PMEVBO 26

Before attending the banquet, I prepared a roasted vegetable salad and chicken steak and had them delivered to the hideout. And now, the plates that had held the food were already spotlessly clean.

Taking care of eating and even washing the dishes, how thoughtful.

But the problem was me.

I’m starving.

The banquet ended abruptly, so I didn’t get to eat properly. I need to eat something, or I’ll be too hungry to sleep.

Actually, ever since that first night I slept in the hideout, I’ve been sleeping here every night. I felt uneasy leaving the room empty for so long and tried going up to sleep there a few times… but our little young master wouldn’t allow it.

‘Can’t we just sleep together…?’

…Yes, I admit it. Whatever Iser asks of me is poison.

“Iser, can I use the kitchen?”

It felt familiar once I said it. Before the possession, it was always the line I said when we ran out of snacks after staying up all night at a friend’s apartment.

Iser, who had been sitting on the sofa reading a book, glanced at me with an exasperated look before turning back to his book and retorting curtly.

“Why are you asking my permission? You can just do whatever you want.”

How cute of him to tell me not to worry about his feelings and just do what I want.

“Yes, thank you.”

I chuckled, but then something suddenly occurred to me.

“But what about the smell if we cook something in here?”

“It’s fine. This place is designed so those kinds of smells escape outside the walls.”

Iser answered calmly, turning the pages of his book.

Right, they wouldn’t build a kitchen in a hideout without such a device. Reassured, I took bread, eggs, and butter out of the storage room.

First, I dipped the bread into the egg mixture with sugar. I placed the egg-coated bread into a buttered pan, ya savory and sweet aroma began to spread.

I placed the golden-brown French toast on a plate and set it on the table, offering some to Iser.

“Iser, want a bite?”

Iser, who had been sitting on the sofa, closed the book he was reading. He silently approached and sat down across from me.

“Are you going to eat?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Seeing Iser sitting there indifferently with a glass of water in front of him, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Thanks. At least I won’t be eating alone.”

I chuckled softly. Iser frowned but said nothing more. Instead, just as the toast was nearly gone, he suddenly asked.

“How did you hurt your hand again?”

His voice was low and curt, but his gaze was fixed worriedly on the back of my right hand. Not wanting to cause unnecessary worry, I deliberately spoke casually. 

“I’m a bit clumsy with knives. Anyway, do you wan’t to see something cool?”

Iser, who had been glaring at me with his brows furrowed, finally sighed and went along with my little trick.

“…What is it?”

I smiled slyly and flicked the wick of the extinguished candle. The wick, struck by my index finger charged with divine power, burst into a crackling flame.

“Oh.”

…This actually works?

I turned my head and made eye contact with Iser, whose eyes had widened in surprise. He burst out laughing.

“Why are you surprised? You did it.”

I just tried it on a whim because the divine power looked like a flame… I didn’t expect it to actually catch fire. As I marveled at the candle lit by divine power, I suddenly grew serious.

“That Creator God, Debi something-or-other, is the God of Fire? Did he bake the world with fire to create it? Like, you know, a gingerbread house…?”

“Cough!”

Upon hearing the gingerbread house creation theory, the etiquette-obsessed little master choked on his water.

“Hey, are you okay?!”

I hurriedly stood up and reached out to pat Iser’s dry back. But there was no need.

Iser covered his mouth with a napkin, coughed twice softly and immediately sat up straight.

Before my outstretched arm could feel awkward, Iser’s large hand grabbed it. Holding my arm tightly with both hands, Iser glared at me with a face still flushed.

“What kind of priest says God baked the world like cookies? Especially one who wields divine power.”

“…It was a joke.”

At my feeble excuse, Iser gave a hollow laugh, narrowed his eyes, and asked again.

“And you… you forgot the Creator God’s name too.”

“……”

“Then you must have slipped up at the banquet too?”

“……Sorry.”

Even though I was standing looking down at him and he was sitting, I felt a sense of pressure. My rising awkwardness made me unnecessarily look away. Iser, who had been quietly looking up at me, sighed.

“…Keep this up and you’ll end up in prison for heresy.”

Iser spoke softly, gently shaking the arm he was holding. I looked down and saw his vivid blue eyes filled with worry and concern. It made me feel like a precious little darling who was driving Mom absolutely crazy.

I’m twenty-five and he’s fourteen… Is this right?

I finally said, reluctantly.

“…Alright. I’ll study etiquette diligently from now on.”

