Burn Me So I Cannot Weep [06]
On the day Saintess Lucia returned to the Order, Pope Andria's worries began to deepen. He had no idea where to even begin untangling the mess, and so he could neither advance nor retreat.
Andria pressed a hand to his brow, trying to keep the headache at bay. There was not a single drop of his own blood in the girl, and yet he had raised her as if she were his own granddaughter. More than anyone in the world, he had wanted her to be happy.
That innocent brightness of hers, always wearing a smile on her face. That had been her one joy in life. And now... a heavy sigh escaped him.
How on earth had it come to this? He could only curse the heavens.
Even when she had failed to be joined with the imperial prince, Andria had not despaired. He had simply hoped she would grow into a mature woman because of it — into someone more splendid than any other.
The saintess title itself — if she ever wished to lay it down, he had intended to let her, whenever she pleased. If it was something Lucia wanted, he had wanted to grant her anything and everything.
And yet everything had come apart at the seams.
So much had changed since her visit to the Empire. Others might not have noticed, but Andria had. He had raised her from infancy, after all — it was only natural.
On the surface, she was as kind as ever. Gentle words, a smile warm as sunlight. But beneath it, Andria saw something unfamiliar. He felt a pitch-black darkness, something crouching coiled inside that laughter.
Andria shook his head, thinking of the woman Lucia had brought back with her. Cecilia Bar Gracia. The villainess who had set the whole Empire abuzz.
A villainess. What a laughable notion.
So she was merely a toy to be played with and discarded? The imperial nobility never changes, do they? The same creatures they were a century ago.
Andria knew the whole truth.
He knew that Cecilia was no villainess. Amid the ugly power struggles of the nobility, someone had to be the scapegoat burdened with every sin — and it had simply fallen to Cecilia. He had caught on to that much as well.
As head of the Order, Andria held in his grasp not only the Empire's secrets but the covert intelligence of the neighboring kingdoms besides. Having ascended to this seat, there was no avoiding knowledge of the things the world wished to keep buried.
He had seen cases like Cecilia's in sickening abundance. The words of a powerless noblewoman always carried the same weight. Being cast out and trampled was simply her daily life.
And yet, of all people, Lucia had worked a miracle for that woman. When his thoughts reached that point, a complaint slipped from Andria's lips.
Mercy's Edification. God's miracle, reserved for one person alone in a lifetime — and she had spent it on the Empire's villainess. Not once in the entire history of the Order had there been a precedent.
Truly, the mere thought of it churned his stomach.
The real problem was that no one could raise a word of objection. Among all the saintesses of history, Lucia was the one uniquely drenched in God's favor. Who would dare deny a miracle performed by her? And moreover, the moment Cecilia received the Edification, her crimes had ceased to exist at all.
Thanks to which, the protest letters from the Empire had multiplied overnight. Hand over the criminal, they demanded; the Order had overstepped its authority, they claimed. Andria, left holding the bill for all of it, had a splitting headache.
How am I supposed to resolve this affair? I cannot send her back to the Empire. But is there any meaning in the Order sheltering her?
He was sunk deep in that heavy deliberation when—
The door burst open without warning. A young clergyman in a disheveled state rushed in, breathless with urgency.
"Y-Your Holiness! It's an emergency!"
It was Ein, one of the Order's researchers. The young man famous for his usual composure was now flushed crimson, gasping for air.
"What is all this commotion? Catch your breath first."
"P-please, look at this first!"
Ein held something out. A glass bottle filled with transparent water, its surface shimmering as gentle waves swayed within it. Andria narrowed his eyes.
"And? What were the results?"
"It— it's the greatest holy water in the Order's history!"
The words came pouring out of Ein without pause.
"This is what Saintess Lucia brought back with her! When we analyzed it, we found something that has never been seen anywhere before! Nothing like this exists in all the records of the Church! It is truly, truly remarkable!"
"Never seen before, you say. Explain. In detail."
"It can heal not only wounds, but even reattach a severed arm! Incurable diseases wash away as if they had never existed! This— this is nothing less than..."
