Flower Language (1)
One afternoon nearing the end of April.
—Tap. Tap-tap.
Lowen turned his head.
A soft spring rain that fattened the white grains of the fields was falling in a fine mist, tapping gently against the windowpane.
“Has it gotten this late already.”
Turning his eyes from the western sky dyed in sunset, Lowen began writing in his diary once more.
Ever since Ariel had caught a cold not long ago, Lowen had started keeping a diary.
It was a diary about Ariel.
What she had eaten that day, what she had done—he recorded every detail of her daily life one by one.
All so he could devise a systematic strategy for raising her into the ideal Saintess.
To conquer someone, thorough analysis was essential.
“Today she took a nap in the reception room in the morning… and while I stepped out for a moment, she masturbated in the confessional……”
He was writing the diary to understand Ariel more deeply, yet when he reread the entries, it felt exactly like keeping a childcare journal.
He had never raised a baby himself, but he imagined this was precisely how a parenting diary would feel.
“Hah…”
Out of habit, Lowen slipped the pen between his fingers and leaned back against the chair.
“Already only a week left…”
The days were slipping by quickly.
It felt as though Demian had visited only a few days ago, yet already just one week remained until the next Cardinal arrived.
Every day passed in peaceful, quiet routine.
It was a boring, repetitive daily life—but Lowen wanted exactly that kind of life, and he liked it.
“If there’s a problem…”
As expected, Ariel was the problem.
Compared to when they first met, the frequency of her masturbation had decreased, yet from time to time she still tempted his reason like a fox swishing its tail. The recent incidents had been the strongest temptations of all.
Strange.
Having tasted women to the point of satiety in the past, his sexual desire had long since dulled.
But after beginning this life, he suddenly came to his senses one day and realized that the barren, dried-up wasteland of his lust had at some point grown lush with green foliage.
In the old days, even seeing Ariel’s pink pussy would have left him completely unmoved. Now, merely looking at her plump, soft buttocks sometimes made him want to pin her down from behind.
Whenever such lewd thoughts arose, Lowen made the sign of the cross and forced himself to calm down.
“Heh… At this rate I might actually become a real priest.”
Lowen shook his head with a wry chuckle.
“Maybe this is the lewd Saintess’s scheme all along…”
It was strange—he felt nothing toward anyone else, yet only with Ariel did these feelings keep welling up.
“I will absolutely not fall for it.”
Swearing a firm oath that he would never yield to the seductive temptation rising from Ariel, Lowen closed the diary.
The cathedral door opened, and the flower-shop girl, Lina, offered a greeting.
“Hello.”
Lowen, who had been sweeping the cathedral floor with a broom, smiled kindly and welcomed her warmly.
“Welcome. You’re early again today.”
Lina glanced past him.
“If you’re looking for the Saintess, she is currently at prayer.”
Lowen pointed toward the very front of the cathedral.
Rosary clutched in her hands, Ariel was kneeling before the altar in prayer.
Eyes closed beneath the morning sunlight, quietly praying, Ariel looked like a painting come to life.
A sacred painting.
Simply watching her seemed to soothe the heart.
“The Saintess is beautiful again today.”
Lina murmured to herself, then carefully took a seat so as not to disturb Ariel and began her own prayers.
Time flowed in silence. When Lina finished and opened her eyes, Ariel was still praying.
Lina approached Lowen and asked,
“She’s praying especially long today, isn’t she? I wonder what she’s praying for.”
Lowen, who had been standing motionless watching Ariel, did not know either.
From the casual remark Ariel had made during their morning greeting—“It’ll be summer soon, won’t it?”—he could at least guess.
“Well… perhaps she is praying for the departing spring, and for the summer that is returning.”
Lina marveled at Lowen’s plausible answer.
“As expected of the Saintess. Just like someone who loves everything, she must cherish the seasons as well.”
“Indeed.”
While they exchanged light conversation, Lina suddenly seemed to remember something and clapped her hands lightly.
“Ah, by the way, Bishop—have you ever visited the dandelion field?”
“The dandelion field?”
Seeing Lowen’s reaction of complete unfamiliarity, Lina explained.
“Yes. If you go a little deeper into the forest from the cathedral, there’s a colony of dandelions. Every year around this time, yellow and white dandelions bloom in full, forming a beautiful field. You should go see it once before they turn to seed fluff.”
He would only go into the forest if there was a reason to patrol it.
“I see.”
“It rained yesterday, so if you go today the dandelions will be even more vivid.”
