Uninvited Guest (1)
Busy as they were, the morning slipped by in a flash.
They managed to wrap up a fair portion of the cathedral repairs.
The exterior still looked so dilapidated it might collapse in a strong wind, but the interior—once so deathly silent it seemed time itself had stopped—now held the warmth of human presence, and time had begun to flow again.
“I suppose this will do for now.”
Lowen looked over the cleaned chapel with quiet satisfaction. It had been a long time since he last felt the simple pleasure of housework. Once upon a time, even washing dishes had given him that feeling; somewhere along the way it had gone dull. Living day after day steeped in the stench of blood had made him forget this wholesome sense of accomplishment.
He checked his wristwatch.
One in the afternoon. Time for lunch.
“Come to think of it, the Saintess has been awfully quiet.”
He had handed Ariel a broom and put her in charge of sweeping the chapel after she offered to help with the cleaning. Only moments ago he could have sworn he heard the soft swish-swish of the broom, yet when he looked around there was no sign of her.
Lowen searched the vicinity.
“Ah. There you are.”
He found her near the chapel entrance.
“Kuuu…”
Ariel was fast asleep, broom hugged tightly to her chest. Beneath a window where warm spring sunlight poured in, she had curled her small body into a ball and drifted off so deeply that someone could have carried her away without her noticing.
“Haha.”
Lowen let out a soft chuckle. Considering how she had been sniffling that morning as if she were about to die, she was remarkably carefree.
“Saintess.”
He carefully tapped her shoulder.
“Uuh… uuuhh…”
Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. Purple eyes still hazy with sleep, as if she were under a spell. Little by little, awareness returned to those unfocused pupils.
“Oh… Bishop Lowen… Good morning.”
She beamed up at him. She had only slept for less than two hours, yet it felt as if she had rested the entire day; she was thoroughly refreshed.
“What sort of sleep-talk is that?”
“Huh?”
Ariel tilted her head and glanced around.
“Ah…”
“It’s not morning. It’s lunchtime.”
“I’m sorry… I said I’d help, and all I did was fall asleep…”
She set the broom she had been clutching down on the floor.
“S-so… please accept my apology.”
She neatly placed both hands before her knees and bowed her head low. The posture pressed her large breasts against her knees so that they spilled out to either side, while the pretty curve of her waist only emphasized the full, childbearing shape of her hips.
“Saintess? What on earth are you doing all of a sudden?”
Looking down at Ariel sprawled flat on the floor, Lowen carefully schooled his expression.
A posture of submission. Seeing it, he was reminded of an illegal slave trader who had once thrown herself naked to the ground, begging for her life. She had pleaded that he could do whatever he wanted with her body so long as he did not kill her. The way she treated other people’s lives as disposable while clinging so desperately to her own had disgusted him; he had cut her throat on the spot with a single stroke.
“I’m… a-apologizing for being lazy…”
Ariel lowered her upper body even further and raised her hips. The tight nun’s habit made the round, peach-like shape of her bottom stand out perfectly. And because the skirt had parted on both sides, her plump white thighs were fully exposed.
“I am neither angry nor do I consider it a fault that you fell asleep, Saintess. More to the point—who in their right mind drops flat on the floor the moment they think they’ve done something wrong?”
Ariel lifted her head and looked up at him.
“What? But in the book I read… it said that when a Saintess offers a man a sincere apology, bowing her head to the floor is the basic form…”
Whatever book that was, it was certainly not a proper one. Knowing Ariel’s addiction to self-pleasure and her fondness for lewd things, it was surely some dark, perverted fantasy novel packed with a degenerate’s delusions. Maniacal enough to implant such warped common sense, and the phrase “when a Saintess offers a sincere apology” suggested it was a high-intensity novel that treated the Saintess like an object.
“So… please step on my head and forgive me…!”
She bowed her head again.
No doubt about it. A high-intensity Saintess-degradation novel.
Had Lowen been a sadistic beast who treated women as tools, he might have used this opportunity to completely corrupt the Saintess into his personal sex toilet. But his tastes were ordinary and normal. More than that, he simply had little interest in embracing a woman’s body.
He had experience, of course. There had been a time when, after finishing dirty work, he had relieved mental stress through physical pleasure. Night after night he had spent debauched hours with anywhere from one to three women. Sweating freely on the bed, coupling until exhaustion, then falling asleep—that had been routine.
But he had stopped. One day he felt disgust at himself for wanting to slap a woman’s rear for greater pleasure, or to choke her to draw out more intense reactions, and he quit.
“Bishop Lowen? Why are you just standing there?”
Ariel raised her head once more and looked up at him.
“Saintess.”
Lowen looked down at her. She seemed to be managing her expression, yet the lewd Saintess’s face twitched with anticipation.
Unlike Lowen, who aimed for the ordinary, Ariel had a masochistic streak. The sensual novels she had secretly read played a part, but her nature itself was perverted. She had resolved to bury her desires deep, yet hiding them completely was difficult. They would have to be corrected slowly.
Even if they only had a month, he intended to straighten out Ariel’s thinking as much as possible in that time. The Empire’s Saintess could not be a pervert who craved masochistic pleasure.
“Whatever book that is, burn it at once.”
He lifted the prostrate Ariel and set her properly on her feet.
“Th-that… I can’t…”
“Why not?”
