A saint's chapel.
A sanctuary among sanctuaries, where only those worthy to fill her shoes are said to be allowed to enter, a sanctuary that those who live under her shadow cannot help but admire and envy.
Even now, all those who are enchanted by her radiance are constantly honing their faith in order to achieve the highest honor of worshipping such a precious being from the closest seats.
All this in honor of the compassionate saint who gave her life without price to accomplish the cause of overthrowing the devil.
The love of the faithful for her is undying, unquenchable, unrelenting, and unstoppable.
But.
At this time, my steps toward that glorious sanctuary were never light.
No, rather, it was heavy. Reluctant. I wanted to get out of here as soon as I could, to wipe my feet and sleep in my cozy room.
If only someone would show up to take my place, I would gladly relinquish this position with a big smile on my face.
Turbuck. Turbuck.
The dreary, deserted hallways emphasized the sound of my own footsteps, casting a sense of unidentifiable foreboding everywhere, and the symbolic rows of glass panes had an eerie, even unpleasant, sense of otherness.
The source of these thoughts were the familiar spirits that could be clearly seen beyond the dim corridors.
With a sigh, he dismissed his thoughts and quickly changed his sluggish gait to a brisk walk.
''It's almost time for the saint's breakfast, Lazis, where is this bastard running around!
''He's lazy by nature, so he's probably trying to catch up on sleep somewhere-----.''
''Why on earth did the saint keep such a lowly man as her guardian priest-----. I want one-----.''
A sound more unpleasant to hear than an alarm clock in the early hours of the morning. It was a voice calling to me that I wanted to turn away from as much as possible.
''good morning, seniors~!''
I greeted them with the brightest smile I could muster to lighten the dreary mood, but they didn't seem to care.
The expressions of the men wearing white priests' robes, which differed only in color from the black ones I was wearing, were tinged with hostility and disgust that didn't match their reverent attire.
''I told you to hurry up, you idiot!''
''Haah-----. That asshole-----.''
''Chit!''
''Ha---. Hahaha---. I'm sorry---.''
I'd like to see the expressions on these humans' faces right now for the guy who said that bullshit about not being able to spit on a smiling face.
''In the first place, you lack the self-awareness to even be in the position of assisting a saint, do you have any idea how much of an honor that is for our guardian priests! If you've been entrusted with a task that's not up to par, at least show some responsibility and sincerity, do you understand?''
''Haha---.''
At a time like this, no matter what I say, I'm sure I'm going to be criticized, so it's best to just laugh it off.
So, let's have a couple of cheerful juniors to receive the heartwarming downpour from the heavenly seniors who are upset about the world.
''Nice to meet you. Father Reyes. The saint is waiting for you. Please come in.''
''Ah, yes! Yes, sir!''
''Kwah---.''
The nun's timely entrance saved the day.
This is why I stamped in at the right time every time.
They are a diligent bunch, willing to wake up an hour or two earlier than scheduled and wait day and night for me to pass by, just to get rid of an unwelcome newcomer.
Well, it's not like I didn't understand the sentiment.
To those who serve the Saint, the position of her personal guardian is the highest honor.
For reasons unknown to those who hold such a position, it's not surprising that a half-assed priest like me, a so-called parachutist, would feel sick to his stomach sucking the honey out of a honey pot.
I have a history of unreasonable envy and jealousy toward the less fortunate, having been forced into active duty for the crime of being born healthy, so I can sympathize with your feelings.
But, Zagoro, there are some things in this world that can only be understood by lifting the lid.
Even a Yu-Gi-Oh card lying face-down on the street can only be identified as a rare card if you pick it up.
If you're a smart kid who realizes the world a little faster, you'll realize that there's no way a valuable item like a rare card would be lying on the ground in the first place.
I digress, but that's the point I'm trying to make.
Don't make assumptions about other people's lives based on your own narrow perspective. It's a bit of a rant.
''Priest. Please hurry up.''
''Uh-oh. Yes.''
The calm voice of the nun calling for me snapped me out of my thoughts.
