Our Child Has Changed (1)
Spring had left.
Summer claimed the empty place it left behind.
Baram-sae Forest was slowly dyeing itself in the heat of June.
Trees that had been softly stained in warm light green now took on a cheerful, vivid blue. The wildflowers that had decorated the forest in every color bid farewell to spring and set off on a long journey, promising to meet again next year. In their place, blossoms of far more intense hues had taken over the role.
Day by day the temperature climbed, little by little.
By afternoon one might think, It's getting a bit hot, yet the nights stayed cool enough for easy sleep.
Still, the sleepwear had to change.
The animal pajamas bought two weeks earlier no longer suited the weather. Ariel had liked the plump-bottomed rabbit ones so much she kept wearing them despite the heat, but even she finally gave in. Four days ago she had switched to a light, airy one-piece nightgown.
Half a month had passed since their return from Windfield.
They were living ordinary days at the cathedral in Baram-sae Forest.
Open eyes in the morning, eat three meals, close eyes at night.
No monsters, no Demon Cult, no omens of the Madman's calamity anywhere to be found.
Truly peaceful.
—Knock knock
Early morning, as always, Lowen knocked on the door of the next room.
Ariel's bedroom.
And, as expected, no answer came.
—Creak
He opened the door and stepped inside.
Morning breeze slipped through the window as the door swung wide. The pure-white curtains by the sill fluttered as if they had given the wind a shape.
"Hoo.... hoo......"
Soft breathing.
Curled into a ball, Ariel slept soundly.
With every exhale her breasts swelled, then settled again.
Incredible volume, truly.
How such a pair had been attached to that petite frame remained a mystery.
Perhaps God's own lewd tastes?
Lowen took his time admiring her.
From the nape of her neck all the way down to her thighs, everything flowed in soft, unbroken curves.
Just what had God been thinking when He molded a Saintess's body so carnal?
Surely His preferences had been freely reflected.
Thinking thoughts that would make any priest clutch the back of his neck and tremble, Lowen reached toward her—then stopped short.
"Ha......"
He sighed and looked around the room.
Beside the neatly hung nun's habit hung a white bra trimmed with intricate floral lace.
That enormous cup looked large enough to cover half of Lowen's face on its own.
Once more reminded of the sheer size of Ariel's divine-power pouches, he turned back to the reason the bra had caught his eye.
Her sky-blue nightgown faintly revealed the fair skin beneath. At the tips of her breasts one could dimly make out the pale-pink areolas and pink nipples—because those spots alone glowed distinctly pink against the light fabric.
She always wore panties, but Ariel removed her bra to sleep; it felt too constricting.
If the size had been moderate, fine—but with that volume, the discomfort was understandable.
Still, Lowen had asked her to wear it to bed without fail.
Breast fat tended to spill sideways while sleeping, and the pretty round shape could suffer for it. More than anything, every time he came to wake her he was forced to look at those completely unguarded nipples, so he had requested the courtesy.
But this lewd Saintess never listened.
No bra again today.
Lowen closed his eyes and made the sign of the cross.
Had some lewd demon cast a curse on his sight?
Ever since they had become intimate, every part of Ariel's body looked erotic.
Nipples were an obvious stimulant to any man, yet even simply watching her sleep like this made a dark, sticky feeling cling to him like moss. Most of it was the urge to bury his cock deep in her chewy rear hole and empty himself inside.
But even so—how could he be the one to ask first?
If he said, "I want to use the Saintess's rear hole," this lewd Saintess would give him a fox-like smile and gladly present her backside.
And from that moment on, daily life would change completely.
He called it ordinary now, yet several things had already shifted since Windfield. To name the most prominent: the subtle seductions had increased.
She would "accidentally" walk naked into the bathroom while he was bathing, or when she led the way up the stairs she would sway her plump buttocks as if deliberately drawing attention. She frequently hunched both shoulders to push her chest forward. On the worst days she even hinted, in the most secretive way, that she had touched herself.
Perhaps ignoring the bra request was simply another form of temptation.
"Hoo....."
If Lowen ever took that first step toward the girl who was testing the waters, the last shred of his self-restraint would shatter.
After that she would slip into his bedroom every night, and by next spring Ariel might well have become a pervert addicted to anal sex.
Not an ideal Saintess.
To prevent that—more precisely, to avoid the death penalty—Lowen had to endure.
He made the sign of the cross several more times until his mind settled, then gently shook her shoulder.
"Saintess, it's morning."
Each shake set her breasts swaying with her.
Lowen deliberately averted his eyes while he woke her.
"Uuuu.... uuung...."
Ariel moaned as if throwing a tantrum. The pitiful sound was like a puppy's whimper, yet people would soon arrive for morning mass; she had to rise.
"Just five more minutes.... I want to sleep five more minutes...."
She curled herself even tighter.
"You have to get up. If you don't, there will be no breakfast."
"Ummmm...."
She tossed and turned as though rising were agony.
This, too, was daily life.
He had no idea how she had managed at the Grand Cathedral, but here Ariel suffered mornings whether she slept early or late.
"Then... just one minute......"
She seemed about to rise—then the soft sleeping breaths returned.
