The Saintess Who Worships the Cult Leader
The morning sunlight slipped through the window bars and tickled the tip of Rodin's nose. His shoulders felt like they were made of lead after the nonstop string of spectacular events over the past two days—events that could hardly be called part of a farmer's ordinary life. Rodin hauled his creaking body upright and let out a massive yawn.
"Ah... this is really bothersome. I hope to god nothing happens today."
He muttered the wish as he opened the door. But the moment it swung open, what filled Rodin's vision was a faint silvery glow shining at shin height.
"...?!"
Rodin flinched and staggered backward. Kneeling right in front of his door was Saintess Ivona, dressed in pristine white holy vestments without a single wrinkle out of place. Her hands were clasped piously as she gazed up at him like a sacred statue waiting for its savior.
"Oh, Apostle of Gourmet! You have finally descended!"
Ivona's voice rang as clear as the dawn air, yet the madness packed inside it was more concentrated than salt. Her eyes held no trace of divinity—only a blind, ravenous craving for freshly cooked rice.
"The Lord has spoken: 'Ask, and it shall be given to you. Knock, and the pot lid shall be opened.' I waited a full three hours this morning to receive the gospel."
Rodin instinctively tried to slam the door shut again. But after seven days of fasting and recharging her divine power with pork spine, the saintess's hand moved faster than an assassin's in his prime. Her slender fingers wedged themselves into the crack.
"Hey... why are you being so creepy? I told you I'm not a cult leader."
"No, Lord Rodin. Subduing the Empire's Holy Knight Order with a single pork bone—that power is a sacred feat only a true proxy of divine punishment could accomplish. I have decided. I will cast aside my position and all my honors to venerate you as the center of my new faith!"
At that moment Veronica, who happened to be walking down the hallway, pressed a hand to her forehead and cut in. The deep lines of a headache were already etched across her face.
"Saintess, please maintain some dignity. Rodin isn't a cult leader—he's just a lazy, blunt bandit boss. What kind of nonsense are you spouting first thing in the morning..."
"No, Lady Veronica. The depth of the broth born at his fingertips is deeper than the truths of the abyss, and the crispness of his cabbage is livelier than an angel's wingbeats. This mountain stronghold has become a holy land of gourmet!"
Rodin shot Veronica a desperate look. "Hey, princess. Do something about her. She's scaring me. Her eyes are completely gone."
"I don't have any solutions either. She's already converted the entire spice inventory in our warehouse into Bible verses and memorized them all!"
Rodin's peaceful morning shattered right there, smashed to pieces by the fanatic saintess's hymns.
For his morning chores Rodin slung the old pickaxe over his shoulder and trudged toward the fields. Normally the smell of soil would have calmed his mind, but today the eerie presence trailing behind him made every hair on his body stand on end.
Step. Step.
Every time Rodin took a stride, Ivona followed exactly one meter behind, white vestments fluttering. If he stopped suddenly, she stopped. If he sped up, she focused divine power into her toes to keep the distance perfect.
"Why do you keep following me? Don't you have prayers to do? You're supposed to be a saintess, aren't you?" Rodin asked, glancing back with clear irritation.
Ivona clasped both hands over her chest, her face glowing with ecstasy. "This is my prayer. It is an ascetic practice of offering gratitude for our daily bread while contemplating the Cult Leader's holy back. The aura of flavor radiating from those shoulders is what saves my soul! By any chance... is today's lunch stir-fried meat?"
"And how many times do I have to tell you I'm not the cult leader! I'm just a farmer!"
"To possess such humility as well—truly, you are worthy of my choice. I stand ready to receive your mercy and wisdom today."
Rodin gripped the pickaxe until his knuckles turned white. Normally he would have split a distant boulder in half, but those sparkling eyes of hers rendered even his overwhelming strength useless.
Sigh, just endure it. She said her prayers increase the cabbage harvest. Think of her as fertilizer. A ridiculously expensive and noisy automatic fertilizer sprayer...
Clenching his teeth, Rodin started walking again. Behind him the saintess's hummed "Pork Spine Stew Hymn" pierced the morning mist and echoed across the mountains.
"Straighten your backs! Are you putting any strength into your legs at all? And you still call yourselves members of this stronghold?!"
Rodin's lion-like roar shook the training yard. Dagan and Gil were sweating buckets as they repeated squats while holding heavy logs. Rodin's mood was so foul that they didn't dare crack their usual jokes. It was then that an alien radiance appeared on the training ground.
"Become strong, all of you. Only then can you fully receive the pork spine stew the Cult Leader prepares with a sound body."
Ivona approached with solemn grace and began sprinkling water over Dagan and Gil's heads. It was just cool underground water from the kitchen, yet her voice carried more gravity than the Holy See's archbishop.
"Muscle is the vessel that holds the meat, and sweat is the brine that seasons it. Take joy in your suffering. The piece of boiled pork that follows this pain shall lead you to paradise."
"When the saintess talks like that... it really feels like we're some holy knight order, doesn't it? Brother, I suddenly feel power surging through me!"
Dagan's eyes flashed as he hoisted the log overhead. Veronica, watching with her arms crossed, felt her eyebrows twitch violently.
"Dagan, don't fall for it. She's just doing this to score a free meal. Saintess, stop trying to convert our people. I am the lady of this house."
"It is not conversion but enlightenment, Lady Veronica. You should acknowledge it as well. Before Lord Rodin's pot, we are all equal gluttons. Status and bloodline lose all meaning in his presence."
"This woman really...!"
As Veronica began gathering her mana, Rodin slammed his pickaxe into the ground.
Kwaaaang!
The earth trembled and a huge crack split the surface.
