White Whale's Footsteps
My companion Chris, sitting beside me, gazes at me with a hint of worry in her eyes. She knows I'm no true priest. I give her a subtle wink, signaling that everything's fine.
Pretending to pray a pre-meal blessing with made-up words is too risky. It'd expose my lack of real faith knowledge outright. So... I have no choice but to refuse.
When I lied to the old head butler about being a priest, I'd prepared an excuse. But that was just to convince one person. I couldn't guarantee it'd work on a crowd this size.
Still, I can't dodge it. Everyone's waiting for me to speak. All I can do is give it my best shot to convince them.
They'd only groaned in complaint until now... but honestly, I was confident I could sway them.
"I'm sorry. I sincerely congratulate Lord Valliere on his victory, but I can't deliver a blessing."
"...Hm? And why is that?"
"Because I've temporarily stepped away from my priestly duties."
"Stepped away from... your duties?"
The lord's eyes widen slightly at my words. The knights standing around him look equally shocked. Faith isn't something you shed like trading old goods—it's not that disposable.
By leading with the conclusion like this, I can hook their attention for what follows. But if I fail to convince them properly, I risk being branded a heretic. It's a double-edged sword... but I was sure I could pull it off.
I straighten my back and meet the lord's gaze from across the distance. To avoid suspicion, my demeanor has to scream confidence. Keeping my expression steady, I address the fifty or so listeners hanging on my every word.
"Yes. It was during dawn prayers, just like any other day. A deep question arose: 'I've only ever known the narrow world of this one monastery—can everything I've studied truly apply to all people?'"
"Hmmm... Doubting doctrine... That's..."
"Exactly. They call it a heart demon. It was the first wall I ever faced."
"A heart demon...!!"
The skeptical stares turned instantly to pity, as if I were some poor soul who'd suffered misfortune. They all knew what a heart demon meant.
The inevitable wall that striving knights inevitably hit. And the higher your martial prowess, the more likely it was to strike. Everyone overcame it differently—some through grueling training to forget it, others via fasting and meditation to torment themselves, and some by wandering the world to broaden their horizons. Just like me.
A knight's heart demon only came at a certain level of attainment. Naturally, most crumbled before it. That moment marked the end of growth—just decline ahead.
That's why the lord, the mercenaries, and even the armored knights now looked at me with sympathy. The odds of failing were far higher than succeeding.
Since they know the term 'heart demon,' I can just embellish around it.
Of course, I had no idea if real priests dealt with heart demons. But they couldn't argue. How could they challenge a monk claiming to face one? They weren't devout scholars who'd reached such heights themselves.
"That's why I felt the urgent need to overcome this wall. But my monastery forbade monks from entangling with worldly affairs."
"So you temporarily returned to lay life to conquer it? Well... I can understand the sentiment, but that's quite the radical choice."
"Once I surpass this wall, I'll advance beyond anything I could before."
"True enough. A heart demon is exactly that kind of beast..."
The lord closed his eyes and nodded deeply. He was empathizing with me.
Easier than I thought? I figured I'd have to talk more.
Come to think of it, this family had its own named swordsmanship and mental arts. Sure, it was a remote knightly house with few knights... but they clearly knew their stuff. They probably understood the struggles of heart demons well.
"I understand. It'd be rude to ask a knight meditating to fend off his heart demon for a sword demonstration. Can't have that."
"Thank you. I appreciate your quick understanding..."
"No trouble. I pray you overcome your heart demon safely."
I bowed slightly in thanks at the lord's well-wishes, calibrated to seem polite but not servile. The minor hiccup was resolved.
The mood shifted again with the lord's brief toast. The feast kicked off in earnest.
—Murmur murmur.
Wary of the knights and lord inside the hall, the mercenaries savored their food and drink with restraint. Whether out of consideration for my heart demon or because my somber tale didn't fit a party vibe, the topic never resurfaced.
I joined in, raising my glass and downing the liquor. Even several rounds of fine stuff didn't awaken any alcohol tolerance. I just noted it packed a punch.
Each time my glass emptied, a sharp-eyed maid refilled it.
"Let me top you off."
"Thanks."
"Ah, n-no need. It's my job..."
"Still, gratitude's gratitude."
I flashed a slight smile at the maid pouring. Her face flushed crimson as she met my gaze head-on. But Chris's glare from beside me made her shrink.
"...Eek! More liquor for you!"
—Pour pour...
Splash!
I looked away as the maid scurried off, pretending to be busy. Then I turned to Chris, who was avoiding my eyes.
