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It's been said that the greatest wrong a person can do is not even know they've done a wrong.
We don't know who originated the phrase, but someone said it, and it's on everyone's lips.
It's up to us to somehow find the evil mastermind behind the phrase and bring him to justice so that humanity can live a better life. At least that's what I think.
You. You don't know what you did wrong?
I'm sorry. I'm not good at essays.
''Saintess. What did I do wrong?''
I had no one else to confide in, so I turned to Saintess, my only remaining confidant, and asked her to confess.
I've been imprisoned in the real world for hours by the saintess for reasons I can't even fathom.
Had I been caught sneaking in a suggestion to the cook to add some dessert to the meal?
Or maybe you're still reeling from the unintentional spoiler of the novel you've been reading.
They say there's nothing more counterproductive than thinking about why women are angry at men.
I didn't want to let my brain sit idle with nothing to do, so I decided to give it a try.
After a long, long time, I came to this conclusion.
I don't know.
Maybe I should sit down with the saintess and ask her for advice.
As a mere man, my only recourse against this despicable trick of removing the cause of one's anger from the world's logic, leaving only the effect of being angry, was to ask someone for advice.
''Hmm?''
The saintess, perched on my leg, looked up at me curiously.
She didn't even seem to know what I was talking about.
"Yeah. Of course she doesn't.
Honestly, I didn't think she would know.
I guess this is what I mean by no expectations, no betrayal.
I feel like I've taken another step closer to the truth today.
''Eat this.''
The saintess brings an empty bowl with nothing on it to my lips, and urges me to eat the void.
I won't bore you with the number of trials and errors I went through before I realized that this questionable behavior was a form of 'child's play'.
I just want you to know that in the last few days, I've become more aware of what I taste on my plate and what my mouth looks like when I eat.
''Mmmm! Wow! It's so delicious! Our Welna's cooking is the best!''
Apparently quite satisfied with my soulful performance, the saintess straddled my legs, her body twitching as she did so.
It was still hard to see any emotion in her expression, but I could vaguely tell that she was quite excited, as the corners of her mouth lifted up about 5 millimeters.
This is a risky behavior at this age that takes a fair amount of self-respect, but I decided to give in to the maniacal look on her face as she shoved her empty plate into her mouth until I did.
Luckily, the saintess-led playdate didn't require a complicated setup, and there weren't many characters.
A brother. A little brother. And a sister.
I am the older brother, saintess is the younger sister, and the role of the older sister is delegated to the appropriate object that saintess can grab at any given time.
I'm not sure if she's very good at playing with children, but usually it's mom. Dad. Child. and a puppy is the usual configuration.
A faint doubt flashed through my mind, but at this point, I just went with it.
Honestly, I wasn't married yet, and I didn't want to have a child under my roof, even virtually.
I decided to respect the diversity of the family, as there's nothing more ridiculous than someone who grew up in an orphanage rambling on about the typical family structure.
Still, I did ask a question out of the blue once.
"Ms. Saintess. Did you have a sister?
I never got anything back that I could call an answer.
When she hears my question, she just rolls her eyes and shakes her head, the same way she always has.
Sadly, the identity of her sister, who appears in all of Saintess's playdates, seems to be a mystery even to Saintess herself.
''Just when I was reminiscing for a long time.
'' ''Chu.''
''Uh-huh.''
It was a close call.
Just as she was about to throw her upper body at me again, to pounce on me and lock lips with me, I stopped her attack with an Iron Claw just in time to save her.
It wasn't a conscious act.
It was a human reflex, the kind of thing you do when you see a ball flying in front of you and you catch it.
I am aware that I have committed an act of blasphemy that, even when I think about it, is quite grave and would cause fainting spells in the eyes of other worshippers.
If I didn't do this, the uncomfortable rendezvous between my lips and the saintess's lips would have been repeated, so I had no other choice.
''Saintess. Didn't I tell you last time that you shouldn't do that to my lips?''
''----''
This is why I'm caught off guard. Caught off guard.
Even the demons in the dungeon gave me more time to think than this.
''I'll do it.''
''You can't.''
''I will.''
''No.''
Here we go again.
After stopping Saintess several times as she flailed her arms and tried to somehow close the distance between us, I stuck my hands under both her armpits and scooped her up like I was lifting a cat.
Swinging.
The saintess's appearance, swinging like a playground swing, was quite funny, but it would be a mistake to laugh at it here.
She swallowed back the fake laughter that threatened to leak out, then gathered the strength of her brow and spoke solemnly.
''Welna. I promised my brother. How many times a day does Chu do it?''
''----''
''How many times a day?''
''----Three times.''
How many times have I been fooled by that croaky voice, that primal human sympathy.
But I'm not fooled anymore.
''Welna, look at this.''
After carefully placing the saintess on the ground, I hooked my index finger around the neck of her robe and let it hang down.
''What's all this?''
I said, using a slight, very slight pressure on the collar to show that I was somewhat annoyed, but not to frighten her.
Then, the saintess's red eyes darted toward my collarbone, like a midnight headlight.
She had reason to be.
My neck was currently covered in a series of sinister marks optimized to draw attention to myself.
This was the reason why I was never able to take off my neck-length robe, even indoors.
''I don't know.''
I don't know what I don't know.
The identity of these countless marks that Saintess had so kindly buried around my neck is Hickey. It was a manly object commonly referred to as a kiss mark.
I had attempted to cure Saintess of her nasty habit by limiting the number of kisses she gave me and then slowly reducing the number of kisses she gave me, but Saintess made up for it by making each kiss last as long as possible.
This was the tragedy that such a tragic narrative caused.
''She said earlier that this was really the last time, so I let her off the hook. How many times has Welna broken her promise to her brother today?''
''----''
A myriad of rare question marks appeared on the face of the saintess who was famous for neglecting her duties.
A curved brow. A faraway gaze. A slightly open mouth.
Even at a glance, it was easy to tell that she was pondering something that eluded her.
Of course he is. He doesn't know. No way to know.
Even I stopped counting after thirty.
And that's just after she told me that I was sleeping in the real world.
The saintess has pecked me on the lips at least ten times, if not more.
''Look at this.''
This time, she held up her arm.
From palm to wrist.
The mysterious tattoos, densely packed like the stamps elementary school students get when they finish a marathon, were the same symbols the saintess had given me when I asked her to tell me how to save Priest Ranovel one day.
No, not on a human body.
The saintess herself may have done it in a lighthearted way, similar to the way children scribble on their fathers' faces, but I had neither the pulpit nor the stature to make light of it all.
At least kiss marks can be left alone, or at least fade away with a cold compress, but these mysterious marks refused to go away, even when scrubbed vigorously with soap.
It was only when I realized that these marks were made every time Saintess kissed me that I was relieved.
The fact remained that unless I could stop her from kissing me, my body would soon turn into a refrigerator with coupons stuck all over it.
I didn't feel particularly relaxed.
''What do you think of this? ''
''---- Pretty.''
My thoughts are a little different.
I wonder how much time has passed.
Tsk.
The wooden fork, the saintess's dining utensil, suddenly clattered to the floor, making a faint noise.
It was just an item dropped.
It was a small, insignificant mishap that would normally be overlooked, one that would have been hard to notice if the surroundings hadn't been so quiet.
But. because the value of things is always relative.
''Un---- you----.''
''saintess----?''
The insignificant object lying on the floor was, just a moment ago, an actor who had been assigned a role in a series of plays, called 'Sister'.
At that moment, the saintess's gaze slid for the first time toward the firmly closed door.
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