Ein's voice cracked with excitement.
"It rivals the legendary elixir of myth! The Order must secure a monopoly on this, no matter the cost. We cannot afford to yield an inch!"
"And how, exactly, is such a thing made?"
Andria asked quietly. Ein hesitated a moment, then carefully glanced around the room in every direction before lowering his voice.
"That is... according to Saintess Lucia, it can only be made with someone named Cecilia present. She refused, to the very end, to disclose the exact method. But she assured us it is a safe process."
Andria was silent for a long while. He simply stared at the glass bottle. At last, a deep sigh flowed out of him. The decision had been made.
With something this valuable, I have no choice but to accept.
In the end, there was no way to refuse Lucia's request. Did she foresee, all along, that things would unfold this way? Clever child.
Lucia's plea to keep Cecilia within the Order — he now had no option but to grant it. But there was something that nagged at him.
The room where the saintess and the villainess stayed together.
The people passing by that room had been whispering. What had they said again? It had been rather specific, he recalled.
There had been a report that very morning, too.
Something about the sound of a woman's weeping moans slipping through the gap beneath the door. At first he had dismissed it as idle gossip, but such talk was hardly one or two voices.
Andria frowned.
surely not. He pushed the ominous speculation away with effort. There were truths in this world one was better off not knowing, after all. Best not to dig too deep.
For now, he simply wanted everything to go well. He wanted there to be light for every wounded child.
May God's protection be with them, always.
It had been carried in, unconscious, from the forest — and since then, far more time had passed than Cecilia expected. Her wounded body had been treated, and she had been waited on with lavish care: baths drawn for her, leisurely meals served without end.
To be honest, they were not close. If anything, the air between them was nothing but awkward — from a distance, practically enemies. And yet toward her, of all people, Lucia had spent the miracle of a lifetime.
What on earth is she thinking? I have no idea.
Cecilia could not read Lucia's heart, but the results spoke plainly enough. Thanks to Mercy's Edification, every crime pinned on Cecilia had vanished — and with it, her status as a criminal.
Freedom. And it just came rolling in out of nowhere. I suppose you never know which way life will flow. Fate is a capricious thing, truly.
She had no idea what she ought to do next. Having slipped free of a destiny that had been fixed for her, Cecilia's heart churned violently. Not that this freedom had come free of charge.
Cecilia turned her eyes to the wall clock.
The hands were pointing to that hour.
With a sigh, Cecilia groaned.
"...Here we go again, I suppose."
Just then, the door opened. The one who entered was, naturally, Lucia — carrying a basket brimming with glass bottles, smiling as she always did. At the sight of her, Cecilia's face twisted on its own.
"...You're doing that thing again today?"
"Yes. Let's both work hard at it today too, shall we?"
"I really, truly hate this. It's disgusting."
Lucia advanced closer, smiling sweetly all the while. She set the basket down naturally and spoke in a gentle, soothing voice — as if to say, don't be afraid.
"Would you lie down for me for a moment?"
Cecilia said nothing. She simply obeyed. She lay face down on the bed and buried her face in her arms — a posture she had long since grown used to.
I wish it would be over soon. I want to rest. To forget everything, forever.
Lucia drew a slender switch from the basket and aimed it slowly over Cecilia's body — hand movements familiar by now.
"Then, let's begin."
With a whistle of air, the switch came down, and the red marks bloomed all the more vividly. Skin split; flecks of blood spattered, staining the fabric.
"...Ngh. Haaaahh...!"
Face still buried, Cecilia let out a low moan. Mark upon mark layered themselves across the snow-white skin. It hurt. It was supposed to hurt.
Damn it. Not this feeling again. I can't hold out. Why in the world is this body so sensitive?!
I don't want to go over. I don't want to go over.
The sensation that should have been pain was turning into something else, deep inside her body — something scorching and tingling, something unbearable. Cecilia bit her lip and forcibly pressed down what threatened to spill out of her.
"Don't hold back, Lady Cecilia."
Lucia whispered.
The switch fell once more.
