* * *
Vacation.
Who wouldn't be mesmerized by that ringing, exhilarating word, which, at least for me at this moment, is a light in the darkness, an oasis in the desert.
Even if it is a mirage that will vanish in half a day.
A permit to go out. That's the name of the holy relic now fluttering in my grasp with its back to me. I wonder if this is how Joan of Arc felt when she held the banner of Jehovah in her hand. A sense of exhilaration unlike anything I've ever experienced surged through me.
I thought the world was coming to an end when my application for discharge was rejected, and the past, which I had buried beneath the wicker of my memory, was unearthed. What is it about a piece of leaden paper, that my heart, which had been as turbulent as a ferry in a storm, is at once calm, and my faith, which I thought had dried up long ago in the evening, is stirred to life.
Perhaps I have had a hard time of it lately.
'You must have been quite worn out of late,' I said, 'and I will grant you, by my own authority, a special outing alone this time. Why don't you go down to the village for a while, and refresh yourself?
The calm voice of my nemesis and benefactor rang in my head.
It was a reluctant suggestion, with all its dubious intentions, but the bait was too tempting, and by the time I realized it, she had already handed me a license to leave.
Free!
I think I let out a little roar of delight, but it was not the best way to behave in front of a nun. A faint regret flashed through my mind.
There was a time when I, too, didn't understand the people who said I didn't feel alive if I didn't leave the house even for a day.
I used to laugh arrogantly at their foolishness, wondering why they couldn't see the joy of wasting time in the warmth and comfort of my room, basking in the phytoncides.
But now, I feel like I can at least partially understand their feelings, and maybe even speak for them.
A residence where you can't eat whatever you want, where there's no entertainment, and where there's no internet to evaporate time is not a home. It's just an enclosed space.
So it's safe to say that it's a primal human instinct to seek escape from the confines of such discomfort.
It was a truth I was forced to realize after being appointed to the Saintess's service, when I found myself semi-imprisoned in the chapel, where I was expected to observe the ascetic code, due to the absurd principle that a full-time guardian priest must not leave a radius of a few dozen meters around the Saintess.
After half a decade of semi-forced adherence to a life of Buddhist rebirth, I've come to the point where I can't even remember what the outside of this chapel looks like.
So I don't need to explain how I feel now that I've earned my wings of freedom by going out alone in a dark labyrinth with no way out.
Even if a complete stranger were to slap me on the back of the head out of nowhere, I have a sneaking suspicion that I'd be able to laugh it off.
Pfft!
The next thing I know, my idle thoughts have given way to anger. I heard a heavy blow to the crown of my head.
Zzzz. Hoohoohooh.
The ominous noise of a solid object splintering, followed by grains of dirt like snow, scattered through my hair and scattered my vision.
''----pot?''
The strange object that had settled on top of my head turned out to be a small potted plant.
Even in my fantasy world, where all sorts of weird things exist, there's no way such a man-made sculpture could have fallen from the sky naturally, and I'm guessing that it was probably decorating the window sill railing and was blown down by the wind.
''Oh my God, I hope you're not hurt, Father Lazis!''
The awkward tone of someone you'd expect to hear at a middle school talent show made it easy to deduce what had happened.
''Father Lovell----.''
Lobelite.
Blessed to be the scion of a prominent nobleman, his appearance is flawless. Talented as a cleric, easily surpassing even the most veteran of priests despite his youth.
A man who is the most compelling evidence for the theory that the gods discriminate against their creatures, and a man who would have been an unlikely candidate for the saintess's service if it weren't for my sudden appearance.
For the record, I secretly call him Priest Ranovel. It's not that there's anything special about him, it just feels right.
''One of my new maids, during her cleaning training, accidentally knocked over a potted plant by the window, and the priest happened to be pacing right underneath it! What a wonderful coincidence!''
I said, barely holding back the laughter that was about to burst out.
My head was already spinning at the thought of the absurd question that was about to be asked of me, but I couldn't let it show, so I forced a modest smile to the corners of my mouth, as I had been doing all along.
''Yes. My, my, what a coincidence.''
I wonder if my formal response was offensive.