My eyes flicked to the front, where a gaudy door filled my vision, with large, ornate ornaments clinging to it.
"This is all solid gold-----.
Every time I look at it, I see money bullshit, but not this money bullshit. Do old men in the Vatican have a fetish for throwing money down the drain?
The look on their faces when they realize that their donations are being used for this must be something to behold.
''Here, take this, then.''
''Yes.''
She handed me a small plate, and on it was Sister's breakfast for the day.
Freshly baked, steaming, delicious bread. A crisp salad with only the freshest vegetables. A stew that balances the sweetness of milk with the subtle flavor of herbs. Judging by the smell, there's meat in this one.
Churrup.
''You shouldn't eat it.''
The stern face of the nun reprimanded me as I drooled like a child.
I'm sorry. Even if I hadn't seen meat in months, it's still not fair for me to touch a saint's meal as a guardian priest. You're right.
You're so perceptive.
''For someone like me who hasn't even seen a proper meal lately, this seems like too harsh an assignment----. Couldn't Sister bring it for me for today only?''
''No, I can't. You know very well that she won't even open her mouth unless the priest hands it to her.''
''Ah----. Yes----. Write----. Well, yes, but----.''
You don't realize what a tribulation it is for someone who's been eating potatoes for three meals a day for the past month to be asked to put this real sacrament into someone else's mouth.
I'm sure it's the same thing that caused Adam to bite into the apple in the Garden of Eden, after hundreds of years of biting into the same food.
''Then you must go. Priest Lazis. For the umpteenth time, do not eat it.''
''----.''
With that, I pushed the heavy door open, feeling the nun's worried gaze on my back as if I were sending a child away on his first errand.
◈◈◈◈
It's white.
I still can't think of a good adjective to describe it.
Westerners who enjoy entertainment movies will say it's like the pure white room in the Batman movie, and those who watched a lot of manga as children will say it's like the time and spirit chamber in Dragon Ball, a vast, alien space that is eerily white and vast.
A saint's egg reality.
I've heard that some aristocrats pay astronomical donations every year to enter the odorless, tasteless space where this guy lives, but I don't know. If I saw this guy in person, I'd probably roll on the floor asking for a refund.
Chizik. Chizik.
The creepy mechanical sound filled the otherwise eerie white space with an ominous aura of foreboding.
Tracey slowly walked toward the epicenter of the sound, and soon found herself face-to-face with a figure that everyone loved, but that I shunned more than anyone else.
''Holy Lady. I have your breakfast delivery~!''
I greeted her with a crystal-clear, confident voice, tapping her on the back of the head, lest my impiety be revealed.
As usual, no answer came back. To be honest, I didn't expect much. It's safe to say that she barely remembered responding to my greeting.
In fact, I barely remember seeing her speak in the first place.
She looked like a doll, to put it nicely, and to be honest, I felt like I was looking at a corpse.
She was so serene that you could hardly call her a living being, and yet she was so silent that you could listen to her breathing and heartbeat.
''Hmph, Saint, it's time for breakfast~.''
''----''
''Morning Saint----''
''----''
''Hah----.''
Silence. Silence again.
I've been doing this for so long that I should be used to it by now, but every time it happens, I absentmindedly glance at her grave expression.
Her mysterious graying hair, as if she were looking at a snowfield without footprints, and her rubellite-colored eyes, which shine with honor without a ripple of emotion.
Skin so pure white that it far surpassed the white jade's light source that I wondered at every turn if what I had opened was not a door, but rather a jewelry box, embracing the height of otherworldly beauty.
The Saint. Welna Angelas Ashes.
That's what the world calls the petite woman who now stares at the crackling television screen in front of me.
And.
''Haah----. Welna. I'm home----.''
''─!!!''
Wudangtang!
Hearing my voice calling out my name, this girl, who rushed at me in a flurry of excitement and grabbed my pants sleeve, I only call her 'Welna' in this space.
''Okay---- would it be nice if you answered like that already? I'll read the storybook to you slowly later. Let's eat first, okay?''
