At the cabin, after all the guests had gone home.
“What is a god?”
When Jio addressed the “sky,” the glittering night sky blinked. Its gently swaying tail and attentive ears betrayed its blind devotion to him, but no answer came. Not that he had expected one.
“Hmm, well...”
The stars studding the “sky” joined together, sparkling with curiosity. Pearly stars of “gray.” Jio narrowed his eyes at the Milky Way swaying with a will of its own.
It did seem to want to say something...
'Or I could be imagining it.'
He really couldn't tell.
“What do you think, Father?”
“Coo?”
“You didn't expect me to behave as a Divinity this time, either.”
“Cooo...”
The teddy bear furrowed his brow as though to say he hadn't particularly expected divine bearing from the redheaded version of his son. Still, he earnestly joined in his son's deliberations and offered an answer.
“Coo? Coo-cooo.”
“An observer, as part of nature?”
“Coo.”
“Right, you are the sun.”
Aside from sending down sunlight, the sun had no reason to descend to earth.
“That would be a catastrophe.”
Jio hugged the soft teddy bear. Dana, who had been quietly watching them, came over and curled around them. Wondering what was happening, Honey briefly poked out of the hood at the movement, then ducked back inside.
Jio loved how naturally it all unfolded, but his question remained. He had a very long life ahead of him.
“...”
He needed something to use as a reference.
* * *
“Jio!”
“Have you been well?”
Jio easily scooped up Cha Yi-sol as the boy came charging toward him. Then he noticed Father Kang Seodam and Yi-sol's partner, the prospective priest Iru-da, who had also come to greet him. Giovanni smiled gently and asked after them.
“Have there been any other difficulties?”
“With the mermaid incident resolved, what difficulties could there be? We've had none of the problems you're concerned about, Hunter Seo Jio.”
“As courteous as ever, I see.”
Such deference made him feel awkward.
Jio set Yi-sol down, and his gaze soon settled on Iru-da. She met his eyes immediately, as though she had been waiting for his attention. After a moment's hesitation, she spoke.
“I don't believe I properly thanked you for your gift last time, so I came along to express my gratitude, however belatedly. I hope my presence here doesn't inconvenience you?”
“Inconvenience me? It gives me great joy to have such a kind friend come to welcome me. Would you allow me to enjoy your company a little longer?”
“... Oh, um, yes. Thank you... for saying so.”
Iru-da was a little flustered.
'Do people normally go that far in their replies?'
Most adults became flustered when someone as small and young as Iru-da addressed them with the utmost politeness. That gave her a little breathing room. It was a winning strategy she had learned because, disadvantaged as she was by her age, she didn't want to lose to adults.
'He really does make me uncomfortable.'
It wasn't that she disliked him, but that benevolent face, which seemed to say he knew everything and would forgive it all, made her shoulders droop of their own accord. For Iru-da, accustomed to receiving cold assessments against objective standards rather than respect and consideration from adults, he was very difficult to deal with.
'At this rate, I won't even be able to thank him properly...'
Seeing her flounder, Kang Seodam swallowed a sigh and spoke.
“This isn't a comfortable place for a conversation, so I suggest we move to the reception room. Since you wished to hear how the prospective priests have been doing, I thought we could all go together. Would you prefer something else?”
“No, that will be quite enough.”
“Prospective Priest Iru-da also seems to have something to say. Let us continue somewhere appropriate. Every conversation calls for a suitable setting and manner.”
Iru-da flushed at having her transparent little ploy exposed.
“... Please forgive my rudeness.”
“I didn't find you rude. Please lift your head.”
Jio was merely impressed.
'Children these days really are precocious.'
Honestly, she seemed cleverer and more adept at handling people than Seo Jio, a twenty-nine-year-old adult. He understood what had prompted her to address him with that gleam in her eyes.
'Did she instinctively feel she wouldn't even be able to thank me properly unless she gained a little ground first? I noticed it last time, too. Iru-da is fundamentally very wary of adults.'
It wasn't quite hatred or loathing, but the idea that adults were dangerous seemed firmly lodged in her mind. Any further acknowledgment of her behavior would clearly sound less like “It's all right” and more like “Watch yourself.” Jio changed the subject.
