Were the Girls Defiled by the Devil's Touch? (2)

I dressed quickly, doing my best to ignore the saliva that had soaked me from neck to belly and the slick fluids still trickling down between my legs. When I stepped out of the examination room, Pirel had not yet emerged. The only sounds drifting through the door were the occasional, obscene moans of a man and a woman intertwined.

Surely they aren’t doing anything strange to her.

…Though what had just been done to me was strange enough to qualify, the presence of a man’s voice worried me. I could only hope she was being spared anything worse.

I had never heard that priests of the God of Light were bound by vows of chastity. The deities worshipped across the human empire were not merely tolerant of sexual desire—they actively encouraged it—and priests were no exception. Still, I told myself that an examiner would not indulge personal lust, and tried to find comfort in the thought.

I sat fidgeting on the cold marble bench outside the waiting room for what felt like an eternity, as though perched on a cushion of thorns. At last the door to the interrogation chamber opened.

An elderly priest staggered out, looking utterly spent, his robes disheveled and his body drenched in sweat.

What in the world did they do?

The question rose instinctively, yet I could not bring myself to ask it. Pirel followed close behind him, also swaying on her feet, so there was no need to interrogate a stranger about such delicate matters.

She looked completely exhausted. Both cheeks burned as crimson as her eyes.

I narrowed my gaze, glancing back and forth between them. Sensing the weight of my stare, Pirel spoke first.

“How was it, Kaira…?”

“They said there was no problem. And you, Pirel?”

No problem. A more accurate statement would have been that they found nothing. The priests had only examined the areas where we had reported contact with the dark tentacles.

If the corruption had taken root inside the brain—or somewhere deeper still, within memories that transcended flesh—such a cursory inspection would never have detected it. Even so, the absence of visible erosion was a relief.

“Ah, no… not that… Um, I mean…”

The small girl before me stammered, her face burning with embarrassment.

“W-was it always supposed to be this humiliating…? Did they… touch you there too, Kaira? Your… your private parts…?”

Ah. So that was what troubled her.

For a girl of Pirel’s apparent age, such a rough “examination” must have been cruel. Though even for an older woman—or a man—it would have been mortifying.

“Yes… that’s right. It couldn’t be helped. Still, the honored priest treated it very clinically, as if he were handling an inanimate object.”

“I… I see.”

Pirel fell silent, thinking for a long moment before changing the subject.

“So… they did find something after all.”

It seemed she had decided to abandon any further discussion of the embarrassing details.

“Something?”

“Yes… The priest who performed the rite said so. Afterward I felt a burning sensation, yet instead of pain it was like my body was being washed clean…”

So something had been detected within Pirel. The sensation of being cleansed suggested they had succeeded in purifying that ominous energy.

“If they found it, that’s for the best.”

“It’s not. According to the priest, it is a deep and profound corruption—something that can be suppressed but cannot be washed away by his power alone. It doesn’t linger in places like the… the private area… but seems to be hiding somewhere else, somewhere deeper. It doesn’t appear ready to bloom yet, but purification will not be easy.”

I bit my lower lip. What would become of Pirel, then?

“So I asked him to request direct purification from the Saint. Since we’ll be staying with her anyway, that part isn’t a problem, but…”

Pirel lowered her head.

“It’s a little… frightening. So there really is some of it still inside me.”

Then she lifted her face again, smiling weakly, and offered me bright words.

“You’re incredible, Kaira. After suffering so much, nothing remains. As expected, your spirit is strong.”

I did not want to reject the kindness she had forced herself to give me, so I stayed silent. But… that could not be true.

The corruption within Pirel was likely similar in nature to ordinary demonic energy—something a priest could sense and attempt to cleanse. Like the power the Demon King once scattered. What dwelled inside me was far deeper, far more cunning… something that had slipped free of this world entirely. Too vast for the observer to even realize they were being watched. Because Pirel had no memory of the moment I had descended, she believed I had shaken the corruption off completely.

…Still, it did not matter. Whatever happened to me, as long as Pirel was safe. Azalea was the Saint; she would find a way. I could wander and search for solutions while studying the magic Viran had given me.

“It seems you’ll have to endure quite a lot from now on, Pirel. But it will be all right. The one the God of Light cherishes most—our Saint—will be by your side.”

“Yes…”

As we spoke, Azalea arrived with the elderly priest who had examined us earlier.

“I have heard everything, both of you.”

Pirel clutched my sleeve tightly, tense. She was not afraid of Azalea herself, but of the unknown purification rite she would have to undergo.

“What you experienced was an accident during your journey… yet it is fortunate that it happened on the way to me. As I promised, I will take responsibility for Lady Pirel. I will protect her with my life and perform the purification myself.”

“Thank you, Lady Azalea.”

“Hehe. We are friends, after all.”

The Saint offered a gentle smile, then continued.

“I will perform the purification gradually and naturally while living with Lady Pirel. So, shall we go together?”

She made a curious suggestion.

“Go? Where…?”

“Hehe.”

Azalea laughed lightly.

“It is Lady Pirel’s second request. I am prepared to grant it.”

The grounds of the main temple were so vast it was difficult to believe they lay at the heart of a city enclosed by castle walls. The difference in civilization meant they were not quite the size of a large Earth park, yet to eyes that had lived here long enough for memories of Earth to blur, the space seemed enormous.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

We stood now at the center of those grounds, in a colossal courtyard that made even the cathedral’s splendid main hall appear modest. Though called a courtyard, its true nature was—

“Wow, Kaira… these are all tombstones.”

It was a graveyard.

