The Real Deal Appears
A fake-uniformed second-year from Ephnel, was it?
It looked entertaining enough, so Lethe decided to play along with the little farce for a while. Rising from her seat, she bowed with impeccable courtesy.
"I had no idea a senior was staying in this cabin. Please forgive my rudeness."
Ellen, who had been standing there with her arms crossed in supreme confidence, flinched violently.
"I-I'm your senior...?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Lethe undid the clasps of the robe she wore over her shoulders and slipped it off.
Beneath it was the very same Ephnel uniform Ellen had on—white blouse and skirt—but the radiance that shimmered from the fabric belonged to an entirely different class. The moment the two stood side by side, the comparison was obvious to anyone.
Suddenly, the uniform Ellen wore looked hopelessly, painfully fake.
"I am your direct junior, first-year of Ephnel, Lethe Shardena. I was admitted as Special Admission No. 1."
The color drained from Ellen's face. The girls who had snickered behind her, propping her up just moments ago, couldn't manage another laugh.
"Is something the matter, Senior?"
Lethe, still bent forward politely with her hands clasped together, lifted only her head. The corners of her mouth were curving upward.
"You're looking rather pale."
"A-Ah, ah, it's nothing at all! Nothing! Ohohoho!"
...The real thing had shown up.
Who could have imagined a current Ephnel student was riding this train? And a Special Admission No. 1, no less.
Sweating bullets, Ellen threw a desperate glance over her shoulder for help, but the girls were already long gone.
"Ellen Zeil? Ellen Zeil..."
Lethe furrowed her brow, wearing a genuinely troubled expression, then spoke.
"I'm terribly sorry, but I've never heard that name before. Might I ask what your major is?"
"H-Holy Mechanics! Ah—no, I mean, my major it is! Ohohoho!"
"Ah~ I see."
Lethe clapped her palms together and gave a kindly, smiling squint. Ellen, swallowing hard, forced out a strained smile of her own.
Maybe she'll just let it slide? If I can get past this one crisis, I'll get off at the very next station and—
"What a coincidence."
Lethe drew a communication crystal orb from her breast pocket.
"I was just about to report to my academic advisor anyway. If you're in Holy Mechanics, you surely know Professor Rahel, don't you?"
"R-Rahel...?!"
"Shall I put her on for a greeting?"
Drops of sweat slid down Ellen's forehead and splattered to the floor.
If Professor Rahel caught her wearing a counterfeit uniform, it would truly be the end.
As she stood frozen, mouth opening and closing uselessly, Lethe nodded as if she understood perfectly and lowered the crystal orb.
"Impersonating an Ephnel student is."
Lethe's voice had turned ice-cold.
"You do know it's a genuinely serious crime, right?"
* * *
Meanwhile, Simon, who had gone to the restroom, was making his way back to the first-class car.
Wow, that's incredible. How can there even be a restroom inside a train? Where does the waste even go?
It was only after entertaining these idle musings that Simon belatedly sensed something strange.
The first-class cabin that had been buzzing with chatter earlier was now sunk in a heavy silence.
Everyone was so noisy before. Are they all asleep?
Puzzled, Simon returned to Cabin A2.
"Huh?"
A rather bewildering scene greeted him.
Lethe sat with her legs crossed, swirling a wine glass, and beside her, a girl in the identical Ephnel uniform was kneeling on the floor with her hands raised.
"Ah! Your arms aren't even straight!"
At Lethe's irritated remark, the girl snapped upright in fright, thrusting both arms high into the air.
"Don't sit on your heels! Lift your hips! Don't straighten your knees. Yes, hold that position. That is, if you truly don't want to die."
Watching the girl tremble from head to toe as she held the punishing stance, Simon thought she looked awfully familiar.
"You're back."
Lethe said indifferently upon noticing him. Ellen, who had been hanging her head in shame at the arrival of a third party, timidly rolled only her eyes toward him.
"Wha—?"
Ellen's pupils began shaking violently.
"Wh-wh-wh-wh-WHAT?!"
Standing before her was the very last person who should have been in this place. Ellen was so startled that her posture collapsed entirely.
Simon recognized her too, and waved with a wry grin.
"Long time no see, Ellen."
* * *
Ellen Zeil.
The priest girl from Ephnel Simon had met during his very first mission after entering Kizen.
Her true identity, as it turned out, was simply an expelled Ephnel student. To earn money to feed her younger siblings, she had crossed into the Dark Alliance through a broker to take on work—and that was how she'd crossed paths with Simon.
