Kill Me (2)
"Ha. Haha. Then, might I ask why you're in no particular hurry to receive the baptism?"
"......"
The moment I saw the priest's rotten smile, I understood.
I'd forgotten.
That this was not a democratic nation with freedom of religion.
Deliberately avoiding a baptism could easily be taken as an act of defiance against the Church.
Not that I could let Tia receive the rite here and now, either.
The ceremony would inevitably involve him touching her head, and while I had no way of knowing whether this priest was the sort of clergyman who would kill a demon-kin on sight, there was no reason to gamble Tia's life on an uncertain possibility.
"There's a clergyman I know. I'm planning to have her baptized by him."
"Oh ho......"
If I'd said we had no intention of ever getting baptized, things would have turned ugly.
Somehow deflect the priest without provoking him.
That was the best strategy.
"And what is his name?"
"I don't know his name, actually. He was an apprentice priest, but he always said he'd become a proper priest someday. He promised to perform her baptism when he returned, and then left for the Holy Nation."
"Ah, I see. Forgive me — that was a thoughtless proposal on my part."
"Not at all."
I reeled off excuses one after another, conjuring up the image of that lecherous priest.
Everything I said was a lie except the part about him being an apprentice priest, but there'd be no way to verify it, so it would be fine.
The priest must have noticed my expression twisting, because he reattached his gentle smile and extended his hand toward me. I shifted Tia onto one arm, supporting her bottom, and offered my right hand. His hand came forward and clasped mine tightly.
"What a lovely baby. I can feel such vigorous energy. Clearly you've raised her with love, even in difficult circumstances."
"Thank you. I hope you find the Saintess too, Father— ah?!"
"Mmuh!"
Startled by the unexpected pain, I snatched my hand back. Red blood was streaming down my index finger.
I stared in shock at the hand the priest had just gripped, and saw it — a blade gleaming a pale, lethal blue, hidden up inside his sleeve.
The priest had cut my hand.
That fact, set against the gentle smile on his face, was so jarring that I found myself lost in confusion.
"Wh-why would you—"
"Oh dear. It seems I've made a mistake. Might you show me the wound?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Show me the wound, Yulia. I'll heal it for you."
If I showed him my hand like this, he would watch the wound close up in real time.
Cutting me had been no accident — it was deliberate.
Deliberate, so he could see the wound on my hand.
He didn't know the Saintess's face or name, but he must have known of her astonishing regenerative powers.
A chill ran through me, and my voice died in my throat.
"Mmuhuu!"
"Ah, um..."
At some point, Tia had wrapped herself around my blood-soaked hand.
And then she'd brought my finger to her mouth and started sucking on it, so I pulled it away in alarm.
"Yulia. Show me your hand."
"N-no, it's fine. I'll take care of it myself."
"Give it here. I'll heal it with magic, straight away — there won't even be a scar."
"Really, it's fine— aagh!"
The instant I tried to bolt, the priest seized my wrist in an iron grip. The force crushing down on my wrist left me utterly unable to resist. My arm was wrenched upward, and my hand was held out beneath the lamp for all to see.
*I'm done for.*
So they'd finally caught on to my regeneration.
I hung my head and squeezed my eyes shut.
Any moment now, the priest would start calling me "Saintess" and fawning over me.
And then what would happen to Tia?
If I pretended she was a child I was just minding for a while and smoothly handed her off to Irina, wouldn't that spare us the worst of it?
Yes. That's the plan.
Just like Irina had sent her children off to a noble house, I'd leave Tia with Irina and go to the Church myself.
That was the path to happiness for everyone.
"Huh?"
But after a long while, no voice came from the priest, and I began to find it strange. I opened my eyes to see him staring blankly down at my hand.
I lifted my head a little and examined my own fingers.
*It's... not stopping?*
The wound at the tip of my finger was exactly as it had been. A long, clean gash, blood welling up from within it.
My regeneration hadn't kicked in.
I had to bite back the scream that nearly tore out of me. I suppressed it, forced my voice low, and put a touch of anger into it.
"Healing. Aren't you going to heal it?"
"I'm so sorry. I'll heal it at once. O most exalted God, I humbly pray — grant me the power to heal this little lamb..."
After staring blankly for a moment, the priest took hold of my finger and began to chant an incantation. Slowly, the wound on my index finger closed and knitted itself shut.
My freed wrist bore a vivid red mark where he'd gripped it.
"Forgive my clumsiness. Ah — is it nearly time to prepare for business? Then I'll take my leave."
