Blessed, and Blessed Indeed (6)
“Haaah…”
Laura emerged from the bathtub, finishing her bath. As she stepped out into the room, steam began rising from her body in wisps.
Whiiiing—.
A breeze slipped through the open window, brushing against her damp skin. The sudden chill made her shiver.
“Ugh, it’s cold…”
Laura hurriedly threw on her robe and shut the window. Evenings grew chilly, and if she didn’t dry off quickly, she’d catch a cold for sure.
Viiiing—.
She dried her hair like that.
“……”
Changed into her pajamas.
“Haaah… yawn…”
And even as she lay down in bed.
Only one thought filled Laura’s mind.
He smiled. Not at anyone else—just for me…
Professor Antonelli’s face, with that faint smile. It wasn’t even a full grin, no teeth showing, but somehow that image lingered in her thoughts all day.
— I must humbly say, among the assignments reviewed today, the one submitted by Miss Adelaide…
“Ehehe… hehehehe…”
— is undoubtedly the best.
“Eekiyaaah—!”
Thwack! Thwack!
Laura started pummeling her innocent pillow. She could feel her face burning hot.
Bolting upright in bed, she fanned herself desperately. But the heat wouldn’t fade, so she even flung open the window she’d just closed.
To think she was this happy over a single bit of recognition from that man. It was utterly ridiculous.
He was always so cold, composed, his expression unchanging. On the first day of class, when she’d been a touch rude, he’d coldly deducted ten points. Until yesterday, she’d pegged him as stingy with praise.
But no. He wasn’t.
The best…
You’re the best.
For Laura, who brimmed with talent in magic, those words were commonplace—she’d heard them countless times in her life. But when the speaker became Professor Antonelli, they transformed into something far more.
It was acknowledgment of Laura herself, of Laura von Adelaide as a whole.
Beyond pulling her to a new level, it was a crisp validation of her skills as they stood.
For Laura, who’d been walled off from growth for the past three years, it was the exact kind of praise she’d craved most.
“Haa… time to sleep…”
Lying back down, Laura closed her eyes.
Tomorrow was the weekend. The training grounds got crowded then, so she’d need to wake early and claim her spot. Having broken through her wall today, she was eager to dive deeper into her magic research.
And there’s the inter-year sparring tournament this summer…
To prepare, she’d need relentless training.
But…
Uuuugh…!
That smile wouldn’t leave her mind. Laura sat up again.
It had been such a subtle smile. To a casual glance, it might’ve looked expressionless—a tiny curl at the corner of his mouth. The other students probably hadn’t even noticed.
But Laura had faced Professor Antonelli head-on. And it had been for her alone.
His messy hair paired with that gloomy face. The glasses perched on his nose lent an air of intellect, sure—but that was it.
Yeah. It should have been it.
If he cleaned up, he might actually look decent.
His raw features weren’t bad, so with a little effort, he could be…
“…I must be losing it.”
Laura muttered blankly. To have her opinion of someone shift so drastically over one barely-there smile—it was unbelievable.
Just a slight lift of the lips, yet it worked magic, making the man seem entirely different. It was magic.
“Aaaah, seriously…!”
Glancing at her desk clock, Laura felt urgency grip her. The hands were nearing midnight.
“I need to be up by seven…”
She shut her eyes again, willing sleep to come, and began breathing evenly.
“……”
It was three in the morning when Laura finally drifted off.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Friday’s class wrapped up successfully. No mere success, either—it was a resounding triumph, the kind where even calling it that felt understated.
The students had leveled up. Not just the protagonist of the moment, but the prodigy in magic, Laura von Adelaide, seemed to have grasped a major breakthrough. I couldn’t have been more pleased.
My students were growing, and the class had unfolded exactly as I’d intended. What educator wouldn’t rejoice in that?
But my true joy lay elsewhere.
“Laura von Adelaide…”
Her assignment. The answer within it, one I’d never anticipated.
It lay beyond anything I’d covered in class. Laura had learned it on her own, untaught.
This wasn’t one step forward—it was leaping two.
