Comfort
Comfort. Just yesterday, I'd cleared the dungeon, and here it was, the very next day.
Like yesterday, I was left alone in the classroom again.
I asked the Academy's administration office, and they said there was nothing to be done until next week or some bullshit like that…
The evaluation match is right around the corner, and they spout something this irresponsible…
Everyone's out of their damn minds.
Don't you think so?
Don't you think so, you previous owner of this body?
"Sigh…"
Well, whatever.
At least today was different from yesterday—I had something to do.
The two rewards I'd gotten from clearing the dungeon yesterday.
Testing them out. That was today's task.
I'd checked them out roughly back at the Dormitory yesterday, but there were still a few things left to verify.
The two rewards from clearing that dungeon yesterday.
An item named 4 and some unidentified something-or-other.
Of those, the item called 4 was probably… a scythe-shaped weapon.
The "probably" came from the fact that the blade was missing.
Not just dull—no blade at all.
Hence the uncertainty.
A scythe already had plenty of flaws as a weapon anyway.
Structurally, it was impossible to use it like in fantasy stories to cleave through massive things.
You could use the long shaft, sure…
"But if that's the case, why bother with a heavy scythe that has a weird center of gravity when you could just use a light, balanced staff?"
Attacks like stabbing down with the tip of the blade were ultimately inferior to axes or hammers anyway.
Scythes weren't born as killing tools in the first place, so they were ambiguous and limited in all sorts of ways.
Still, there was one advantage.
Versatility.
A scythe was undeniably a hexagonal weapon.
It was just that the hexagon was small.
But it was still a hexagon.
As such, a scythe allowed for flexible responses in combat.
The staff's smooth transitions between offense and defense, the slashing of edged weapons, the blunt impacts of clubs, and so on.
A scythe could deploy a variety of attacks from multiple weapon types, even if in diluted form.
With high proficiency, it became a weapon versatile enough to handle a wide range of situations.
Of course… there was no reason to invest the time needed to master that versatility specifically in a scythe.
There were plenty of good weapons out there—why bother with a scythe?
Especially one without a blade. Who the hell would use that?
Who the hell would use that?
"What is it with this world and all the crazies…?"
I'd suffered plenty, and the reward was crap, so yeah, it felt unfair all around, but whatever—moving on.
The dungeon's second reward: the unidentified something.
Honestly, I still had no clue what this was.
Yesterday, when I came to in the hallway after collapsing.
The first reward—that useless scythe—was sitting right there next to me, plain as day.
The unidentified thing, on the other hand, was the total opposite.
I searched the hallway for ages after waking up, and it wasn't until I got back to the Dormitory late that I finally spotted it.
On the ring finger of my right hand.
A tattoo shaped like a chain ring, as if looped with chains.
When I first saw the tattoo yesterday, I didn't think it was the dungeon reward.
A black chain ring.
That symbol usually stood for curses, after all.
Honestly, I still wasn't sure if this was really a reward and not a curse.
The only reasons I vaguely assumed it was the reward were that I had no reason to be cursed right now, and there was nothing else from the dungeon no matter how hard I looked.
I had no idea what power this tattoo held or if it was even helpful.
"Hmm…"
Curse, huh…
A curse… a keyword inseparable from my past life's self, but right now, it was just abstract.
"A curse… if possible, not something I want to see this time around…"
"A curse?"
From the back of the classroom, a woman strode in boldly, cutting off my words. With her came that repulsive Quest sensation I'd forgotten about for days, spreading through my entire body.
Silver hair with a faint purple tint and crimson eyes.
A flashy nun's habit that blatantly exposed her shoulders and legs.
And a cigarette… pipe? clutched in her left hand.
What kind of combo was that?
Coming into this classroom meant she was from Class A, at least.
Obviously, the only Class A person I knew was Arbel.
"Who are you?"
"…Me?"
Yeah, you.
"You don't know me?"
"…Saintess?"
"What, you do know me."
Should I say I knew her well, or…?
I'd just guessed because there was probably only one person in the world who'd wear a nun's habit that flashy.
"Hey, who introduces themselves like that?"
"How else should I do it?"
