We're Really Not Scammers (2)
The Commission Office was in an uproar.
A small child in an obsessively black ensemble — black hood, black mask, black robe — had stepped between Andy and the priests.
The place had already been buzzing over the arrest of a suspected blasphemer. The girl's appearance only stoked the chaos further.
"…What do you mean, that statement is wrong? Even if you are a child, you would do well to choose your words carefully."
"Please do not threaten her. She has nothing to do with this."
Andy hurriedly tried to pull Cream behind him, but she slipped free with her small frame and planted herself in front of him once more.
"I am Andrew's one and only disciple and assistant. Forgive my rudeness. I simply could not stand by and listen any longer."
She usually hates priests so much — why is she putting herself forward like this today?
This was the same girl who had felt a crushing sense of betrayal the moment she guessed Andy might be a clergyman. Given her nature as a witch, it was only natural that she feared and loathed them.
And yet a far greater irritation than either fear or hatred had driven her to step forward with her head held high.
Her hands trembled, but she clenched a fist against her chest and spoke.
"You are mistaken about something, Father. We are innocent."
"If you are innocent, then submit to an investigation."
"I understand that such investigations take days — a long stretch of time. Blasphemy is a grave crime, so the procedure is only proper. But we do not have that kind of time, and the very fact of being investigated for blasphemy is so disgraceful that we have no wish to comply. Especially when this entire affair stems from an error on the cathedral's part…"
"…An error on the cathedral's part?"
"Yes. That painting was steeped in terrible Corruption."
Cream spoke with absolute certainty, as if there could not possibly be any doubt. It was a far cry from the way she had once described her own actions as "doing something bad."
"Little one. One of our own priests examined that painting himself. It was a clean picture with not a trace of Corruption on it."
"It was the priests who failed to discern the truth — so why are you persecuting us?"
"I understand that you are frightened, but no great punishment will fall on a child like you. Leave this sort of thing to the adults."
"You truly do not know, do you."
"…Know what?"
"You know nothing about my master."
Father Kabosi, who had been speaking as gently as he could manage with a child, quietly furrowed his brow. It was less anger at Cream herself than fury at this Andrew who had so thoroughly bewitched her.
"Father, please calm yourself and listen. You introduced yourself earlier, did you not? You said you were the acting head priest. As I understand it, that rank carries the authority to make judgments in the field."
"…It does."
"As of now we carry only the suspicion of blasphemy — no verdict has been handed down, correct?"
"That is right. Which is precisely why we must investigate from this moment on."
"Then use this opportunity to see for yourself and decide."
Cream spread her arms wide.
"Whether my master is a wicked deceiver who spins lies with his tongue — or a truly righteous pilgrim."
"…"
"I will prove it. We need to prepare, so please wait for us in the square. We will not do anything so dishonorable as running away."
"And why should we accept that invitation? We have the authority to take you and your master by force this very instant."
"Because it is not a bad arrangement for the cathedral either. If you accept my proposal and clear us of suspicion, we will duly repay that generous mercy."
"…"
"The world overflows with Corruption, and people long for salvation. The cathedral is always short-handed, always worn down and exhausted. And yet my master walks the pilgrim's path in accordance with the saints' will, serving the people. Witness his power for yourselves — and should the cathedral ever face hardship, you need only petition him."
"…"
Kabosi held his silence. For a middle-aged priest, his expression was suitably stern, yet something thoughtful deepened in his face as he watched the girl's crisp, decisive manner.
"The truth, is it… Very well. If this was our error, then a public apology would be in order. But if proof proves impossible…"
"That will not happen."
Cream smiled. Even through the mask, the warmth of it was audible.
She turned at once and addressed the entire Commission Office.
"Everyone, please listen. We recently completed a commission for a certain lady — a request to purify a painting steeped in Corruption."
"Before that, another priest had already inspected the painting and declared it 'a clean picture with no lingering grudge whatsoever.' Our assessment differed. That is why we carried out the purification commission."
"And now, we will prove our assessment. Let everyone present stand as witnesses. This demonstration is not a challenge to the cathedral's authority. It is to clear our names — and beyond that, a path toward harmony with the cathedral and the safety of you all. Please understand that."
