* * *
Someone once said.
Crying in times of trouble is third-class, enduring in times of trouble is second-class, and eating in times of trouble is meat.
I can't think of a better way to describe humanity's craving for animal protein.
This overwhelming feeling of satiety, which can never be replaced by vegetables or fruits, has sustained us throughout our lives and even provided us with a natural blueprint for a more fulfilling life.
To slice and dice meat, humans developed knives; to roast meat, humans invented fire; and to ensure a regular supply of tasty meat, humans began to graze livestock.
That's right. It's no exaggeration to say that human evolution began in front of a meat grill.
''You've been waiting a long time. Customer. Here is your order of Minos tenderloin steak and red wine from Baltin. Please enjoy your meal.''
I thanked the waiter with a lazy eye greeting and a small tip.
Since it was the first time the members had seen each other in half a year, it was only right that the recipient of the meal should also show some formality.
Sizzle. Sizzling.
The oil splattering on the meat was like a colorful fireworks display, and the occasional sound of the meat cooking sounded like a symphony orchestra, and the excitement became a drop of transparent dew that moistened the corners of my eyes.
Perhaps all the days of mushy potatoes, stale bacon, and stale stews with nothing but grass clippings had been seasoning for this moment.
The primal demonic power of the thick meat was so overwhelming that, in retrospect, the logic of bullshit, no more, no less, dominated my thinking.
His nose was naturally twitching, and his hands holding the utensils trembled as if they were holding heavy dumbbells. I don't think I've ever been this agitated before, even when I faced a dragon the size of a mountain in the Secret Lands of the Templar Sea. Oh, right, I fainted then.
I exhaled, releasing the nameless thoughts from my chest, and carefully slid a rather large piece of meat into my mouth.
The harmony between the mesmerizing aroma of fire from the crispy exterior and the moist, chewy flesh was an act of flavor violence.
The heavy gravy that flooded my mouth with each chew imprinted a mesmerizing stimulus that even a strong red wine couldn't wash away, and as it traveled down my throat and into my esophagus, I had to suppress a frivolous exclamation that threatened to burst out at the presence of meat that still retained its original wildness.
''You're lucky to be alive----.''
The words came not from my mouth, but from my soul.
In my previous life, I had often wondered why extreme vegetarians were always angry to the point of madness, but of course they were, because they couldn't eat this delicious thing.
So, with this newfound slice of worldly truth as a side dish, I cut another slice, a piece of meat, and popped it into my mouth.
Boom!
A murderous blast of lightning struck the tranquil restaurant without warning, instantly paralyzing my peaceful consciousness.
''I sent out dozens of hummingbirds to call in an emergency and still no response, so I wondered where the hell you were and what you were doing----.''
Gulp.
The greenish tinge of irritation in the familiar voice that immediately followed tugged at the strings of tension even more harshly.
''So how was your little vacation, did you enjoy it, of course you did, I'm sure you were too busy having fun and enjoying yourself to let something like my urgent call fall on deaf ears.''
Ding, ding, ding.
Those mechanical footsteps, slowly building in volume, had reached my back by the time he patted me on the back.
Kwajik!
Slamming her fork down on the meat on my table, she spoke in the most uniquely murderous tone I've ever heard.
''Answer.''
''Look----, first of all, why don't you put down that fork and talk to me, Sister----?''
◈◈◈
I was feeling a little bit of anxiety, a so-called guilty conscience, that I shouldn't be doing this.
I knew that I was guilty of enjoying the food and drink I had been indulging in when I read Sister's urgent call to stop what I was doing and hurry back.
But how many great minds could scold me for not turning my back on my first vacation in half a year, a freedom I didn't know when I'd taste again?
Just as it is self-evident that any saintly soldier, as long as he is wearing the mask of a worker, will be lionized if he takes away the vacation he once gave, so I believe that my judgment in taking the great escape of tears to preserve the golden vacation I have earned is somewhat justified.
''If I can't say it, I'll just say----.''
Sister's cold, sharp words, reminiscent of icicles under the eaves, pierced my conscience.
I had assumed that there was no more trust to be lost between us, but judging by her noticeably colder demeanor than before, the friendship between me and Sister had taken a much smoother curve than I had realized.
Well, that's old news.
''I was wrong. Please forgive me. I'm fully remorseful. Please look at me once.''
''----''
Look. It doesn't even respond to my sincere apology.
As if to mock my miserable mawkishness, the metal sculpture dangling from the nape of my neck jerked back.
Too bulky to be a necklace, it was a hideous thing that the common folk called a collar.
It was a rather unpleasant sensation, being forcibly fitted with a metal thing that, except for some races with special tastes, no one would want to wear around their neck for a billion dollars, and being forced to follow it to its destination, but so be it.
All of this is a disaster brought on by my own actions.
''I swear to God that I will never run away, so can you at least loosen this leash?''
''No, sir.''
In a stern tone, as if she was disciplining a misbehaving puppy, the nun fixed the handle of the end of the leash around my neck.
There was a murmur.