"You're still doing this?"
Simon said, pointing at her fake uniform. Her face flushed crimson, Ellen answered in a voice that had shrunk to a crawl.
"I-I'm sorry. I meant to quit after that day, but... it turns out the difference in fees between working as an Ephnel priest and working as an ordinary priest is just..."
"Absolutely shameless."
Lethe said coldly, having heard the whole story.
She had just finished double-checking that the soundproofing white magic circle she'd drawn on the wall was working properly, and now returned to her seat.
"You didn't just impersonate Ephnel—you used that fake identity to cross into the Dark Alliance and take jobs? Are you out of your mind?"
Ellen hung her head, and Lethe pressed on.
"I was actually prepared to treat you as a senior, since it's true you once attended Ephnel. But you're just trash. I'm contacting Sky Island right now to summon the Inquisitors."
"N-No! Please, no!"
Ellen clung to Lethe's leg, begging.
"Ah, damn it! Let go!"
"If they take me, I might actually die! If I die, my little brothers and sisters—!"
"If you truly cared about them, you shouldn't have done any of this in the first place!"
Lethe coldly peeled Ellen off her leg like a leech.
"Even if you die or rot in a cell, don't worry about a thing. I'll personally see to it that your siblings are sent to a proper monastery."
"No! Please, I'm begging you!"
No matter how Ellen wept and pleaded, Lethe remained an unmovable wall.
When not the slightest hint of mercy appeared, Ellen's eyes shifted toward Simon this time.
"S-Simon! Please, help me!"
"Clinging to him won't do you any good."
Lethe sneered.
"We're in the Holy Federation. What could he possibly—"
"Don't worry, Ellen."
Simon patted her shoulder.
"Lethe isn't going to send you to prison."
"Simon...!"
Ellen's eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude. At those words, Lethe let out a bitter, strangled laugh.
"Unbelievable. And who exactly are you to be making promises like that?"
"Actually, Lethe's committed a crime too. She's the one who brought me here."
"HEY!! You insane bastard!"
Lethe exploded, seizing Simon by the collar.
"You want to die?! Why would you say that out loud?!"
Simon simply smiled pleasantly.
From his perspective, having Ellen arrested would be a disaster. Somewhere in the interrogation or torture process, her mouth might let slip Simon's name, or his identity might be exposed.
Having grasped the situation at lightning speed, Ellen's face lit up like the sun as she clapped her hands together.
"Aha! Then from now on, we share a common destiny!"
"Ghh...!"
Lethe released his collar with an irritated jerk and flopped down onto the bed, glaring daggers at him for a long while.
"...I will remember this."
"Sorry."
Simon apologized.
"But if Ellen gets arrested while knowing who I am, we're both in trouble, aren't we? There's no reason to take on that kind of risk."
"That's true, but I never wanted to be tangled up with this so-called senior like this."
"Relax. Ellen's good at keeping secrets. Right?"
When Simon turned to her, Ellen nodded vigorously, her face glowing with utter loyalty.
Lethe scowled deeply, looking profoundly displeased.
"By the way, Senior. Who said you could put your arms down?"
At that single remark, Ellen instantly became a docile lamb and thrust both arms back up.
Afterward, the three of them spent time trading stories in the same cabin.
Ellen said she was on her way to complete a new commission—one farther out than the other two's destination, so it seemed they would be traveling together for the entire journey. She mentioned that her seven younger siblings were all doing well.
"Still, it's strange. Wearing a counterfeit uniform like that, how did you not get flagged by the heresy inquisitors on the train?"
At Lethe's question, Ellen gave an embarrassed little giggle.
"Well, I'm definitely a real priest! This outfit is just cosplay, you see. So other than getting some truly pitiful looks, they all just let it slide?"
"How inspiring."
An inquisitor's purpose was to root out heretics and drag them before the judgment seat. Impersonation of this sort wasn't their jurisdiction, so it seemed they simply looked the other way.
Simon glanced at Lethe.
"By the way, can't you let her put her arms down now?"
Two hours had passed, and Lethe was still working her "senior" to death. By now, even Ellen's trembling arms looked pitiable.
"Don't interfere. This is a matter between priests."
Lethe snorted dismissively.
"Considering that an expelled nobody dared impersonate Ephnel, this isn't even a punishment. It's child's play. Isn't that right, Senior?"
"Y-Yes! That's right! Ahahaha!"
