The Overzealous Black Mage (1)
Pulled into the kitchen by the arm, the saintess's face flushed beet red, as if she had no idea what to expect.
"B-Bertrand... h-here...? In the kitchen...?"
I pinned her against the wall and brought my lips to her ear. Celereja panted as if she might faint from my hot breath alone. But as she listened to my whisper, the excitement gradually faded from her eyes, replaced by a serious nod.
"Ah, yes. So what do I need to do?"
Dinner service had just kicked into high gear, and right on cue, a shout erupted from one of the tables.
"How dare you touch food with those filthy hands that scrub toilets?!"
I stepped out to see a guest jabbing his finger at Marim. The hall fell silent for a moment, like ice water had been dumped over everyone, all eyes turning their way. Della and Idwild froze at the sudden commotion. But even with a red-faced, furious human man right in front of her, Marim's long green ears didn't droop an inch—they stood straight and defiant. Of course. She'd kept coming at me even after getting beaten senseless. No way she'd buckle from something like this.
The crowd confirmed it was just a human scolding a half-elf and lost interest, resuming their meals. The man kept hurling insults at Marim, and Della and Idwild snapped out of it, heading over. But someone beat them to it—Celereja, who had been performing holy healing in the corner of the hall. She strode across the room and bellowed without hesitation.
"Hey, brother! What did you just say?!"
The irate man went mute as a clam at the saintess's sudden intervention. No one could guess how flustered he was by her unexpected appearance.
"What? Filthy hands that scrub toilets? So how clean is that mouth of yours, spitting it right to her face?"
Celereja unleashed a torrent of harsh words, ignoring everyone around her.
"What era do you think this is, discriminating against other races?! Apologize right now!"
"Apologize to some half-elf mongrel...?"
"Half-elf mongrel? Aren't half-elves creations of the Goddess? What do you think half-elves are, brother?"
"They're just mutts..."
Celereja slammed both hands on the table, knocking over a beer mug and spilling foam everywhere.
"So you're denying the Goddess's creations? Denying her power? Denying her very existence? That's what you're saying, right?"
What kind of insane logic is that? How does it even connect like that? But apparently, I was the only one thinking it. The mood shifted toward heresy accusations, and the man's face drained white. As the city's sole cleric, Celereja's authority was immense—no one dared challenge her rhetoric.
They might grumble inwardly that she was overreacting for a mere half-elf, but no sane person would voice it.
"Am I right?"
"Ah... N-no... I'm sorry..."
The man finally surrendered completely to the saintess's weight. But Celereja wasn't done.
"Apologize to her right now!"
At the thunderous demand, he looked ready to faint. Bow his head to a filthy half-elf he'd refused to treat as human? What greater humiliation? Yet he did it, figuring it beat facing her wrath head-on.
"S-sorry... I'm sorry..."
"It's fine. Getting yelled at is just part of the daily grind."
Marim accepted it with a cheerful tone, utterly unfazed.
"Everyone, listen up!"
Celereja's blazing eyes swept the hall. Those who met her gaze shrank back.
"From now on, anyone in Rosens who discriminates against other races in word or deed will be deemed a heretic. I'll stake my position as city saintess to drag them to judgment. Got it!?"
Murmurs of meek assent rippled through the room. Celereja scanned them like a predator eyeing prey, then our eyes met. Her fierce glare softened instantly into a puppyish plea for praise. I gave her a thumbs-up, and her cheeks flushed crimson as she squirmed bashfully. Going from divine proxy to this in seconds... Anyway, that cleared the biggest hurdle Marim would face working here. Celereja's dogged personality was shining through. Guess I'd spend the night with her after all.
"Hng... Bertrand. How was I today?"
Seated at the bar tallying ledgers, Celereja purred coquettishly from right in front of me.
"You were great. Marim should have an easier time now, thanks to you."
"Right? I'd do anything for you, Bertrand... Don't hold back—just tell me~"
She flirted shamelessly, subtly crossing her arms under her chest to push them up. Her thin sleeveless shirt left her nipples blatantly visible.
"Just a bit longer. Almost done."
"I don't think I can wait~..."
My pen sped up with her excited breaths. Tonight, we'd hold an all-night worship service with the saintess's inexhaustible holy power...
"Master."
The voice right beside us startled both me and Celereja. Marim had approached silently and now stood watching us. Celereja twisted away to hide her embarrassing bits; I tugged my shirttail down over my straining pants.
"Wh-what? Why aren't you asleep?"
"I wanted to thank you both."
Before we could respond, Marim bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Master. Saintess."