"Saintess!"
A firmer tone made her body flinch.
"Hiiing....."
Twisting unsteadily, she opened her eyes with a crying sound.
Whenever she woke this way, Ariel always glared at Lowen with a pout that clearly said, Bishop Lowen, I hate you. A few seconds later she spread both arms wide.
The signal for Please lift me up.
Lowen took hold of her forearms and helped her sit up on the bed.
"Change clothes and come downstairs."
"Yeees."
And so another day began.
Once morning mass ended, the villagers moved about busily.
Those with work to do hurried back to the village; those with free time gathered to one side and chatted. Children left the cathedral already scouting places to play.
Compared to the first mass they had held, the crowd had grown considerably.
Though the seats were few, every one of them had been full.
Of course.
It was a mass celebrated with the Saintess herself.
In the early days the village had not fully accepted the cathedral, yet after three months it felt as though they had taken it in as one of their own.
Even now Lowen stood surrounded by village aunties who pressed vegetable gifts on him, begging him to cook something delicious for the Saintess. Ariel, for her part, was ringed by innocent little friends, reacting to conversations that bounced in every direction.
"Saintess!"
A bold-looking short-haired girl looked up at her.
Ariel smiled kindly into those sparkling eyes.
"Me. I have something I'm curious about!"
As long as it was not "How are babies made?", she could answer.
It was not that she did not know the process.
But the level at which she could explain it to small children was nowhere near appropriate.
How was one supposed to tell little ones, "If a man ejaculates until a woman's womb is stuffed full of semen, that does it"?
Ugh. Absolutely not. Not a chance.
"What are you curious about?"
Ariel bent at the waist and tilted her head.
"How do I marry the Bishop?"
Ariel tilted her head the other way, certain she had misheard.
"......Nehe?"
The question was so far outside her imagination that a dumb little sound escaped her lips.
The girl only spoke more firmly.
"Me. When I grow up, I'm going to marry the Bishop!"
The chatting aunties cooed, "Oh my, how adorable!" at the child's bold declaration. Ariel, meanwhile, wore the blank face of someone struck by lightning on the crown of her head.
"Ahem, ahem..."
She cleared her throat, forced her heart to settle as best she could, and opened her mouth.
"Th-th-that is... m-marry... marriage?"
She had not settled at all.
Her voice rattled like a broken pulley.
"Wait... shall we talk just the two of us?"
Ariel led the girl into a corner.
"Th-the Bishop... you mean Bishop Lowen, right?"
She pointed toward Lowen, still surrounded by aunties and receiving vegetable gifts.
"Yes!"
The short-haired girl nodded vigorously.
Ariel felt the world tilt.
The mere image of Bishop Lowen becoming some other woman's husband made sweat bead and trickle down her skin.
She leaned close to the girl's ear and whispered.
"......It's better if you give that up."
She knew it was an immature thing to do to a child, yet Ariel had a reason to interfere with the girl's pure dream.
She did not want Bishop Lowen taken by anyone else.
That was the reason.
Th-that said... it's not like I'm saying I want to m-m-marry Bishop Lowen myself or anything.....
Priests were permitted to marry, but Saintesses were forbidden.
They were God's women.
A woman charged with carrying God's voice into the world who then dated or married was said to insult the divine; thus the Holy See had thoroughly banned both romance and marriage for Saintesses. The rule had stood for centuries, and the Saintesses had kept it well.
Even though God Himself had never said any such thing.
"Even if Bishop Lowen looks kind, he's really picky and a total clean freak—he's exhausting. Once he starts cleaning he won't stop until the cathedral looks brand-new. And when he gets angry, he's terrifying. His face is smiling, but the atmosphere he gives off... ugh..."
There had been the time she was scolded while sorting carrots.
"Saintess, you have to eat a balanced diet, don't you?"
"It isn't that you'd rather have blueberry cookies instead of raspberry ones, is it?"
He had been smiling, yet the voice carried pure threat.
Blueberries—Ariel's most hated fruit.
Remembering that moment, she gave a full-body shudder.
And the shudder only grew stronger.
A large palm was slowly stroking the top of her head.
"What sort of atmosphere was I giving off, exactly?"
She creaked around to find Lowen smiling gently down at her.
"Uh, aa... uu... th-that....."
After the villagers had gone, Ariel received a lecture from Lowen.
What on earth was a Saintess saying to a young child?
"Today's snack will be omitted."
"Wh-what?!"
Ariel flung herself at him and clung to his chest.
"Th-that only—please.....!"
Like a puppy that knew it had done wrong, she lowered her brows and looked up at him with teary eyes.
Snack time was the most eagerly awaited hour of the day.
If it were taken away she might actually cry.
With a face full of despair she tugged at Lowen's clothes.
"P-please forgive me... uuu...."
Lowen sighed, "Aigoo," and affectionately stroked her hair.
"Instead, only one today."
The despairing face bloomed into a bright smile.
"Yes!"
Only one was a pity, yet being able to eat Lowen's delicious dessert at all was still a blessing.
"Hehe."
Ariel grinned bashfully.
The purple eyes that had been brimming with tears sparkled clear and bright as amethysts.