"This is all for your sake, Lady Cecilia. If you endure it, the effect weakens. It may be hard now, but one day all of it will become your strength."
"I get it, so just hurry up and finish. I'm exhausted too."
Cecilia spat the words out between ragged breaths.
And yet her body drank in every last stimulation, exactly as it was given. There was a perfectly legitimate reason for this twisted arrangement. Something enormously important.
Through her hazy mind, Cecilia recalled how things had come to this.
After receiving the miracle, two powers had come to coexist within Cecilia's body: the dark power granted by the demon, and the brilliant power of light bestowed by Lucia's miracle. Two energies in diametric opposition.
Light and dark clashed furiously, each trying to devour the other — until, at last, they settled into dividing the territory within her body between them.
That was when it began. Cecilia's body started to change in a strange way. The potency of the fluids her body produced grew incomparably stronger than before — nearly omnipotent in their effect.
Lucia seized on that.
She proposed using this power to cement Cecilia's place in the world: to make her not a criminal, not a villainess, but a special being sheltered by the Order itself.
It was not a bad proposal — the problem was the method. The potency grew stronger the more violently Cecilia's body reacted. The deeper she sank into pleasure, the richer and more powerful the effect became.
And so the solution Lucia arrived at after much deliberation was this: converting pain into pleasure. It was the most reliable way, and the fastest.
Cecilia swallowed the medicine Lucia prepared for her every single day. As a result, even the lash of the switch had been flipped into a sweet stimulation.
"...Ngh! Hah...!"
She tried her best to endure it, but it was useless. She could muffle her voice, but her body was honest. Her back rocked roughly up and down without mercy, and her fingertips — beaded with blood — clawed at the sheets.
"...Ah, you're truly beautiful, Lady Cecilia."
Lucia murmured, her face rapturous, then picked up a glass bottle. She collected what fell from Cecilia's body into it.
The transparent liquid filled the bottle.
One bottle. Two. Three. It was not until she passed ten that everything finally ended. Cecilia crumpled, collapsing face-first onto the floor. Even her consciousness was growing dim.
Dangerous. If I pass out like this, it'll be a problem.
I have to hold on. I must.
"The yield was excellent today as well."
"...Could you please stop... chattering..."
"You should have a taste yourself. It's delicious, you know."
"You drink as much as you like. I don't need it."
Cecilia protested, gasping for breath.
But Lucia paid her no mind.
Once the bottles were filled, Lucia placed her hands on Cecilia's body next. A soft glow of healing light flowed from her fingertips, wrapping Cecilia's body in warmth.
Miraculously, the light no longer hurt. Ever since the two powers had divided their domains, Cecilia's body simply no longer rejected healing.
"...How strange. It used to hurt so much."
Cecilia murmured through half-lidded, glassy eyes.
Lucia paused her hands and smiled.
"That's because the two powers have fully settled into place. My light doesn't hurt you anymore — isn't that wonderful? Well? Feels nice, doesn't it?"
"...That much is a relief. But don't you think the whole arrangement itself is the problem? You may not realize it, but this is far harder than you'd imagine. My back aches, for one."
"Oh my. Oh my. Do you really hate it that much? Because just a little while ago, you seemed to be enjoying it. Weren't you starting to get into it by the end? You even said, quite clearly, that you wanted—"
"...Shut up. You heard wrong."
Flushing red, Cecilia snapped at her. Lucia, apparently finding even that reaction adorable, leaned her shoulder against the bedframe and closed her eyes with a giggle.
"We've done plenty for today. I'm worn out too. We can finish the rest tomorrow, so shouldn't we sleep? You must be tired as well..."
"No. This is the busiest time of all right now."
Lucia smiled brightly.
There was not the slightest hint of retreat in her.
Cecilia, resigned, buried her face between her arms once more. She had no strength left to argue. Lucia would not stop until this night was over anyway. So then — accept it.
In a certain room of the Order, where everyone was asleep—
the sound of a woman's weeping moans never ceased. Those passing through the corridor shuddered at the noise, and before long, an ominous rumor began to spread.
That a weeping woman's ghost haunted the halls, night after night.