PMEVBO 23

Iser stared at the hand I held out, the corners of his eyes slowly turning red.

But only for a moment, then he shouted.

“…Are you crazy?! We were talking about etiquette, and suddenly you propose…!?”

His full lips trembled. I tilted my head slightly and replied.

“You asked how much I remembered. So I told you. Because that’s the only etiquette I remember.”

“…How is a marriage proposal etiquette?”

“Marriage is a ceremony, so a proposal is etiquette too.”

“Haa…”

Iser, who had been glaring at me with a bright red face, quickly looked away. A voice laced with irritation seeped through his pursed lips.

“…You know that’s a woman’s proposal line, right?”

“Uh, yes.”

Of course I knew. I copied what Isabelle said to Seriha in the original work.

“…You knew and still did it?”

“I memorized only this one because it sounded prettier.”

Of course, that was a lie. There was no male proposal line in the original work, so I had no choice.

“…You better be prepared.”

Iser narrowed his eyes and whispered.

Prepared for what?

And so began etiquette lessons more grueling than guerrilla training.

***

As I opened the gilded doors and stepped inside, every gaze in the hall fixed on me.

They look like professors staring at a late student.

I’d been polishing my etiquette right up to the very last minute and ended up unintentionally late. If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve skipped the final sprint.

Our little young master really was a great teacher. The problem was the student being hopeless.

‘Place your right hand here on your chest and bow your head like this.’

‘Like this?’

‘Your head is tilted sideways, making you look insolent. Try again.’

‘……Uh, yes.’

‘……Why are your eyes so wide open?”

‘Huh…?’

“When you bow your head, your gaze should follow. Staring at someone like that makes it look like you’re glaring.”

‘Ah.’

‘Do it again.’

Even though I’m a complete newbie who doesn’t know the first thing about etiquette, I never imagined I’d get stuck on something as basic as the greeting method.

‘How’s that?’

‘…Again.’

I don’t think I struggled this much even when learning the 720-degree turning kick for the first time.

‘Wasn’t that a bit better this time?’

‘Ha……. Why do you always seem to find fault with everything I do……?’

I never imagined I’d hear that even while possessing someone else’s body.

Before possessing Lucariel, I was the type to pick fights easily. I’d heard so often that I looked like a jerk that I thought my face was the problem… But to hear that even while possessing someone?

Besides, Lucariel actually looks cute, unlike the original me.

…Could it be that my face wasn’t the problem after all?

Three people sat at the long dining table.

Feeling as if I were performing a taekwondo demonstration, I took a breath and delivered a vigorous bow. Having been scolded by Iser countless times, I paid special attention to the angle of my chin and where I directed my gaze. Thanks to that, I think I managed a passable form.

Now I just needed to deliver the right words.

“Creator God, Debi…”

Dammit, what was the Creator God’s name again…?

Debi something or other. I think there was a ‘ma’ in the middle…

Ah, I’m screwed. All I can think of is Daebi Mama (dowager queen).

“…May his blessings always be with you.”

In that instant, silence fell over the vast banquet hall.

Normally someone of higher rank should respond, I think. But no reply came back.

Yes, well. They probably don’t want to bless a fool who can’t even get the Creator God’s name right.

I moved on without hesitation.

Taking the duke, who occupied the seat of honor as the castle’s master, as the reference point, Archbishop Atsula sat to his left, and Archbishop Tykvana sat to his right.

How did I know the archbishops’ names? The answer is simple. They were written there.

[Atsula Abet Sarachephon]

[Tykvana Guparan Sarachephon]

Nameplates bearing each archbishop’s name sat on their respective seats.

‘It’s basic etiquette to place ebony nameplates on clergy’s seats. So you should just sit where your nameplate is.’

Just as Iser said, my nameplate was placed beside Archbishop Tykvana.

[Lucariel Nebella Sarachephon]

Honestly, I’d thought my nameplate might not even be there. Since they treat me like a priest, maybe the Pope really didn’t brand me a sinner after all.

With that thought, I took my seat. Only after sitting down did the appearance of these archbishops register.

Oh, they look quite different from what I imagined…

In the original work, only Lucariel’s appearance was described. True to that description, Lucariel himself was the very image of an angel, so I naturally assumed all clergymen in this world would share a similar countenance.

But the two archbishops I actually saw here… had completely noir-like features.

With their black clerical robes and black nameplates right in front, they looked more like gangsters than clergymen.

They probably hide guns and knives in their robes instead of holy books.

Judging by appearance alone, I looked the most devout here. And I wasn’t even wearing a clerical robe. I would have liked to wear one myself.

But.