Her green eyes turned to Celereja, who gave an awkward smile.
"Thanks to you stepping in, I can work here worry-free from now on."
"Ah... Y-yes... It was just my duty as a cleric... Hehe..."
"And Master."
Marim clasped her hands politely and bowed to me again.
"Thank you for hiring me. Now I can send money to my siblings without a care."
"Uh... Yeah. You're capable, that's why."
With a faint smile, she continued.
"Stealing was always nerve-wracking, never knowing when I'd get caught, but I couldn't let it go. It was the only way to feed my siblings right away. But you broke that cycle for me."
"Getting beat, wrists sliced, and terrorized got romanticized hard."
"Process doesn't matter. And you not only advanced my pay on my unreasonable request, but drove me all the way to the village, cooked for my siblings, and even played along when I called you my underling."
It was really just to confirm if she was lying, but if she saw it that way, I'd roll with it.
"Plus, you saved us from the slavers chasing us."
"Haha, coincidence."
I glanced slyly at the Holy Sword hanging on the wall behind the bar. It reflected the candlelight indifferently, hanging in dignified silence.
"Honestly, I didn't trust you until we got to the village. But what you showed today—no truly bad person could fake that."
She added,
"So I've decided to believe you're a good person. Even if you think I'm a sneaky thief who might stab you in the back anytime."
"Bad thief, maybe. But not a bad person."
Marim stared at me with a questioning look.
"Stealing's wrong, but letting your siblings starve is worse. That's how I see it."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. If you've got responsibilities, you shoulder them no matter what."
Marim mulled it over silently for a moment.
"And you're my employee now. You tried robbing us and stabbing me before, but since I've hired you, I have to trust you."
A smile spread across her face.
"I'll follow you as my master now, even though you watched me get slapped, kneed in the gut, and have my wrists cut. You've become my boss."
It sounded backwards at first glance, but instead of pointing it out, I just laughed at her boldness. Wasn't worried I'd snap in anger? Her mental fortitude was impressive, forged by years of half-elf hardships.
"Looking forward to working with you. I'll do my best."
"Yeah. Sure."
It felt surreal seeing this half-elf—who'd lunged at me like a rabid dog yesterday—act so meek. But the hotheaded saintess was a total softie with me now, so why not Marim too? Speaking of, the saintess had gone quiet. I turned to see Celereja passed out, slumped over the bar. Handling shrine duties solo must be exhausting. She'd conked out early last time drinking with Hildeva too. With a sigh, I stepped around the bar and scooped her up. Another night striking out. I could've woken her, but no point forcing a sleeping saintess. Living in the same inn, we'd get our messy night eventually. Me, Marim, and the saintess headed quietly up to the third floor.
The next day, Pelle filled disposable paper bowls with food from somewhere and packed them into a bag. Marim, in practical pants and gaiters, slung it on effortlessly.
"Not too heavy?"
"Nah, it's fine."
She hopped in place to test it, light on her feet—clearly manageable.
"Don't run too fast... You'll spill the food..."
Idwild chimed in from watching; Marim winked back with a casual "No worries."
Impressive, bantering like that with the black mage who'd sliced her wrists. True mental steel.
"I'm off!"
With a flicker, Marim vanished. Seconds later, Della's skirt fluttered in the breeze.
"She's insanely fast..."
Della muttered, clutching her skirt down.
Marim headed out for lunch deliveries, and soon the hall filled with crowds. Locals grabbing meals, fresh arrivals to Rosens, merchants demanding parking for wagons, guests complaining about missing room items, an adventurer poking his nose with a fork after ogling Della, folks asking the Holy Sword's price, an old traveler reminiscing over the troll skull, darting between them all: the golden beauty, busty black mage, sleek icy demoness. Seeing the inn finally match my vision after retirement felt nostalgic. Dust-caked place I toured with Hildeva and Mollo, handling sparse guests solo with Della—laughable now. Half a year of explosive growth. Luck, maybe. Then the inn door swung open, and in walked an adventurer. Thin, long scarf wrapped tight around his head against the sun, eyes only visible. Backpack slung on, windproof coat belted at the waist, form-fitting pants showing off shapely legs, heeled boots. Thick leather belt bristling with pouches, a handy shortsword peeking through. Textbook adventurer getup. Unwrapping the scarf indoors revealed light brown bobbed hair.
"Huh...?"
The adventurer's eyes widened at me, pointing.
"You're... Bertrand...?!"
"Shit... What the hell? What're you doing here?!"
"It is you! Bertrand Balder!!"
The mage Brione, recognizing me, beamed brightly.