There was steel in that slender voice. Her precise diction sank cleanly into every ear.
When the persuasive speech ended, people filed outside with faces full of eager curiosity. In this dull world, a spectacle this stimulating was not something to miss.
Father Kabosi followed the procession as well, something expectant in his manner. Beside him, his junior Melan kept mouthing something toward Andy and Cream — Um… about the fountain, maybe… — before her senior's pull finally carried her along.
"Reminds me of my daughter. Bold as anything."
"Didn't you get divorced and go ten years without seeing her?"
As Rick and the other easygoing bearded men also headed out of the Commission Office, Cream and Andy stood facing each other.
"Little one— Assistant. What is all this…"
"Last time, I followed your lead, Teacher. This time, please follow mine."
She lowered her voice to a murmur. There were still people left inside the office.
"Last time" clearly meant Mrs. Welina's commission — the day they had moved according to the script Andy had written.
"Today, the script is mine."
"…"
"Just do what you always do, Teacher. The thing you do best."
"…"
"It's not a bad deal for you either, is it? You said you wanted to make a lot of money. There is no better advertising opportunity than this. And once we get on good terms with the cathedral, commissions will come pouring in."
So that was why she had set the stage so large.
Andy had planned to use a single purification in front of the priests and clear the fraud charges. He had been about to pull a trick not so different from Cream's own.
But Cream had deliberately brought the entire Commission Office along and blown the whole affair wide open.
Andy cherished Cream, and he was thoroughly smitten with her — but he knew perfectly well that she did not return the fondness.
He had never expected that young lady to act with such thoughtful initiative.
"…You are unusually proactive today. Has something changed in your heart?"
"…Staff."
"Pardon?"
"—I mean stamp. It's because of the praise stamps. It doesn't mean anything big."
She said it while whipping her head to the side — not toward Andy, but off at an angle, all prim and prickly.
"Well, there's the necklace too… It seems to be working decently."
She tapped at her throat as she spoke. She had been clutching her chest tightly for some time — she must have been gripping the necklace tucked inside her clothes.
Ordinarily, so long as she was uninjured, she could live like any ordinary girl. When she was not bleeding, she was a perfectly normal child.
Even so, she had always kept her distance from the clergy. The mere glimpse of their robes would send her bolting into an alley in fright. For a girl born with tainted blood, they could only ever be objects of fear and dislike.
But the necklace Andy had given her — this ornament said to conceal malevolent energy — had somehow put her heart at ease. It felt as steadying as climbing into a warm bed.
She had briefly tested the pendant's effect before they left.
The result: anything Cream had on her person fell under its protection. Even a bloodstained needle, so long as she held it in her hand, gave off no sense of Corruption.
…It came from someone of Teacher's caliber. Of course the effect would be reliable.
She might not trust the man, but she trusted his skill. A necklace procured by a priest whom a witch herself acknowledged could hardly be some crude trinket.
Now she just needed to finish the demonstration and go pick out a gift with her teacher. Today's perfect plan was waiting.
"Anyway, that's how it is. You should get ready too, Teacher. This is absolutely nothing difficult for you, so… Ahem, ahem. You there, staff member. Would you be so kind as to prepare the tools I require?"
The Cream who had been chattering at Andy like any child her age switched, the moment she faced the Commission Office clerk, to a calm and mysterious voice.
Superb acting.
A fluency that poured out like a mad teacher's silver tongue.
Andy was fighting the urge to ruffle Cream's hair with abandon when—
"—Excuse me a moment."
"…Father?"
Father Melan, whom they had thought already gone, approached carefully and spoke up. She was clutching her staff in both hands, looking rather awkward.
"Um… just in case, would it be all right if I supervised the preparations? Father Kabosi wants to be certain of everything."
"We have nothing to hide. You may watch. Right, Teacher?"
"Haha. Of course."
Master and disciple smiled beneath their hoods.
An adult man and a young child. Judging by the voice, almost certainly a girl.
To Kabosi's eyes, they made a thoroughly strange pair.
