Gifts (1)
Late morning, Ariel crept down toward the kitchen and found Lowen already there.
"Good morning, Saintess."
He offered the greeting with gentle warmth.
"Ah—ah, y-yes...! G-g-good morning...!"
The moment their eyes met, Ariel stammered and flailed.
Yesterday's memories were still far too vivid. She could still see that cock, throbbing and standing at full attention. The taste of his semen—thick, sticky, weaving spiderwebs down her throat—lingered on her tongue.
"You must be hungry. I'll have breakfast ready right away."
Yet Lowen remained perfectly composed. After everything that had happened last night, how could he be so calm? Was he just hiding his embarrassment behind that cool exterior?
Ariel veiled her golden divine power over her violet eyes and checked his emotions.
A soft green, like a quiet forest at dawn. Serenity. Peace.
He wasn't concealing any shame, nor was he still buzzing from their little game of fire.
"Shouldn't he be at least a little embarrassed...?"
Muttering under her breath at the realization that she alone was still fluttering over yesterday, Ariel felt a petty sting of hurt.
"Pardon? Did you say something?"
She answered more curtly than she meant to.
"No. I didn't say anything."
While Lowen was still busy preparing the meal, Clea returned from her walk, humming a little tune.
"My, my. So you managed to resolve it safely?"
Clea looked at Ariel—now free of her cat ears—with a faint trace of regret. They really had been adorable. If she'd sold them as merchandise, she would have made a fortune. Petite Saintess, cat ears, cat tail, and those enormous breasts. A perfect little package of loveliness that would have appealed to every age and gender.
"At the very least, as related merchandise..."
Saintess-themed goods were already sold in the cathedral gift shops, after all.
"I believe I've already told you the Saintess is not merchandise."
Just as Clea was mentally running the numbers on how to turn that cuteness into product, Lowen arrived with breakfast and cut her off.
"Saintess, please enjoy."
He set a plate in front of Ariel.
"Wow... Bishop Lowen, is today some kind of special occasion?"
The plate was lavish for breakfast. In the center of toast fried golden in butter sat a little lake of egg yolk. A salad studded with red and blue berries carried a bright yuzu fragrance. Beside it, thick strips of bacon sizzled and released a mouthwatering aroma. For a drink he had prepared lemon tea sweetened with plenty of honey.
Compared to life at the Grand Cathedral it wasn't extravagant, but for their life here it was a decidedly luxurious plate.
"You worked hard yesterday. You need a proper meal to fill you up."
Lowen cut the toast in half. The soft-boiled yolk split and spilled out in a glossy stream.
"Here. Try it."
He cut a bite-sized piece and fed it straight into Ariel's mouth. Yolk spread across her tongue in a silky rush. She flinched. She hadn't meant to think it, but the way the yolk ran felt exactly like swallowing semen.
"Is it good?"
Lowen asked with a warm smile. Ariel, who had been rolling the yolk around with her saliva without realizing it, swallowed hard and nodded rapidly.
Clea watched the whole scene with open amusement.
"Nothing advances a man and woman's relationship quite like rubbing skin together, does it?"
"Be quiet."
Lowen set Clea's plate in front of her.
"I don't feel any love in this one."
Her plate held the same menu, but less than half the portion Ariel had received.
"When I think of the cat, even this feels like a waste."
"Is a bishop allowed to say things like that?"
Clea bit into a strip of bacon.
"And I don't think yesterday was entirely my fault."
The Absorbing Spirit Cat had possessed Ariel because she was a virgin who was also a masturbation addict with a taste for the filthy—a thoroughly lewd Saintess.
"And who provided the fundamental cause?"
Still, the entire incident had begun because Clea had let the Absorbing Spirit Cat escape. When Lowen fixed her with a sharp look over his glasses, Clea crunched loudly into her toast and changed the subject.
"My, this toast is perfectly toasted. You've got quite the skill."
"Thank you."
In any case, the uproar had ended safely. They were lucky it had stopped at semen. If they had needed actual sex to pry the Absorbing Spirit Cat free, it would have been a genuine headache.