What can you do if you don’t have one…

According to Paf, the original Lucariel had thrown his vestments into the fireplace and burned them to a crisp the moment he was exiled to Hayut Castle. Thanks to that, I now had to endure the icy stares of Atsula and Tykvana. Damn, that’s unfair.

Just then, the duke spoke up, the corners of his mouth turned up in a sneer.

“You’re early, Priest Nebella.”

Had the effect of my psychopath act worn off? Or was he just getting cocky because he had archbishops backing him?

I stared at the duke expressionlessly. He grimaced and quickly averted his gaze. Then he changed his target from me to the archbishops.

“Ahem. I trust you two archbishops are aware that Priest Nebella murdered my maid.”

The duke paused to catch his breath before continuing.

“While I did allow Priest Nebella to stay in my castle by His Holiness the Pope’s command, it’s difficult to keep a criminal who committed murder. Please expedite the transfer to Hell as soon as possible.”

“Yes, that bastard who assaulted a cardinal and then committed murder deserves to rot in Hell.”

Atsula gritted his teeth as he spoke. The look he gave me was quite fierce.

“Archbishop Abet.”

Tykvana stopped Atsula. She then looked at the duke and said.

“A sinner is one branded as such by His Holiness the Pope. Do not dare challenge His Holiness’s authority.” 

That sounded like I wasn’t a sinner? It seemed I wasn’t the only one misinterpreting it, as the duke shouted, spittle flying.

“What…! No, are you saying His Holiness didn’t brand Priest Nebella a sinner? “

“That is correct, Duke. Therefore, Priest Nebella’s exile will continue here in the Duchy of Hayut.”

Tykvana nodded and replied calmly.

What? Seriously? …That worked out without me doing anything.

The Pope wasn’t a metaphorical figure who lived forever; he truly lived a long life. That’s why the people here revered the immortal Pope as a living god. And that Pope personally took care of things for me, so the game was already over.

Only then did I realize I’d been subtly tense. Taking a sip of water, I mentally deleted the final defense speech I’d prepared just in case my ticket to Hell was stamped.

“But Priest Nebella himself confessed to murdering the maid! How could that be?!”

The duke’s eyes, filled with indignation, fixed on me.

Yes, from the duke’s perspective, this was enough to drive anyone mad. Not my problem, though. I speared a piece of cabbage from the salad with my fork, feeling contemptuous stares from both sides and across the table.

As Tykvana sighed and shook her head, Atsula, who had been hacking at his steak, spoke up.

“Murder is certainly a reprehensible act, but considering the maid attempted to steal the holy book and that you are deeply remorseful, we will show leniency this one time. This is His Holiness’s will.”

…That sounds suspiciously like they used my repentance letter as a reference? Guess the Pope actually read my trashy confession.

It was then that the duke’s mouth started moving like a madman.

“…His Holiness has lived a thousand years, so perhaps his judgment has grown clouded. Otherwise, how could he possibly—”

The duke’s words trailed off. Before he could finish, a crimson aura erupted from Atsula’s hand like spilled blood.

The light, staining the surrounding air red, rippled like a flame.

Then.

Crack!

The silver wine goblet Atsula held shattered like a grenade.

Red wine and sharp silver shards flew everywhere. I reflexively reached out to shield Tykvana’s face beside me.

What are you doing? That’s dangerous…

Frowning, I turned to look at Tykvana. She was staring at me with eyes as wide as lanterns.

“Are you okay?”

…But what is this? This natural use of informal speech.

I’m just a priest, and she’s an archbishop, so I naturally intended to use formal speech. But absurdly enough, what actually came out of my mouth was informal speech.

What is this? A remnant of the original Lucariel? So the original Lucariel was the kind of person who used informal speech even with the archbishop? 

If he was violent enough to break someone’s limbs, he probably spoke informally to an archbishop too… No, surely not even to the Pope?

No, that can’t be right.

But the fact remained that I spoke casually to an archbishop, and because of that, the woman’s face had turned grim.

“……No, I’m fine.”

I wanted to correct this grotesque situation where a mere priest used informal speech while the archbishop used formal, but Tykvana abruptly turned her head away, and the chance to set things right vanished.

Meanwhile, the duke, who had been baring his teeth as if his liver were foie gras, now sat slumped on the floor like someone whose spirit had left them. Looking down coldly at the duke, Atsula slowly wiped the blood trickling down his cheek.

“They say even dogs choose who to bark at. Watch your words, Duke.”

“…….”

“What did you say His Holiness became?”

“……I, I spoke out of turn.”

As the duke bowed his head to Atsula, I wiped the wine stain from the back of my hand. But I kept feeling Tykvana’s gaze beside me.

……What is it?

I hesitated for a moment, but soon pushed the remaining napkin toward her.

“Do you want it?”