"Hey! Aren't you all running yet?! If you've got energy to chatter, do another lap! Don't you want to eat?!"
Everyone froze under Rodin's overwhelming pressure. Everyone except Ivona. She dropped to her knees and thrust both hands toward the sky.
"Ooh! The Cult Leader's holy wrath! That lion's roar makes my stomach tremble with anticipation! Oh Lord, grant them meat bursting with juices to be stir-fried beneath the angry Cult Leader's hand!"
Rodin clutched his head. His legendary might was being interpreted by this woman as nothing more than an auspicious sign before a delicious meal. He was starting to wonder whether he was the Mercenary King or some legendary chef.
Late afternoon, in the warehouse beside the stronghold. Rodin had slipped away under the excuse of organizing supplies because he wanted some quiet time alone. Moving the heavy fertilizer boxes and feeling the satisfying pump in his muscles was the only peace he had left. That peace lasted less than five minutes.
"The Cult Leader's burden is my burden as well."
Ivona had appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the opposite side of the fertilizer box. In the narrow warehouse the distance between them shrank dramatically. The faint lily scent drifting from Ivona mixed with the sweet aroma of apples she had clearly stolen from the kitchen earlier, stabbing straight into Rodin's nose.
"Let go. It's heavy. A frail saintess like you shouldn't be carrying this. Stop bothering me and leave."
Rodin tried to shake her off, but Ivona didn't budge. Divine power flowed through her slender arms, and her grip—honed by a lifetime of training to eat—was monstrous.
"I am not frail. Have you forgotten how I crushed the pork spine stew bones with my teeth alone yesterday? I wish to learn the holiness of labor at your side, Cult Leader."
"...That's honestly terrifying. But why do you keep sticking to my side? It's cramped, so move over."
As they maneuvered the boxes in the tight space, Ivona's shoulder kept brushing against Rodin's arm. Despite her completely innocent expression, Rodin's face grew strangely hot.
"This is spiritual closeness. I am gauging today's seasoning in advance through the Cult Leader's body heat. Hmm, today Lord Rodin carries a slightly salty aura. Do you require more salt?"
"No, what you're smelling is sweat! Sweat! Get off me, you food parasite!"
Rodin practically hurled the box down and bolted outside. From behind him came Ivona's cry—"Even sweat is the sacred base of broth...!"—and for the first time in his life, Rodin felt genuine terror.
At last, dinner time. The table was loaded with stir-fried meat Rodin had prepared with unusual care and plenty of fresh vegetables for wrapping. A taut tension crackled between the three people seated across from one another.
Ivona drew a solemn sign of the cross over the plate Rodin had served her. The gesture was so reverent that Veronica began to wonder whether she was eating stir-fried meat or holy communion.
"Saintess, that's enough. Just eat it already? It won't taste good cold."
Veronica picked up her chopsticks and snapped, thoroughly displeased that Rodin's eyes were glued to Ivona's bizarre ritual.
"Eating is also God's will... This solitary aesthetic found in chilled meat... Ah, Cult Leader. How have you created such profound spiciness? This pork must surely have been a beast that accumulated great blessings in its previous life."
"It's just a pig I bought at the market... Can't you please eat like a normal person? I'm getting indigestion just watching you."
Rodin shoveled rice into his mouth, eyes pleading for rescue. Suddenly Ivona set down her spoon and seized Rodin's hand in a tight grip.
"Normality is a sin. Cult Leader, if you would grant the mercy of placing this piece of meat directly into my mouth, I shall serve as the lowliest maid of this stronghold for the rest of my life and personally pop every cabbage worm to death with my fingers."
"What?! I'll catch the bugs myself, so get out right now! What are you doing to our Rodin!"
Veronica shot to her feet and yanked Ivona's hand away. In an instant the dining hall became a swirling vortex of mana as the imperial princess and the saintess began their power struggle.
In the middle of that chaos Rodin steadfastly finished two full bowls of rice, then quietly rose from his seat.
"...I'm done eating, so you two can fight it out."
The storm of a day finally passed. Rodin lay sprawled on a bench in the backyard, staring up at the Milky Way scattered across the night sky. He felt like he'd heard the word "Cult Leader" at least five hundred times today; his ears were practically ringing with phantom echoes.
Soft footsteps approached. Veronica came over with an outer robe draped across her shoulders and sat down beside him.
"It must be nice, Rodin. You've even gained a saintess who worships you as a god now. Planning to conquer the continent next?"
Rodin answered with a deep sigh.
"Hey, princess. Can't we return that saintess to the Holy See? I'll throw in a whole truckload of cabbages for shipping."
Veronica let out a small laugh at his genuine anguish.
"Return her? She already put up a sign on her door that says 'First Holy Site.' She's not going anywhere. She might actually die if she can't eat your cooking anymore."
"...I kept her because it looked like she'd make good fertilizer, but she's too mentally exhausting. At this point I even miss your nagging."
Veronica's cheeks flushed faintly. She scooted a little closer and grumbled.
"Liar. Having a pretty, noble woman following you around calling you Cult Leader can't be all bad, right? That's what they say about men."
"What's the point if she's pretty? Every time she eats a piece of meat she starts praying 'Oh Lord' and it feels like the food is going to come back to life and crawl off the plate. I just want to quietly plant cabbages with you."
At Rodin's blunt confession an irrepressible smile bloomed on Veronica's lips. She gently rested her head on his shoulder and gazed at the night sky.
"All right. Starting tomorrow I'll keep a closer watch. That glutton saintess won't get the chance to pull any strange stunts on you, Rodin."
Feeling the warmth of Veronica against his shoulder, Rodin closed his eyes. The number of bothersome food parasites had grown, but tonight he felt determined to protect this fragile peace at least.