Honestly, yesterday had been dangerous. Whether it was the butterfly mark on Ariel's lower belly pulling at him, or the priestly instinct to love and care for the Saintess, the urge to sink himself into her lower mouth had risen all the way to the top of his skull. Each time, he had barely held on by finishing in her mouth and gripping her ass instead.
Strange. Did some odd aura cling to Ariel? The closer he got, the more his long-dormant lust boiled and his lower belly tightened. Had some blessing for bewitching men been laid upon that little country mutt?
"Aren't you eating, Bishop Lowen?"
Ariel had already cleaned her plate and was sipping her lemon tea.
"I'm not hungry."
Still half-lost in thought, Lowen curved his lips into a small smile and plucked a scrap of bacon from the corner of her mouth.
"This will be enough."
He put the scrap into his own mouth.
"Hwaaah... Bishop Lowen... that's..."
Watching him eat the bacon that had been stuck to her lips, Ariel's face bloomed bright red. She couldn't quite explain what was so embarrassing about it, but her throat itched with shame. Lowen remained as impassive as ever while Ariel alone squirmed and twisted in her seat.
"Could you spare a moment?"
After the meal, Clea caught Ariel on her way to pray.
"Is there something you wished to say?"
Ariel looked up at her and tilted her head.
"Nothing major. Just wanted to apologize for yesterday, if nothing else."
Ariel took Clea's hands with a gentle, smiling gaze.
"No. Please don't take it so much to heart. Anyone can make mistakes, and anyone can do wrong. And since no one was hurt and everything ended safely, you really don't need to apologize that much."
Then Ariel added a "however," and poked Clea lightly on the nose with one finger.
"Please be more careful from now on. Especially with dangerous familiars—manage them thoroughly."
Clea nodded and promised she would be even more careful in the future.
"And there's one more piece of business. Thank you."
Clea placed her right hand over her left breast and bowed formally at the waist.
"I wanted to express my gratitude for finding the Absorbing Spirit Cat. It's nothing grand, but I prepared a few gifts."
"Gifts? I didn't do it because I wanted anything like that."
"Please accept them as a token of sincerity, at least."
Ignoring sincerity would be rude, so Ariel hesitated, then finally agreed.
"Shall we go to the parlor, then?"
Ariel followed Clea into the parlor. The large hat Clea had left there the night before sat alone in the room.
"I picked things I thought you'd like."
Clea flipped the big hat over, reached inside, and rummaged around as if searching through a pocket.
"First, these."
What she pulled out were ribbons in every color of the rainbow.
"The only ribbon you're using right now is that one, right?"
Clea pointed to the red ribbon that currently gathered Ariel's silver hair—hair long enough to reach her hips—into a fluffy, animal-tail-like tail.
"Yes."
"How about changing the color to match your mood?"
Clea tried the ribbons one by one, restyling Ariel's hair. A high ponytail, twin tails that radiated pure childish cuteness, a side tail, an updo—every style Clea could manage. All of them suited her so well it was almost unfair.
"Or you could change the style by color. That works too."
Clea used a fresh red ribbon to gather Ariel's hair into a single bundle.
"Thank you."
Ariel accepted the ribbons with genuine delight.
"Next..."
Clea plunged her hand back into the hat and rummaged again.
"This."
This time she produced a book. Red cover. No title printed on the front.
The moment Ariel saw it, her eyes went round.
"I figured a Saintess would like something like this more than ribbons. What do you think?"
She knew that book. Just looking at the cover made the contents unfurl in her mind in a rush. It was her most treasured, most beloved erotic novel: The Saintess Cannot Sleep Tonight.
For reference, if one went to Ariel's bedroom right now, one could find that very book under her bed.
Ariel cleared her throat.
"Ahem... I am a Saintess. I can't accept a book like that."
"The fact that you already know what book it is means you're out."
"Ah... and... I already own that one."
An "I knew it" expression settled on Clea's lips.
"Really? This is a hard book to get hold of."
Clea spoke with shameless ease. It wasn't just that particular volume—obtaining erotic novels as a Saintess was never easy. The one Ariel owned had been acquired only after a desperate visit to a convent. Remembering that day still made her feel like a secret agent.
"The lower volume of The Saintess Cannot Sleep Tonight."
"What?!"
Ariel, who had been maintaining perfect dignity, shot to her feet the instant she heard the words "lower volume."
