Chapter 7
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Negotiating the Rules
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I finally coaxed Elysia, who had pitifully slumped to the floor mourning her confiscated 'alcohol collection,' and got her seated in the chair.
The room still carried the lingering afterglow from drying her hair moments ago—a cozy warmth mingled with her signature rich, sweet scent hanging thick in the air. The dizzying temptation at the tip of my nose threatened to haze my mind, but I desperately held onto my senses. Right now was solemn business time to save my 'ultimate favorite'.
I boldly placed the clean parchment and quill I'd secretly swiped from the Papal Secretariat's office on the table.
"Pulling off a hostage crisis just to negotiate? You're ruthless, Priest."
Elysia pouted her lips and shot me a glare. Gone was the vulnerable look from earlier; her languid, predatory gaze had returned. But seeing her eyes keep drifting toward the corner where I'd seized the liquor bottles, it was clear I held the upper hand in these talks.
"Ruthless? This is just proper oversight for the Saintess's future."
I put on my most solemn expression and picked up the quill.
"Alright, Article 1: Rules on alcohol."
I pressed down firmly as I wrote on the parchment. Praying each letter would become a shield for her liver.
『Article 1: All-day drinking is now prohibited. Only one bottle permitted at dinner.』
The instant the quill's scratching stopped, a sharp protest flew my way.
"One bottle? That's stingy as hell."
Elysia snorted in disbelief, her violet eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction.
"It's for your health, Saintess."
"Don't you think cutting back so suddenly will just cause backlash?"
She propped her chin on her hand, gazing at me languidly. Her eyes seemed to say, 'You sure you can handle that?' A chill ran down my spine, but I puffed out my chest confidently.
"You can handle it just fine, Saintess."
"I can't sleep without booze. For me, alcohol is medicine and holy water."
"Alcohol as holy water? That's blasphemy."
"So what? Everyone commits a little blasphemy now and then."
She shrugged it off like it was nothing. The endlessly compassionate and pious image from the original story was nowhere to be found.
"...You're the Saintess."
"Ugh, whatever. Then I quit being Saintess."
Elysia threw a tantrum like an elementary schooler, burying herself deeper into the sofa. But I couldn't back down here.
"No returns. Take it back yourself."
Elysia lifted an empty glass from the table.
She loosely held the stem between two fingers, rolling it gently across the surface. The faint clink of glass on wood was barely audible. Like she was doing it on purpose—or like she didn't care if it made noise or not.
"It's not like I chose to become this."
She said it just like that.
"I don't get why everything's so damn restrictive."
Even after speaking, she didn't look at me. Her gaze fixed on the window. Curtains drawn back, sunlight pouring in, yet she didn't squint. She let the bright light hit her eyes directly. Not because it felt good, but like avoiding it was too much hassle.
She slouched further in the chair. No straight posture. Leaning into the armrest, legs crossed, toes swaying lazily. Her pose was languid, but not entirely limp. Like someone who'd forgotten how to relax, just holding on any way they could.
The glass rolled again.
Thud.
This time, the sound was a bit louder.
Only then did Elysia right the glass. Without letting go, she rubbed the rim once with her thumb.
"A Saintess should do this, shouldn't do that."
She continued.
Her tone was flat. No resentment, no mocking laugh. If anything, the excessive calm made the words inside stand out more.
"Can't drink, can't stay up late, can't show emotions."
With each item listed, her fingers tapped the glass. Like counting rules. Like someone double-checking a list they'd long since memorized.
"If you say you're hurting, they just tell you to be quieter."
Finally, she paused.
More precisely—
It took a bit longer to catch her breath.
It was a brief moment, but I caught it. Shallow inhale, delayed exhale. And in between, her shoulders tensed ever so slightly. As if voicing that line was just a tad harder than the rest.
Elysia picked up as if nothing happened.
"So it's easier not to say anything."
Only then did she push the glass away. Just a little. To a distance her hand couldn't reach on the table. Not a declaration of abstinence or surrender. More like a judgment that she didn't need it right now.
"No point in saying it anyway."
Her words trailed off.