All around us, the noise grew louder.
The sight of a nun walking a leashed priest down the town's main street would be quite a sight to behold. If it were anyone else's business, I would have laughed at the tragedy from a distance and used it as an excuse to liven up my carefree life.
''No, but what the hell happened that you had to call me, an off-duty officer, out here, when you've got a more than competent substitute in place just in case----. Honestly, if it's something he can't handle, I don't see the point in me stepping in----.''
''That 'more than capable substitute' is the reason we're down. If you've got a few minutes to spare, you might want to pick up your pace, High Priestess Rages.''
''----?''
◈◈◈◈
He's frozen. He's mesmerized.
These are expressions I've often seen and heard from various creations, but this is probably the first time I've seen the epitome of it with my own eyes.
''Is this thing alive?''
Pointing to the familiar man standing on the white stone floor, staring blankly into space, the nun demanded to know more.
It was like looking at a wax figure made by a master craftsman, or, if that's a harsh way of putting it, one could almost be forgiven for thinking it was a living human being, but the man before her was so unnaturally lacking in the gestures that a living person would have made.
Lobelite. Priest of Ranovel.
His transformation into such a reclusive figure in the space of a few moments, from a man who, until just this morning, had been constantly chattering away, might be a good thing for me, but depending on how he came to this state, I might be the one to clean up the mess.
''The doctor's diagnosis is that he has a malformed condition in which his breathing and heartbeat have both stopped, but some of his metabolism and pupillary reflexes are functioning properly; in fact, the first maid who found him thought he had died of a heart attack.''
''Indeed, that explains why some of the maids were wailing so loudly outside the chapel. If nothing else, the man was generous to his people, and I'm sure there's no shortage of teary-eyed guests at his death.
''Why didn't holy water or prayer work?''
''We've tried the finest holy water, as well as summoning the highest ranking priests currently in the chapel to heal him, but neither has had much effect. We don't even know what to call the abnormalities in his body to begin with.''
''I see, I guess I've done enough then, so I guess I'll just throw in the towel and consider it a free mannequin.
'' I was about to say, but when I saw Sister's furrowed brow and her obviously uncomfortable expression, I decided to keep my mouth shut.
For the record, neither Sister nor I were particularly concerned about the future well-being of this particular shipment. The point of our concern was the aftermath of what would happen if he became a dead man walking.
The scion of a prestigious noble family that donates a billion dollars a year to the Holy See, a young promising man whose good looks and exceptional talent are bound to attract attention, and whose reputation in the outside world is based on the fact that he met with a mysterious death in the middle of the capital, not even in a dungeon, would surely have the money- and honor-crazed hierarchy of the Holy See up in arms.
While Sister and I are still high enough up in the hierarchy that we can keep ourselves safe from the vicious beast, it's clear as day that unjust and unreasonable punishment will be meted out to those of us who perform lesser duties directly or indirectly involved in Father Ranovel's death.
At the most, they would be excommunicated, and if the matter escalated to the Inquisition, it was entirely possible that the whole family would be dragged to prison for sedition.
''Hah----.''
Apparently unable to utter harsh words while wearing a holy nun's habit, the nun, whose mouth was shaped like a slur, let out a deep sigh.
"I shouldn't have put that idiot in charge.
I wasn't particularly good at reading, but it wasn't hard to figure out what she was saying.
''I want ----.''
My parched lips let out a ragged breath.
Now that things had gotten this far, there was only one way out of this mess: my diary.
It was safe to say that there was nothing I could do to ameliorate this entire mess, short of speaking directly to her and cajoling her into restoring Priest Ranovel to his rightful place.
And, alas, regrettably, deplorably, there was no one in the room most likely to be able to pull off such a maneuver, other than me, her personal guardian priest and, for some inexplicable reason, a man she has a great deal of affection for.
''---- Priest.''
''It's okay----. I'm not running away----.''
I was drying my face and groaning with a headache, and the nun called out to me in a worried tone, thinking that I might run away.
However, contrary to her fears, I didn't even feel like running away this time.
It wasn't a sense of duty. It's more like guilt.
I wasn't strong enough to run away from a bomb that I didn't know was going to destroy many lives, just to save my own.
I wonder if the fact that there are separate people who cause accidents and separate people who clean up after them is a disaster that can never be eradicated unless the human species gives up living in groups.
''No, but what did he do to make that blunt and indifferent saintess so upset? Did he stick a bell pepper in her mouth?''
''I don't know, but from what I've heard, he's been proclaiming to some of his close classmates that he's going to be Saintess's exclusive servant from today onwards, so maybe he's been saying something similar to that in front of Saintess----.''
''What----.''
It's not like they're electing a class president.
How long has it been like that.
Having come to the self-evident conclusion that I can't just sit around and talk forever, my heavy body defied gravity and stomped on the spot.
Thud, thud, thud.
The place where my weary steps, reminiscent of a Monday morning office worker, stopped was the holy sanctuary where the figure of the week was hidden.
It was the realization of the saintess.
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