Making a Vow with the Wicked Saintess
Making a Vow with the Wicked Saintess
Morning in the Holy Kingdom began with the ringing of bells.
The sound of birds startled into flight by the regularly tolling bells served as the alarm for the priests here.
And it was no different for the Saintess.
"...Rosaria."
She returned from a sweet dream to reality.
The previous day's amusements had repeated themselves in her dreams.
Because the blessing of that day — when her hair had been stroked and a confession received — kept circling endlessly through her head.
"...I was so happy."
A smile came naturally whenever she recalled that moment.
But this was the public Holy Kingdom. Showing childish dependence was something reserved solely for being in front of her, so the Saintess used that memory as a medium and composed the most benevolent expression she could.
In front of Rosaria, it would have been a perverted face twisted with happiness, but before the faithful of the Holy Kingdom, it was different.
A benevolent face worthy of the name Saintess.
Wearing that expression, she headed outside.
The first place she went was the Holy Law Enactment Office.
"Servants of God behold the Saintess."
The moment she opened the door and stepped inside, the magistrates knelt and began saluting her, drawing the holy sign.
"May we inquire as to the business that brings you here?"
The magistrates wore solemn expressions.
Standing above the law of the Holy Kingdom was the word of the Saintess.
Just as they were wondering if perhaps today was a day when laws would need to be revised—
"It's nothing major; I came because I wished to look over the petitions."
She had been curious about what had become of the petitions she kept sending anonymously.
That was why she had made her way here: to confirm their ultimate fate.
"Ah, if it's those, they have been gathered here."
The magistrate guided the Saintess to the place where petitions were collected.
Then he pulled out a chair so she could sit easily and withdrew from the spot.
'...There were quite a lot of petitions.'
-The bells are too loud.
-Please delay morning prayer time a little.
-Please let us eat meat about once a week...
She skimmed past ones like those, trivial and insubstantial.
Then the Saintess found the petition written in the handwriting she herself had chosen.
-Please permit marriage between persons of the same sex.
'...Rejected, as expected.'
The Saintess clicked her tongue: Tsk.
She'd thought it might be the case, and sure enough it was.
Of course, she was the Saintess — a figure standing above the law.
The truth was, if she just put on a brazen face and ordered it done, she probably could.
But just because it was possible, wouldn't actually doing it be an immensely difficult thing? Same-sex marriage had been a law forbidden by the first Saint from the very founding of this Holy Kingdom.
Declaring it a sin that leaves no descendants — that's what he'd said.
'Then, what about a Saintess's same-sex marriage being permitted...?'
With the divine power of the Main God, a child could be made without a man.
She hadn't tried it yet, but it existed in the records.
Because the Sacred Scripture contained the passage: 'The Saint, using divine power, caused a barren couple who could not conceive to bear a son who perfectly resembled them.'
'A child between Rosaria and me...'
Which of them would be better to carry it?
Naturally, she herself didn't mind either way.
If Rosaria wanted to bear the child, she would yield to her wish.
But if Rosaria didn't want to, she was fine with carrying it herself.
A life spent in close contact with the fruit of their love would be wonderful too.
Just as she was thinking that and feverishly running her delusion circuits—
"Ah..."
Simply from imagining happiness, a nosebleed began to flow.
But that didn't stop circuits which were already ablaze, and the further they ran, the more blood kept drip-dripping from the opened hole.
"S-Sa... Saintess? Are you all right?"
At that moment, a priest who had entered to serve tea to the Saintess was startled by the sight.
"...I am quite all right."
The Saintess, returning to reality at the sound of the priest's voice, used her divine power to stanch the nosebleed, and that settled the matter for the moment.
"I've been pushing myself a little too hard lately, it seems — I've shown you an unseemly sight."
Saying that, the Saintess dismissed the priest as if nothing had happened.
A little while later, praises would ring out about the Saintess who labored so fervently for their sake that she even shed nosebleeds, but that was a matter for later.
