A Drink with the Drunken Saintess
"Won't yaa come share a driiink with meee?"
Clarice and I stepped outside the cathedral walls dressed in plain clothes. The outfits she had prepared were simple designs that any ordinary citizen might wear—she really had come prepared. Wearing common clothes wouldn't completely hide our appearances, but it would dampen the stares we attracted considerably, so it was a good choice.
Together with Clarice, I emerged into the bustling streets of Septimoa. The First Gwak, where the main citadel stood, and the Second, lined with temples, were hushed and sacred places befitting the name of the Holy Empire. But once you passed out into the Third Gwak—the widest ring, where most of the population lived—the atmosphere changed entirely. If the Second Gwak felt like a serene, elegant ruin, the Third was a sprawling metropolis, loud and thick with the smell of everyday life. The grand temples of the Second Gwak might be a spectacle for tourists, but Clarice and I had spent practically our whole lives living in temples, so we had no particular reason to wander there. More importantly, the Second was crawling with priests and their associates—far too many eyes that would recognize us.
And so we decided to enjoy ourselves in the Third Gwak, where we could roam freely without interference.
"Where should we go?"
"Hmm, how about you pick, Clarice? Anywhere you want."
"Then let's get some sweets first! There's a place I visit every time I come to the capital."
"...I just ate breakfast, you know?"
It had been less than thirty minutes since we'd finished our meal. My stomach was still full.
"Dessert and meals are two different things, Unnie."
"Mmm... do you think so?"
Back on Earth, there was a running joke that women had a separate stomach reserved for dessert. Apparently that didn't change even after crossing worlds. I could tell just from watching the priestesses of our own order—even after stuffing themselves at a meal, they'd go for dessert again, claiming they weren't full at all. Maybe it was because I was a man on the inside despite the female shell, but sadly, I possessed no such dessert stomach. Which made me wonder—perhaps the so-called dessert stomach isn't inscribed on the body, but on the soul? I followed Clarice into a café while entertaining that pointless line of thought.
It was a café built almost entirely of wood, giving off a warm, cozy atmosphere. Exactly the kind of place Clarice would love.
"Unnie, what would you like to drink?"
"Espresso, and a glass of ice water. I'm fine on dessert."
The menu was covered in all sorts of options, but what I wanted never changed—those two things, every time. At my order, Clarice tilted her head.
"That's all? You don't want any dessert?"
"Nope, I'm still pretty full."
"You get full off that little? Anyway, go find us a seat."
Clarice looked at me like she simply could not comprehend what she was hearing. ...Have I mentioned this before? I have a small stomach. Even a modest amount of food leaves me bloated and uncomfortable. Granted, I could force my body to digest it all with holy power—that solved things easily enough. In the beginning, I used that trick liberally. But repeated use came with a cost. With divine power doing the work my digestive organs were supposed to handle, my already pathetic digestion and undersized stomach degenerated further and further. Now, on top of everything, I'd become a compulsive light eater who could eat even less than before.
In the end, I'd decided that if I couldn't eat much, I should at least savor what little I did eat. Nibbling slowly at my food had become my entrenched habit. I would probably never hear the words "hearty appetite" spoken in my direction for the rest of my life. But look on the bright side—it's a remarkably efficient body, isn't it? Being able to produce energy on so little food was a genuinely advantageous trait in a barren environment like the Demon Realm.
Thump—
"...?"
Per Clarice's stern warning that patients were to stay seated, I'd settled onto the sun-drenched café terrace, gazing blankly at the street and soaking up the light. It was then that a heavy thud, loud enough to rattle the table, pulled my gaze back. The first thing I saw was my espresso and ice water arriving. And then...
"...Isn't this a bit much? I'm still full, I can't eat all this."
Cake, muffins, madeleines, cookies, and even a parfait. Desserts of every conceivable variety crowded the table.
"Don't worry, Unnie. I can eat all of it myself."
When I stared at her as if to say, you seriously mean to eat all of that alone?, Clarice puffed out her chest with total confidence.
"What about lunch?"
"I'll just eat lunch too."
"?"
That's a thing that's possible? Well... I suppose it must be, since she does it.
I let it pass without comment, picked up the espresso, and dumped it straight into the ice water.
"...Unnie? What on earth are you doing?"
"Hm?"
Clarice was staring at me in disbelief. The moment I saw her horror-stricken eyes lock onto the iced Americano I'd just manufactured, I realized my mistake. Ah, right. You, too, have yet to learn the greatness of this black elixir of life.
"Clarice, why don't you try a s—"
"Why would you turn perfectly good coffee into dirty water?"