Priest Ranovel furrowed his brow slightly, but soon returned to his usual stern expression.
''Oh no, you're not mad, are you?''
I asked.
For a moment, I thought I had heard a vision.
Ever since my appointment to the Saintess' service, facing the envy and jealousy of the other priests who follow the Saintess has long since become a part of my daily routine, but I must say that the grudge that the priest in front of me, Ranovel, bears against me is on a different level than the others.
It's not uncommon for him to criticize my every move, but he is the only one of his kind who has ever been so intent on wreaking havoc on my life as a holy man whose job it is to live a life unashamed of the gods.
Throwing a flower pot at a man's head, I suppose, is the sort of thing that young priests do, out of a sense of inaction and complacency, thinking that if it doesn't kill them, their healing powers will somehow fix it.
''I'm sorry, but this is attempted murder, man.
''I'm sorry, I'm sorry, the noble person who was appointed by the saintess herself would never reprimand someone for something as simple as a potted plant falling on their head! How dare I make such a mistake, even to the saintess's exclusive guardian priest!''
His eyes rolled again. That one.
His bloodshot eyes and exaggerated monologue like a musical actor gave him an unusual eeriness.
While I can understand the devastation of being NTR'd by some baseless civic-minded parachutist for an honorable position he deserved, I wonder if he realizes that even parachutists have their own unavoidable circumstances.
Part of me wanted to hand over the reins to him and enjoy the life of a private citizen, free of the burden of responsibility, but I knew that the principled Holy See would not tolerate such sloppy behavior, so I put aside my optimistic assumptions.
''----I'm fine. Please raise your head. Priest Lovell. Please tell the maid who made the mistake that she doesn't have to put this behind her----.''
I suddenly had a headache.
Not because of the potted plant weighing down on his head, but because of the ridiculousness of his situation, worrying about the well-being of a maid he wasn't sure even existed.
''Alas, mercifully, the title of the saintess's exclusive guardian priest is not an adornment after all, and I am always grateful for your generosity!''
''Haha----.''
I realized that the sarcasm was going to be long, so I decided to let it go in one ear and out the other.
As a rule of thumb, if you leave them alone for about an hour, they'll get tired of it and leave.
''Oh, by the way, I heard you signed up to go out this time!''
''What? Oh, yes, I did, but----. How did the priest manage to----?''
''Because the saintess asked me if I would be willing to act as her escort during her absence, and she asked me personally, not to anyone else, but to me!''
''Alas, yes----.''
''So, that's how it happened.
He may have some flaws in his personality, but his skills as a holy man are undeniable. There are many people who could replace me, but if I had to choose the most suitable one, everyone would call his name. In fact, I'd even say that our current role relationship is suddenly more stable than before.
''Don't worry, I'm sure this Nobelite will do his best to fill your shoes, so please relax and enjoy your outing to your heart's content - as long as possible!''
''Ah----. Yeah----.''
I felt like I was looking into the eyes of a pawnbroker I had seen once. I understood his intentions, but it was not a pleasant sight to see a man who was supposed to be a priest so openly revealing his nefarious intentions.
The nun gave me a half-day's leave of absence, at most. During that brief reprieve, I'm not sure if I'm just happy to be able to bask in the glow of the position of Guardian Priestess, or if she has some trick up her sleeve to steal it from me.
Unless I can use my mind, I have no way of knowing what you're up to, but if it's the latter, I'll support you wholeheartedly, so please fulfill your wishes.
''Thank you. Your words have lightened my heavy heart, and I will leave it in your hands, Nobel Priest.''
''No, on the contrary, it's me who should be thanking you! Priest Rages, hahaha, hahaha!''
Although I was somewhat troubled by Priest Lanovel's behavior as he saw me off with a cheerful expression on his face, as if he had the world at his fingertips, it was certainly nothing compared to the excitement of being allowed to go out for the first time in half a year, so I quickly shook off the dirt in my hair with a heavy heart and left the place.
What could possibly happen?
A non-critical, non-disruptive thought-circuit that lacked a sense of crisis threw me off my back.
It was about five hours later that I heard the news of Father Ranovel's passing.