Conception (1)
I figured out pretty quickly that keeping my mouth shut was the smart move.
This place was no ordinary, screw-loose fantasy world.
It was the kind of world where a human life could be snuffed out over a single throwaway line from a book.
The one chosen by the god that book spoke of was the Saintess — me. Or rather, the rightful owner of this body, Yulia.
After watching people get their heads lopped off for the crime of abandoning the Saintess and fleeing, I'd learned to watch my words.
If I announced out of nowhere that I wasn't the Saintess at all, that I was a man from another world...
"They'd burn me at the stake on the spot."
I'd be branded a witch.
Our poor Saintess was beguiled by a wicked dragon, and her pure soul was corrupted. That's how the story would go.
These were people who beat children to death for failing to guard the Saintess — they'd go far beyond a burning.
And burning at the stake meant immortality would keep regenerating me through it all, unable to die, skin sizzling away in endless agony. I didn't even want to imagine it.
So for the time being, I had to play the part of someone who'd bumped her head somewhere.
The amnesia act.
And I played up a trauma-induced speech impairment, too.
Though honestly, the latter might not have been an act at all...
Even now, just remembering that pain — the way it had bored into my lower body — made me shudder.
The paralysis, my whole body pinned and unable to move a muscle.
Sharp claws pressing down on my shoulders like they'd drive them through at any moment.
And on top of that, the searing agony of the penetration itself, bad enough that I'd wanted to faint...
Strangely enough, whenever that squinty-eyed man — the village priest, apparently — was at my side, the trauma never came flooding back.
This might sound a bit gay, but holding that guy's hand genuinely settled my mind and body.
But then, when things get hard, it's always the person who stands steadfastly beside you that helps — gender has nothing to do with it.
I am not gay.
No, really.
"Hello, Saintess!"
"Nice to see you, Anna."
The door burst open and I greeted the little visitor with a smile. The Saintess Yulia, by all accounts, always greeted people with a smile — so even though I was supposedly playing amnesia, I figured I could at least imitate the way she carried herself.
Anna stood there beaming, holding up the clothes I'd been scrubbing so diligently the day before.
"Your laundry's all dry! What do you think?"
Did she actually inspect all of it?
Part of me wanted to give her a solid knuckle-rap on the head.
The bloodstains hadn't even come out all the way.
And she clearly hadn't hung them up properly either — the whole thing was a crumpled, wrinkled mess.
I really, really did not want to wear that.
It was basically a whore's garb to begin with, so I wouldn't have wanted to wear it even if it were pristine.
"My... how very kind of you."
"Hehe!"
Even to my thinly veiled sarcasm, Anna just kept grinning like it was the best thing ever.
She was cute, though, I'd give her that.
If no one else in this world, at least this child seemed genuinely pure.
Which meant... maybe it'd be safe to tell her my secret.
I was slowly going out of my mind with the suffocation of it all.
If this was a dream, I wanted to wake up.
But no matter how I banged my head against the wall or pinched my cheek, I didn't wake up — so I wanted, at the very least, to unburden myself to someone and breathe a little.
"What's wrong, Saintess?"
"Oh — it's nothing."
There were ways to find comfort that ended with you in an early grave.
I resolved to hold my tongue.
At least until I woke from this dream, until I found a way out of this world, this secret would stay mine alone.
That was, without question, the safest option.
"Has your memory come back at all?"
"Hm? My memory?"
"Yes! The shock must have been terrible! You seem like a completely different person from before. Hehe."
"......"
That stung.
If a child like this could tell, then everyone had probably noticed by now.
Still, the head-injury amnesia excuse seemed to be doing its job.
No one had yet tied a rock to my ankle and thrown me into a pond as a heretic's trial, at any rate.
"I'm sorry. I really can't remember anything. Nothing at all..."
"But that's okay! You're the Saintess, after all! You'll get your lost memories back in no time!"
"Thank you."
The Saintess, huh.
While I'd been alone, I'd secretly cut my finger and bit down on my lip, and confirmed it for myself: the Saintess's body possessed extraordinary regeneration.
At first I'd wondered if all humans in this world just healed that fast.
They didn't.