Just then—as if some device had been tripped somewhere—Lethe flinched and spoke.
"The inquisitors are coming. Ellen, get back to your seat. Now."
Her face went ghost-white at those words. Ellen gave the two of them a deep bow and hurried back to her own compartment.
Lethe swiftly erased the soundproofing magic circle from the wall, sat down in her seat, and composed herself.
Simon, feeling a wave of tension crash over him, pulled out the holy scripture he'd borrowed from Lethe and pretended to read it.
"Hm."
Lethe tilted her head.
"Isn't the fake-reading act a bit much? You're overdoing it."
"I'm going for the zealot look."
"Ah. Yes. Well—just don't get caught."
Thud. Thud.
The heresy inquisitors had truly arrived. Weapons and torture implements in hand, they clanked their way down the corridor.
A deathly hush settled over the entire train.
"We will be conducting a brief interrogation. Your cooperation is appreciated."
Perhaps because this was a car reserved for priests and their families, their manner was far more courteous than that of the inquisitors Simon had seen at the market.
Simon tuned his ears toward the interrogations in the other cabins.
Nothing too difficult was being asked. Reasonable, common-sense questions. At this level of difficulty, Simon judged, it would be easy.
Thud. Thud.
And then, at last, the inquisitors stopped in front of Lethe and Simon's cabin.
"We deeply apologize for disturbing your rest."
Senior Inquisitor Baccara bowed his head more politely than ever. His gaze was fixed on the uniform Lethe wore. The other inquisitors behind him, catching sight of her, likewise flinched in surprise.
"You boarded at the previous station. We will now conduct a brief interrogation. Forgive the sin of doubting your faith—this is merely procedure handed down from above, and your cooperation would be most appreciated."
Lethe gave a curt, indifferent nod.
"Fine, fine. Do as you like."
Baccara asked a handful of simple questions, and Lethe spat out her answers as if to say, why even bother asking this? Even when he twisted the questions into traps, she pierced straight to their core without a flicker of hesitation. The inquisitors' faces filled with admiration at such rock-solid faith—exactly what one would expect of an Ephnel student.
"That will be all for the questions. Lastly, we will conduct a physical examination."
"Ugh, seriously. What a nuisance."
"Our deepest apologies."
Baccara nodded toward the side. A female inquisitor stepped forward and spoke.
"Priestess, please follow me to the examination room.
Worried about being left alone with Simon, Lethe gritted her teeth.
"Do we really have to do everything by the book like this?"
"I'm sorry. Given the current circumstances... please cooperate."
Ephnel student or not, there was no way to refuse an interrogation formally conducted by heresy inquisitors through official procedure.
In the end, as Lethe walked off with the female inquisitor, she cast an anxious glance back at Simon. He nodded reassuringly. She nodded in return and headed for the examination room.
"Now then, it's your turn, priest. For you, first we—"
"Excuse me. One moment."
At that moment, a young heresy inquisitor shoved past Baccara and entered.
The instant he stepped into the cabin, he raised his leg and slammed his boot down on the desk with a mighty BANG!
"Long time no see."
Simon's eyes widened.
It was Metin—the heresy inquisitor he'd crossed paths with at the night market.
"You slipped away like an eel last time. Not this time."
Metin sniffed at the air.
"Heh heh! There it is—that Jet-Black stench. You're dead. I'm going to expose exactly who and what you are, right here and now!"
"Metin!"
Baccara grabbed Metin's shoulder.
"Nothing has been proven yet. It would be an act of gross disrespect to brand a priestess a heretic so carelessly—"
Smack.
Metin swatted Baccara's arm away and glared into Simon's face with a murderous expression.
"You. Are going to die. Right here."
And then—
By his own reckoning, Metin had cornered the man completely. And yet Simon was simply smiling.
That warm, utterly serene smile—not a speck of malice in it—made Metin flinch despite himself.
"It seems you're laboring under a rather serious misunderstanding, Inquisitor."
Simon clasped his hands neatly together and raised his divinity.
A pleasant, gentle radiance of holy power spread through the cabin, and the other inquisitors let out small gasps of wonder, smiles blooming on their faces.
Such pure divinity... it's been so long.
It feels as though my very soul is being cleansed.
Metin's expression twisted beautifully.
"Please, ask me anything you like."
Simon smiled.
He had no idea how the man had caught on—scent or whatever it was.
But this time, Metin had picked the wrong opponent.