She turned her head toward me. Not quite eye contact. Just facing my direction. Her gaze still skimmed off somewhere else.
"It just adds more things to manage."
With that, she gave a tiny smile.
It was ambiguous enough not to call a laugh. Less an upturn of the lips, more a brief loosening of tension. The gap closed quickly.
Elysia leaned back into the chair and said,
"So."
She pressed one hand to her forehead. Not from a headache, but from habit.
"Doing this much means I'm already doing pretty well."
Anyone could see it was her convincing herself.
And that she knew it—
Made it all the more vivid.
"Right?"
"...Who knows. You're blackout drunk on booze, smoking magic herbs, room's a total mess."
Elysia let out a hollow chuckle as she looked at me.
"Normally, you'd at least say something nice even if it's empty."
"You know it's empty, though."
Elysia chuckled dryly and shrugged.
"You're so brutally honest. I like that."
Her words were light, but the smile faded fast. She didn't pull the glass back. Instead, the back of her hand swept across the table once. Pausing briefly along the bumpy, hardened wax drippings.
"I know."
She said.
"It's a mess."
Her eyes still avoided my face. Like an answer to a question no one asked, lightening the weight. Elysia sank deeper into the chair, uncrossing her legs. The movement was loose, but calculated looseness. The minimum effort to avoid toppling over.
"Still."
She didn't continue right away, twisting her wrist instead. The empty glass wobbled lightly before stilling.
"Most people say this much is fine."
That word 'most' echoed subtly in the room. Elysia tilted her head as if ignoring it. She tucked a strand of hair slipping from her shoulder behind her ear. A tidying motion, but not fully neatened.
"Especially the priests."
She glanced at me and added.
"One prayer covers it all."
I chose my words carefully, steadied my breath, and replied.
"If you cover it up."
"Hm?"
"It explodes bigger next time."
Elysia's eyebrow twitched up just a fraction. Less surprise, more reaction to an unexpected response. She fell silent briefly. In that pause, the room's stillness stood out—no sounds at all. Not even wind from the window.
"So."
She said.
"What exactly are you trying to do to me right now?"
The question wasn't aggressive. Not defensive. Just asking for direction. Elysia rested her elbow on the armrest, propping her chin. Her head tilted, violet eyes facing front. This time, no evasion.
I met her gaze and said,
"Start with tidying up."
"Tidying?"
"The room."
Short and to the point.
"And your body."
Elysia laughed. A small, short sound this time. But it cut off quickly.
"Jeez."
She shook her head.
"So diligent."
"Occupational hazard."
"No."
She waved it off.
"Not that kind of diligence."
She paused, as if picking words.
"The type that nitpicks annoyingly."
I didn't retort. Instead, I scanned the room again. Empty bottles, burned-out incense sticks, scattered papers. And—the teapot I hadn't touched yet.
"The tea."
I said.
"It's gone cold."
Elysia glanced that way. Just for a moment. Then looked away.
"Right now."
She said slowly.
"Not in the mood for that."
"Still."
"Still?"
"Right now, that's what's best."
She sighed. Short, not long. Like she'd expected those words. Elysia half-rose from the chair, then sat back down. She could have stood, but chose not to.
"...Seriously."
She muttered.
"This round."
She stopped. Shook her head like correcting herself.
"Nah. Nothing."
I didn't press. Instead, I picked up the teapot, turning toward the door to reheat it.
Then—
"Priest."
Elysia called.
I turned back.
She was still in the chair. Same posture, but her hands had shifted. From gripping the armrest to resting neatly on her lap.
"You."
She said.
"You're different from the usual kids."
"Not great with 'usual' myself."
She stared at my answer for a long moment, then nodded.
"...Yeah."
And added,
"Then."
Her words slowed just a touch.
"Today."
A brief silence.
"Tea it is."
It wasn't permission or a request. More a notification of her choice from the options. But—compared to her attitudes so far, it was a clear shift.
I nodded.
"I'll bring it soon."
As I left the room, I felt it.
The air left behind—
Was a little less heavy than before.
Before stepping out, I said it like a decree.
"Alcohol only after dinner. No strict quantity limit. That work for you?"