It was a special power unique to the Saintess's body.
If it hadn't been, I would have bled out on those grasslands long ago.
Any port in a storm, as they say — I was just glad to be alive at all, even like this.
Or... wait. What if dying was actually the condition for returning to my old world?
After all, I'd only come here because I was killed by that truck.
"Saintess...!"
"Huh? Yes?"
"Stay strong! I'll inject you with power! Heeng-heeng-heeng-heeng..."
Anna had abruptly seized my hand and squeezed her eyes shut.
Injecting me with power, was she.
A laugh slipped out of me.
Right. Dying was a last resort — something to try only at the very, very end.
My dictionary doesn't contain the word "give up."
"Now, now, Anna — you mustn't trouble the Saintess."
Just then the door swung wide and a grown man walked in.
The male priest, in his immaculate attire.
Same as always, eyes half-lidded, his gentle smile firmly in place.
Before I could help it, I looked away from him.
My face flushed hot in an instant.
"Father! I wasn't bothering her!"
"That's for the one being bothered to decide, Anna."
"Aww. But I really wasn't!"
"Anna's telling the truth, Father. I was just feeling bored out of my mind, and we were having a delightful chat."
"Oh my. Is that so? Then it seems I've interrupted a lovely moment. Haha."
In looks and in speech, the man was unfailingly sweet.
But no one is sweet by nature.
He wanted something — that was the only reason he acted this way.
And with high probability, that something was this obscene body of mine.
Vile little bastard.
"Anna, would you step outside for a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss with the Saintess, just the two of us."
"Is it important?"
"Very important."
"Aw... okay. I'll come back later, Saintess!"
Anna waved both arms in big circles and was gone.
I managed a feeble wave back.
Farewell, purest soul in this place.
"......"
"......"
An awkward silence settled over the room, the priest and I left alone together.
It couldn't be helped.
Yesterday, that... that...
Ugh, damn it.
He'd seen me collapsed on the floor, wetting myself.
Still — sweet as he was, he'd at least shut the door quickly before anyone else could notice, come in, and cleaned it all up for me by himself.
Though my back had been throbbing so badly that my lower half refused to obey entirely, leaving me no choice but to entrust everything to this squinty-eyed priest...
Everything except cleaning down there.
I honestly thought I'd die of shame.
"Hahaha. This is awkward, isn't it?"
"Yes......"
"Naturally, yesterday's events will remain a secret. So please don't worry."
"A secret......"
"Everyone has a past they're ashamed of. It was my mistake — I failed to fully assess your condition, Saintess. Now that you have a chamber pot..."
"And what will that cost me?"
"......"
The priest's mouth hung open, frozen mid-word.
It was the reaction of a man hit dead-center in his hidden agenda.
The answer was blindingly obvious, but I had to ask.
Even if I had to squeeze the courage out drop by drop.
Being violated knowing what's coming.
Being violated in blissful ignorance.
If I had to choose between the two, the former was better.
Not that I wanted to be violated with foreknowledge — the real reason was that you can only resist or run if you know what's coming.
"A price? There isn't one."
"Excuse me?"
"Though — if you'll forgive one shameless request — I would be grateful if you'd speak kindly of me to the Lord. You see, I hope to become a priest someday. Haha."
"Ah......"
So he was still accruing his sweet-guy credit.
Not devouring me right away — he'd wait until I depended on him more, and then devour me.
Once I'd entrusted him with body and soul, he'd wickedly unleash every ounce of his lust on me.
He wanted to savor the look of despair on my face as the trust in my eyes curdled into betrayal.
I knew it all.
Having been a man, I could see straight through this priest's paper-thin mask.
"Keep up this devotion and you'll make a fine priest, I'm sure."
"Hahaha. I lack virtue still. Compared to you, Saintess, I'm nothing."
"......"
Not sure that's how one becomes a priest, but fine.
By the way — apparently this Saintess had racked up some staggering good deeds in her time.
I wondered if I could pull off even a pale imitation.
The only good deed I'd done in my past life was serving as a safety volunteer at a municipal event, and only to fill my mandatory service hours.
