A Matter of Taste
"You want me to make holy water?"
As long as it had been since we last saw each other, I would have loved to grab a drink, but dragging someone who was here on official business to a tavern wasn't an option. So I had simply hovered beside Serin while she conducted her investigation before popping the question, only for her to look at me like I had lost my mind.
"There's a church right here," she said flatly. "Can't you just buy holy water there?"
"You know full well the kind of holy water I need isn't that mass-produced swill."
The holy water required for the restorative tonic I had to brew needed to be the genuine article, steeped in an immense concentration of divine power. It had to be the real deal—something that took an accomplished priest days of painstaking, prayerful consecration to produce.
Serin scrunched her face into a deep frown, mulling it over before shaking her head. "If I had time to spare, maybe, but I'm here on duty."
"I know. Did I say you came here on vacation?"
I had anticipated this kind of pushback. Reaching into my pocket, I withdrew the cultist's seal. The moment her eyes landed on it, her expression shifted entirely.
"That's...!"
"I'll give you this."
"Urrgh..."
She's wavering! Good. A little more bait should reel her in.
"And I'll help you with the investigation."
"...Promise?"
Hook, line, and sinker.
Narrowing her eyes in calculation, Serin hesitated for a heartbeat before holding out her hand. I dropped the seal onto her pale palm. After slipping it securely into her robes, she gestured for me to follow.
"Father Lewallon."
Father Lewallon—a middle-aged man who served as the resident parish priest of the local church. Having met me before, he offered a polite bow toward Serin as she approached with me in tow.
"Haha, Priestess Serin! Have you discovered anything of note?"
"Whether you would call it a discovery or not... my friend here handed me this."
"That is... a heretic's seal, is it not?"
"Yes. We may be able to trace the cult's secret hideout using this, so... I believe I will need to devote myself entirely to examining it for the time being."
And to brewing my holy water, of course.
Father Lewallon looked visibly troubled by her answer. And understandably so—who would be pleased to hear that an investigator dispatched from the Holy See intended to sideline the field inquiry to focus on bench research?
"In my stead, however," Serin added smoothly, "I would like to entrust my duties to Lee Hyun."
"Master Lee? Hmm... But is Master Lee not an exceptionally busy man? So terribly occupied, in fact, that he cannot even find the time to attend Sunday mass."
Serin's razor-sharp glare immediately impaled me.
Come on now. A man gets busy, he misses a mass or two—it happens.
"No matter how hectic my affairs may be, Father, I am never so occupied as to turn a blind eye to wicked cultists offering human sacrifices," I replied smoothly. "Though I have yet to be baptized, I hold the Church in the highest esteem. I could hardly sit idly by while such atrocities unfold."
"My word. If you truly feel that way, then nothing could be better. Come to think of it, I hear you were instrumental in resolving the recent incident as well... Very well, then."
As Father Lewallon stepped into the inner office to prepare the paperwork, Serin tapped two knuckles firmly against my chest. Her feline eyes narrowed into an even sharper squint.
"You'd better do a good job."
"Don't worry."
Compared to raising disciples, poking around after a few cultists was a walk in the park.
After wrapping up the preliminary inquiry into the cultists' tracks alongside the Church, I returned to the Eastern Merchant Guild's estate. As I approached my quarters, I spotted Sowol waiting for me.
"What's the matter?"
"You're late. I take it you had a wonderful time catching up with Priestess Serin?"
She tilted her head, a sweet smile playing on her lips, yet an inexplicable aura of pure intimidation rolled off her in waves. I let out a weary sigh.
Catching up, my ass.
"I've been working this entire time."
"Pardon? Working on what...?"
"Investigating the cultists. Father Lewallon ran me ragged all afternoon; my head is spinning. Could you pour me a cup of tea?"
"Oh. Of course."
Puzzled, Sowol complied, and I took a grateful sip, letting out a breath as the warm tea settled my nerves.
Now then, time to piece together today's findings.
What the investigation had uncovered so far was that the cult was attempting to establish a firm foothold in this territory. Specifically, they were spreading their heretical doctrines through the slums and back alleys, trying to sow chaos throughout the estate.
Why here, though?
Aside from being the headquarters of the Eastern Merchant Guild, this territory possessed nothing particularly remarkable. Granted, it sat on a convenient thoroughfare leading toward nearby metropolises, but that was about it. Why would an evil cult go out of its way to set down roots in a place like this?
"Master?"
I looked up at Sowol. Feeling my gaze, she tilted her head again, peering straight back at me.
If there was one compelling reason... it was Sowol.
In the game, Sowol had ended up as an executive of the evil cult. Perhaps the cult was already maneuvering to pull her into their fold, coveting her boundless martial genius. Or perhaps they sought to ensnare the future mistress of the Eastern Merchant Guild to commandeer its vast fortune.
Hmm. If so, they might even try to assassinate So Jung-yang.
As long as So Jung-yang was alive and in control, enticing Sowol into the cult wouldn't grant them access to the guild's coffers.
