"This body..." Seon gestured pointing herself with a broken staff. "what's this body's name?"
"S-she's the village chief's first daughter... Wheat Rice..."
"Who the hell names their child Wheat Rice?!"
This body's parent mustn't think that much about naming that child.
"Forget it! I'm stressed just thinking about it!"
"..."
"Seon! That would be my name here as well. Remember that!"
"R-Rice is their surname—"
"No shot Sherlock, I didn't ask."
Yunnie stayed silent, casting a curious glance as she mentioned 'Sherlock,' whoever that was.
But watching Seon snap the broken staff down with a single flick of her wrist made him re-think twice about asking questions.
It wasn't just Yunnie.
The robed figures flinched every time meeting her gaze, each of them instinctively averting their gazes, too terrified to even glance at her.
They looked like rats—trapped and too scared to run.
'Really... why are they overreacting? Haven't they received any beating in their life?' Seon wondered;
(Let's pretend that Seon understands that the way she lives is different from that of others.)
Yunnie, who thought everything was finally done, tried to inch back, hoping to merge into the crowd and escape.
But Seon's eyes were too keen. She caught his movement the instant he took a step backward.
"Ei ei, I'm not done. Get back here!"
"P-pardon?"
"Let's chat more, so come back here"
"N-no I..."
"tsk."
She clicked her tongue in annoyance, and that faint small sound made Yunnie tamed almost instantly.
He scrambled back into place, falling to his knees before her, trembling from head to toe.
"So... what's up with that 'Prophet' thing you people keep yammering about?"
Yunnie's mouth opened and closed wordlessly as if the explanation had just fallen out of his head.
"W-well, it's… um…"
"Madam Prophet..."
Before Yunnie could embarrass himself further, an older man, standing at the front of the group, managed to muster the strength to step forward.
Despite his age where he could barely walk properly, this old man still bowed his head respectfully before addressing her.
"Prophet, if I may..."
"You are?"
"I am Ortos, Miss Prophet; the leading bishop of the Church of Fertility."
"I see, go on"
With a nod of acknowledgment, Ortos stepped forward, briefly placing a hand on Yunnie's shoulder as if to reassure him.
He then continued explaining...
"In the Kingdom of Loerei, we've been engulfed in war. Recently, we received an oracle from the God of the Sea, declaring that a prophet would descend to guide us in the fifth full moon."
Seon listened, though her expression remained unchanged.
She had heard similar stories countless times.
Divine prophecies, oracles, gods needing her to save or guide some pathetic mortal realm. It all blurred together after so many reincarnations.
Theories had crossed her mind in the past—perhaps there were many gods, each playing their own games with the mortals, each using herself as their tool.
As God's Left Eye, she might very well have served every god in existence by now.
But none of it mattered. She didn't care who or what reincarnated her anymore.
She had once sought answers about her endless cycle of reincarnation, even dedicating lifetimes to research, but it always led to nowhere.
Eventually, she had given up. Back then, she accepted it all as a given—annoying, but inevitable.
She then realized that all this time, she had been a puppet solely to tell her future visions to those worthless and ungrateful humans. And perhaps a toy to the Gods.
Just by thinking about it, she's getting annoyed.
"Why should I help?"
Ortos blinked confused. "Pardon?"
"I said, why should I help?"
"Because you are… the prophet?"
"Dogshit!"
Seon's voice echoed through the chapel as she raised the broken staff.
Just as she took a step forward, Yunnie seized her arm, and the other priests rushed forward, forming a trembling barrier between her and the old man.
"M-madam Prophet please have mercy!"
"Mercy my ass! Do you think I do charity!"
"You can't hit old people!!"
"Old people, babies, dogs, cats, goats- I will beat them up if they make me mad!!!"
The priests, shakes glanced nervously at each other. Until one of them spoke up, stammering, "W-what… what does Miss Prophet want? Just tell us, and we'll provide it! But please, let's not resort to violence…"
"..."
Seon's lips twisted, and she lowered the staff as silence settled in the room.
'What do I want?' she wondered. 'Money? Fame? err?' The usual motivators for humans sounded unappealing to her.
"Ugh, we'll talk about that later."
Sensing such emotions only clouded her judgment. Seon took a slow, steady breath to calm herself before asking the second question.
"Then tell me—how did you know I'd be in this body?"
Ortos hesitated a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.
His eyes shifted toward the other robed figures as if seeking silent approval. When none came to answer his gaze, he swallowed and confessed.
"W-waiting for the fifth full moon was too long... So we... offered a dead woman to be your vessel."
The words remained in the air like a death sentence.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence; a thick, suffocating kind of silence.
Then, like a wave crashing against a cliff, Seon's calm façade shattered.
"What did you say?"