“Because… of the author who worked so hard writing it…”
So it really was a novel.
“Before I find it and burn it myself, please burn it with your own hands, Saintess.”
“But…!”
“Think of it as the first step toward becoming a proper Saintess again.”
Ariel stammered and hesitated, but under Lowen’s firm gaze she finally answered in a dejected voice.
“Uuuh… Yeees…”
How much must she treasure that novel to look so crestfallen?
Lowen was inwardly chuckling when—
Grrrooowl—
A stomach alarm loud enough to echo through the entire quiet chapel went off. It sounded like a dragon’s roar. For a split second he even wondered if the cathedral was about to collapse.
“Hauuuh… Th-that wasn’t my stomach…”
Ariel’s face turned as red as a ripe tomato. She hugged her belly with both arms and rolled her eyes this way and that in embarrassment. Anyone could see the gesture was advertising, “It was my stomach!”
“Hahaha!”
At her clumsy display, Lowen burst out laughing.
“Don’t laugh…!”
She thumped his chest with her fists. It hurt about as much as being hit with cotton. Exhausted from punching, Ariel began to pant.
“Hau… uuh… hii… hii…”
Out of shape and with terrible stamina. Looking at the Saintess who was nothing but clumsiness, Lowen smiled with genuine amusement.
“I’ll prepare lunch right away.”
“I’m not hungry at all.”
“Understood. Then I’ll only prepare enough for myself.”
He turned firmly and headed for the kitchen.
“Huh?”
She had expected him to urge her to eat even if she claimed she wasn’t hungry. That was not the case. Having skipped breakfast, Ariel’s stomach was empty; she panicked.
“Wait, Bishop Lowen!”
She scrambled after him in a fluster.
“That was delicious!”
Ariel’s bright voice was full of satisfaction.
“Bishop Lowen, you’re good at cleaning and good at cooking too—you’re amazing!”
All he had done was make vegetable soup from the remaining ingredients and fry a few slices of bacon. Compared to meals at the Grand Cathedral it was a humble menu, yet it had been truly delicious. The mild soup warmed her belly, and the bacon dripping with juices greased her tongue. Above all, because she had been genuinely starving, the flavor was doubled.
“Thank you.”
Preparing tea, Lowen smiled as if pleased by her stream of praise.
“Someone as skilled as you could be called a master of housework.”
“You flatter me.”
“It’s not flattery. From now on I’ll call you Bishop Lowen, Master of Housework.”
“That would be cumbersome to say. I’d prefer you keep calling me as you do now.”
While they lightly enjoyed their after-meal tea, Lowen brought up the next day’s schedule.
“Tomorrow I plan to visit the nearby village.”
“There’s a village nearby?”
“Yes. Just a little way beyond the forest.”
He recalled the village he had glimpsed in the distance on the first day after climbing down from the cart.
“I need to buy ingredients and materials for repairing the cathedral. And I should also let them know that the lights have been lit again in this long-abandoned place.”
If possible he would have preferred to live quietly like a hermit. But with a Saintess present that was already out of the question, and besides, the condition for staying at this cathedral was that he diligently perform his priestly duties.
Incidentally, even without deep faith or strong divine power, taking on a priest’s role was not particularly difficult. A gentle smile, a calm tone of voice when greeting those who came to pray, and listening to the troubles of people who asked for counsel—that was enough.
In any case, because of that condition he had to go pay his respects to the village.
“What will you do, Saintess?”
“Me?”
“You may stay at the cathedral, or you may come along.”
Ariel’s expression turned faintly uncomfortable.
“I’d like to go with you, but…”
In the past she would not have hesitated. She would have followed without a second thought and greeted every believer she met.
“Crowds… make me a little uneasy…”
Now it was different. One to three people was fine, but any more than that and her body tensed; she felt anxious under their gazes. The side effect of being able to read emotions played a part, but there were many other stresses as well.
One reason the Holy See had sent Ariel to this rural cathedral was to relieve her stress and heal her mental unease.
“Then I’ll go alone this time.”
“Yes. Next time I’ll come with you.”
“Understood. Next time, let’s go together for certain.”
Ariel smiled with a mix of regret and bitterness.
“Saintess, shall I buy some strawberries on the way back?”
A bright light spread across the face that had been faintly shadowed.
“Yes!”
“All right. If there’s a place selling strawberries tomorrow, I’ll be sure to buy some.”
She hadn’t even received the strawberries yet, but Ariel raised both arms in joy. Truly an easy Saintess to handle. Her emotions shifted so quickly, she was so innocent and restless, that if someone with influence in the Holy See harbored ill intentions, they could easily take advantage of her.
Well, it was precisely because she was so easy that she had fallen so readily into lust.
“When I return, I’ll make you a strawberry tart.”
“Wow! Really, truly?”
“Yes. It’s nothing difficult.”
Watching her delight, he found his own mood lifting in turn. Was this the effect of a Saintess? It felt as if the very temperature of the air changed to match her emotional shifts.
“Of course, that’s only if the village is selling strawberries.”
“They will be. I’ll pray to God that they are.”
“If it’s the Saintess’s prayer, then they surely will be.”
The two of them were laughing and talking in that pleasant atmosphere when—
Crash!!
The sound of a window shattering in the chapel poured cold water over the good mood.