A Fleeting Taste of Freedom
Leave. Leave. Who wouldn't be captivated by the thrilling ring of that word? At least in this moment, it was a ray of light in the darkness for me. I could call it an oasis in the desert without exaggeration. Even if it was nothing more than a mirage that would vanish in half a day. The outing permit. That was the name of the sacred relic now fluttering in my hand, radiating a brilliant glow. Was this how Joan of Arc felt, holding the banner of Jehovah? A vivid sense of elation I had never experienced before surged up from my core. When my desperate resignation request was rejected and even the past I had buried beneath the tomb of memory was dug up piece by piece, I truly thought the world was ending. Yet now, this mere scrap of paper had calmed my heart, which had been tossing like a boat in a storm, and even stirred the faith I thought had dried up long ago. I must have been more exhausted lately than I realized.
"You seem quite worn out these days. By my authority, I'll grant you a special solo outing this one time. Why don't you head down to the village for a change and relieve some of that fatigue?"
The calm voice of the nun—my enemy and my benefactor—echoed in my mind. Get lost. It was a suspicious offer dripping with ulterior motives, but the bait was far too tempting. Before I knew it, I had already accepted the outing permit from her. Freedom! I think I even let out a thunderous cheer. Still, shouting like that in front of the nun was probably a bit much. A faint regret brushed through my thoughts.
There was a time when I couldn't understand the insiders who claimed they couldn't feel alive unless they left the house every single day. Why couldn't they appreciate the joy of lazing around in their warm, comfortable rooms, savoring the phytoncides? I used to arrogantly mock their foolishness. But now, I could at least partially understand their feelings—and maybe even speak for them. A place where you can't eat what you want, have no proper entertainment, and lack even the internet to make time disappear isn't a home. It's just a sealed box. So the urge to escape such a restrictive fence stems from humanity's primal desire for a comfortable life. That was the truth I came to realize after being appointed as the Saintess's exclusive attendant and being half-imprisoned in the ascetic cathedral under the absurd rule that her exclusive guardian priest must never stray more than a few dozen meters from her side.
It had been nearly half a year since I was forced into this monk-like existence. By now, I could barely remember what the world outside the cathedral even looked like. So there was no need to explain how I felt finally obtaining the wings of freedom called a solo outing from this dark, inescapable maze. I was so confident that even if some stranger suddenly smacked the back of my head, I could just smile brightly and brush it off.
Thud!
Was it my idle thoughts that invited disaster? Right after that thought, a heavy impact struck the top of my head. Crack.Thud, thud. Along with the ominous sound of something solid splitting, grains of soil like sleet scattered through my hair and clouded my vision.
"...A flowerpot?"
The unfamiliar object that had landed on my head was a small flowerpot. No matter how fantastical this world was, an artificial object like this wouldn't naturally form in the sky and fall. It must have been blown off a windowsill by the wind. Just as I was thinking that—
"Oh my goodness! Are you hurt anywhere, Priest Regis?!"
Thanks to someone's awkward acting voice straight out of a middle school play, I could easily piece together what had happened.
"Priest Lobel..."
Lobel Wright. Born to a distinguished noble family, blessed with striking looks and talent that easily surpassed veteran priests despite his youth. He was living proof that God played favorites. If I hadn't appeared out of nowhere, he would surely have been chosen as the Saintess's exclusive attendant. For reference, I secretly call him Priest Ranobel. No special reason—just because it rolls off the tongue nicely.
"One of the new maids I hired must have accidentally knocked over the flowerpot on the windowsill while cleaning. And of all places, you happened to be standing right below! What an extraordinary coincidence!"
His voice trembled as if he were barely holding back laughter. Just imagining the absurd exchange that would follow already gave me a headache, but I couldn't show it outwardly. So, as usual, I forced an awkward smile and replied quietly.
"Indeed. What are the odds?"
Perhaps dissatisfied with my formal response, Priest Ranobel frowned slightly before returning to his usual composed expression.
"Oh dear! You're not angry, are you?"
For a moment, I thought I heard a hallucination. Is he picking a fight? Ever since becoming the Saintess's exclusive attendant, dealing with the jealousy of other priests had become part of my daily life. But Priest Ranobel's grudge was on an entirely different level. He nitpicked my every move, and as a priest whose duty was to live a life without shame before God, he was the only one who deliberately tried to make me commit misdeeds. Even so, throwing a flowerpot at someone's head? It seemed like typical young priest carelessness—assuming that as long as it wasn't fatal, the power of healing could fix it. Good thing it was me. Otherwise, this would be attempted murder, you idiot.
"Hah! I'm so sorry! There's no way someone as noble as the Saintess's exclusive attendant would scold anyone over a mere flowerpot falling on their head! How could I make such a mistake—especially to the Saintess's own guardian priest!"
There he goes again, eyes bloodshot, spouting exaggerated monologues like a musical actor. His behavior radiated an unsettling eeriness. I could understand how devastating it must feel to have the honorable position he deserved snatched away by some nobody parachuted in from nowhere. But did he realize that even a parachute has its own unavoidable circumstances? If it were up to me, I'd gladly hand over the position and enjoy a peaceful life as an ordinary citizen without such heavy responsibilities. But I knew the strict Holy See would never allow such lax behavior, so I tucked that optimistic thought away.
"...I'm fine. Please, raise your head, Priest Lobel. And tell the maid who made the mistake there's no need to dwell on it..."
A headache suddenly flared—not from the flowerpot pressing on my crown, but from the absurdity of worrying about a maid whose existence was questionable at best.
"Ahh, how merciful! As expected, the title of the Saintess's exclusive guardian priest is no mere decoration! I can never cease to be amazed by your boundless generosity!"
"Haha..."
His sarcasm showed no sign of ending, so I decided to let it go in one ear and out the other. From experience, if I just stood there quietly for about an hour, he'd get bored and leave on his own.
"Oh, right! I heard you applied for an outing this time!"
"Huh? Ah, yes, that's true... How did you know about that, Priest?"
"While you're away, the nun personally asked me to fill in as the Saintess's escort! Haha! She asked me—not anyone else!"
"Ah... I see..."
So that's how it was. His personality had its flaws, but his skill as a priest was undeniable. There were plenty of candidates who could replace me, but if asked to pick the most suitable, everyone would name him. In fact, this arrangement felt twice as stable as before.
"Don't worry! I'll do my utmost to fill your shoes—Lobel Wright will perform the role with everything I have! So relax and enjoy your outing to the fullest! Take it slow~ and make it as long as possible~!"
"Ah... Yes..."
He looked like a loan shark who had just landed a big client. I understood his feelings, but it wasn't a pleasant sight to see a priest so blatantly reveal his sinister intentions. The nun had only granted me half a day at most. Was he simply happy to enjoy the exclusive guardian priest position, even briefly, during that short window? Or did he have some secret plan to steal it from me in that time? Since I couldn't read minds, there was no way to know his true intentions. But if it was the latter, I genuinely hoped he would succeed.
"Thank you. Thanks to you, my heavy heart feels lighter. I'll leave it in your capable hands, Priest Lobel."
"No! If anything, I'm the one who should be thanking you, Priest Regis! Hahaha!"
Though Priest Ranobel's beaming expression as he saw me off—like someone who had just seized the world—left me somewhat uneasy, it was nothing compared to the joy of my first permitted outing in half a year. I brushed the dirt from my hair along with my heavy thoughts and quickly left the spot. Surely nothing will go wrong, right? My carefree mindset, lacking any sense of crisis, pushed me forward without hesitation. It was about five hours later that I heard the news of Priest Lobel's death.