering through alleys.
Fearful rain chilled Mimi? She wrapped tiny arms around it, hunching to shield.
Her eyes caught an abandoned oversized wooden crate. Instinct drove her inside.
“……”
Wood walls blocked wind and rain. Cramming in brought strange relief. No eyes on her. No beatings for her or Mimi.
That made her smile.
“Mimi…… here, good…… nobody…… hits……”
She rubbed her cheek on Mimi's damp face, whispering low.
Waiting out rain, Lulu couldn't lose this box. Tiny body shoved and dragged it, grunting, to the dump's deepest corner.
Feet slipped in mud, nails blackened—still, she stashed Mimi safe in a corner, never stopping.
Grabbed nearby black tarp for cover, piled heavy trash and stones atop. No leaks, no flying off.
Under that crude roof, grubby hands smeared in filth, Lulu finally smiled in relief.
“Now…… our home…… Mimi…… sleep…… yeah?”
Rain drumming the box her lullaby, she dreamed her happiest in the stinking crate.
Se Rena's eyes shook like an earthquake. That cramped space she'd hesitated at—this child saw it as the world's safest haven. It pierced her heart.
Lian gripped the table white-knuckled, trembling.
Screen flipped.
“……!”
Se Rena clapped a hand over her mouth, turning away.
On screen, Lulu's cheek ballooned double-size. Caught picking bread crumbs—beaten near death by the owner. Skeletal face marred by swollen bruises.
But she smiled.
Hidden behind walls, peeking at happy kids playing hand-in-hand with parents. Their laughter lit her eyes.
Someday that warmth for me. Someday a family holding my hand.
Ignoring throbbing pain, she borrowed their joy, dreaming her future.
Back atop trash with shattered hopes, nightly whispers to Mimi:
“Mimi…… our…… family, come…… right? Lulu…… daddy…… come?”
Daily beatings, vile words, humanity's cruelty—she endured unbroken. Scavenged trash for meals, secretly cleaned streets at night, waiting for “family.”
And at last, at survival's ragged end, she met me.
Hiss.
Screen died; silence heavier than screams settled.
I asked dryly,
“That's how this kid lived in the world you protect. So, still think your god's merciful?”
Se Rena had no answer.
Tears soaked her pristine robes, staining them.
Lian braced on the table, shoulders heaving with ragged breaths.
I layered cold words over their wretched hush.
“Don't kid yourselves it's war's fault. It's human nature, plain. Think the ones you praise differ from that spitter? Nah, same breed.”
My voice cut sharper against the room's cozy scent.
“She just survived outside your 'noble humanity's' fence—eating their scraps, taking their lashes.”
I looked down at their bowed heads on the table.
“Spare me the 'room for redemption' crap. That's just slapping on a new mask over base instincts.”
My lips twisted. Se Rena's mouth twitched, but my icy gaze silenced her.
“Kids innocent? Nah, I disagree. Humans are more wicked young. Mencius wasn't wrong. 'Goodness' is education and society's leash—an artifice. Strip to instinct, and kids torch cats for fun, rip bug legs. What they did to Lulu? Purest bloom of that nature.”
Room warmth froze at my words. Lian's shoulders quivered visibly.
“Your protected world? Massive hypocrisy pile from those wicked souls. She alone faced its ugliness head-on and endured.”
My voice swept low and chill.
I paused, stood, walked slow to Lulu's bed. Gazed at her frail breaths.
Then dropped the dagger fact, casual as ever.
“And this kid? Dies, she falls to Hell.”
“……!”
Se Rena and Lian jerked up, aghast. The saintess's face went ghost-pale.
To her, lifelong god-devoted, an innocent child damned? Worse than blasphemy.
“Wh-what……! What sin did she commit to go to Hell? This makes no sense!”
Se Rena cried out. I met her eyes, deep and sunken.
“Summoned me.”
Air iced over.
“Her one desperate wish. Met her dad—and for that, her soul's Hell's collateral.”
“……”
Dead silence crashed down.
Se Rena gaped, flicking between Lulu and me.
“What…… What cruel nonsense? Craving family lands her in Hell? How's that a contract?!”
Her scream laced with anguish. I smirked bitterly.
“That's the contract. First time she called me, snot-nosed and teary: 'You my daddy?'”
I brushed back Lulu's sleeping hair. Dawn square flashed—her desperate face seeing me.
“So I became her dad. That's why I'm here. She traded afterlife for me. This world was worse than Hell to her.”
My eyes darkened deep.
“Moment I became dad, her soul's Hell's. Death drops her straight to the pit—unavoidable causality. Your merciful god won't save a devil-contracted kid.”
Lian groaned, head dropping.
Se Rena felt her faith's foundation crumble. I crooked a smile at them.
“Course, I'll make her happy in Hell. My turf.”
Se Rena stared blankly at my brazen claim.
I clapped sharp to refocus them.
Clap!
“Anyway, story wandered. You get the vibe?”
I nodded at fragile-breathing Lulu on the bed.
“She wakes, she'll wary you. Obey fine—but don't mistake it. Not trust; survival instinct fear. Bear that gaze full while healing.”
Se Rena flinched. Savior turned fear-object? Alien pain for her.
“Her surviving this long's a miracle. Took beatings, burned all mana instinctively not to die—then tapped life force too.”
I laid hand on Lulu's chest hollow. My Sloth Force trickled, forcing her faint survival instinct to cling.
“What I need from you: restore her life force flow. I'm propping it temporary, but long-term? Bad for growth. Artificial mana sustaining hits limits.”
My eyes chilled toward Se Rena.
“Your fancy holy power—wake her parched life force. Let her breathe herself, cycle mana herself. Can you?”
Se Rena swallowed hard, rose.
Now she saw not Lulu, but humanity's sins incarnate.
“……I'll do it. Restore her, no matter what.”
Her voice steady now. I smiled faintly at the desperate resolve in her eyes.