The Finger (10)
The back of the chair reclined smoothly. I leaned my head against the headrest and, out of habit, pulled a cigarette from my inner pocket.
“Haa…”
Memories from just yesterday flooded back—two straight days of sleeping through the weekend. I vaguely recalled bursting into ugly tears, clinging to Deaconess Sophia in a fit and pouring out my woes.
And there was one other embarrassing memory.
I'd woken at dawn to find Deaconess Sophia curled up inside the blankets, sleeping soundly. She breathed softly in her sleep, occasionally murmuring my name and hugging my waist tightly.
I seriously wondered if I'd done something during one of my episodes, but then she woke up, flailing her hands in flustered panic, and I could relax.
‘E-Eh…? I was sleeping on the sofa…’
It was past early spring now, full into the heart of the season. Probably just the chill night air. Lucky it was nothing more than a minor hiccup.
But she'd nursed me with genuine worry. And I'd shown her such a pathetic side.
It was embarrassing, of course—a total nuisance. I felt truly sorry for her; she hadn't gotten proper rest all weekend looking after me.
That was why she wasn't in the office today. She looked exhausted at a glance, so I'd told her to take the day and rest up.
“…Maybe I should get a new prescription.”
I rubbed my temples and muttered. Doctor Moritz had warned that more meds were risky. But…
“I have to live long enough…”
—So, Father Lucio. Promise me just one thing.
“……”
Why did that promise echo in my head right now?
Why did I remember idiotically agreeing to it?
Don't do it. Didn't you promise me? You have to see the students graduate. Something like that, probably. That's what she'd say.
That's what I thought.
I took off my glasses, tossed them carelessly on the desk, and rubbed my dry face.
“Pff… heh…”
I didn't even know anymore. Laughter just bubbled up. Maybe because I looked so pathetic and wretched. I sighed, cracking a lame joke to myself that all these stray thoughts were because it was Monday.
“What am I supposed to do?”
I clamped a cigarette between my teeth. When I sank into these moods, I craved that bitter mint. I reached for the matchbox but stopped.
As my primary physician advised, I'd decided against requesting the old prescription.
Better to find a healthier way to fix my broken mind. I still had reasons to keep breathing, after all.
My shoulder felt okay for now. Per Doctor Moritz, it was recovering, albeit slowly.
…No. Maybe I'd aggravated it again by overusing divine power last time.
“Hoo… whatever.”
I adjusted the unlit cigarette in my mouth. No capsule crushed yet.
Just holding it. No mint without the capsule, no smoke without a flame. I pulled out the matchbox again, spun it idly between my fingers, and stared blankly at the ceiling for a long while.
“…What are you doing?”
Suddenly, Professor Esther's face entered my view. I slowly removed the cigarette from my lips.
“Professor Esther. When did you arrive?”
“Just now. I knocked several times, but you didn't say anything.”
“…Sorry. I was lost in thought.”
I apologized, and she waved it off with an awkward smile.
“Ah, no, it's fine. More importantly… how are you feeling?”
She sat in the guest chair across the desk. I stared at her silently, and she shyly averted her gaze.
Come to think of it, she'd seen my right arm trembling uncontrollably—and me passing out cold.
“I'm fine. For now.”
“For now… What about over the weekend? I heard Deaconess Sophia nursed you…”
“…How did you know that?”
Professor Esther twirled a strand of her navy-blue hair around her finger, then bowed her head slightly, looking a bit embarrassed.
“Well, after you passed out like that… I got worried and went to check on you.”
“You visited…?”
I had no memory of that. Had she come during another episode?
I must've looked flustered, because she smiled gently.
“Yeah. With some students. But no answer no matter how much we knocked… Thought you might be sleeping, so we left. Then this morning, I ran into Deaconess Sophia by chance. She said she'd been nursing you all weekend…”
Good—it must've been when I'd conked out. I sighed inwardly in relief. Then Professor Esther suddenly leaned in with exaggerated excitement.
“Anyway, Professor Lucio! Listen to this.”
“Yes. I'm listening.”