And even then, I'd just planted a friend in my place, goofed off in the shadows, and collected the hours for free.
"How are your legs now? Any better?"
"Ah. A little, I think."
For the record, I'd claimed a leg injury, not a back injury.
If I complained about my back, he might guess I'd been violated by the dragon...
Legs, on the other hand, sounded like a muscle or nerve problem, nothing more.
"Do you think you could walk?"
"I couldn't say."
"Shall we practice now, then? I'll hold you steady."
"Ah — yes, please."
Sweet, I'll grant him that.
I was starting to get restless myself, truth be told.
I wanted to see the world beyond this room.
The clothing and the architecture looked vaguely medieval.
Saintesses and dragons and all that — it reeked of the glossy fantasy those degenerate otaku scarf down by the gallon.
I was genuinely curious what the outside actually looked like.
After all, the only outdoor scenery I'd beheld so far was an endless expanse of grassland, viewed enthusiastically from a face-down position with my skull ground into the dirt, mid-vomit.
"Shall I take your hand?"
"No. I'll get up on my own."
"Haha. As you wish."
Heave-ho.
I nearly let one of those grunty old-man noises slip out.
My back was still stiff and my lower belly ached, but it wasn't the total paralysis of yesterday.
I swung my legs off the bed and pressed my bare soles to the floor.
Oh. I can actually stand.
I leaned forward and rose upright.
A little wobbly, but I could stand.
The biggest problem was the changed center of gravity — the heavier hips and chest threw everything off.
It'll get better as I walk and get used to it.
The moment I set my foot forward on that thought—
"Owch!"
Ah, shit — I nearly swore out loud.
A splinter of wood jutting up from the floor had nicked my foot.
Fucking medieval fantasy.
Just as I pitched forward, about to topple—
"Whoa there. Are you all right?"
"Yes......"
The priest darted over and caught me in his arms.
Ah. His hands are on my waist.
Damn it, that alone was enough to send shivers racing through me.
I think I'm getting a little wet down there too.
This crazy female body, honestly...
Is this Saintess not the Jeanne d'Arc kind of holy woman I know, but the kind whose job is making her congregation feel good — a seongnyeo of an entirely different spelling?
I'm losing my mind.
"Forgive me. I held you far too long."
"No, it's fine."
"I'll simply take your hand, then."
"Thank you."
Gripping the priest's hand, I moved forward one slow step at a time.
But somewhere along the way my hips had slid back and my chest thrust forward of their own accord, and I had to wonder — was this posture right?
Jeez. Why does even walking look obscene on this body?
Was this room always this big?
Dragging my creaking waist along, I managed to shuffle my way to the door.
"Shall we go out?"
"Yes. I'd like some fresh air — it's been a while."
The door creaked open.
Dazzling light flooded in all at once.
I assumed it was high noon — but what met my squinting eyes wasn't the sun.
It was a red full moon.
No — a blue crescent.
"Ah."
Both were right.
There were two moons.
Hanging in a star-strewn night sky, two enormous moons blazed with light.
Thanks to them, the night was bright enough to see a fair distance into the darkness.
Soft steps... soft steps...
My feet sank into the grass with a pleasant sound.
I no longer needed to hold the priest's hand.
When I let go, he stepped back ahead of me with a worried look — then, once my stride proved steady, he fell in beside me with a smile.
"You've nearly made a full recovery, it seems."
"Looks like it. Ah..."
"What is it?"
"The smell of the grass. It's wonderful."
"Hahaha. Isn't it just."
The grassland stretched on forever.
A small village in the distance.
And beyond it, the horizon line.
Truly a sight that felt like it opened a hole straight through my chest.
You could never see anything like this back in Korea.
And the insect-song drifting in from every direction.
The whisper of wind brushing through the grass.
I closed my eyes, and my heart grew calm.
So refreshing.
Ah. Maybe this world isn't so hateful after all.
"Ughp!"
"Saintess?"
"Uuuurgh!"
Nausea hit me without warning.
Then something surged up from within and came pouring out of my mouth.
White vomit kept rising, wave after wave.
I stayed on my knees, bent double, retching for a long while.
My stomach didn't even feel bad.
What the hell is this?