Chapter 135
Chapter 135
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: Beggar Gritz (10) - Festival Preparations
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A grand festival that would set all of Bellaria abuzz.
This was a grueling ordeal not just for the on-site staff handling the myriad minor preparations, but also for the planners who had to issue those directives.
"So, what the hell are we supposed to do for the festival lineup?"
Memorial events typically followed a set procedure.
Something like igniting a spectacular blaze to signal the opening, a dignitary giving a speech on stage, or participants singing in unison—those kinds of things.
If this had been an event steeped in history and tradition, the planners wouldn't have much to worry about.
They could just replicate what the elders had done before, tweaking minor details to fit the times or circumstances.
But this time, there was no such foundation.
The event itself was brand new, so what tradition was there to speak of?
"Why not just handle the opening and closing ceremonies half-heartedly and let everyone else do their own thing? They're all just here to eat and drink anyway."
"No, that won't do. This isn't just any event—it's tied to the Guardian God. If we make it too simplistic and half-assed, it could come off as insulting the Guardian God's authority."
"Then we make it as flashy and solemn as possible. Complicate the procedures so people feel the weight of it all."
"No, no, you're all missing the point. What's the whole reason for this festival? To commemorate the Shrine Maiden heading to the Guardian God's side, right? That means we'll have to repeat this every time a new Shrine Maiden appears. If we go overboard now, it'll be an insane burden going forward."
It couldn't look insincere.
It needed to be dignified and spectacular enough to draw massive interest and pack in the program, yet minimize the burden on the organizers.
After several rounds of debate, the planners arrived at what they considered a perfectly reasonable and satisfying conclusion.
"Then we just maximize the Shrine Maiden's role in the festival."
Their brilliant idea? Work the Shrine Maiden to the bone.
Have her sing in front of the crowds, dance, hold meet-and-greets for handshakes.
The justification was airtight.
In an event honoring the Shrine Maiden and Guardian God, the God couldn't mingle with the people, so spotlights on the Maiden instead—who could argue?
Of course, while it made things easy for the organizers, the Shrine Maiden would be shredded physically and mentally by the brutal schedule—but that wasn't the planners' problem.
What could she do if they imposed an unreasonable lineup?
Shrine Maiden or not, once she left for the Guardian God's side, they'd never see her face again anyway.
Satisfied with their flawless plan, the planners went to bed in high spirits.
And soon after, a shocking rumor began circulating through Bellaria: "Shrine Maidens evolve into Guardian Gods!"
The planners—senior members of the Canillian family—were initially quite relaxed upon hearing the rumor.
One shouldn't underestimate them as mere retainers of a single house.
The Canillian patriarch might bear the empty title of lord, but he was practically the king of Bellaria's lands.
That meant his retainers were equivalent to high nobles in foreign lands.
With their elevated status, they heard all sorts of things and prided themselves on 'rational' and 'reasonable' thinking.
A Shrine Maiden becoming a Guardian God? Ridiculous.
"Did you sleep well last night, Lady Grace?"
"Ah, yeah, sure."
And that conviction of theirs shattered the instant they saw the patriarch—utterly unconcerned with onlookers—bow his head to the Shrine Maiden.
For retainers who knew he'd been beaten by a beggar and still polished and oiled that barrel daily, seeing him now fully off the rails in 'whatever happens, happens' mode left them no choice but to suspect Grace truly had something special.
A simple quiz show promptly aired in their minds.
Q. The girl we bullied thinking she was a pushover turns out to be the next national ruler. What now?
A. Tsk tsk, you believe that? What a low-IQ take.
Q. But our lord is using honorifics and bowing to her?
A. Even a corpse is talking.
The plans to grind the Shrine Maiden were scrapped entirely.
Schedules she 'had' to attend became optional—"join if you feel like it"—and fearing even that might seem coercive, the overall program was slashed dramatically.
With the festival looming, the staff cursed the planners for the sudden changes and gaps to fill, but the planners ignored them. Better to be resented by underlings than marked by the Guardian God.
"Hmm. What to do."
Meanwhile, Grace wasn't exactly thrilled either.
Not because she loved her Shrine Maiden duties too much—far from it. She just lacked the physical freedom to enjoy herself.
Three minutes.
That's how long it took for Grace to step out unguarded into the streets and end up trapped by crowds, frozen like a statue.
Those leering with greedy eyes and offering bribes with greasy hands were easier to handle than kids thrusting dust-caked flowers at her or elders silently bowing with teary eyes—she couldn't just brush them off and run.
But surrounding herself with guards? That wasn't her style either.
How could she enjoy a festival with burly, glaring tough guys hovering nearby?
"...So, can't I just stay home quietly?"
"What nonsense. People die if they stay cooped up inside."
"?"
Grace, who had just made enemies of every shut-in in existence, plopped down on the barrel and kept grumbling.
"This festival is basically in my name, right? How unfair is it that I can't even enjoy it?"
"Move your ass."
"I'm already stuck playing reluctant god, feeling all unsettled, and now I can't even walk the streets like a normal person. They say beauty shines brighter with a touch of misfortune, but my looks are plenty stunning—no need to pile on the tragedy."
"Get off from up there, you wench."
"Oh, by the way, is the Guardian God side okay? It doesn't care much about the outside, and the patriarch's handling the cover, so it's just waiting... but I'm honestly worried."
"......"
The moment Gritz fell silent, Grace hopped off the barrel and retreated to the corner of the room. Needlessly nimble and spry.
Seeing the staff peek out from the barrel's sideways opening then withdraw, she let out a sigh of relief.
And thought to herself.
'Still can't see inside.'
It had been a decent amount of time since Grace started hanging out with Gritz.
Less than two weeks by the calendar, but plenty long for her, who could befriend anyone in five minutes.
Yet in all that time, she'd never once glimpsed Gritz's true form.
Or rather, she'd never physically peered inside the barrel.
The barrel wasn't fully sealed. If it were, arms couldn't poke out or the staff be wielded like a limb.
One end was definitely open.
But trying to peek through that hole always failed for some reason.
The angle was wrong, something blocked the view, shadows obscured it, or sudden sunlight or reflections ruined the chance—failures galore.
'Such a mysterious person.'
From their first meeting to now.
This barrel-dweller had been a strange, bizarre, and endlessly entertaining outsider to her.
If before she'd probed his secrets to escape her gloom, now Grace the person simply wanted to know more about Gritz.
Which explained her bolder flirting and endless chit-chat lately.
"So, no good ideas at all?"
"I saved the wench who was just waiting to die, and now she wants entertainment too? You've tossed your conscience out the window."
"Hey, gratitude is gratitude—this is separate. If you spend your whole remaining life gloomily repaying a favor, is that living? It's just dying in slow motion."
"...Hmm."
For some reason, Grace could picture Gritz's lips curling up in a big grin.
That exchange must've amused him plenty by his standards.
"Fine. The real showdown won't happen till after the festival anyway, so a breather till then won't hurt."
"Ooh, got a plan?"
"Yeah. Give me a sec to prepare."
"Sure!"
Grace beamed, face lighting up.
And about—three hours later.
She stared at the Oak Barrel Mk. 2 before her, her smile freezing into a statue's grimace.
"Get in the barrel, Grace."