“I hear Yi-sol wrote thirty-three pages of reflection.”
“Oh... well...”
Recognizing his consideration, Iru-da nodded.
“Father Kang Seodam had asked for one page, but Yi-sol brought in a whole stack anyway, saying it kept getting longer as he wrote. Father told him there was no need to go that far and sent him back.”
Kang Seodam interjected.
“I told him to summarize it in a single page. Excess is never helpful, and we did need some evidence that Yi-sol had reflected on his actions.”
“I understand your reasons.”
Kang Seodam seemed guilty about giving more homework to a child already exhausted from writing thirty-three pages, but his judgment had been sound. The Sun Cult needed a written reflection for its records, after all.
'They could hardly file all thirty-three pages unedited.'
However carefully Yi-sol had concealed the “truth,” he was still a child. Over thirty-three pages, he was bound to have included a few things best left out of the records. A little processing was only appropriate.
“You work so hard to look after your students, Father Kang Seodam. It brings me great joy to see Yi-sol and his partner Iru-da growing into ever finer priests thanks to you.”
“Your words humble me. You needn't praise me so highly. These are simply my basic duties as a teacher and a senior priest.”
“I know all too well how difficult it can be to fulfill those basic duties.”
“...”
Kang Seodam fell silent.
'... I don't know how to answer someone who was drowned by an order that failed to fulfill even those basic duties. He doesn't seem likely to grow angry, but it isn't a pleasant subject to bring up.'
In the end, they made their way to the reception room lost in their respective thoughts. The only one chattering away was eleven-year-old Cha Yi-sol, delighted by how much brighter the garden had become with spring's arrival.
The reception room was quiet when they arrived, with not a soul inside.
“It's quiet.”
“I asked everyone to leave, since their presence might make it difficult for you to speak freely.”
“Thank you for your consideration.”
“No, it was partly for our own sake...”
With Iru-da present, they couldn't discuss his identity as Black Cloak. Even setting that aside, however, there were plenty of topics best discussed with fewer ears around. Kang Seodam rested a light hand on her shoulder.
“Prospective Priest Iru-da.”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to speak?”
“... Thank you.”
Hesitating once more, Iru-da bowed her head.
“I would like to apologize for my poor behavior earlier.”
“I believe I already said you have nothing to apologize for.”
“Since you are kind enough to say so, I will take the liberty of saying what I originally intended. The, um, flower tea you gave me last time... was an enormous help.”
She meant the Basram flower tea Jio had casually given her before leaving.
“I offered it to the Sun Goddess, and she bestowed her blessing upon me. Thanks to your gift of a treasure my limited knowledge couldn't even recognize, I was able to make a contribution to the war, however modest.”
Listening, Jio thought,
'I wish she'd talk like a child.'
Back in my day, I couldn't have dreamed of children speaking to me like this. No exaggeration—he truly never could have dreamed it, leaving Seo Jio, a modern man from a bygone era, utterly bewildered.
Of course, Giovanni's unwavering bearing embodied benevolence and forgiveness. Encouraged by his lack of displeasure, Iru-da straightened her shoulders a little and continued.
“If you hadn't given me that gift beforehand, Hunter Seo Jio, I could have ended up doing nothing even after Yi-sol was taken. I wouldn't have been allowed onto the battlefield, and even if I'd insisted on going, I would surely have been nothing but a burden.”
“You can speak more freely.”
“... F-freely?”
“Yes.”
Unable to listen any longer, Jio offered a gentle suggestion.
“Wouldn't a simple thank-you for the help be enough?”
“After receiving your gift and using it however I pleased, I couldn't be so rude...”
“What I gave you was precisely that: a gift, Sister Iru-da. You said you enjoyed chewing medicinal herbs, so I offered it without much thought. If you used it to rescue Brother Yi-sol, that speaks to your abilities, not mine.”
“B-but... what I received was so valuable...”
“I've heard a great deal about your achievements. Despite still being a prospective priest, you stood proudly on the battlefield, protecting patients in your partner's stead as well as your own, and even made flowers bloom on an ice-filled sea.”