...Too far. Dirty water, really? This medieval-European world, apparently modeled on Italy, had truly excellent food—but the concept of an Americano simply did not exist here. And that was my one and only grievance. Still, how hard could it be to make one? Espresso into ice water—that's an iced Americano. Obviously.
Everyone who witnessed an Americano for the first time pulled the exact same face, as though they'd just laid eyes on some revolting demon beast. Clarice looked visibly disgusted too, but I paid it no mind and took a sip.
"I pity those who don't understand the magnificence of the Americano."
"You even gave it a name...?"
"Yup."
"Well... I suppose everyone's tastes differ."
Clarice heaved a deep sigh, shook her head, and began cutting into her cake with a fork. One day, I would spread the majesty of the Americano across this world. It wasn't a completely absurd dream—some people in our own order had started drinking it already.
"Here, Unnie, say 'ahh'~"
A short silence passed, and then Clarice, diligently working her way through the desserts, speared a strawberry cake drenched in whipped cream and brought it to my lips.
"I told you, I don't really care for sweet thi—"
Grumbling, and yet unable to refuse Clarice's outstretched hand. Pretending to have no choice, I opened my mouth and accepted a bite—and to my surprise, a sweetness that wasn't cloying at all wrapped gently around the tip of my tongue. Huh? This is better than I expected. And I was someone who normally recoiled from sweets. Apparently, as befitted Clarice's recommendation, this place made its desserts quite well.
But my admiration lasted only a moment. As I kept accepting the endless parade of desserts she held out to me, my stomach began sending up distress signals before long. Such is the bitter life of a light eater.
"Ugh... I'm stuffed..."
"Unnie, is something wrong with you? How can you eat as much as a baby bird and call yourself full?"
"That can't be it... I've actually eaten more than usual just now."
"Wow. And on that, you fight in the Demon Realm?"
And so I passed the time at the café with Clarice. Watching her munch on her desserts with a blissful expression, I finally understood what people meant by "getting full just from watching." I was sorely tempted to give those squirrel-cheeked, puffed-up cheeks of hers a good poke, but the consequences would be more than I could handle, so I restrained myself.
After a while of idle chitchat at the café, we headed back out into the streets. Our first destination was the market.
"Unnie, look at that! Isn't it just adorable?"
Where Clarice pointed stood a pile of teddy bears stuffed plump with cotton, alongside keychains of every animal imaginable.
"What do you think? Cute, right?"
"...They are cute."
They were, undeniably, adorable stuffed bears. Of course, apart from being cute, they were completely useless. But then again, that's what dolls are made for—being cute—so you could say they were excelling at their job.
"This one suits you perfectly, Unnie."
Digging through the stall, Clarice held out an adorable white rabbit keychain.
"Wouldn't it look so cute hanging off Holy Spear Astra?"
"Hmm..."
She wanted me to hang a cutesy rabbit charm off my weapon? Wasn't that taste a little too eccentric? One single sortie into the Demon Realm, and that precious bunny keychain would inevitably end up drenched in monster blood—a garish, crimson Red Rabbit. But I couldn't ignore the sincerity in Clarice's sparkling eyes as she offered it, so I accepted it. I'd just have to hang it off the bag I carried around instead of Astra, I supposed.
Next, we browsed an accessory shop. Nothing flashy or luxurious, but it was packed with dainty, charming little trinkets. While I skimmed half-heartedly and let my mind wander, Clarice examined everything with careful deliberation before picking up a small brooch.
"I think this would really suit you, Unnie... Would you get matching ones with me? As a pair?"
"If you want it, Clarice."
We bought the brooches at a reasonable price and moved on to a clothing store. Being located in the Third Gwak, where commoners predominated, it stocked mostly practical, active-style clothing. Clarice looked around the shop, picked out an outfit, and held it up against me.
"Will you try this on, Unnie? It'd look great on you."
The top was an off-shoulder with a boldly exposed neckline; the bottom, a pleated skirt—the kind people call a tennis skirt. You want me to wear this?
"I'm not really in the mood for a skirt. And isn't it a little too revealing?"
At my answer, Clarice's eyes gleamed with a mischievous smile. Ah, wait a second. I had a feeling I knew exactly what was coming next.
"...That's right, you've always had a taste for daring outfits like the Holy Vestments, haven't you, Unnie?"
"I do not!"
Ugh, honestly. Because of the Holy Vestments, I can't say a single word about anyone else's exposure. One of these days I would break through Goddess Eris's stubbornness and get that design changed. And while I was at it, into something genuinely cool-looking. Proper armor.
