Chapter 206: Turning a Blind Eye-4
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 206: Turning a Blind Eye-4
The standoff between the two continued.
"I, I was... going to take the laundry...."
At Maria’s words, the Saint’s eyes swept over her.
Her face was flushed a deep red, her blouse was undone, and her thighs were exposed. She didn't look like someone dressed to pick up laundry.
"Sister Maria."
The Saint called out to her as she stood as still as a stone statue. Showing his open hands, he slowly approached her. He brushed a stray leaf off his clothes and flicked on the light in the dim room.
"S-Saint... You see, this is...."
Countless excuses flashed through Maria’s mind, only to vanish instantly. Was it because she had been caught entering his room without permission, or because she had been caught doing something she shouldn't mention?
Maria trembled like a leaf.
"Sister Maria, it’s alright."
The Saint tried to calm her down.
"I-I’m sorry. I... I...."
Maria couldn't finish her sentence. It was a secret act she had been performing behind the Saint’s back. At first, she had writhed in guilt. But as the acts repeated, her behavior had grown bolder and more daring. Since she had never imagined being caught like this, the shock was immense.
"Hmm...."
The Saint stroked his chin with a troubled expression. He wanted nothing more than to escape this situation. He had planned to return to his room and organize the facts he had gathered so far. This sudden "Maria event" was proving to be a bit of a nuisance.
Is a normal conversation even possible with her right now? the Saint asked himself. It might be better to talk tomorrow once her emotions had settled.
"Please go back for today."
Having made up his mind, the Saint stepped past Maria and opened the door. He forced a smile, acting as if nothing was wrong.
"...S-Saint, I’m sorry. I was wrong."
Misinterpreting his intent, Maria threw herself onto the floor, prostrating herself.
"Please forgive me. Please, don't hate me."
Fear gripped her; she was certain he was disgusted by her. Closing her eyes tight, Maria squeezed the words out through her trembling body.
"No. I’m fine. It’s only natural for a human being. However...."
The Saint paused, adding a condition.
"However, it’s a bit awkward for both of us right now. Why don't we talk tomorrow? It’s not that I’ve come to dislike you, Sister Maria."
Despite his words, Maria showed no sign of getting up. From her perspective, this was the first time she had been caught, but the Saint had been aware of her eccentricities all along. Thus, it was difficult for him to truly empathize with the shock she was feeling.
"Now, Sister Maria. Stand up."
The Saint spoke from behind her prone form.
"......."
After a long silence, a haggard Maria stumbled to her feet. She walked toward the door slowly—very slowly. With her head hung low, she passed the Saint and left the room. The two stood on opposite sides of the threshold.
"Well then, see you tomorrow."
To show that he really was okay with it, the Saint patted her shoulder a few times.
Thud.
"S-Saint...."
Maria tried to say something, but the Saint didn't hear her as he closed the door.
"Ah...."
Staring at the closed door, Maria walked back to her own room with weak, unsteady steps.
*
Back in her room, Maria looked down at her hands. In her state of panic, she realized she was still clutching his vestments, which the Saint hadn't taken back. They were the very cause of this entire ordeal.
"......"
Maria slowly brought the fabric to her face. Even though this behavior had earned her the Saint’s potential disdain, she couldn't stop. She knew she was a believer beyond salvation. Yet, even that self-loathing acted as a form of pleasure for her.
"I’m sorry. I’m sorry."
Burying her face in the vestments, she continued to mutter.
"Ngh, haa.... Saint, Saint!"
His scent filled her nasal passages. Her cooled body grew hot once more.
"I am a lewd woman. I have sinned."
Even as she poured out endless apologies, Maria could not pull her face away from the clothes. Slowly, her free hand drifted toward her lower abdomen—a forbidden zone that no man was allowed to touch.
Like a car racing down a well-paved road, her long, slender fingers moved along the path. Pleasure, fueled by shame, guilt, and a sense of immorality, struck Maria’s brain.
"Hng... haah...."
In the night where even the moonlight was hidden, the sound of a woman’s heavy breathing continued to leak from the room.
*
"How was your time in Madini Village?"
The following day at lunch, the Pope questioned the Saint.
"It was rewarding."
The Saint replied, thinking of Maria, who had been acting timid until lunchtime.
"Haha, I see."
The Pope let out a boisterous laugh and twirled the noodles in front of him with a fork. He slurped them up, splattering droplets of sauce around his mouth.
"...Your Holiness."
Watching him, the Saint spoke quietly. The Pope wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at the Saint.
"Yes?"
"It’s something I saw in Madini Village. The village representative gave you a large box. What was in it?"
"Ah... an offering. An offering to be sent to the Church Headquarters."
The Pope answered as if it were of no consequence.
"I see. And what are those offerings used for?"
"We offer prayers for the prosperity of Madini Village and return the entire amount to God."
"God doesn't exactly accept cash offerings, does He?"
When the Saint spoke with a hint of absurdity, the Pope’s lips curled into a grin.
"Of course, once those rituals are finished, the funds are used for the operation of the Church Headquarters."
"Then, what will the offering in the bag you personally received be used for?"
"That is...."
The Pope, about to answer the Saint’s fluidly delivered question, hesitated.
"I don't know how you found out... but that, too, will be used for church operations."
The Pope maintained his smile, but the warmth that had been there initially was gone.
"And not for your personal use, Your Holiness?"
At the Saint’s words, the Pope set down his fork and looked at him. The smile had vanished from the Pope’s face.
The Saint put a piece of cut meat into his mouth and wiped his lips with a napkin. After swallowing the well-cooked meat, he looked at the Pope and spoke.
"Do not seek personal gain in the name of God. This is a warning."
The Saint’s clear eyes fixed on the Pope.
"Is that... a warning as the Saint?" the Pope asked.
The Saint nodded.
"I see. A warning as the Saint, is it...?"
The Pope picked up a bell on the table and rang it. With a tinkling sound, a priest who had been waiting outside entered. The Pope gave the priest an instruction, and the man hurried off.
"First, let us continue our meal. The food is getting cold."
With that, the Pope focused on his food again.
A moment later, the priest returned. In his hands was a longsword. It was a sword encased in a white scabbard—the very sword the Saint had drawn upon arriving here. The sword that had proven his identity by emitting light.
The priest who brought the sword left, and the Pope stood up to approach the Saint.
"Would you like to try drawing it once more?"
At the incredibly polite request, the Saint gripped the hilt and pulled the sword out.
"...!!"
The blade that emerged from the scabbard looked perfectly ordinary. The Saint’s eyes widened. He looked back and forth between the sword and the Pope.
The Pope, now wearing a broad grin, snatched the sword from the Saint’s hand. Sheathing the blade once more, the Pope sat back down.
"Since you aren't the Saint, how exactly do you plan on warning me as one?"
The Pope’s voice was thick with a mocking sneer.