* * *
I have one word to describe the quality of the audio-visual material I saw for the first time in my life.
It was terrible.
The unfiltered, unskipped, unadulterated presentation of the story of a man named Lovell Wright, even the scenes that I didn't particularly care to see, was uncomfortable and even offensive, as I felt like I was poking around in someone else's diary.
If it weren't for the fact that this shoddy film was written and directed by a dubious individual who refers to himself as "God," I might have fumbled for the remote to change the channel to an informative animal documentary about lions slaughtering zebras.
Immediately after the film ended, the rolling end credits were plastered with the uncomfortable word "God" in nearly every category, from directing, planning, shooting, and editing.
The cheers and applause of the hastily recorded audience from beyond the blacked-out screen were deafening.
[How's it going?]
What the hell.
I've been doing it to death in my previous life and in this one, and I can even boast that it's one of my specialties, but since the other person was about the size of a brand-new brown tube television, I struggled to come up with a suitable retort.
''Well, you've made a good one----.''
With an awkward smile on my face, I threw out an offhand compliment.
Smiles and compliments are universal. No matter when, where, or who you use them on, they're a great way to communicate, and more than half of them are eaten.
[Right?]
It seems that the words I threw out in a desperate attempt to make a point worked better than I thought.
When I'm talking to someone, if they're willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, it means they're at least willing to continue the conversation with me, and it's a sign that I'm at least somewhat likable to them.
But.
His cordiality, even for a first encounter, caught me off guard.
There is no such thing as pure favor without expecting something in return.
Understanding, or self-gratification.
There's always a reason why a person helps someone or does a favor, and if that person is a mysterious entity whose identity and purpose are unclear, I shouldn't let go of my stubborn suspicions.
''If you don't mind my asking, what the hell are you----?''
[I told you, a god.]
''That----. Speaking of gods----. It's a word that symbolizes something----. Or does it mean the name of some organization or something like that----?''
[No. God. Just God.]
''Well, then, I was hoping you could at least tell me what the god presides over----.''
[Presides over this and that. This and that.]''
''Ah----. Yes----.''
Like that.
They exchanged unanswered questions for so long that I felt like I'd rather be talking to a wall.
[Did you get your question answered?]
Tibi, the self-proclaimed ''god,'' said. Your question is answered.
As it turns out, it was just after I'd asked about the back-and-forth between the priest and the saintesses that the TV turned on an observational show about a lanobel priest.
It cleared up a series of mysteries, but it also spawned a whole bunch of bigger questions, and instead of clearing my mind, it left me with a foggy feeling.
''Yes----. Thanks----.''
I couldn't finish the words.
In a split second that didn't allow for even a single blink of an eye, the TV disappeared without leaving even the slightest residue, more silent than the moment it appeared. It was because his perception had been tricked by the mysterious vaporization.
''What the hell was that----.''
I thought about pinching my cheeks, just once, to rekindle my foggy consciousness, but I stopped myself.
''Mmmmm----.''
Saintess grumbles as she begins to toss and turn in my arms, apparently just waking up. The warmth of her body confirmed the fact that I hadn't been dreaming all this time.
◈◈◈◈
After waking up, Saintess didn't speak for a while.
She looked no different from her usual self, except that she was hugging my upper half with her entire body, her eyes fluttering shut and open only occasionally, like a baby koala in its mother's cage, unwilling to let go of me.
However, the part where I can't even squirm because I can't even move my body because if I make the slightest attempt to remove her from my body, or get up from my seat and move to another location, she'll start huffing, puffing, and threatening me to stay still.
''saintess----. I'm just saying that I don't seem to have any blood flowing through my body right now----. Can you really let go for just one moment? I just need to do some real gymnastics and then I'll hug you again----.''
''Uhhh----.''
No, no, no.
All I got in return was a sullen whine as he buried his face in my shirt. But this was enough to make me realize that the intention behind the sequence of actions was desperate and clear.
A child's way of expressing emotion is always wild and primitive.
Saintess's behavior up until now has been the epitome of a child's behavior.
She throws tantrums when she doesn't get what she wants, bosses people around until they give her what she wants, and doesn't hesitate to harm anyone who gets in her way.
But what about the saintess in this moment?
It was strange.
Normally, it wouldn't have been strange for the saintess to lunge at me, throwing her upper body at me, and kiss me on the lips as soon as she opened her eyes.
But this was the saintess I'd seen, heard, and experienced all my life, charging toward me with a stage cannon, like an NPC in an open-world game whose advance is blocked by something, without changing color.
To me, who was accustomed to her behavior that seemed to scatter madness in every single action, the retiring saintess's current appearance was somewhat strange and unfamiliar.
''I'm not coming---- do---- write----. Da, never---- again---- ah, don't---- come---- do----.''
A plaintive voice that sounded as if it hadn't been able to wipe away the tears from its lips.
It was a pitiful sound that made me think that it would be more accurate to say that the words came out as sobs rather than words.
Judging by the sparse words that came out.
The saintess seemed to have taken Priest Ranovel's ramblings about how she would be his new charge to mean that I would never come to see the saintess again.
It was a bit of a leap of reasoning, but the conclusion he reached was surprisingly close to the answer to the story.
I want to retire.
It was something I'd been saying ever since I became Saintess's agent, and it was also a wish I'd vowed to fulfill one day.
''Well, where would I go without you? Look, you've come here to see me like this again today, and that priest is very fond of playing pranks, and I guess he played a little too much because he wanted to be close to you, and I'm very close to him too, and he usually plays so many pranks on me that he and I always quarrel.''
With the slightest hint of remorse, he rattled off as many things as he thought the saintess would want to hear.
Of course, I didn't forget to throw in a defense of Priest Ranovel in between.
It was something I didn't want to do, but I had come here to save him, so I had to take every opportunity I could to relieve the saintess of any bad impressions she might have of him.
''Ji, are you really----?''
''Yep. Of course.''
''Uh, where---- not going----?''
''I promise you, I'll never leave your side without your permission, I'm your exclusive guardian priest.''
''----''
I smiled and stroked her head affectionately, and it seemed that Saintess's turbulent heart was somewhat relieved.
The strength of her arms around my body remained the same, but her red eyes, which looked up at me shyly, had a different, cooler color than before.
And it wasn't me who would miss such a golden opportunity.
''By the way, that's the thing, saintess. I actually have an urgent matter to attend to with him, but if you don't mind, could you please put him back in his frozen state?''
And right now.
''Huh? I'll ask my brother. Welp.''
Perfect timing, if you ask me. A godsend that entered at the perfect angle.
Immediately afterward, I heard saintess' reply.
''----Lie.''
* * *