Give Me Back This Body!
The instant the divine power that had been coursing through Seira's body returned to his hands and vanished, Rigeon snatched his palm from hers as if he'd been burned. Then, determined not to look at the woman in front of him, he bowed his head, clasped his hands together, and quietly curled in on himself.
"...Hahh..."
He had only completed a sacred rite, and yet the very center of his chest was pounding as though he'd done something that could never be justified.
And then, from across the room, a single phrase slipped from her lips.
"Augh... fuck..."
A thud. The sound of her collapsing back against the chair. Ordinarily he would never have let something like that slide so easily — but a far earlier scene had already been carved into Rigeon's mind.
The image of her with her mouth hanging open, body shuddering as she climaxed... on his holy power.
Is this... a trial from God?
He covered his mouth with both hands. Unable to speak a word, the insides of his palms grew clammy and cold. Seira's voice lingered in his head like an afterimage.
"Hahh... ah... aaahn..."
She wasn't making a sound now, and yet those moans seemed to ring out all over again — a phantom echo vibrating in his ears. The cleric, whose life of abstinence had left him with no immunity whatsoever, closed his eyes and quietly made the sign of the cross. But beneath his monastic robes, that center line of his was still standing taut.
I was only... only acting in the name of God...
He repeated it to himself, but somewhere along the way it had already become a prayer laced with guilt.
"So? Did you find anything or not?"
As if striking up conversation after sex, Seira tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and caught her breath in ragged gasps. Her nerves still raw and unwound, heat lingering in her cheeks, she sat with a lingering, uncooled tingle between her legs.
Rigeon flinched. He brought a hand to his chest as if to wipe away the residual heat of those idle, unholy thoughts, and silently shook his head.
"...Hahh. For fuck's sake."
Seira swept a glance over his face, then couldn't hold back the complaint that burst out of her, tugging her lips into a scowl.
"Is this guy even the real deal?"
Muttering to herself, she stood from her seat and was just about to head for the door when she staggered. Of all times, her legs had given out. An orgasm every bit as deep as one right after sex had been coiling the strength right out of her from the knees up.
"Ah...!"
The instant she pitched backward, about to slam into the corner of the table — a flash of motion. Rigeon's palm dropped reflexively around her waist.
Her waist. That slender waist. His hand had landed perfectly on the precarious, yielding curve nestled between those enormous volumes above and below.
"......"
For a moment, Rigeon thought time itself had stopped.
A rustle of silk — Seira's pink hair fanned out as she turned, her white dress fluttering, and the two of them, eyes gone wide as rabbits, locked gazes. The sudden, charged contact between a beautiful man and a beautiful woman was a tableau that could easily have been mistaken for the climax of a romance.
But—
"...Hey, put some strength into it and stand me up properly!"
Mood be damned. Faster than any gratitude, Seira demanded he not just hold her up but actually lift her.
"...!!"
At those words, Rigeon's face ignited. The word she'd just used — stand me up — was, in his current condition, nothing short of forbidden. Because in this very moment, with his cock genuinely standing at attention, this woman had absolutely no sense of danger!
So flustered by her words that instead of setting her on her feet, he simply shoved her.
Thud!
"Whoa!"
Having lost her balance, Seira grabbed the sofa back with both hands to catch herself, and the rebound jackknifed her waist, sending her ass up into the air.
"...Ngh."
Rigeon instinctively swallowed at the sight of that pose. Her white dress had ridden up to mid-thigh, and the lines of her legs beneath it gleamed like reflected light.
"......"
He reflexively laid a hand on his chest again and hastily made the sign of the cross. He'd only performed a single diagnosis. Why... why was everything turning out like this.
"Damn iiiit—!"
Shoved hard by a man's strength, Seira couldn't hold her temper and bellowed — still in that barely-balanced, ass-up posture, no less.
"I asked you to stand me up and you just shove me?! Huh? Just now, seriously—!"
"...I apologize."
Rigeon squeezed his eyes shut.
"That was uncalled for... I'm sorry..."
That much, at least, was sincere. But...
No, wait, if you think about it...
For all that he was armored in piety, he was no saint when it came to temper, and the emotion surging up inside him made him chew at the corner of his mouth.
What did I even do wrong to be put through a trial like this...?
He had only performed a diagnosis. He'd even told her, clearly, to let him know if anything strange came up in the resonance response. After that, he'd simply carried out the diagnosis with God's power...
