You're Terribly Arrogant
Iresia came to a stop before the Saintess and tipped her head forward, just slightly. The Saintess stroked it as if she had been waiting, and though a dark crimson stain spread across the sleeve of her pure white vestments, she paid it no mind at all.
"Well done, Iresia. I'm proud of you."
"......Hehe."
And then something truly miraculous happened.
That evening, when the hour of prayer arrived, Iresia sat quietly in her place. No one had told her to. She clasped her hands of her own accord and even closed her eyes.
"The Lord shall... something or other..."
Whether she had actually memorized the prayer was anyone's guess. She didn't run.
The reason was simple. Behave, and the Saintess praised her. Wait a little longer, and another person appeared whom she was free to beat to her heart's content.
......A perfect incentive structure.
The Saintess never taught Iresia not to be angry. She only decided where that anger was permitted to go. That alone was enough to make Iresia start listening.
The rest were no different in principle. Only the order changed.
"How many gold coins will you give me next time?"
"That depends on how well Avarel does as I ask."
"And how well is well enough?"
"That is something Avarel will have to discover for herself."
"......"
From that day forward, Greed carried out every task the Saintess requested without a hair's deviation. The moment the work was finished, however, her hand came out first.
"Gold."
"I remember."
When the Saintess smiled and drew out her purse, Avarel's eyes lit with it.
Sloth was a little different.
"Memorize the entire prayer today, and I'll excuse you from afternoon cleaning and hymn practice."
"Done."
"Already?"
"Yeah."
"Then let's hear it."
"......From the beginning all the way through?"
"Yes."
"What a pain."
Even so, she recited every word. The girl who ordinarily sprawled on the floor and called a single assigned line too much trouble summoned a startling degree of focus the instant an entire afternoon of rest was on the line.
"Done."
"Well done, Aselia."
"Then I'm sleeping."
"Go right ahead."
Aselia lay down on the floor exactly as she had said she would. I watched her for a moment.
That method's going to work best on her.
The remaining three were much the same. Golieta began asking the Saintess what she was allowed to eat and what she was not, and once monster meat was permitted, she threw herself into the hunting drills with unusual zeal from that day on. Luceria went on changing her expression and her manner of speech in front of everyone else, but before the Saintess she didn't bother. The Saintess had told her she didn't have to.
And then there was Videllia.
"I did the best today, didn't I?"
"I'm not so sure."
"......Then who did better?"
"Today, I believe Altiera listened to the sisters best."
"......"
Videllia's head turned slowly toward me. Her eyes were frightening.
Why are you looking at me like that.
The Saintess smiled, small and quiet.
"Next time, Videllia only has to do better."
"......Yes."
It was simple. And effective to a degree that raised the hair on my neck.
The Saintess did not erase desire. She fed it, and then she made perfectly clear from whose hand that food could be received.
Dog training.
I watched the whole scene from a distance. Stranger still was that no one thought it odd, even while being handled so blatantly. Or perhaps, more precisely, they had no reason to. She gave them what they wanted. Do the work she asked, and the reward was certain. She had never once broken a promise. Look only at the surface, and she was rather a good person.
In that case.
Another thought occurred to me. If the Saintess was the sort of person who paid her debts this reliably, what reason did I have not to use that structure myself? Wagging my tail, bewitched by the food, was out of the question. A transaction meant to extract what I needed was another matter entirely.
A few days later, during free time, I went looking for the Saintess as she walked the courtyard.
"Saintess."
"Yes, Altiera."
She stopped.
"There is something I wish to say."
"Go on."
I set out the terms I had prepared in advance.
"I will follow your instructions, the same as the other children."
"Oh my."
The Saintess's eyes curved, just slightly.
"In exchange, I would ask your permission to enter the southern archive."
She looked at me and gave no answer. I continued.
"If you require it, I will also organize the other children's daily schedules. Should there be instructions to convey to the sisters, I can arrange those on your behalf as well."
My labor, in exchange for access to the archive. By any measure, a rational trade.
The Saintess tilted her head as if considering it. Then she smiled.
"No."
"......"
The refusal came faster than I had expected.
"May I ask the reason?"
"The archive isn't truly what you want, Altiera."
I closed my mouth. The Saintess studied my face, slowly.
"You saw me give Iresia someone to fight, give Avarel money, and give Aselia time to rest, didn't you?"
"......Yes."
"And that made you curious."
She leaned in a little.
"Whether you, too, could get what you wanted from me, if you held something out."
"......"
She was right. Entering the archive would do me no harm. There was a great deal I needed to learn about this world. But it was not something I wanted badly enough to stake my life on. I had simply wanted to test whether the Saintess's method would work on me as well.