Lina’s words clearly carried the suggestion that he should go view the dandelions today.
Lowen was not the sort of person who went out of his way just to look at flowers.
Flowers were merely flowers.
Some people claimed to feel moved by them, but he belonged to the type who simply could not understand that.
They were plants that bloomed and withered—what emotion was there to feel?
The time spent going to see dandelions would be far better used cleaning around the cathedral.
“Understood. I shall ask the Saintess.”
Still, answering Lina’s goodwill with pure indifference would have been rude.
“By the way, Bishop, do you know the flower language of the dandelion?”
It was a question he had heard far too many times.
He had heard it ad nauseam from the Second Saintess, Seria Dandelion.
“I do.”
The flower language of the dandelion had been drilled into his ears until he was sick of it.
Both the yellow dandelion and the white one.
Seria had repeated it like a habit, as if telling him to engrave it in his heart.
Come to think of it, he had completely forgotten about the letter Seria had sent.
It would be a letter asking after his well-being.
He had promised to reply.
Not to Seria herself, of course—he had said it to Demian, who had delivered the letter.
Well, he could do it later.
“Does the Saintess like flowers?”
At Lowen’s question, Ariel answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Yes! I love them. Flowers are lovely to look at, and I like the ones that smell nice too.”
He did not particularly want to go view dandelions himself, but Lowen suggested a flower-viewing outing in order to show Ariel something wholesome. After all, if she stayed at the cathedral with free time, she would only sneak off to the confessional in search of pleasure. Better to drag her away from that temptation even like this.
“I hear there is a dandelion field a short distance from the cathedral.”
At the words “dandelion field,” Ariel’s eyes sparkled as if shouting, “I want to see it!”
“We’ve already had lunch. Shall we go for a walk to aid digestion?”
Ariel nodded vigorously.
The moment it was decided they would go to the dandelion field, Ariel began humming a little tune as she prepared to go out.
Wind-bird Forest, still damp from the spring rain.
Every time they passed beneath the leaves, a refreshing scent of grass spread coolly through their senses.
“Bishop Lowen, hurry! Hurry!”
Even though she did not know the way, Ariel was skipping ahead, singing cheerfully, then turned and beckoned to him.
“Dandelions are prettiest when the sun is still up, you know.”
“There is still plenty of time before sunset.”
He had not expected her to enjoy flower-viewing this much.
Something new to write in the diary.
Ariel loves flowers very much.
Even if not often, it would be good to take a stroll through the forest every now and then.
Ariel hopped along the forest path like a little rabbit.
“Saintess, you will fall if you keep that up.”
And the very moment he said it—
“Ah!”
Ariel’s foot caught on a tree root and she tumbled.
“Hah… I knew this would happen.”
Lowen rushed over and immediately helped her up.
“I told you you would fall.”
Damp soil had left stains on her white nun’s habit, but thankfully her knees were unharmed.
“I’m sorry. I’ve made more laundry again…”
Ariel let out a soft “uuu” of a whimper and hung her head like blanched bean sprouts.
“Laundry is something I always do. As long as the Saintess is unhurt, that is all that matters.”
Even a tiny scratch on the Saintess’s body would send the Papal Court into a furious uproar.
Compared to the thought of the Papal Court raging, a little extra laundry was nothing at all.
“The path is slippery from the rain, so let us walk like this.”
Lowen took Ariel’s small, soft hand—baby-like in its delicacy—into his own.
“Huh?”
Ariel stared quietly at Lowen’s hand enveloping hers.
A large palm, hardened with calluses.
From that palm she felt a strength that seemed capable of protecting anything.
“Saintess, are you embarrassed to hold hands?”
“Pardon?”
Ariel’s soft, rice-cake cheeks flushed with a rosy blush.
“Ah, th-th-that’s… it’s not that I’m embarrassed…”
She tried to hide her burning cheeks with her free hand.
Mischievously, Lowen only smiled playfully and held her hand even tighter, preventing her from covering her face.
The way she grew shy—almost as shy as when she had shown him her private parts—was adorable.
“So the Saintess has such an innocent side as well.”
Ariel let out a long “uuuugh” from her throat.
“Please don’t tease meee……”
To react like this over nothing more than holding hands.
Seeing the masturbation-addicted, lewd lump that was Ariel display such girlish shyness felt surprisingly fresh.
“Saintess, your steps have slowed. At this rate the sun will set.”
Flushed with some unnameable embarrassment, Ariel felt the moisture gathering in her palm as she followed half a step behind Lowen.
Their hands remained tightly clasped together.