The Saint's Jealousy Trap
I was in the middle of changing out of my clothes, which were thick with the scent of perfume, and into a spare set of priestly robes when a calm voice slipped through the door of the changing room.
"Priest. About that outing permit I gave you the other day... could you tell me how many are left?"
"You're not planning to take them back, are you?"
"What do you take me for..."
She was the kind of rigid superior who always followed the rules to the letter. Lately I'd added a few more impressions to the list: that she wasn't completely without consideration, and that her chest was surprisingly large for her frame. Still, at the end of the day she was just "that uptight, big-breasted superior who occasionally shows a little flexibility." Nothing had really changed.
"Let's see... about five left."
"More than I expected. I thought you'd used them all by now."
"Now that the meal situation has improved, I don't really have much use for them. At the same time, it feels a bit wasteful to spend them on nothing important."
Doesn't everyone have at least one person like that around them? The type who hoards every bomb in a shooting game, only to die without ever using them properly. People say there's nothing more pathetic than someone paralyzed by indecision, but for someone who's survived this harsh world precisely because of that same indecisiveness, I can't help but agree that there's only a sheet of paper's difference between hesitation and caution.
"Then I suppose you won't be going out today either?"
"Well, unless something special comes up, probably not."
"......"
"Saintess."
I called out using only my voice, without knocking. The tone was as careful as one might use to call over a stray cat on the street. After countless trials and errors, this was the only opening line permitted when addressing the current Saintess. It was my sole means of communication.
I cleared my throat with extreme caution, the feeling of threading a needle through the eye of a needle. Kiii.
At last, the massive door before me creaked open ever so slightly. Though the gap was so narrow that not even a mouse could slip through—barely wide enough for sound or scent to pass—it had opened. That alone was enough. The fact that I'd received any reaction at all from the Saintess made the painstaking effort of choosing my words worthwhile.
"Are... you... mad...?"
"I'm not mad."
It was painfully obvious that the timid voice leaking through the crack was laced with pitiful anxiety. Ever since that day I had scolded her harshly—even going so far as to stab my own hand with a knife—the Saintess seemed to have taken my unprecedented sternness as anger directed at her. It was the first scolding she'd ever received in her life. She interpreted it in the most straightforward, one-dimensional way possible. These days, if I didn't preemptively declare that I wasn't angry, she wouldn't even show her face.
"R-really...?"
"Really."
"R-really really...?"
"Really, really."
This endless loop of back-and-forth questions didn't allow for sighs or any show of frustration. I simply waited in a state of complete emptiness, like a clear mirror, for her wariness to ease. Like the legendary fisherman Taegong staring at his bobber, I kept a close watch on the faint emotional ripples coming through that narrow slit.
That was when it happened.
Kiiiik.
The enormous door groaned again as it shifted. The moment I caught sight of those luminous ruby eyes peering at me through the gap, my instincts screamed that it was time to reel in the fishing rod.
'Sister.'
'I know.'
The exchange of glances translated into action with such seamless perfection that I couldn't imagine a single wasted movement. My arms spread wide, ready to pull something in with fierce strength. The nun across from me mirrored the exact same posture. Then, like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces coming together, we slowly closed the distance while reciting our pre-prepared lines in turn.
"Hah. The Saintess won't see me. Oh well, nothing I can do. I'll just have to find someone else."
"Kyaaaah."
While my performance barely passed muster, the nun's wooden acting—her reluctance practically dripping from every syllable—was so terrible it was painful to watch. Fortunately, our audience was the Saintess, so the quality of the actors wasn't all that important on this particular stage.
"N-no—!!!"
"Oof!"
The destination of that nimble leap, reminiscent of a flying squirrel, was my solar plexus. I suppose it was quite the honor to have such a distinguished guest personally alight upon one of the human body's most famous vital points, second only to the head. My polite upper body bowed forward in greeting to the esteemed visitor, but the undignified groan that escaped my lips like smoke completely ruined the solemn atmosphere.