"Oh, Unnie! Look at that! Let's go check that place out too!"
...And so, after trailing Clarice around for ages, I came to a realization: shopping is exhausting. Novels often depicted men worn ragged from following their girlfriends through an afternoon of shopping, and now I understood exactly where they were coming from. Still, it counted as decent exercise, it burned off my lunch, and watching Clarice radiate happiness was a lovely sight in its own right. Besides, wandering the streets, browsing all the different shops, and picking up things that caught my eye was quietly fun, too.
After a long stretch of exploring the market, we finally extricated ourselves, arms laden with bags. All that aimless wandering, and it was already around four in the afternoon.
"We've run a bit late, haven't we? Shall we get something to eat and head back to the citadel?"
"Sounds good."
"Whew, all that walking has made me hungry. Are you not hungry, Unnie?"
"Neither hungry nor full."
"What kind of non-answer is that?"
Clarice giggled. It wasn't a non-answer, though—it was the honest truth. Right now I was in that perfect middle state: not fasting, not bloated, just right.
"There's a nice restaurant in the Second Gwak. Some of the priests from our order recommended it. Want to try it?"
"Let's. A meal on the way back would be perfect."
In the Second Gwak, I wouldn't even need to worry about safety, just in case. We headed straight for the restaurant Clarice had recommended.
When we arrived, an employee was standing by the door—and his expression and behavior were more than a little strange. How should I put it... yeah. He looked exactly like a dog trying to hold in a piss.
"My apologies, ladies, but we're not open t—... Whoa. Saintess?"
The employee's eyes went wide as saucers as he stared at us. As expected, in the Second Gwak people recognized us instantly. Good thing we'd gone to play in the Third.
"Are you closed today? In that case, I suppose we'll try somewhere el—"
"No need at all! Saintesses, please, come right in!"
"...I see? Then... we'll come in."
Were some high-ranking officials dining inside? Or had someone reserved the whole restaurant? Pushing the door open with those questions in mind—
"Ugh... the smell of booze."
The moment the door swung open, a ferocious stench of alcohol hit me hard enough to make my head ring. Had someone dumped an entire barrel? Why did it reek this strongly? Looking around as I thought that, I saw staff members sprawled across the floor.
"Holy... Clarice, get behind me."
The situation was not normal. I immediately tucked Clarice behind my back and summoned Astra into my grip. The interior was dark, the lights out—as if whoever was inside had never intended to keep serving customers. Had someone raised a ruckus in here? Was there really anyone with that much gall, to cause trouble in a place like this? As I scanned the interior with that thought, an enormous figure sitting at a table in the far distance caught my eye. Shadows obscured most of it, but I recognized what it was instantly—and couldn't stop the curse from welling up inside.
...She hasn't noticed us come in yet, so let's get out before she does.
"...Unnie? Judging by the state of this place, something must have happen—"
"Shh."
I pressed a finger to my lips, cutting her off, and as casually as I could manage, un-summoned the Astra in my hand.
"Quietly. Let's back out of here. Don't say a word—just do what I say."
"But the staff are all ly—"
"They just drank too much and passed out. Let's go, quickly."
Clarice nodded, looking somewhat unconvinced. And so, in the very moment Clarice and I were easing backward toward the door—
SLAM—
Someone shut the half-open door. The culprit was, of course, the owner of the massive shadow that now swallowed us both whole.
"...Ah, dammit."
The curse finally burst out of me. Craning my neck up until it ached, I looked up to see a colossal woman radiating overwhelming presence—one hand braced on the door, a liquor bottle in the other, peering down at us. A woman of the dokkaebi race: well over two meters tall, with an ebony-black bob, two horns jutting up sharply through her hair, and gleaming golden eyes.
"Heeeey~ *hic*—been a looong time, hasha't. Clariceth, Beatriche, the twosh of yaaa."
This hulking woman, slurring her words with liquor on her breath, was none other than—
"To think we'd meet by chance like thiii~ it musht be fate arranged by Lady Dianaaa, no? Shooo—won't yaa come share a driiink with meee?"
The Saintess of the Order of Diana, goddess of gold and liquor—one of the Seven Great Holy Orders. Chiara.
"I offered shome drinks to theshe worker fellash here, and they couldn't even finish a few cupsh before falling over flat—how embarrrashing, nooo? The two of you, now—you'd make perfectly good drinking partnersh for meee?"
A saintess who kept liquor at her lips three hundred and sixty-five days a year, twenty-four hours a day. The town drunk of a Saintess.