The Somewhat Mad Saintess (6)
She glared at the head priest with eyes full of both enmity and fear. But oblivious or not, the head priest finished his prayer and was too busy staring at Della along with the young priest. Fucking horny bastards... I couldn't exactly tell them not to look. Cursing inwardly, I fetched the Delphina mountain wine I'd stashed in the basement and brought it to the table. The head priest personally uncorked the bottle and poured for everyone. He gave just a splash to his own glass and the young priest's, as per tradition, but filled Celereja's to the brim.
"Let's drink."
The head priest politely swirled the glass under his nose to savor the aroma, while the young priest slurped it down noisily.
"Sister Celereja. You have a glass too."
"No, thank you. I'm fine."
"Come now, you can't skip out on this. Have one. It's good."
Celereja the saintess refused stubbornly, but the head priest insisted. In the end, she had no choice but to grimace and down the full glass of wine.
"That's it. Chug it. Good girl."
Delphina mountain wine had a sky-high alcohol content, so Celereja's face flushed beet red in an instant.
"See? You drink so well."
The head priest chuckled, kneading her shoulder like he was massaging it.
Even during the meal, the head priest kept pushing drinks on Celereja. As the one with authority over personnel, he could demote or promote her on a whim. How could she refuse? The saintess had no choice but to drink, and in the end, she downed most of the bottle.
The head priest called me over.
"Another bottle here."
"The saintess seems pretty drunk already. You sure that's okay?"
Celereja's face was red as a blacksmith's anvil by now. The head priest scowled at my meddling.
"Just bring it."
His expression screamed, How dare a lowly innkeeper like you boss around a priest?
Heh... look at this punk... Even cardinals bowed and scraped to me back then. But who cares about the past—this is now. Still, I couldn't exactly smash his skull with an empty wine bottle right here. If we'd met a year sooner, I'd have had him crawling at my feet by now.
By the time the meal ended, the saintess was rubbing her forehead, her face red enough to burst. Seeing this, the head priest and young priest exchanged a sly glance and rose quietly.
"Saintess, time to go."
The young priest slung her arm over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist to "support" her. She tried to shake him off, but too drunk to resist properly. The head priest thanked me curtly for the meal—without any intention of paying—and headed for the door.
So he never planned to pay from the start, the bastard.
The head priest exited first, followed slowly by the young priest half-dragging Celereja. That priest kept sliding his hand down her waist toward her ass. She weakly swatted it away with limp arms, but like a fly dodging a tail, he persisted relentlessly. Our eyes met in the process, but he averted his gaze and groped her ass harder.
Oh, for fuck's sake... that little shit... I'd been trying not to interfere, but after eye contact like that? No way I could stand by. If I let this slide, he'd be groping my girls' asses someday. Time to teach him you don't pull that crazy shit in front of me.
I started toward them, but suddenly Celereja turned her head my way. The moment our eyes locked, I read the plea in hers.
'Help me.'
I paused and stared. She bit her lip hard.
'Please help.'
I'd planned just a stern word, but... no helping it now. I bolted to the kitchen, grabbed a kitchen knife, and slashed deep into my finger.
"Aaaargh!!"
Screaming bloody murder, I burst outside. Blood sprayed from my sliced finger onto the floor. Della came running in a panic, wrapping it in a cloth.
"What happened?!"
"Fuck...! Sliced my finger with the knife!"
As the cloth soaked red, Della burst into tears.
"Oh no! You'll bleed out and die!"
My screams and Della's sobs threw the hall into chaos. Guests panicked.
"H-hey! Saintess! Help the innkeeper!"
A few patrons called out to Celereja. I glanced her way. She mustered every ounce of strength to shove the young priest off and staggered toward me.
"Della. Go support the saintess."
I whispered to the crying girl beside me. She nodded and grabbed—er, supported—Celereja over.
"Saintess! Hurry! Please!"
As she wobbled up unsteadily, I muttered low.
"Upstairs room. This floor."
Her bloodshot eyes met mine; she nodded curtly. I bellowed.
"Get me on the bed! I'll really die standing like this!"
A burly guest scooped me up and headed for the stairs.
"Saintess! Save our boss! Hurry!"
Della half-dragged, half-carried the weeping Celereja behind. She teetered like she might topple but clung to Della and climbed. Glancing back over the guest's shoulder, I saw the two priests frozen like idiots in the sudden chaos. Holy power was saintess-exclusive—they had no place to butt in. Their faces twisted like street dogs yanked from a fuck-fest.
Pisses me off so fucking much, you pricks?
The second I hit the bed in the room, I shooed everyone out. Della stomped her feet, but I told her to guard the hall. Once even she left and the door shut, Celereja collapsed to the floor.
"Hoo..."
Her long sigh reeked of booze.
"Heal the hand first."
I unwrapped the bloody cloth and thrust my mangled finger at her. Face-planted on the bed, she grabbed it blindly without looking. Her hand flared warm golden light. The pain vanished; the deep gash knit shut instantly.
To an outsider, it'd seem miraculous, but this was basic holy power. Back in my hero days, the saintess with me rained Healing Rain from the sky, mending dozens at once. Still, pain gone felt damn good.
Her hand dropped limply. I sat up on the bed and nudged her shoulder.
"Don't sit on the floor—lie on the bed."
She just shook her head silently. Fine, whatever. I flopped back down. Candlelight flickered shadows on the ceiling. I passed time listening to her breaths and occasional sighs. No way was I leaving with those priests possibly lurking.
How much time passed? Celereja sighed deeply and lifted her tousled head.
I peered down from the bed.
"Demand healing fees and I'll kick you out to the temple right now."
She glared through her disheveled gray hair.
"Say thanks first if I saved you."
"Who asked to be saved?"
"Then go back and squeeze in with the priests—sweat it up top and bottom."
She shot up but lost balance and flopped down. Glaring furiously, she soon averted her eyes.
"So that's why you wander outside every night—to avoid those guys?"
She nodded ever so slightly.
"Can't sleep properly, collapsing in alleys and against walls?"
She bit her lip.
"Wanna nap at the inn but scared of the dog, and history of bitching at the owner so can't ask?"
Silence.
Abusing saintesses wasn't rare. The church was closed-off and hierarchical, rife with corruption. Seasoned priests preyed on women below them; some saintesses and nuns even offered themselves for promotion. This temple had just three: the head priest and two others. In a big place with eyes everywhere, maybe not—but here, they could gang up unnoticed. So Celereja avoided sleeping there, terrified of getting caught off-guard. Saintesses had strong autonomy with holy power, excuses aplenty. The head priest couldn't block that outright, so he'd gotten her blackout drunk to try tonight.
And I'd ruined it completely.
Hmm... I see...
Suddenly, a good idea struck me.