"Don't people usually at least say their name?"
"Isn't it easier to get the point across calling myself the Saintess than my name?"
…Fair point.
"Anyway, you being here at this hour means you're skipping class, right?"
"I don't skip."
"Oh, sure."
"Put some soul into your words."
"You have to say something believable first. Who'd buy that from the Academy's most infamous parachute kid?"
Just how famous was this body of mine?
Even the Saintess knew about me.
"…Fine, say I'm skipping. So why's the great Saintess here?"
"Me?"
"No one here but you and me."
"Can't you tell from what's in my left hand?"
So brazen.
"Didn't you just call me a skipper?"
"Nah, I'm not skipping."
"I'm skipping, but you're not?"
"Obviously?"
What was so obvious?
"A slacker like you hanging out here? That's skipping."
"A good, beautiful Saintess like me? Just a quick break. Something like that."
"What kind of Saintess takes her break with a smoke?"
"No law against it."
Damn…
Why were all the reincarnated heroes such nutjobs?
"And isn't the Academy a no-smoking zone?"
"As long as you don't get caught."
…Is she insane?
"Forget that—image-wise, doesn't smoking kinda ruin it?"
The church wouldn't look kindly on a Saintess who reeked of tobacco…
"As long as you don't get caught, it's fine."
"Wow…"
She's a total mess.
"Sounds like you're the slacker here."
"Both of us, then."
"Okay."
She might be a slacker, but that didn't make me any less one.
"Want one?"
"A smoke?"
"Yeah."
Sharing a smoke with the Saintess…
Life throws all kinds of experiences your way.
If I posted about this on my phone, I'd probably get hauled off for blasphemy… What a life.
"Sure, why not."
"One's enough?"
"Yeah… I don't really smoke much."
Hearing my half-assed reply, the Saintess extended her left hand toward me.
The cigarette in her left hand had been there since she walked in.
I took it with my right hand as it came right up to my nose.
At the same time, between her thumb and middle finger on that left hand.
A fresh cigarette appeared in the gap.
"Gonna need to buy more smokes."
"Yeah."
I lit mine with a tiny mana flame; she used her lighter.
As we each puffed away in our own way, a question popped up.
"You aren't worried?"
"About what?"
"Me spreading this around or starting dumb rumors… you know."
Not that I planned to.
"You kinda look like someone I know."
"…And?"
"That guy liked me smoking."
Taste as unique as the rest of him.
"Tight-lipped, good guy all around."
"High praise."
"Yeah. Lifetime crush of mine. So no worries with you looking like him."
She had a crush on someone who looked like this face…
This Saintess better watch her words.
Say that to other guys, and they'd fall head over heels.
"Why not confess? Plenty charming to reel him in, right?"
Objectively, the Saintess puffing beside me had fine looks and an killer figure.
Sure, being Saintess made dating tricky, but hide it well enough…
"Wanted to confess, but timing sucked."
"Timing?"
"Yeah. He died."
Ah.
Forgot she was reincarnated too.
A "lifetime crush" meant feelings from her past life, so… probably died of old age.
Urk… haa…
The acrid smoke burned harshly going down my throat.
"Don't make that 'I messed up' face."
"…Sorry."
"It's fine, really."
Saintess through and through.
Understanding like no other.
"Anyway, you were talking about a curse earlier."
"Oh. Right."
Come to think of it, today's plan was to check both dungeon clear rewards.
Totally forgot.
"That thing on your right ring finger?"
"Good eyes."
"Gotta have 'em to survive."
Agreed.
Sensitive to tiny changes in any field keeps you alive longer.
"That's not a curse. More like a blessing—actually, closer to a special privilege."
"…You know what it is?"
"Saw it once. Long, long ago."
Long ago.
Past life story, huh.
"Can't tell you details, but don't worry about it."
"Can't tell details… so it's tied to Taboo or something?"
"…Kinda, for now."
Vague and loaded answer, but good enough for now.
"…Got it."
With my curt reply, the conversation ended.
Only my coughing from the harsh, unfamiliar smoke echoed on.
And yet, somehow.
A growing comfort deep in my heart made the silence far from unpleasant.