“This incident happened at the academy, right? And when something urgent comes up during duty, the rule is to handle it first, report later?”
“Is that so?”
I asked back, and she gave me an incredulous look.
“Come on, Professor Lucio. Professor Andres handed off the details to you then…”
“Sorry. My head's still fuzzy.”
“Ah… right. Sorry, I should've thought of that.”
“No. Anyway, what happened?”
“So, I went to tell Chancellor Damian earlier? And then…”
I fiddled with my cigarette case as I waited. I wanted one, but not in front of her.
“He jumped in shock and started raging that this was the perfect chance to formally protest to the Holy Nation!”
“Suddenly?”
“Yes! I was so startled I had to calm him down. I've never seen him that mad. Why do you think?”
“Hmm…”
The Holy Nation. We'd witnessed something demonic, after all—close enough to a devil. They should've handled it properly.
But my real question was different.
“Why did Chancellor Damian get so angry all of a sudden?”
“No idea! I tried guessing… Maybe because the ghost was the academy's first chief priest, Giovanni?”
“Chief Priest Giovanni? But that's just rumor…”
“What if it's not?”
I stared at her silently. Her purple eyes sparkled with seriousness. Looked like the Occult Research Club had rubbed off on her too.
“…If the rumor’s true, then those suspicious priests from the Holy Nation long ago… Yeah, it raises questions.”
“What if that dispatched priestly squad murdered Chief Priest Giovanni…?”
“That doesn't make sense. They couldn't set foot in the Holy Nation if they did.”
Holy Nation law was especially harsh on murder among the clergy—it counted as a grave sin.
Minimum was life without parole; worst case, treated like heretics, witches, or devil worshippers and burned at the stake.
“The Bible even describes how a cleric-killer had their skin flayed, brined in seawater for a fortnight, then fed to beasts.”
“…That's kinda scary.”
“Scarier still: Holy Nation law applies worldwide.”
In short, the criminal's info goes public, and they're wanted everywhere. Like Interpol in real life.
“Anyway… the chancellor was pretty steamed.”
“From what you've said… the priestly squad does seem fishy. But ghost stories are best left as stories.”
“Yeah, figured. Alright!”
Professor Esther sprang up energetically. I blinked at her, and she tilted her head.
“What're you doing? Get up.”
“Huh?”
“Time for lunch! You'll regret missing today's menu!”
“…Right. Let's go.”
I stood and followed her, pocketing the cigarettes and matches. We left the office.
Right outside, she gasped as if remembering something.
“Oh! Duh, my bad! The chancellor was looking for you, Professor Lucio.”
“…Me?”
“Yeah. Said to come by after lunch.”
“……”
Didn't feel good, but I nodded despite my unease.
Knock knock knock.
I rapped lightly. A familiar voice I'd heard before answered.
—Come in.
Creeeak—
Pushing the heavy door with both hands revealed an antique room.
Furniture like any professor's office, but the scale screamed chancellor. A cool breeze slipped through the window, tickling my hair. My eyes drifted there.
A white porcelain pot sat by the window, a tree suited for indoors growing impressively from it.
“Haha… come in, come in. I've been waiting.”
And there stood an elderly man with a neatly trimmed mustache, pruning shears in hand. I bowed slightly.
“Chancellor Damian. You wanted to see me.”
“Good, you found it. Sorry to receive you like this.”
“If you're busy, I can come back.”
“Hoho… no, I was wrapping up anyway. Ah, sit first.”
I nodded and took a seat on the guest sofa in the center. Chancellor Damian dove back into trimming.
Seemed like bonsai was his hobby. He tended the tree with such focus—like a kindly village grandpa.
Soon, he finished with a satisfied gaze.
“I've gotten into it lately. Nice, isn't it? So pretty.”
“Fresh and green. Looks good.”
“Hoho… even empty words are welcome. Oof…”
He peeled off dirt-specked gloves, stowed the shears in a drawer, then settled into the head seat with a groan.
“Good, good you came. Professor Antonelli. Oh, my manners… I should've had tea brought.”