''Aaah!!!''
Honestly, I can't understand a word you're saying.
Assuming that she understood, I stroked her unruly hair affectionately.
◈◈◈◈
''Come on, ahhhh!''
''Yup!''
''Here, one last bite, ahhhhhhhh!
''Hap!''
After dozens of minutes of experiencing the feeling of a mother bird feeding her baby bird, I finally accomplished my task.
I wish I could have left some for her, but watching her gobble up every morsel I gave her made me a little suspicious of Sister's claim that she wouldn't take a bite without me.
''Aaah!''
''Huh? Oh, you want me to read you a story?''
When she finished eating, she demanded a reward from me, as if she had accomplished something great.
What an unfair world we live in where some people have to eat dozens of bowls of curses to get a delicious meal, while others are rewarded for chewing every bite.
''Okay----. Can you wait a minute----? Kghhhhh!''
''Uh huh!''
Even though I know all too well that there can't possibly be anyone else in this room besides me and her, I can't help but look around.
It's bad enough that I'm talking back to a saint that everyone reveres and envies, but if any of the other members of the congregation were to see me in my current state, treating her like a preschooler, I'd be immediately sentenced to death for blasphemy.
No, perhaps I should consider it a blessing in disguise, for I might be forced to live a life of endless torture and healing in a netherworld where I would have to beg for death, and that's bad enough for the Vatican bastards I know.
''Aah----! Aah----!''
''Ah, okay----. I'll read it to you right now----.''
She curled up on my lap, pounding her fists on my thighs as I read her a story.
The sound of her heartbeat echoed faintly from the small of her back against my chest. My consciousness stirred at the faint but unmistakable flutter of life.
The warmth of her flesh against mine was a constant reminder that she was not a doll, but a living thing, and her snow-white hair tickled the bridge of my nose, and the sweet scent of curdled milk wafted from it.
Tick, tick, tick.
I listened intently to the occasional ticking of the clock on my wrist and focused all my attention on the lovely words in front of me, as if I would never escape this enchanted space if I didn't. It was more of a reflex, born of an instinctive sense of danger.
''And so the princess, who awoke to the prince's kiss, lived a long and happy life...''
''----''
How long has it been.
Finally, the storybook recital called Breakfast Time has come to an end.
This time, the story must have been quite impressive, because even after the recitation was over, her face showed a rare color of emotion as she stared at the book.
Her lips pouted out in a pout, and a flush of red colored her flawless cheeks.
It was a cute sight, enough to make him smile, but he couldn't afford to dwell on it if he didn't hurry or he'd be late for the priests' meal.
The restaurant is run by a group of strict, tight-knit men, and if you don't arrive on time, the guardian priests, nabal, will not serve you.
If you miss this chance, you'll have to eat potatoes for breakfast again.
I'm willing to die for that.
''Well, then, I'll see you again at lunchtime-''
At that moment, I gently set the saint on my lap down, and was about to scurry away with a breakfast wish that lightly surpassed my piety.
''Huh?''
From the beautiful being of power that gripped my crotch firmly, a disturbing gust of wind whipped up in the back of my mind.
----No way.
''This----.''
A clear, jade-like ringing. A holy voice that sounded like the will of the gods swept through his consciousness without echo.
''This---- do-------- r----.''
My gaze slowly traveled in the direction her slender fingers pointed, and caught sight of the storybook I'd been reading to her earlier.
On the open page was a picture of a prince kissing a princess, the beautiful end of the story.
----So it is.
And---- here we go again----.
He barely swallowed the sigh that threatened to escape his lips, and stretched his nervous brow into a smile.
Then, as if soothing a petulant child, I slowly made eye contact with her and conveyed my firm intentions to her.
''Oh---- no----.''
But.
''I'm going to--------.''
''I'm saying no----''
''I will----.''
''Holy Mother. I can't----.''
"Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do. Will do."
Every time I said no, the fading light in her rubellite-colored eyes and the creepy tone that repeated like a broken radio solemnly pronounced my life's doom.
I want to retire.