"Chris? Don't tell me you got that 'vibe' from her too?"
"Not that, but..."
"Hm... Even I'd glare at a guy staring at you with a blush."
"...Right? And get this... I think my 'vibe' might be unreliable."
"Huh? Why suddenly?"
"It hits guys too."
"What?... Me, a guy?"
—Whisper whisper...
"Yeah... Weird, right? I felt it from him too."
As I reeled in shock at Chris's words, she discreetly pointed next to us. My eyes snapped to her finger.
A guy? I'd die first. And... there sat Mel.
She'd stuck with me and Chris in this corner spot, newbie-style.
"..."
"Chanyoung hooking up with a dude? That's the funniest joke ever. My vibe's total trash."
"...Yeah."
I'd noticed at the last welcome party too—Mel wasn't much of a drinker. She stared intently at the liquor in her dual glasses, sniffing it, oblivious to being the topic.
Chris didn't know, but Mel was a girl. And if she got that 'vibe' from Mel...
...Well, I was in the clear. Zero incidents between Mel and me to spark suspicion.
Sure, Mel was cute enough that her crossdressing made sense, but that didn't mean anything shady between us.
...I'll deal with issues if they arise.
No point fretting over hypotheticals. I averted my gaze like fleeing, landing on Janet below the head table.
She alone kept the lord company. Excluding me the 'priest,' she was the only one of noble caliber. As the famous White Whale leader, she could chat solo with nobility.
— ...We took that commission too.
— As expected of the White Whale! Knew you had tales like that!
— You're too kind.
— Hm... It's getting late. I'll head out. Moderating on food and drink.
— Not at all. You're the host, my lord. Have a peaceful night.
— You too.
Their formal exchange ended as the lord led his knights from the hall.
Makes sense. Would a noble in his right mind linger chatting with mercenaries?
Probably satisfied with the attention. Once lord and knights left, the members dove into the party proper.
Maids poured faster; voices rose.
— Rowdy cheers!
The hall filled with clamor. Chris and I relaxed into the food.
Eaten with an open heart, it tasted great. No MSG umami, but the ingredients shone richly. Perfect for my pre-swap low-sodium diet.
—Pour pour...
I quit the booze, but Chris and Mel kept sipping occasionally.
"You really hold your liquor..."
"...D-Does it make me seem old?"
"Nah, not at all. Just pace yourself so you don't overdo it?"
"O-Of course... I know my limits!"
Chris set her glass down. Her face showed no sign of tipsiness—speech clear.
Does her Compassion mental resistance block drunkenness too?
I didn't know the link between booze and willpower. Just a guess. Maybe she was just built tough.
Chris stayed sober. But Mel, matching her pace, didn't.
"Ugh... Dizzy..."
"...Stuffed? Go crash then. Don't screw up from liquor."
"Sh-Should I?... Whoa...! Everything's spinning!"
—Scrape.
Thud!
At my advice, Mel shoved back her chair and stood. Losing balance, she wobbled hard. I grabbed her arm to steady her.
"Thaaanks!"
"Don't trip on the way? Head back safe."
"Yessir!"
—Step step!
Luckily, the vertigo hit only on standing—her steps out weren't too unsteady.
...Still a bit wobbly.
"She'll be fine, right?"
"Who cares? Let her be. She's a guy, yeah? Worst case, a passing maid throws a blanket over her on the floor."
"...Dunno."
Too busy with these perfect foods to worry. Long-lost bland delights—sauces from just fruit and spices, tangy and fresh.
...Hits different after so long.
My diet had turned greasy, salty, spicy lately... thanks to Anzelli and Chris hooked on Earth food.
"This stuff's a bit bland. Mmm... I like yours better, Chanyoung."
"Keep praising, and I'll make even tastier."
"...Beating around the bush for more compliments?"
"Spot on."
"Pfft!"
Chris laughed at my joke. A damn good, tasty, fun night.
*
Chris and I slipped out midway. The mercenaries were set for hours; we weren't heavy drinkers, nor did we have endless chat buddies.
After confirming Chris entered her room, I headed to mine. And froze.
"...Didn't I refuse night service?"
Someone was inside. My enhanced night hearing caught steady breathing.
Double-checked: my room, post-bath.
If word of night service reaches Chris's ears... Ugh. Gotta send whoever's in there packing.
—Creak...
Thud.
Simple fix: Send back the maid who missed my refusal. No hesitation, I opened the door.
"Ah... Damn drunkard..."
And found Mel sprawled across my bed, dead asleep.