She smiled.
"When you truly need the archive, ask me again."
"And then you will allow it?"
"If it is something you really want."
It was an oddly unpleasant answer. I had been the one to set the terms, and yet, before I knew it, the seat had become one in which that woman sat in judgment of my desire.
The Saintess reached out and lightly stroked my head. I took a step back at once.
"Do not touch my head."
"You don't like it?"
"I don't."
"All right."
She withdrew her hand without protest, and that only soured my mood further. Smiling, the Saintess said,
"Next time, though, don't bring a condition meant for testing. Bring something you truly want."
"......"
"That one, I'll grant you properly."
I turned away without answering. Behind me, I heard her laugh.
She reads me far too well. How unpleasant.
And a few days later, I was summoned alone after all.
It was the private room the Saintess used whenever she stayed at the convent. I didn't need to ask to know it was because of last time. I sat bolt upright in the plush chair placed across from her. She set down a cup of black tea, steam curling from it, and looked straight at me.
"Is there nothing you need?"
"Nothing."
"Truly?"
"Yes."
The Saintess began to fold her slender fingers, one by one.
"Money."
"There is nowhere to spend it inside the convent."
"Jewels."
"I have no interest in ornament."
"Good food."
"Being full is enough."
"Fine clothes."
"They hinder movement."
Her eyes narrowed, little by little. One finger remained.
"Love."
I met her gaze for a moment.
"That, I need even less."
"Oh my."
The Saintess's eyes brightened, as if she found this interesting.
"Is there someone who loves you that much?"
"There is."
"Who?"
I did not hesitate in the slightest. In my previous life, and in this one, there was only one answer.
"Me."
The Saintess blinked.
"......What?"
"I love myself most, and I trust myself most."
I went on, evenly.
"What reason do I have to depend on another person's feelings, when I cannot even know when they might change?"
I considered for a moment, then added,
"The risk is far too great."
Silence held for a while. Then the Saintess's shoulders trembled, just slightly.
"Really, now."
Unable to hold the laughter in, she covered her mouth.
"Thank you for the generous praise."
"That wasn't praise."
"I'm aware."
In the end she laughed aloud, wearing an expression of utterly delighted disbelief.
"All right."
She leaned a little toward the table, and a faint scent of lilies washed over me.
"You really are amusing, Altiera."
"How fortunate."
"Then, if believing in the Lord is still too difficult..."
The Saintess propped her chin on one hand.
"Why not start by trusting the person right in front of you?"
"You, Saintess?"
"Yes."
She smiled.
"If there is something you want, I will give it to you myself."
"And that is why I should trust you?"
"You only have to judge for yourself whether I am someone worth believing."
"As I said a moment ago, there is nothing I want."
"Truly?"
Her voice dropped, just a fraction.
In that instant, the nape of my neck went cold. It was a feeling much like the one I had known in the rear garden last time.
"You don't want money."
"......"
"You don't need anything delicious."
"No."
"Praise doesn't interest you."
"Correct."
"And you don't need anyone else's love."
The Saintess retraced each of my answers, one by one. Then she tilted her head, as if something had just occurred to her.
"And yet, something's strange."
"What is?"
"Every time I come, you're always looking past the convent wall."
The fingers resting on my knee stiffened, ever so slightly. The Saintess's gaze brushed those fingertips, then rose again to my face. The corner of her mouth curved, slowly.
"Found it."
"......Found what."
"What you want."
The Saintess rose. With the soft rustle of her vestments she walked to the window, and looked out past the high, stifling wall of the convent — the place I was always staring at.
"Was the view out there really so fascinating?"
"......"
"No."
She turned her head, slowly.
"You want to leave."
I didn't answer.
"This convent."
One step.
"Without anyone's permission."
Another.
"Without taking orders from anyone."
The Saintess stood before me again.
"Where you will go."
"......"
"What you will do."
"......"
"How you will live."
She smiled, bright as anything.
"You want to decide all of it yourself. Don't you, Altiera?"
My mouth set. No rebuttal came to mind. She wasn't wrong. No — she was accurate to a chilling degree.
It wasn't money I wanted. Wanting to be loved was even further from the point. In this damned world, there was only one thing I desired: the right to decide my own life. Where I went. What I did. Whom I lived with. A life in which I decided all of it.
The Saintess looked straight down into my eyes.
"Altiera."
It was the kindest, most benevolent voice in the world. And yet, strangely, this time that beautiful voice felt like a cord drawn tight around my throat.
I—
This once, I could not think of a single excuse. Not one reasonable answer.