A Priest's Life as a Villain

Chapter 21

It was an out of season monsoon.

In the capital, Gerinhild, the rain had not stopped for days.

Ran had acquired a special leave of absence from Bern. He pushed aside all other concerns and went to see Susan.

"It's been a while, beautiful."

As usual, the male madam greeted Ran. Ran also greeted him, pretending to be casual.

Nothing had happened.

Ran kept repeating that to himself.

Swaaah.

Without even having time to dry his wet hair after bathing, he lay down with his head on Susan's lap.

Ran liked rainy days.

The sound of rain drowned out the noise of the world, and the rainwater washed away the stains of life. He felt as if the scent of blood, impossible to rid even with bathwater, finally faded from his body.

Pitter, patter.

Only the sound of raindrops hitting the window could be heard. A quiet red light district was a rare treat. His heart, too, calmed and settled. Ran tried to organize the events that had happened lately, but soon gave up.

"I'm sorry, Susan. For hurting you."

Ran said, looking at Susan. Susan saw his lips move and looked somewhat puzzled.

Instead of replying, Ran forced a smile and turned his head away. Susan didn't press further and looked out the window. The sound of rain seemed to drift in.

* * *

The next dawn.

Ran left the back alley and headed toward a house in Gerinhild.

Creak.

It had long since been deserted, and the stench of dampness mixed with a chilly eerie vibe surged in.

It was no different in size from a standard four-person family home in Gerinhild, but it was so empty inside, it bordered on desolate. All that was left was a small table and a single chair on the wooden floor.

It wasn't because the Special Unit had provided the house—it was just that he rarely had any reason to come. When staying in Gerinhild, he only went back and forth between headquarters and the business where Susan worked.

Still, he had occasional reasons to drop by.

Squelch, squelch.

The backyard connected to a communal garden where ancient oaks grew.

Ran picked one from the sparsely growing old trees. It was tall enough that all he needed was to stand slightly on his toes. He rummaged in the branches and soon pulled out a small, tightly-rolled piece of parchment.

'You're here!'

A giddy smile spread across his lips. Ran unrolled the scroll.

'The sword may be rusted, but the shield is sturdy. In an emergency, aim for the enemy's corrupt heart.'

The phrase, written in an archaic language, was short. Ran sat with his back against the ancient tree and read it over and over.

His mouth went dry. As he roughly rubbed his bare face, he barely stifled the sigh that tried to escape.

'How long is this going to last?'

He crushed the parchment in his fist.

Iscarang of Quersa always relayed the next instructions with metaphorical expressions.

Ran knew exactly what the phrases on the parchment meant.

The sword was the Special Unit, the shield was the order of holy knights, the enemy symbolized the mainland church, and the corrupt heart was the apex of the Astana Empire.

'The Emperor.'

Iscarang had never crossed over to the mainland. Only messengers were ever exchanged.

Iscarang's face flickered before his eyes.

"What is the right answer, High Priest?"

Never, even once, had he denied the existence of Lord Asriel. On the contrary, he had experienced the boundless power of holy power firsthand. Every time they fought a crusade against adversaries, the blessing of God was always with them.

Which made him wonder.

After coming to the mainland, he met many people.

There were those who deserved punishment, and those living under misfortune and hardship, who prayed desperately for grace but were cast aside, pitiful souls.

There were also those who lived faithfully to their own desires, without ever hoping for Asriel's miracles.

"Does the Lord empower me to punish these people?"

Lord Asriel is supposed to be equally benevolent to all humanity.

Men of the Imperial faith, heretical demons, all should receive divine grace. It was the Lord who preached unconditional love.

But the scales were not balanced.

'If Lord Asriel and Quersa are hypocrites—'

He swallowed his questions silently and erased the image of Iscarang from his mind.

That was the single reason he wanted to return to Quersa.

"I want to hear an answer."

His original purpose—seeking a 'birth record'—was gradually fading as doubts kept growing inside him. Only Quersa would be able to quench this thirst.

'If even there I can't find an answer—'

Things that cannot be changed and things that can.

Maybe, like the Archbishop's prayer, Lord Asriel had drawn that line from the beginning.

Ran clenched his fist.

* * *

The restoration of the Grand Cathedral was in full swing.

Shirtless laborers sweated as they carried carts loaded with materials.

Ran passed them by and headed for the underground passage.

Squelch, squelch.

The underground passage, once a grave for the Revolutionaries, was now, as if nothing had happened, silent. His footsteps echoed heavily. The mingled stench of mold and blood stung his nose.

"Brother!!"

A shout from behind startled Ran.

A man wearing a ram mask over his Special Unit uniform stood with arms wide open. His frame was as scrawny as a young boy.

"Peco?"

The man immediately whipped off his mask. His tightly pressed, curly hair sprang out like flower petals unfurling. The boy, with skin as dark as a mushroom cap and a round, blobby haircut, beamed with excitement.

"Brotherrr!!"

Peco ran over and hugged him tightly. The top of his head barely reached Ran's chest. Ran managed to pry off Peco, whose face was now a mess of tears and snot.

"Brother, I missed you! You really are alive!"

"W-well, you're the lucky one for surviving."

"Hehe, lucky? That's a joke, right?"

"No, I'm serious."