"Ughhh..."
A reasonable question floated to the surface of my mind—how could such a small body fling open that massive door and come flying out like a bullet? But experience had taught me that ignoring questions with no practical answer was the wisest course. My rational mind quickly submerged the doubt back beneath the waters of consciousness.
"Mine! Mine!! Mine!!!"
The Saintess clung to my outer robe with the ferocity of a child whose favorite toy had been stolen, desperately trying to assert ownership over my body. It was rather terrifying. However, my mind, still reeling from the physical impact to my solar plexus, couldn't fully register the emotional waves she was emitting.
"Are you alright, Priest? Just a reminder—you must not abuse miracles to dull your pain. Your miracles exist solely for the Saintess. Unless it's a severe injury like a broken bone or a puncture wound, you are never to use them on yourself or others."
"Thank you so much for personally reminding me of a warning I nearly forgot. I'm truly moved to tears..."
"Not at all."
Like a cicada clinging to an old tree, the Saintess remained plastered to my body, whimpering nonstop. I gently coaxed her as I rose to my feet.
"Mine... Won't give... It's mine... Mine..."
"Of course, of course. I'm the Saintess's, after all."
"R-really...?"
"Yes. But only if you finish today's meal completely. If you leave any behind or get distracted during the meal, I'll confiscate myself immediately. Understood?"
"......"
"Saintess?"
"Mmm..."
The faint affirmative was so soft I would have missed it if it hadn't been right by my ear—something that could have been carried away by the slightest breeze. As I let out a sigh of relief and began to ease the worry weighing on my heart, the nun spoke to me quietly.
"Just a few weeks ago you were completely at the mercy of the Saintess's every little movement. Now you've completely mastered the art... Has something changed in your mindset?"
"Ah... I couldn't keep spinning my wheels in the same place forever... Besides, as you well know, I've had more than enough of catering to the whims of someone with a fiery temper..."
"Ah, I see..."
In truth, the biggest factor had been switching my favorite reading material. Cat Language Manual! 101 Reasons Why Your Cat Won't Listen to You! Without that fateful encounter with the book, I would still be endlessly pandering to the Saintess's every twitch, trapped in an unproductive cycle. Honestly, I felt a little empty realizing that changing one book could bring about such a dramatic shift.
When I realized that the behavioral patterns of a cat seeking its owner's affection matched the Saintess's actions toward me with eerie precision, the chill that ran down my spine made me collapse to the floor on the spot.
"As expected, it seems only you are qualified to serve as the Saintess's guardian priest."
"Haha..."
With the Saintess still in my arms, any strong objection was impossible, so I could only respond with an awkward smile. Holding her with one arm and carrying her meal tray with the other, I began walking slowly deeper into the Audience Chamber.
"Saintess."
The nun suddenly approached the Saintess.
"N-no... won't give..."
"It's alright. I'm not taking him away."
It was like watching a cat puff up its fur at the sight of its natural enemy. The Saintess, who had been clinging to my neck as if trying to strangle me, clearly found the nun's sudden appearance in her field of vision extremely displeasing. She fired off words and actions dripping with wariness. In contrast, the nun simply smiled kindly behind her mask, as if finding the whole thing adorable, and spoke in a bright, cheerful voice.
"Saintess! The priest says he's going to spend the night here with you tonight!"
"Huh?"
"Excuse me?"
The single sentence contained such a shocking declaration that my brain outright refused to process it. It struck my peacefully marinated mind like a hammer. By the time my delayed thoughts managed to send commands to my body, something had already gone wrong.
"I'm sorry, Priest."
A hand pushed against my back, shoving my body deeper into the Audience Chamber than before.
Thud.
The door closed. Immediately afterward, the faint sound of a lock mechanism the size of a padlock clicking into place drifted in from outside. It carried more than enough power to amplify the ominous suspicions already swirling in my mind.