The Reason We Became Neighbors
“It all started when the original owner of this mansion came to the Magic Tower. He wanted a rare magical tool, so I gave it to him in exchange for this house.”
“So you’re saying that us becoming neighbors was pure coincidence?”
Rien hesitantly shook his head at the question, which might have sounded a touch sarcastic.
“The reason I decided to move… was because I was curious about the Saintess.”
“…About me?”
“Yes. Are you aware that articles about the Saintess appear from time to time not only in Weberdin but even in the capital?”
She hadn’t known.
To think that even as a mere candidate Saintess, she had been regarded as some kind of celebrity. She finally realized that the Pope’s words about how many people wanted to see the Saintess had not been a lie.
“I once happened to come across an article about the next Saintess. So I wanted to meet the person herself—Lady Cecilia—if I ever got the chance.”
Good heavens.
Cecilia clamped her mouth shut, which had been about to hang open unattractively.
He was interested in Cecilia even before I started my schemes!
She was torn between rejoicing that Plan D was on the verge of success, or recoiling in disgust at the creepiness of him having hidden his true intentions all along.
But before her feelings could tip either way, Rien shyly added,
“I was curious about the divine power the Saintess possesses.”
Ah.
Of course. So it was just the divine power he had been curious about.
Cecilia recalled the white cluster of light that had burst from her own hand. She, too, was curious about the true nature of a power whose cause was unclear yet produced such results. But he was a mage who had not the slightest connection to divine power—and moreover, their leader, no less.
“Why?”
It was a question she asked without attaching much significance, simply wondering what aspect of it had interested him. But the moment Rien pushed up his large glasses, she realized it had been a mistake.
“How could it not be fascinating? Divine power is of a completely different nature from magic, which utilizes the mana within the body and the atmosphere. In an isolated system, energy is neither created nor destroyed. It merely changes form. Magic does not defy this law either. It converts magical power into potential energy, light energy, or thermal energy. But divine power is different. Beyond the fundamental differences in the nature of the power itself, the divine power of the Weberdin family, which is passed down hereditarily, is even more so…”
The way he poured out his explanation with gleaming eyes somehow didn’t seem unfamiliar. It must have been her imagination that it reminded her of those paper slaves who would sell their souls for the sake of proof.
“I-I see.”
Recalling some unpleasant memories for a moment, Cecilia roughly cut him off. She didn’t want to hear about physical laws like the conservation of energy even in this other world.
Rien seemed to mistake her attitude for anger, and his expression drooped once more.
“I found those aspects interesting. But… after meeting the Saintess—no, Lady Cecilia—in person, I presumptuously came to want to stay by your side.”
“….”
“Because you treated someone like me kindly and became my friend.”
Ah, this made her feel a bit of a guilty conscience. It had all been nothing more than schemes to devour him. This naive man was revealing his affection for his first friend without any filter.
“But you must find me, who lied, repulsive. It’s fine if you curse me and spit on me. Even if you trample me and slap my cheek, I will humbly accept it.”
“…What?”
Listening quietly, she felt like she was sinking into the floor and then digging a tunnel even further underground. If she accepted or affirmed his slightly intriguing proposal, Rien would probably dig his own grave with his own hands and try to rest eternally.
In that case…
After a short but deep deliberation, there was only one conclusion.
I’ll just turn a blind eye.
Well, it wasn’t as if his identity was Dylan Shane either. If it were the Marquis, he’d clutch the back of his neck and collapse just from the fact that the guy used magic. Whether to trust Rien’s excuse or not was a similar issue. There was no reason for that infamous Tower Master to put on such a servile act in front of her, and more than anything, that trembling and those gloomily sunken eyes could never be mere acting.
“I won’t curse you. I won’t trample you or hit you either. And I won’t abandon you, so raise your head.”
Cecilia gently placed her hand on his cheek. Following her touch, he obediently tilted his head up. The exposed corners of his eyes were flushed red.
Anyone watching would think he was pleading with a lover he was about to part from.