"? H-ha, makes sense, brother Ran's the strongest of us all. It must be nice to think that way. Ahem."

As the two made their way to the meeting hall, they caught up.

Peco, who'd mainly been active in the south, had come to the central region on assignment, but received an emergency call and was able to join early.

"Seeing you again makes me miss everyone else too. Have you heard from any of the others?"

Ran shook his head. Peco grinned awkwardly, then changed the subject.

"Guess I'm a bit lucky. The southern continent is a pretty nice place to live. Maybe I'll just move down there after I retire."

"Sounds like a good idea."

"Ah, I almost went to Salisbury too, but I missed my chance. That's your hometown, right?"

"Huh? That place is sealed off because of the front lines."

"Yeah. The real fighting's further north, but because of its geography, it got cut off. If the front stabilizes, its reputation as the continent's greatest port could be at risk."

Soon, they arrived at the meeting hall. In front of the hall, Peco hurriedly put his mask back on.

Inside, about a dozen inquisitors were scattered about in relaxed postures. All eyes fell on Ran and Peco as they entered.

"Mad. Dog."

Hank, hefting his massive bulk, lumbered straight up to Ran. Everyone's attention focused on them.

"You, interrupted me."

"I don't quite follow."

"You stole my breeding slave. Explain yourself."

Both men had taken off their masks. Hank glared ferociously, sticking his face close to Ran.

Ran twisted his lips in a half-smile.

"This is a civilized world. If you've decided to join the Holy Church, you should leave behind savage habits."

"?? Say that again?"

A murmur arose behind them.

Unit Commander Bern entered and immediately separated the two.

"That's enough, Hank. The term 'breeding slave' is rather crude. You'd do well to change your vocabulary. Ran, you too. Show some respect for a noble barbarian."

Speaking rapidly, Bern looked over and recognized Peco at Ran's side, extending a hand. Peco, before receiving the handshake, snapped a crisp Special Unit salute.

"Oho, black dog Peco! We hardly hear anything from headquarters, I thought you might have been in big trouble."

"S-sorry, sir!"

"No, no! I'm glad to have you back with us like this."

Clapping his hands, Bern called everyone to attention.

"Gentlemen! Now is the time for us to unite."

In the center of the hall was a large round table. Bern stood alone on the opposite side, surveying the inquisitors with a composed, slightly flushed face.

"Soon, deputy Commander Gordon of the Gerinhild Holy Knight Order will arrive. We were supposed to have a private meeting, but since everyone's gathered, I asked for it to be a public one, so we could all share our intentions."

This was unexpected. The inquisitors stirred. One raised a hand.

"What is the meaning of this? A meeting with the Holy Knight Order?"

Even the returned inquisitors had not been told the reason for the emergency assembly.

Each had their own reasons for transferring to the Special Unit, but they all shared a single desire: to hold onto their inquisitor status.

As long as they punished heretics and demons by any means necessary, the church paid them a stipend. In other words, they were free mercenaries and legal human hunters. For those living as outlaws in times of war, the pay was irresistible.

The atmosphere grew steadily more tense.

Words with a political tang grated on their ears.

"We hate complicated stuff, you know that well, don't you, commander Bern?"

Tracker Felix, spoke from where he leaned against the wall. He emphasized the honorific "commander," but the tone was mocking.

Bern, unshaken, acted as if he'd anticipated it. As a church priest commanding this notorious foreign mercenary group, he was nothing if not stubborn.

"This concerns the fate of the Special Unit. In other words, your paychecks."

The muttering grew louder. Peco looked up at Ran and whispered.

"Wh-what's going on, brother? Did you hear anything?"

Ran was caught off guard too. He only shook his head in response.

'What are you playing at, Bern?'

Ran had used the Revolutionaries to shake the Special Unit from within. That was the first move in the strategy to collapse the mainland church: weakening the Special Unit.

Though it didn't last as long as he'd hoped, they had achieved solid results. The Special Unit had been badly shaken.

Now, the only thing left was the church's shield: the holy knight order.

'Was Bern the variable?'

Ran recalled Bern's determined look from a few days back.

For him to attempt such a move, knowing the inquisitors might object in a time of ongoing adversity, there had to be a motive hidden deep.

Tsk, click.

The metallic sound from the hallway drew everyone's attention.

Soon, a small, elderly knight led a file of silver-armored holy knights into the hall.

Bern greeted them.

"Thank you for coming all this way, deputy Commander Gordon."

"Oh, it's nothing."

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Gordon took his seat first. The holy knights lined up behind him with sharp discipline. Not a single gaze wavered.

Bern sat opposite Gordon. The Special Unit members casually took seats behind him in whatever posture they preferred.

The numbers in the hall lined up perfectly: one side for each faction, the round table between them. Tension hung in the air.

The holy knights in white armor, the Special Unit in black uniforms.

Both were pillars of the church, but their natures differed as starkly as their colors.

The Gerinhild Holy Knights boasted two identities: an armed guard for the church, and a direct imperial order. Only nobles with devout faith could join, making them fundamentally different from the Special Unit.

Quietly, Ran crossed his arms in the midst of the black-clad crowd.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
For anyone wondering why Ran is called beautiful, it's because he was described looking almost like a female.
Also, it was mentioned in the previous chapter that Susan and Madam are demons.
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