“... I only did my best to follow instructions.”
“What a diligent student you are.”
Finding her overly grown-up expressions of gratitude an ordeal, Jio seized his chance and set his tongue in motion. Iru-da wasn't the only one capable of praising and thanking someone until they were flustered.
“You have no idea how grateful I was to hear what you did. Even with your partner involved, it must have taken tremendous courage to stand on a battlefield where your life could be snatched away in an instant. And a powerful friendship and faith, too.”
“... N-no... I...”
“Thanks to you, Yi-sol was rescued safely. You may lack confidence in what you accomplished, but you really were an enormous help. For proof, isn't Yi-sol still smiling so easily, even after all he went through?”
“... Um...”
“You did well.”
“...”
Iru-da shrank into herself again.
“... Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
Good, he'd made her act like a proper child!
'That's me for you.'
There was probably no legal standard for a “proper child,” but he preferred her this way. He had been ready to stop at the first sign of displeasure, yet although she blushed, she showed no dislike. Clearly, whatever she pretended, she actually wanted to be treated like a child.
Having struck at Iru-da's heart as casually as breathing, Jio looked at Yi-sol.
“Did you get a scolding, Yi-sol?”
“Yes, a big one! I won't do it again!”
“That's the right attitude.”
Yi-sol was young and inexperienced, not stupid. He was perceptive and had good judgment, so Jio trusted him to exercise restraint and make a wise decision if the same situation arose again.
'Because I really might lose my mind if he pops up in the middle of a battlefield again.'
Having settled his thoughts, Jio turned to Kang Seodam.
“Has anything else happened?”
“... Nothing beyond the continuing rise in calls within the order to make you a saint of the Sun Cult, Hunter Seo Jio.”
“Ah, that.”
■■■■■—...
“...”
“...”
“My apologies.”
PLOP!
Jio stuffed the gray paint that had suddenly burst from his shadow back inside.
“This friend isn't very flexible.”
“... Forgive me for asking, but could you tell me what I just saw?”
“If you're truly curious, Father Kang Seodam, I'd be happy to explain. It might make things a little troublesome for you, though. Would you mind?”
“I spoke out of turn. I'd be better off not knowing.”
Even as he said it, Kang Seodam instinctively sensed the nature of the “gray paint” he had just witnessed. That chill, which had instantly lowered the room's temperature, and that fine, pearly-white texture, like rippling light on water...
They were certainly the traits of a creature he felt he had seen somewhere before.
'That's enough.'
He consciously stopped his train of thought.
As Hunter Seo Jio had said, nothing good would come of probing further. He cleared his throat with an “Ahem” and asked cautiously,
“... Is it a contracted beast you've been training recently? I'm terribly sorry if I caused any discomfort. I certainly had no intention of giving offense.”
“You needn't be so cautious. It won't attack you, Father Kang Seodam. Nor was I offended. What you just saw was... something like a spinal reflex, to draw an analogy.”
“A spinal reflex...”
“Even just after a creature dies, its nerves are still alive, making it twitch. It's like that.”
First “spinal reflex,” now “just after it dies.”
“... I see.”
At any rate, he seemed willing to go along with Kang Seodam's cover story of a newly acquired contracted beast he was training. With their story settled, their eyes naturally turned to the startled children.
Yi-sol's face was full of delighted recognition and excitement, while Iru-da had gone pale, as though she'd seen something impossible. Jio smiled at the stark contrast.
“Are you all right?”
“... Yes.”
“My apologies. This traveling companion recently joined my family, and sometimes it refuses to listen. I've tucked it safely away, so it won't repeat that rudeness.”
“Th-that's a relief.”
Iru-da hesitated before asking,
“I heard you're a trainer. Do you tame monsters like this, too...?”
“It's closer to a single mass of mystery than a monster with intelligence or a survival instinct, but of course. I'm always looking for all sorts of new family members.”
“Oh, right. You belong to Collector, don't you?”
He seemed so unlike someone from that guild that she'd forgotten.