A clergyman who does not carry a staff…
That in itself was not so unusual. Staffs were issued only to those belonging to a cathedral, and there were users of holy arts who operated as private individuals outside any church affiliation.
Most of them, however, were mediocrities who could not even manage the basics — and none of them ever grew large enough to take on a disciple.
Which was why Kabosi found this Andrew deeply suspicious.
When he had sent a subordinate priest to Mrs. Welina's house, the report had been clear: "There is nothing wrong with the painting." The man was reliable about the tasks assigned to him.
And yet that painting had supposedly been steeped in Corruption all along.
No matter how he looked at it, it reeked of fraud.
That man who covered himself head to toe in black and put on an air of leisure, letting his disciple speak for him.
At a glance, he looked like a con man who could manage only a pale imitation of holy arts and used it to deceive the people around him.
Especially the way he had bewitched his disciple — that tiny child placing such absolute trust in him felt uncanny.
…Additional charges may be in order.
There was never a decent person among the frauds who cloaked themselves in the divine.
The fact that he was traveling with a young girl only made Kabosi more wary of Andrew. He surveyed the square, checking whether any devices had been planted in advance.
As he did, he thought of his junior, who would still be watching the two of them inside the Commission Office.
That awkward junior had been searching for the people who resolved the recent monster incident in the park — and she had a theory that this pair might be them.
Indeed…
He was fidgeting with the ring on his left hand when, before long, the hooded girl and his junior emerged together from a distance.
They approached through the crowd, using a handcart to move something wrapped in black cloth.
That object.
The moment Kabosi recognized the thing shrouded in black cloth, he rushed to the front of the crowd.
"Th-that is…!"
"Thank you for waiting. Everyone, please step back just a little."
"Wait…!"
"Let me say this in advance — do not be afraid. My master stands with you."
The girl's calm words stood in stark contrast to the vicious energy that followed.
With its appearance, the air around them grew heavy. Even in an open square beneath open sky, a few of the more sensitive people clutched their heads or chests, complaining of a nameless unease.
"Something… it's hard to breathe…"
"Why is it so cold?"
"I feel awful."
The cause was clear.
Corruption.
The dregs of the particles that composed the world; rotten souls that had failed to attain enlightenment; curses — the collective mass of all things foul and unclean.
Kabosi seized his staff at once and approached the girl. The thickening, nauseating energy made him want to quarantine the crowd immediately.
He had faced Corruption all the way into middle age, surviving countless battles, and so he knew.
Whatever lay wrapped in that black cloth was no ordinary Corruption.
And the girl who was carting it along so casually was no ordinary person either.
"Melan, what is going on with that?"
"Uh, well… Senior, it was so simple. This child pulled a tiny needle from her robes, and somehow she had sealed it — the moment she dropped it in there—"
Whoosh—
As if to say no spoilers, the girl immediately pulled away the black cloth.
Inside sat a large fish tank.
A tank filled to the brim with murky water.
The energy clinging to the surroundings was as ominous as the murk itself.
"Yes. This is Corruption."
People recoiled with gasps of horror at the girl's quiet explanation. Faces went white; some leapt back; others tried to flee the square entirely.
"It is a portion of the Corruption from the painting we purified that day, mixed into water. A sample we set aside for investigation."
"That… how could… something like that was hiding in a painting…?"
"Yes. This Corruption was extremely cunning. In ordinary times it would conceal its power, hold its breath, and hide — then the moment the priest left, it would run rampant. A vicious Corruption! So it is only natural that no one noticed. It was not that priest's fault. The Corruption is the villain here."
Cream's theatrical, exaggerated tone settled into quiet seriousness.
"Father Kabosi, what is your assessment of this?"
"This is… truly dreadful Corruption. It is astonishing that you even possessed such a thing. The sealing work is remarkable."
"It is unmistakably Corruption, is it not?"
"Yes. Unmistakably."
"I-it's such a terrifying Corruption…"
Even Melan stammered out an answer as Kabosi glared at the tank. The black water lapped as if it were alive.
A writhing murderous intent, as though it might lunge at any moment.
A vicious toxicity that seemed ready to corrode the lungs on contact.