For now, she had confirmed that the anonymously sent petition had been rejected. So, while she was here, she once again wrote — anonymously — a petition requesting the establishment of a new law permitting the Saintess's same-sex marriage, and then she left.
And roughly three hours later, the magistrates who checked that petition simply went on a rampage, investigating every female priest and even using Lie Detection, threatening to punish the act as Blasphemy.
They likely moved on it assuming it was the deranged petition of some fanatical believer who loved the Saintess too much.
'...The general perception isn't very good.'
Watching that scene, the Saintess realized that numerous barriers still had to be overcome before she could marry Rosaria.
The tragic protagonist of a love filled with adversity.
Thinking of herself that way, she merely resolved to strive even harder so that she could marry Rosaria the moment she came of age.
'What should we name the child, I wonder.'
Of course, the top priority was Rosaria's decision.
But she had already prepared for the event that Rosaria found it difficult. Without violating the doctrines of the church, she'd settled on about 200 pretty names for boys and about 300 for girls.
'We will definitely marry. We'll make a child. I'll make you happy. Even if I can't make you as happy as you make me, I'll make you the second happiest person in the world.'
Because the happiest person would, naturally, be herself.
'Don't let anyone else so much as catch your eye.'
If it came to that, the world abandoning her would be preferable. Compared to being abandoned by Rosaria, even being abandoned by God and losing all her divine power would be a merciful fate.
'Please think of me just as much as I think of you.'
An odd chill brushed across her shoulders.
Whether the chill came or not, the Saintess had to wear a mask in this place.
"We give thanks again this day unto the Main God."
In contrast to the frenzy inside her, she kept her outward appearance flawlessly composed.
The prayer that unfolded thus was a Saint's prayer, full of sanctity.
It was sufficient to heighten the faith throughout the entire prayer hall, and for that moment, she shone as if an angel had descended.
*
One thing I'd noticed since coming here was that people in high places had surprisingly little to do.
Cleaning? The servants did it all. I'd once grabbed a broom because the mess bothered me, and that was when the head maid had such a commanding force in stuffing me back into bed for "rest" that the point was more than made.
Dishwashing? I'd never once cooked a meal with my own hands since arriving here. They even took my food, cut it into easy-to-eat pieces, and placed it into my mouth, insisting that even eating was difficult for me — would dishwashing ever possibly come up?
Studying? That wasn't something a medieval noble young lady did. That was for the men she'd debut into society and entangle with her house. And even that was something I, with my frail health, didn't do.
Worries about the future? Unless the head of the house fell into gambling or something, a medieval noble family didn't collapse. Even sitting still, tax money duplicated itself. When harvests were good, they practically poured it into your house. There was no way they'd fall.
On top of that, with the Holy Kingdom so close by, this place even revoked your right to live here if you weren't a sincere believer. Naturally, my entire family was constructive, upstanding, upright people with good hearts.
So then, what exactly did this sickly, beautiful girl Rosaria do?
Honestly, not one single thing.
I'd spend my time reading books, or occasionally go out with the maids under a parasol to stroll around the courtyard — that was about it. It was the life of a silver-spoon daughter who wanted for nothing, even without lifting a finger.
And probably, the Saintess was similar in that regard.
Would a being treated as the reincarnation of God really be terribly busy...?
No. If she were, this couldn't possibly be happening.
"Rosaria, shall we decide on a name for our child today?"
The Saintess who said crazy things like that and personally brought a list of five hundred baby names couldn't possibly be busy. If she was busy, that was terrifying in its own right.
Speaking of which, did the Holy Kingdom not have sex education?
How was a child supposed to happen between a woman and a woman?
Holding that question, I spoke to the Saintess.
"Saintess... a child is, well... a man and a woman..."
Speaking like that, I intended to give the Menhera Saintess — who seemed to think children were delivered by storks — the red pill of where babies come from.