It was only a guess, but it was probably because she was his only friend. Or it could be an obsession toward a precious research subject. Anyway, Cecilia decided to interpret it as lovers, or something roughly similar—in other words, however he liked.
“Does that mean… you’re giving me permission to stay by Lady Cecilia’s side from now on as well?”
“There’s nothing to permit or not. I was the one who asked you to hang out with me in the first place.”
Truly like a benevolent Saintess, Cecilia smiled.
“So please stay by my side as long as Rien wants.”
Since she had decided to embrace him, she decided to think that good was good, and that Plan D was proceeding very smoothly.
As if moved by her mercy, the man who had frozen for a moment smiled along like a flower in full bloom.
“Yes. I want to stay by your side from now on as well—no, I will stay by your side.”
As long as you permit it, continuously.
He murmured it as if brushing past, and lightly nuzzled his cheek against her palm that was touching him. In that instant, the cuteness that pounded her heart to pieces made her vision swim.
“Continue.”
“….”
“Continue, please.”
He muttered the same words for the third time.
Something about the current path seems to have gone strange.
Plan D is proceeding smoothly, right…?
When she first fell into this other world, it had been a chilly early spring that raised goosebumps on her skin at night. Before she knew it, a season of lush greenery outside the window and life pulsing had arrived.
In the time it took for the garden flowers to change once—long if one called it long—Cecilia had achieved quite a few results. She had proven that Plans A, B, and C, which she had come up with by racking her brains, were garbage; she had met Charles, who had nearly become a Schrödinger; and she had learned social dances and etiquette from the male lead (prospective) that she wouldn’t even be able to use if she returned to her original world.
…It seems like not a single one of them is proper.
Ah, she had also occupied the front page of the newspaper. The headline had been none other than “Miracle of the Saintess! Even a Severed Head Restored…” Even though her head hadn’t been severed in the first place, nor had she restored it.
Anyway, those who had witnessed the accident that day were not just one or two. The faithful servants of God had busily wagged their tongues about how much God cherished the Saintess and how magnificent that miracle had been. As a result, even though she was still a fake Saintess, her reputation was rising day by day. These days, she was decorating the first pages of every newspaper published in the Weberdin territory and the holy land.
It was probably also because the Alms Festival was approaching, and there was the influence of the Marquis’s sway as well. But whatever the cause, it was not at all the direction she wanted.
Especially this kind of article even more so.
Cecilia deliberately averted her eyes from the newly published newspaper today. After singing about the ritual, the ritual, the Pope had finally caused an accident, it seemed.
Did the newspaper companies know? That she, the idol of the Temple, was really and truly fucked.
Since the day of the accident, every deep night when Melanie withdrew and she was left alone in the bedroom, she repeatedly attempted to turn her two hands into light sources. But in the end, she never found the power button. Meaning she had not learned how to turn on her divine power.
Should I tell Melanie to smash my head with a glass cup?
It was the moment she had finally thought of the last resort.
Knock knock.
Along with the knock, Melanie’s voice came from beyond the door.
“My lady. May I come in?”
“Yes, come in.”
Melanie, who appeared with perfect timing, was holding a silver tray, on which lay a letter and a vase with water.
“Could you smash my head open with that vase?”
“I must decline.”
Melanie set the vase down on the table by the sunny window and refused flatly. She seemed to think it was an extension of the bizarre acts she had practiced under the name of Plan C.
“I’m joking.”
“I know half of it is serious.”
“Not quite half, I don’t think?”
Maybe about forty-five percent?
“Please restrain yourself, my lady, especially during a time with so many guests.”
Avoiding the sighing Melanie, she casually turned her gaze down out the window. Beyond the greenery, at the main gate in the distant distance, people, horses, and carriages the size of ants were coming and going in a frenzy.
“The Alms Festival celebration seems pretty big. There are more people than this morning.”
In the morning, forcibly woken in a mansion more noisy than usual, Cecilia had belatedly learned the identity of the guests who had flocked like a pack of dogs.