'It wouldn't be strange for someone from that guild to be taming a few dangerous objects.'
Iru-da concluded that what she'd just seen was not a living creature like a monster, but a dangerous object possessing a creature's traits. Like the monstrous things scattered all over Collector.
'So this is why people say he's secretly an S-class Hunter.'
Despite herself, she looked at Hunter Seo Jio with admiration.
'There can't be many Hunters like him in the world.'
It was a marked change from her frightened reaction moments earlier. But Iru-da admired the strong and capable, and Hunter Seo Jio, who handled so many dangerous and unusual contracted beasts, seemed all the more remarkable to her.
“... I used to...”
Perhaps that was why something she hadn't needed to say slipped out.
“... When I was little, I wanted to be a trainer.”
“Ah, I see.”
Jio thought,
'Isn't she still little?'
He smiled and nodded.
“How do you feel now that you're working as a priest?”
“I'm simply grateful to be able to do my share.”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“...”
Iru-da was momentarily at a loss for words.
“...”
Was she enjoying herself?
'... That's an unfamiliar kind of question.'
Adults always wanted to know what she could do. Did her work suit her aptitudes? Was she producing commensurate results? What had she been learning lately, and how would she put it to use? Those were the questions adults usually asked. Young as she was, she was a Hunter and had to pull her weight. It was only natural.
She couldn't immediately think of an answer.
'Am I enjoying myself? With this work? In my current situation...?'
She had never considered that before.
“... Um...”
Just then, her eyes met Yi-sol's.
“... Hm? Me?”
“... I am.”
Only then could she speak.
'It has been fun.'
It would be a lie to say she'd had no regrets or made no mistakes. Looking back now, though, her present life had brought her quite a bit of joy. Being here had let her make an unusual friend like Yi-sol.
For some reason, she felt reassured. It was as though she were sitting in a quiet, comfortable confessional filled with sunlight, and that put her somewhat at ease. Feeling a little sheepish, she continued.
“I think becoming a priest has given me many good opportunities.”
“I see.”
“If I'd Awakened as a trainer, that would surely have had its own joys. But I'm happy with the things I can enjoy only as the person I am now. So I think I probably am enjoying myself.”
“That really is... a wonderful way to think.”
Giovanni loved children with such upright hearts.
“Do you like sheep?”
“Sh-sheep? What exactly about them...?”
“Their wool, for instance.”
“I don't particularly like or dislike it...”
“How about a scarf? The weather is still chilly, so it would keep you warm.”
“... Are you offering me another gift?”
“I'm afraid I can't back down without giving you something.”
“But...”
Flustered, Iru-da looked at Yi-sol, meaning either “What on earth is wrong with him?” or “Do something to stop him.” Apparently blind to his partner's plea for rescue, Yi-sol was simply delighted.
“Then I'll make you flower tea! You said you like tea, right?”
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“...”
Iru-da was speechless.
'... Oh, right. Black Cloak's apostles...'
Belatedly, she remembered the saying that Black Cloak gave gifts to good people. Considering how many Divinities cherished followers who suited them, this wasn't so strange.
Not that she knew whether she was a good person, but still.
“Then again, perhaps a scarf is a bit much now that spring is here.”
“Then make tea with me! Flower tea!”
“That sounds good, too. We could use it to bake some lightly sweetened cookies.”
“I want to bake some, too! For Ruda and Father.”
... But even so, did they really have to be this alike?
'This is definitely a good thing, so why does it feel so ominous?'
Without meaning to, Iru-da looked up at Kang Seodam.
“...”
“...”
Ah.
Reading a familiar resignation on his face, Iru-da pressed her lips together. She wanted to say something, but her mouth closed and her tongue retreated of their own accord. It felt as though she were looking at her own future.
“... Please go easy on me.”
“How can one go easy with gifts?”
“Yes, thank you...”
It really wasn't that she disliked this...
'It feels strange.'
Being overwhelmed by something like this felt terribly unfair.
* * *
Earth's sun was watching it all.
Jio knew it, too.
The two children were busy bickering.
And Kang Seodam was nearly dying under the pressure.
(To be continued)