"Don't worry. Because I can create one with my divine power. The fruit of love, who will look exactly like you and me."
Aha, you've done quite a bit of research, I see.
And you even possess the ability to make it happen.
You're currently trying to pull off something that surpasses the Virgin Mary's immaculate conception right now, aren't you.
What's worse, I hated that this world's internal logic somehow made it sound persuasive.
Besides, this Saintess was looking at me with completely serious eyes.
She was clinging to me, begging as if she genuinely wanted one.
"Please do not worry about the eyes of the Holy Kingdom. I will handle it somehow, before you come of age, Rosaria. So until then, you absolutely must not marry anyone else. Because adultery is a sin that sends one to hell. Aah... of course, if you do go to hell, Rosaria, I will follow you there as well, so please have no fear."
The Saintess can even go to hell?
So you were the protagonist of Constantine 2 all along.
Please, make it a masterpiece that surpasses the first one.
As I was making these sorts of disjointed thoughts that drifted up from my subconscious, trying to somehow shake off the pressure—
"...Or would you rather I simply make one right now?"
The moment I heard that insane suggestion, my eyes flew wide open.
"Ah... it's still a little early for that, Saintess."
And so, in my consternation, I answered without filtering my words.
The Saintess's mind, beginning to spin fiercely, computed a result.
A little early = possible later on = let's marry when I come of age = an advance confession from Rosaria. Thus was established the Rosarian Formula.
It was a formula so flawed that if you wrote it up as an academic paper and presented it, you'd immediately be told it's riddled with errors — but if you talked back to the Rosarian Formula personally decreed by the pinnacle of this world, your tongue would likely be cut out.
"...Is that so? It must be. Yes, you're right as always, Rosaria. How can you be so wise. You are indeed worthy of my love. Hmm, then where shall we make our home? Shall it be here, which you like so much? Or shall we receive donations and create a paradise just for us? If you prefer something modest, I shall secure even a small villa for you."
No, I was wrong; I take it back.
"...So what you said back then truly wasn't a lie."
Saying that, the Saintess snuggled into my arms and fussed happily.
What the hell did she say back then for you to react like this?
I'm scared... please, someone tell me.
"Then... may I ask one favor of you today as well?"
The Saintess suddenly started hesitating.
Moments like that genuinely scared me so much I felt like going insane.
And on top of that, it wasn't as if I had any right of refusal.
"...What is it that you desire today?"
I ask, just once.
Just what she's going to torment me with this time.
"...Please make one promise to me. A pinky promise."
It was a more childlike request than I'd expected.
Linking pinky fingers and making a promise was something I could manage.
When promises had first come out of her mouth, I'd assumed she was going to ask me to write a blood oath on a two-hundred-page contract or something.
Here is my finger, Saintess.
I offer it so lightly that if you told me to cut it off I might actually be able to.
And to that finger, the Saintess linked her own pinky.
"...Promise me that when you come of age, you'll marry me."
Oh, shit — it was a marriage vow?
"Promise me you won't even glance at anyone else, that you won't marry anyone — woman or man — absolutely promise me."
I've never been outside that house, Saintess.
If I'm looking at anyone, it's a burglar trying to raid the place. My heart isn't pounding because I'm in love; it's pounding because I want to stay alive.
"You... you can't take it back, Rosaria. If you break a vow with the Saintess... you'll go straight to hell, with no chance of escape."
Was a pinky promise really that big of a deal?
"...I won't take it back. I promise."
Since I didn't want to go to hell, I told her what she wanted to hear.
I really do want to eat well, live well, and go to heaven, Saintess.
And anyway, if I ever tried anything like that, you'd block it with all your power, wouldn't you.
In the end, that was how I was unilaterally afflicted by the Saintess yet again today, and even stamped my seal on a vicious contract that made my posthumous prospects hard to guarantee.
Of course, whether I did so or not, the smile never once faded from the lips of the vicious Saintess who had extracted that unjust vow.