Iser looked up at me, seeming skeptical for a moment, but finally nodded.

“I’ll help you too. …For the time we have left.”

It was time to study the rest of the etiquette.

***

Duke Hayut kept his promise. He said he’d arrange a similar gathering soon, and sure enough, he set up a breakfast meeting the very next day.

But what kind of situation is this where he just slips away himself?

A breakfast at the duke’s castle without the duke? That’s ridiculous.

Thanks to the duke’s declaration of absence, I got to enjoy breakfast intimately with the two archbishops. At least this time, no one would interrupt midway, so I could eat my fill. Well, I’d likely get my fill of insults too.

Learning from the dinner’s lesson, I headed to the grand banquet hall early this time. But inside, a guest was already present. Straight posture, a bob, healthy bronze skin, and a black piercing on one side of her nose. It was Tykvana.

Archbishop Tykvana’s piercing gaze turned toward me. I reflexively bowed in greeting.

“May the blessings of Debiamas always be with you.”

Greetings came as naturally as breathing now. All thanks to the extra lessons Iser had given me last night.

Perhaps because I had properly invoked the Creator God’s name this time, she replied.

“…Priest Nebella, may the blessings of Debiamas always be with you too.”

Though not as intense as Atsula’s, Tykvana disliked me just as much. I expected her to ignore me regardless of whether I greeted her properly, so this was unexpected.

Of course, I knew she was only accepting it reluctantly. Her expression wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Well, at least she accepted it.

I quietly sat down at the seat prepared for me beside Tykvana.

Silence settled over the vast banquet hall. How long had it been? Surprisingly, Tykvana spoke first.

“Priest Nebella.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled out a small vial and held it out. I took it without much thought and asked.

“This is for me? What is it?”

I belatedly realized my casual tone was disrespectful, but Tykvana’s face wasn’t as grim as it had been during the banquet. She stared blankly at my right hand holding the vial, looking rather flustered.

What is it? Why is she acting like this?

“I prepared it thinking you might need it, but I suppose you didn’t…”

Before I could ask what she meant, the grand banquet hall doors burst open. Long hair, tousled like a wolf’s mane, shook from his shoulders, and fiercely narrowed eyes glared at me.

I shoved the bottle Tykvana had given me into my pocket, rose from my seat, and bowed.

“May the blessings of the Creator God Debiamas always be with you.”

When I looked up, Atsula was staring down at me with a cold expression. At the tip of one raised eyebrow was a jet-black piercing.

Tykvana too, and now this guy has piercings as well?

In fact, both of them had not just one, but four or five piercings in each ear. …Is that piercing a trend among the clergymen in this world? They were jet-black, dull, and looked just like nails.

Then, Atsula sneered.

“Looks like the world is about to end. I even get to see a bastard like you bow properly.”

…What a killer comeback.

I sat down and replied flatly.

“So even when the world is ending, you just want to see me bow? What an honor.”

Atsula looked stunned for a moment, then glared at me.

“…You bastard, why are you picking strange fights since yesterday? “

Is he introducing himself? This bastard seems to think what he started yesterday isn’t a fight, but a blessing.

And Atsula’s blessings were endless.

“Hey, where’d you sell off your priest robes?”

I felt embarrassed just thinking about correcting him that I didn’t sell it off, I burned it. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, Atsula corrected himself soon enough.

“Ah, right. Well, if you had sold it, you wouldn’t be wearing that shitty old rag of a robe.”

Atsula walked over and plopped down opposite Tykvana, he grinned slyly and continued.

“If you didn’t sell it, did you give it away as charity? Like when you were dragged here like a dog?”

“When I was dragged here like a dog, what did I do?”

I was genuinely curious. But I asked as if I were deliberately playing dumb, like someone trying to provoke him. At that, Atsula’s face hardened into a grimace, but he kindly explained it to me.

“What the hell are you playing at? You threw it to that beggar who was begging for food because he couldn’t wear this shitty rag, you fucker. Right in front of His Holiness.”

“…….”

“When I think about all the bullshit I went through trying to get that back… I’d tear you to shreds and still not feel satisfied. Got it?”

…Ah, I’m going crazy, Lucariel.

My face burned from that damn collective responsibility. But Atsula’s continued taunts made it feel like all the blood drained from my body.

“Bechard, that dimwit keeps sending you love letters, huh? Even after getting beaten like that, he wants to send you all his treasured butterfly collection?”

“…….”

“Fucking heartwarming. His devotion’s touching. Why not stop playing hard to get and just accept it?”