"...Hahh..."
Rigeon turned his head and stole a glance at Seira. Sprawled half-over the sofa, yelling at some point in the empty air behind her for his benefit, he could only pray she hadn't seen the thing standing at attention inside his robes.
"This is a total bust, isn't it?! Are you even actually competent!?!"
...She probably hadn't seen it.
After that one small mercy of relief, Rigeon left the ranting Seira to it and, though he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud because she was still a lady, piled up a mountain of complaints internally.
Why the hell does that hellion energy of hers never die down. In a monastery, in front of a man... after she already c-came...!
Knowing that even thinking it so vividly was blasphemous, Rigeon bit down hard on his lip. But under Seira's relentless questioning of his qualifications as both a cleric and a mage, his patience snapped.
"There's nothing!"
"......?"
Seira's mouth stopped for a moment at those words.
"The resonance response... didn't pick up a single thing!"
Rigeon suddenly surged to his feet and pressed a hand to his own chest. The light still flowing around him was proof enough that he was a Cleric Mage.
Seira blinked. Those weren't mere doubts. They were the coldest words a proxy of God could deliver to a patient after completing a diagnosis.
Lightning.
As if struck by a bolt, the strength went out of Seira's hands on the sofa, and she crumpled into it, curling in on herself.
"...What?"
First came denial. She squeezed her eyes shut, lips twitching.
"No, that's not right?"
But even she knew how little sense that made.
Nothing...? Then... what the hell has all this been...?
And then, anger again.
"Hey!! That's just you not being good enough! Go get someone higher up!!"
Seira screamed herself hoarse, but her elbows soon gave out and she sank deep into the sofa.
"...Was I just crazy? Turns out everything I've lived until now was a dream, and this is what's real?"
The emotion that had been reaching for compromise plunged rapidly into despair. This body of hers, still flushed hot, insides churned up — it wasn't a curse that holy power could fix?
Huddled weakly, seized by every thought at once, Seira's lips trembled against her will and a few tears spilled over.
A drop. Then a patter—
"Ugh... hahh, ahh... is this right... did you even look properly... do it again, look again!"
Tears, of all things, over this infuriating, fucked-up situation — and the feeling that not just her shell but her insides had become a woman's too made Seira's chest seize, and she couldn't control her own body. Her sobbing, collapsing all at once, filled the room. With Rigeon sitting across from her.
No... did I... did I do something wrong...?
Battered by the woman's surging emotions, he suddenly started to feel as though he really had botched the diagnosis. And then the guilt came crashing in all at once.
This is... this is exactly like telling a patient who says they're in pain, "What's there to hurt about?"...
The sound of her sobbing. That pink hair swallowed up into the sofa. It all sounded like a wordless scream that this was all his fault.
"...I-I'm sorry..."
He tried to apologize, but she didn't seem to hear. He sucked in a sharp breath and spun around in a panic.
No. No. I... I can't handle this.
Thud — he rushed past Seira to the door and shouted.
"Is anyone... is anyone out there?!"
There was surely a guard at the door, but given Seira's current state, he couldn't bring himself to open it — not considering her position, and Alpheir's. So he only called out.
"Young Master Brontian! Bring Young Master Brontian here at once!!!"
Rigeon's voice was already ringing through the entire corridor of the monastery.
Meanwhile, in the chapel of Eliyes Monastery. Beneath the sunlight pouring softly between white stone pillars, a single neat silhouette. Young Master Brontian — Alpheir Kyle Brontian — who had been waiting for her with his eyes closed in prayer, sat with his hands quietly folded, finishing the prayer he hadn't been able to complete earlier.
"Young Master Brontian...!"
But this prayer, too, went unfinished. A monk's careful, urgent whisper, interrupting even a prayer offered to God.
"Hm?"
Alpheir opened his eyes and looked at the face that had approached.
"Forgive the intrusion, but Lord Harmas has... sent word that you must come, immediately, without fail."
"...Rigeon?"
Seira's business must be finished, then. The corner of his mouth curved into a faint smile.
"Let us go."
He rose without disturbing those around him, straightened his clothes, and followed the guide at once. Their destination was the same reception room as before, so he wouldn't have gotten lost even without a guide.
The door opened before Alpheir, still calm and elegant as though he'd just received a full measure of piety — and one step across the threshold, the place was a cauldron of chaos.
This... I did not expect.