“No need. I'm fine.”
“Hrm… I bet you know this old man's tea-brewing sucks! Haha!”
He laughed heartily, then cut it short with a sigh.
“Hoo… Professor Antonelli, are you from the Holy Nation?”
“No, but my father was.”
“Oh ho… I see. I see.”
He nodded faintly, his face darkening as he continued.
“That incident… got me angry. You know already?”
“…Yes. Professor Esther told me.”
“Ahem… Can't say exactly why, but long ago, the academy had a Holy Nation issue. They handled it sloppily.”
“I see.”
“Our students nearly got hurt because of their carelessness… I lost it without thinking. Apologize to Professor Esther for me.”
“Yes. I will.”
“Hoho… good.”
He stroked his mustache. I waited silently.
“Anyway, Professor Antonelli. Listen well.”
“I'm all ears.”
“This incident—the finger thing. Where's that finger now?”
His eyes narrowed. I swallowed dryly.
“With me. Seems… tied to something impure.”
“…Good. Relieved you're holding it. But, Professor Antonelli.”
His eyes gleamed sharply. I clenched my hidden fist under the table.
“That thing… is extremely dangerous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. And I want to protect everyone at Caldea Imperial Academy. No—I must.”
“Understood.”
“Good. And using this, I'll ship that damned finger back to the Holy Nation.”
He seemed truly furious—not just at the finger, but that his cherished students, professors, the academy itself had been threatened, even briefly.
“Sent them a letter. If they have any shame or conscience, let them take it, burn it, purify it—whatever.”
“……”
“I'll ensure it never happens again. While I'm chancellor, absolutely not. I'm not patient.”
Crack…!
The wooden sofa arm crumbled under his grip.
Indeed, the rumors of his combat professor days held true. Cold sweat beaded as I averted my eyes.
“Hoo… sorry for the ugly sight.”
“No problem.”
“So, Professor Antonelli… one favor.”
He smiled faintly, rose, and went to his desk.
“Where'd I put it… Ah, here.”
He rummaged, returned, and handed me a letter. I stared, then took it hesitantly.
Exquisite paper. Felt faintly holy, with the Pontiff's seal at the bottom…
“…What is this?”
“Hoho… I wrote my letter pretty harshly. Demanded they handle it. Then this arrived this morning.”
“W-Wait, this is…”
An official Holy Nation document—personally penned by His Holiness the Pontiff, it seemed.
Fancy rhetoric galore, but summed up: They'd dispatch a reliable priest, so wait without worry.
“Well… they're sending someone to clean up, so we should host the priest properly while here, right?”
“Yes.”
“Frankly, I don't know Holy Nation etiquette or how to handle priests… It's awkward. Hate to say it, but any mishap would be trouble…”
“…Yes.”
“So, I'd like you to handle it, Professor Antonelli… Ah, of course, with extra pay.”
In short: Watch the dispatched priest. Report anything suspicious immediately.
“……”
Not hard. Dealing with a priest? Easy. So why the unease…?
I hesitated long, and Chancellor Damian leaned back leisurely, smiling as he drew a cigarette.
“Smoke?”
“Yes.”
“Here, have one.”
He offered the case. I eyed it closely—and instinctively knew.
Accept, and I agree. Refuse, and I decline.
I gazed at it, then gently pushed it away. He looked a tad disappointed.
“Hoo… too much to ask?”
“No, Chancellor.”
“…Hm?”
I pulled out my own—from my mint pack.
“I only smoke these.”
“…Hahahaha!”
He roared with laughter and lit up. I did the same—the one I'd pocketed earlier before Professor Esther.
I lit his, then mine. He inhaled deeply.
“Sss… Anyway, I leave it to you, Professor Antonelli. Whatever they do—take it or purify—no more harm to the academy.”
“Yes. I'll ensure no disruption.”
“Hoo… Knew I had a good eye for people.”
We exhaled smoke and smiled faintly.
The finger's fate—headache though it was—settled.
And I'd agreed to keep the academy's students from harm.
No matter what, I'd keep that promise.