"Would the two of you be able to purify it right away?"
"Impossible at present. Preparation would be required."
Even Kabosi, a 3rd-class priest, could not easily purify Corruption this dense. He might well be eroded in reverse and forced to abandon his staff — or his arm.
Had anyone ever witnessed that terrible chain reaction — someone forcing a purification until their skin turned pitch black, only for the next person who rushed to cleanse them to be eroded in turn?
"I see. So you acknowledge its danger as well?"
"I do. But… can you provide evidence that this was attached to the painting? You could have brought some other Corruption entirely."
"Evidence is difficult to provide."
"Then—"
"However, my master's spiritual power will itself serve as the evidence. Teacher."
Step—
At her cue, the man appeared. Like the girl, he was dressed obsessively in black — a young man, by the look of him.
"The Corruption in that painting that no one else could detect. But my master was different. He possesses the insight to see through even the cunning schemes of wicked Corruption."
"…"
"If we verify this man's ability here and now, we also verify his insight — and verifying his insight verifies the Corruption in the painting as well. What do you say, Father Kabosi?"
"Wait… you mean to purify this right here, right now?"
"Yes."
"How do you intend to—"
"—Because this is the stage my one and only disciple has prepared for me."
The man answered in her place.
"…"
"It will not be easy, but I ought to live up to such expectations."
The moment he finished speaking, he drew something from his robes. At a glance, it was nothing more than a wooden stick — the sort of tree branch a child might play with.
He raised it slowly and extended it toward the high sky, and every person in the square fixed their eyes on the tip of that branch.
All but one.
The girl who had concentrated every gaze upon the man slipped away from her place alone. To the people present, it was not a particularly important detail.
Kabosi, like those around him, narrowed his eyes at the wooden stick.
No matter how he looked at it, what the man held was a shabby tree branch. No orb. No divine power to be felt.
By contrast, the toxic energy dominating this space was far too dense. Even in an open area, the skin stung and the breath caught in the throat — the concentration was beyond reckoning.
Even the townspeople unaccustomed to Corruption had all drawn well back from the tank to watch the scene. An instinctive aversion.
Left alone for just a few more minutes, it would almost certainly begin transforming into a monster.
So how exactly did he plan to purify it?
By this point, disbelief had given way to genuine curiosity — can he actually do it? The man's utterly confident bearing even began to stir a sense of anticipation.
And then—
"Close your eyes."
A single quiet phrase.
In the moment when every eye was upon him, the man delivered it in a calm voice.
As if he cared nothing for the hopes or doubts blooming in the citizens' hearts. Simply the attitude of a man doing what needed to be done.
Then he drew the wooden stick downward.
Very lightly. Utterly simply.
Whoosh—
—Flash!!
There was light.
A pure white, warm light.
A radiance powerful enough to seem like a lightning strike blanketed the entire square.
"Ghk!?"
Faces contorted against the sudden brilliance pouring from the tip of the wood. A piercing resonance — beeeeeep — made heads swim.
As the acting head priest, Kabosi had to witness everything, so he kept both eyes firmly open.
In his long years as a priest, he had watched countless purification rites. He had performed many himself in the course of surviving this long. Divine power was tempered through the accumulation of faith, so the light naturally grew stronger with age.
But this light…!
At the very least, a miraculous radiance that far surpassed his own power.
A brilliance that vaguely called even the bishop to mind.
With a shabby tree branch that has no orb — how can he produce something like that!
Staring into that white light for so long, he felt as though tears might come.
Whether from the glare, from the guilt of having dared to doubt a man capable of such power, or from being overwhelmed by a sight so sacred — he could not define it.
Simply because it was warm.
Because he was grateful that a person who could produce such light had come to this region.
He gazed at the man as if entranced, not even noticing the pain in his eyes.
.
.
.
At the same moment.
Behind the Commission Office building, the girl who had hidden herself pulled off her mask. She let out a sigh of relief at the light so fierce it made her veins tingle.
…Who did they think they were, doubting Teacher.
She made a deflated little sound — whether a sulky hmph or a soft laugh, it was hard to tell.