"Goodbye, Father!"
"Byeee......"
The priest still wore his gentle smile, though just for a moment, as he turned his back, that smile seemed to twist.
The Boss hurried over to open the door for him, and as the priest departed and the door swung shut, a sigh of relief escaped me all on its own.
I thought the tension was going to drive me insane.
I pulled a napkin from the table and wiped the blood from my hand and from around Tia's mouth.
"Yulia. You okay? Let me see your hand."
"All healed. But seriously, Boss. Do you know that priest? What kind of psycho does something like that?"
"Ah, come on. It was a mistake."
"......"
The Boss seriously didn't notice, huh.
The blade hidden up his sleeve snapping out and slicing open my finger.
I was still shaking, goosebumps crawling over my skin. The fact that a man of the cloth carried a concealed weapon was frightening enough — but what frightened me most was that he was the kind of man who, at the first flicker of suspicion, would slice open the hand of a woman he'd never met without a moment's hesitation.
But anyway, what on earth happened to my finger earlier, that it didn't—
"Oh, right. Master. Shall we have a nice, long talk?"
"What? What is it, Irina? Talk about what?"
"About Yulia's age. Does the Master even know how old the person he hired is?"
"Huh? Why?! How old is she? She's an adult, isn't she?"
"Aha, hahaha. Master......"
"What?! Don't look at me like that, you're making me nervous! Don't lie to me! There's no way a body like that isn't an adult! Eh? Say something, Irina!"
Leaving Irina and the Boss to their deepening conversation, I quietly climbed to the second floor and sat Tia down on the bed. Traces of blood still lingered faintly at the corner of her mouth, but she simply beamed, delighted with the world.
Just now — when Tia had sucked on my wounded finger, the wound hadn't healed at all. The regeneration I'd never been able to control by will had stopped working without warning.
*Unless it didn't stop — unless it was counteracted into stopping?*
A poison potent enough to neutralize that overwhelming regenerative power.
The thought that such a thing might exist crossed my mind, and I cautiously slid my finger into Tia's mouth.
"Muuuh?"
When I pressed my finger against the inside of her cheek, Tia's cheek puffed up like a balloon. I rubbed it around, drew the finger out, and found it coated in clear saliva.
Then I jabbed a razor blade into a different finger, opening a small cut — and with no time for a single drop of blood to escape, it healed over in an instant.
Make the same wound on the same finger again, and this time smear on Tia's saliva...
"Ha."
The wound didn't close.
I could watch the beads of blood welling up, drop by drop.
Only after sucking my finger clean — swallowing down Tia's saliva — did the wound finally heal and vanish.
That settled it.
Tia's bodily fluids — whatever exactly they were — held a power that could neutralize my regeneration.
Suddenly Tia looked so lovable that I swept her into my arms. She squirmed and kicked, refusing to be held, and I hugged her tight anyway.
"Muuuuuh!"
"I think I understand now. Why you came to me. Why, of all people, I gave birth to a monster like you..."
I nuzzled my cheek furiously against the face of this darling little thing.
If what the priest said was true, then I would never die.
A body that would regenerate endlessly, whether I was beheaded or burned to ash. A body that regrew even aged cells, never growing old, forever.
And the one weapon capable of killing such a body was right here.
Only Tia could kill me.
Only now did I understand why I hadn't dumped Tia ages ago, back when she was nothing but baggage, and had raised her instead.
The mystery was finally solved.
I must have sensed it subconsciously.
That Tia was the salvation granted to me.
My salvation — the thing that could lift me free of this world at any moment.
My lifeline.
And my love.
"I love you. Really, I love you so much..."
I held Tia and sobbed for a long while, apologizing over and over for how horribly I'd treated her.
I'd been far too cruel to a child who had come to free me from my curse.
"Once you're a little bigger, Mommy will die for you. No — Tia will kill Mommy. Okay?"
Every child wishes for their parents' death, after all.
My plan is to die once Tia is old enough to manage it on her own.
I'll have Tia be the one to kill me.
I get to stop dragging out a miserable existence through one hardship after another, and Tia inherits everything I've saved up. A win-win arrangement all around.
"Grow up fast, okay? Hurry up and learn to run around, and to talk."
At last, my life — which had been nothing but an inability to die masquerading as living — had an ultimate goal.
Only after learning I could never die did I finally find the courage to die.
From now on, I will live in order to die.
Raising this lovable little weapon that will one day kill me.