“So it is…”

Even at the very heart of the holy city, the most sacred place was land filled with death. The description might sound irreverent, yet in the Light Denomination—where funerals were themselves sacred rites—graveyards were both holy and familiar.

“This is the cemetery managed directly by the cathedral,” Azalea explained in a quiet voice as she walked slowly through the wide grounds without pause. “It is primarily for priests and monks, but outsiders may also be laid to rest here.”

Azalea did not wander or hesitate. Though her steps were unhurried, she moved with clear purpose toward a destination only she could see, and we followed.

In a section of the cemetery so vast one might easily become lost, Azalea finally stopped.

“This is the place.”

She extended one hand slightly, as though presenting something to us.

“This is…”

A large, white, perfectly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠polished rectangular stone tablet with a rounded top. Even a child would have recognized it.

“As you saw on the way here, Poscotia is also a city that serves death. A place that lives from people’s final moments—an ominous place, some might say…”

For the Saint, whose faith should have been the deepest of all, to speak in such self-mocking terms—words more suited to a mage—was surprising. It did not match the passionate Azalea I knew.

“That being the case, fine stone for tombstones can be obtained easily anywhere. It is truly the best city for mourning… though mourning itself is best avoided entirely. This stone was purchased from a renowned stonemason whose shop lies not far from the main temple. I bought it with my own money.”

Even a Saint celebrated throughout the empire was ultimately a cleric; her personal wealth could not be great. Had she used her own funds for our sake? I felt I should thank her.

“But Saint, nothing is written on it,” Pirel said first.

Now that she mentioned it, the stone was indeed blank. Despite its obvious quality, the surface bore no inscription.

“Of course. I could not have the stonemason carve words without your opinions. This stele is for Sir Kaira’s… and Lady Pirel’s family. Please give me the inscription with which to honor your father and husband. I will carve it myself.”

As she spoke, Azalea winked—once at me, once at Pirel.

“For my precious friend. And for the person who will live as my family from now on.”

I gazed steadily at Pirel.

“Kaira…? Why are you… looking at me like that…?”

“Because this is something only you can do, Pirel.”

I placed my hand on her frail shoulder.

“The only one with the right to begin the rite of sending Rasail from this world is the person who loved him most.”

Pirel pouted. “So Kaira didn’t love Father.”

Then she added softly, “Even though you did… that with Rasail, however unwillingly.”

Though the circumstances had been unavoidable, what had been done was done. This was her own form of jealousy, perhaps. It was a painful memory, yet I saw no reason to take offense here. I laughed as though it were a joke and teased her in return.

“You yourself said that even when you were far younger than you are now, you did ‘that’ with Rasail first. Hehe, how precocious.”

“Hmph.”

Though she pretended to sulk, Pirel drew several deep breaths, her expression thoughtful. At last she spoke.

“The philanthropist of the western district of the Imperial Capital, who filled the hungry bellies of countless people with the fragrance of bread, Pirel’s precious companion, father of the mage Kaira, Rasail, and in memory of his child who could not receive a name.”

Azalea listened with reverent stillness, not blinking once, then asked, “Is that sufficient, Lady Pirel?”

“Yes. I have neither the eloquence nor the learning to write anything more ornate. More than half of those words are knowledge I gained from reading Kaira’s memories. This is the best I can create. And… please do not record Kaira as a witch.”

“I understand.”

Azalea turned to me. “Lady Kaira, do you wish to add any words?”

I thought carefully for nearly a minute before answering cautiously.

“No. Please use what Pirel has said. Only she has the right to engrave Father’s tombstone. If she is satisfied, then I am satisfied. I do not wish to add anything she did not speak. However…”

“However…?”

“Instead of ‘his child who could not receive a name,’ please carve Eterna.”

In the language of Earth, in the dead tongue once used long ago, the word meant “Eternal.” Since the child had been mine, I believed I had the right to give it that name. And since my roots remained in Earth, it was only fitting to use its words.

Pirel seemed to understand my heart. Though her expression grew pained, she nodded.

“I understand. Then I will carve it.”

Brilliant light poured from the Saint’s fingertips. Her glowing fingers sliced through the hard stone as easily as if it were clay, engraving letters that burned with a red glow. The inscription honored my father, Pirel’s husband, a person we could never regain yet would always long for.

As Pirel read each word carved by Azalea, her shoulders finally began to shake. I wrapped my arms around her from behind. I needed to tell the sobbing girl without words:

The owner of this tombstone, the man you loved, did not die in vain. The last gift he left behind is right here, embracing you.

By the time Azalea’s shining touch completed the tombstone, the sun had already begun to set. Beneath clouds dyed by the sunset, the Saint—glowing faintly with sacred light, her veil fluttering—spoke to us.

“Lady Kaira, Lady Pirel. Do you have anywhere else you must go today?”

We did not. We had not even looked for an inn. We shook our heads in unison.

“I see. That is well. Today I would like to invite you to my room. Would it be all right to spend the night together?”

Pirel looked up at me. She would likely stay in the Saint’s quarters or be given a nearby room from now on, but would it be acceptable for me to join…?

“Accept it, Kaira. You don’t refuse a gift from a friend.”

Watching Pirel say those words, I smiled warmly. She truly was a dependable mother.

“Then we shall, Saint. Thank you for your kindness.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Azalea began hopping up and down, radiating light so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠intense it would have been visible from afar. Literally hopping. A woman nearly thirty, without the slightest concern for dignity.

She really was transparent in her honesty. I was glad to have such a friend.

Yes…

For someone like me—who carried a secret as dark as the night sky, a secret the priests had failed to detect, hidden deep within memory—such pure friendship was far more than I deserved.