"It's such a famous series that the upper volume is easy enough to find, but the lower volume is genuinely rare. I never expected the Saintess herself would already have it."
Ariel's hands flailed in the air with a little "Auuu..."
"Th-thank you. I'll gratefully accept it."
Before Clea could change her mind, Ariel snatched the book from her hands.
"Heh heh. Good."
Ariel hugged the book to her chest like a teddy bear. No matter how hard she had searched, she had never been able to find the lower volume. She had visited the convent often and checked every place that might sell books, yet the lower volume had stubbornly refused to appear. And now—here it was!
It was a book she had desperately wanted to read. The longing had been greater even than when she had wanted to finish the final scripture. She had been dying to know what happened after the Saintess, collared and making her slave declaration.
"Ehehe... hehe..."
At the mere thought of reading the rest, Ariel grinned without realizing it. Watching her, Clea nodded to herself. No wonder the Absorbing Spirit Cat possessed her.
"And this is the last gift."
What Clea produced as the final present was a flat, rectangular pink box, prettily tied with a ribbon so that it looked unmistakably like a gift.
"These are pajamas."
Ariel tilted her head.
"I already have pajamas, though?"
She owned a pink one-piece nightgown that was too small in the chest and left the deep valley of her breasts completely exposed. Yes—the very one she had hiked up in front of Lowen yesterday. The one currently sitting in the laundry basket, soaked in her own fluids.
"These are special pajamas."
"There are special ones?"
"Of course. Especially the kind you wear when you want to express gratitude to someone. Very special pajamas."
"They sound truly mysterious."
"When the day comes that you want to thank someone, try wearing them. I'm sure the other person will like them too."
"I don't really understand, but thank you. I'll wear them well."
Ariel gathered all of Clea's gifts into her arms and offered her thanks.
By the time the sun had slipped past the south and begun tilting its head toward the west, Clea left the cathedral.
"You're leaving already?"
Ariel looked up at Clea, who had secured the Absorbing Spirit Cat in a birdcage-like carrier, and asked.
"For a merchant, time is money. I've found my merchandise, so I should head back at once."
Hearing that she was leaving, Ariel took both of Clea's hands in hers, pressed her forehead to them, and offered a prayer.
"May light walk with you on your journey, Clea..."
When the prayer ended, Ariel waved.
"Please come again sometime."
"I will. I'll stop by on my way back to the caravan."
After finishing her goodbyes with Ariel, Clea found Lowen standing in front of her.
"Eat this on the road."
He held out a lunchbox. Even bad connections were still connections, as the saying went. Clea's carelessness with the Absorbing Spirit Cat had caused a small incident, but she had still spent a night at the cathedral and shared meals with them. This much he could do.
"Thanks. I'll enjoy it."
The moment Clea reached for the lunchbox, Lowen caught her arm and pulled her close, whispering against her ear.
"...It would be best if you kept everything that happened this time a secret for the rest of your life."
A cold voice. Even the usually cheeky Clea flinched; a chill ran down her spine.
"I know."
She smiled easily again.
"If you want to sell goods, trust is everything."
And as she had mentioned before, she had never intended to tell anyone anyway. Spreading an interesting rumor that "the Seventh Saintess is a filthy slut!" would bring more loss than gain. She might even be dragged before the Holy See for blasphemy and face a holy trial.
"So you can relax."
Clea patted Lowen's shoulder as if to say trust me.
"Take care. I'll definitely come play again!"
She waved big and walked away from the cathedral.
A quick glance back. The cathedral was already beginning to disappear from view. Clea let out a long breath of relief and barely managed to steady her trembling legs.
In her years as a merchant she had met all sorts of people, but never anyone like him.
"Lowen, huh..."
She shivered at the voice that still clung to her ear. That warning—nearly a threat—had been steeped in a heavy killing intent. Nothing a clergyman ought to possess.
"Is he really a bishop?"
The question rose, but Clea immediately shook her head.
"I still want to live a long life, so I'll drop it."
She had briefly considered digging into him, but her instincts had screamed that if she wanted to keep breathing she should leave it alone, so she abandoned the idea at once.
"Ugh..."
Clea rubbed the goosebumps on her arms and continued on her journey.