...Wait a minute. Was the party responsible for murdering So Jung-yang in the game actually the cult?
In the original storyline, players only knew the bare fact that So Jung-yang had been assassinated; the mastermind behind it and the underlying motive had never been revealed. If that was the truth, then Sowol had been thoroughly used and manipulated by the very scum who took her father's life...
"...Why are you looking at me as if I'm some pitiful creature?"
"Just because. You're pretty."
"...Hah. At any rate, why on earth are you investigating the cult, Master?"
"I'm helping Serin."
"Why?"
"I had a favor to ask of her."
"What kind of favor could possibly..."
"Never you mind. More importantly, I'm going to be rather busy starting tomorrow, so I won't be able to oversee your training for a bit."
"...Pardon? But—"
"It's only for a few days, so don't pout. I'll give you some homework to work on instead. Up you get. I'll assign it right now."
Ah, she's sulking. The slight puff of her cheeks made it plain she wasn't happy with that arrangement. Still, what could I do? Sorting out this cultist menace was an urgent priority.
Pulling the sullen girl to her feet, I picked up a wooden practice sword. Though her expression remained thoroughly sour, she didn't refuse her own wooden blade. Watching her slip into a light stance, I assumed the preparatory posture—the opening form—and brought my sword down in a measured stroke.
"What I am about to teach you is the very swordsmanship you must ultimately master. Its name is the Moonlight Sword Style."
"...Could it be that technique from back then?"
"Yes. The swordsmanship you tried to imitate. It consists of four core forms in total, so memorize them well."
"Yet the sword dance you performed back then had far more..."
"Those were variations. The Moonlight Sword Style is founded upon four core forms, but factoring in feints and fluid adaptations, it branches into dozens more. Now that you know how to channel mana, you're ready to execute the forms in earnest."
Standing before her, I drew my lowered blade upward in an arc. After a hesitant moment, Sowol mirrored the movement.
"This is where you release your mana. Smoothly, gradually, yet without a single break. The Moonlight Sword is like lunar radiance itself. To manifest it, your mana must flow unbroken."
Step by step, I instructed her on how to weave her mana into the movement. Though she stumbled at first, her innate grasp of mana manipulation allowed her to somehow produce the first form of the Moonlight Sword Style.
"This is the first form of the Moonlight Sword Style: Moonlight Wave."
In the game, it had been an area-of-effect strike that tore through every enemy across the front line. The damage was respectable, and if executed properly, it even inflicted a brief blinding effect on foes. The Moonlight Wave Sowol conjured, however, was still barely at the fledgling stage, its pale shimmer looking utterly frail and dim.
Yet that was hardly an issue. With Sowol's prodigious talent, mastering Moonlight Wave was only a matter of time.
"Not easy, is it? Maintaining an uninterrupted current of mana is the crucial part. Hone your mana whenever you find a spare moment. You remember how, right?"
"Yes. Through meditation, maintaining rhythmic breathing to draw in the ambient mana of nature..."
"Precisely. It's vital, so don't skip a single day."
"I understand."
Watching her nod with solemn focus, it seemed her earlier petulance had vanished without a trace. Good. Increasing mana through meditative breathing was something she had to cultivate on her own—there was little need for hands-on coaching there. That meant I would have a few days of relative freedom to investigate.
"By the way, Master."
"Hmm?"
"What is your ideal type of woman?"
My ideal type, out of nowhere?
"Why are you curious about that all of a sudden?"
"Just because."
Well, there was no arguing with 'just because.' It wasn't something worth hiding anyway, so I answered frankly:
"A woman who is wealthy, gorgeous, tall, and has a big chest."
A woman who is wealthy, gorgeous, tall, and has a big chest...
Having parted ways with Lee Hyun, Sowol returned to her chambers. After finishing her meditation session, his words drifted back into her mind.
Well, I certainly have wealth...
The fortune of the Eastern Merchant Guild was colossal by any metric. And with her eventual succession as guild master practically set in stone once her father retired, money posed no issue whatsoever.
As for being pretty... well, yes. I am pretty.
Even to her own eyes, the pink-haired beauty reflected in the mirror looked breathtaking. The real hurdles, however, lay in what followed.
Height. And chest size.
Height... I'll grow taller.
Considering her father's stature, she was bound to hit a growth spurt. Yes, that settled that. Which left only the chest...
Mother's chest was on the fuller side, wasn't it?
Recalling her faint memories and the portraits of her late mother, the outlook for her future development seemed bright. Even so, she couldn't afford to be complacent. Alongside the chest-enhancing exercises she had learned from her close maid, Lyla, she would need to eat heartily to ensure proper growth.
Not that I'm trying to mold myself into Master's ideal type or anything. But if I just happen to match what he likes, wouldn't he focus that much more on teaching me? That's all this is.
Having thoroughly rationalized her reasoning, Sowol glanced sideways back toward the mirror. A faint, satisfied smile was dancing at the corners of the pink-haired girl's lips.