“It is impossible for all people to wield divine power, huh…”
A conclusion I loved. I didn’t need time to process or accept it; it was already etched deep in my core—the very thing Laura had voiced.
Everyone yearns for salvation. I did too, and on the battlefield, that desperation sharpened.
Yet salvation was nowhere. It was a fool’s hope. What I’d craved back then was simple: for the war to end right that instant.
Do you know when humans turn most ugly?
Not in greed for wealth, gluttony, or surging lust.
It’s when death looms, humanity whittled away to its limit, grasping vainly at empty miracles and salvation.
That’s when we’re at our ugliest.
And I’d lived it firsthand. I’d wished for the impossible, drifting from reality, and it birthed catastrophe.
After the armistice. While this nation’s youth and future were shredded, those damned old fools posed safely in the rear, doing nothing—until they signed a few papers.
That’s when I realized.
Not everyone can be good. No such paradise exists—at least not in this flawed earthly realm of petty humans.
A late realization, yet an early one too. I was still in my twenties.
Where there’s light, shadows follow. Inseparable.
I hadn’t broached it in class yet—next semester, perhaps.
But Laura had found the answer herself. Unprompted, through her own inquiry, she’d attained enlightenment.
It was everything I’d ever hoped for. Reading her assignment, I wondered:
How grueling were her efforts? How desperately had she sought answers?
Her toil was plain to see. How could I not praise it?
So I told her.
That she was the best—a praise that might seem trite to her.
“Vice Priest!”
I snapped from my reverie. Sophia the deaconess tilted her head before me.
“What’re you thinking about?”
“Reflecting on Friday’s class.”
“Ah… that one?”
Sophia nodded, then thrust up a thumbs-up.
“That class was the best. We never saw anything like it at the priest academy.”
“All they do is dull theory lessons.”
“Didn’t expect that from you, Vice Priest. Don’t you think theory’s the most important?”
I shook my head slowly, addressing her directly.
“Theory matters. But the ability to interpret it matters more.”
“Aha, got it. Makes sense…”
“By the way, how was the feedback on last Sunday’s service?”
“Hmm…”
Last Sunday—yesterday’s service—I thought had gone well enough. More students showed up than usual, too.
Mostly first-year Class A, so probably my class’s influence.
Sophia pondered, then snapped her fingers.
“They said it was fine overall… Ah! But lots wanted the lead priest to look a bit more put-together.”
“……”
“Vice Priest?”
“Nothing.”
I’d tried to spruce up, at least. Apparently not to their eyes. I nodded gravely.
“I see. More put-together… What do you think, Deaconess Sophia?”
“Me? Uh, me?”
“Yes. Be honest.”
“Wellll…”
Squinting at me a moment, Sophia beamed.
“You could use some tidying up!”
“…Guess I’ll cut my hair this weekend.”
“Want me to come along?”
Her eyes sparkled as she approached. I eyed her with faint unease.
“You sure? It’s your day off…”
“Pfft, come on! You gotta look sharp for Sunday service! I’ll help!”
“…Then I’ll trouble you.”
Sophia bobbed her head, grinning ear to ear. I checked my wristwatch.
It was 9:10 a.m. We’d been waiting at the academy’s main gate for about thirty minutes.
“Hm. They should be here by now.”
“Yeah… my legs are killing me…”
We weren’t slacking off on a Monday morning—weekend over, yet here instead of the office.
Sophia and I stood at the gate, awaiting someone.
“The cathedral cleaning’s all done neatly, right?”
“Yep. We scrubbed all day yesterday.”
“True, but…”
This might be tense. I hated receiving VIPs.
“Isn’t that them?”
Sophia pointed. I looked.
A middle-aged man in priestly robes and a sharp-featured young woman approached. I studied their faces closely.
“Deaconess Sophia. That Peter Priest?”
“Uh… yeah. That scary Peter Priest. Sigh… Guess I’ll hide behind your authority, Vice Priest.”
“……”
The two priests reached the gate and walked toward us slowly.
A tense first encounter.