A Babe Still Wet Behind the Ears

“In any case, Lady Narea will likely be with the occultists.”

As I delivered the conclusion to Acrede, her face became exceedingly gloomy.

The occultists were a group that directly traded with the royal family of the Holy Kingdom, Lium.

White Arbor would be searching for the occultists and combing them inside out now, but the head of the occultists was not someone to be trifled with either.

He, too, a reincarnation of a hero, wouldn’t be captured so easily.

Could Arkrede, in this situation, really venture into the Mystic Order and retrieve Narea?

Surely, the goddess’s blessing imbued within her held exceptional power.

But even so, it alone couldn’t stand against the Mystic Order; that was the reality.

‘The Mystic Order loathes not mystery, but divine power.’

Arkrede could instead become a target.

Furthermore, this incident had placed the Kingdom of Lium and the Holy Order at odds.

For Arkrede, to move rashly was out of the question.

So, ultimately, she needed someone to find and bring back Narea for her.

Arkrede tapped her fingertips together, glancing this way every so often.

Like a hamster eyeing its treat.

Anyone could see her brimming desire to ask me for this favor.

“Arkrede-nim.”

“Y-yes, yes!”

Arkrede jumped, startled, as she answered.

Her innocent and vulnerable appearance was such that any man would instinctively offer help.

However, with love excised from my mind, I reasoned with utmost clarity.

“To retrieve Narea-nim, one must go to the Mystic Order. Naturally, that won’t be easy, will it?”

“W-well, yes. They say the Mystic Order is a fearsome bunch. Not something anyone can just step up to handle.”

“Indeed. Especially, not with a student’s status. It’s hardly something a young student can accomplish, when grown adults would hesitate.”

Arkrede’s shoulders twitched.

She let out a little whistle, averting her gaze.

It was as if she were saying, “I wouldn’t dream of thinking such a thing.”

“But, wouldn’t you know it, there happens to be a student right here, backed by the White Wood Artisan and the Azure Magic Tower Lord.”

The Mystic Order was the group the White Wood Artisan hated most.

The Azure Magic Tower Lord, likewise, disdained the magic-averse Mystic Order.

I was the only one who could provide those two with the location of the Mystic Order.

‘Of course, I can’t just stand by and watch.’

The leader of the Mystic Order, Vulcan, was someone I had reason to confront directly.

Arkrede’s eyes turned back to me.

My offered terms clearly proved instrumental in locating Narea.

Naturally, she understood this as well.

Above all, I was the only place she could turn for assistance.

“A request necessitates a proper recompense. What price do you seek, Akrede-nim, for your aid?”

A wicked smile played upon my lips.

A smile that blatantly demanded its due.

Akrede was not blind to its meaning.

She hesitated, her eyes darting this way and that in apparent distress.

She was pondering what, as a Saintess, she could possibly offer in return for my help.

In truth, there was likely little she could truly give.

The position of Saintess was a remarkably precarious one.

Unless the Holy Kingdom was united as one under the Order.

As it stood, the Crown and the Order were locked in conflict.

The Saintess’s influence was, in effect, weakened.

‘Were Akrede a bit older, perhaps things would be different.’

As a student, her limitations in voicing opinions were starkly defined.

She held responsibility and position, yet lacked any real authority – a tragic and sorrowful state of affairs.

That was the reality of the Saintess.

Akrede was keenly aware of this truth.

Hence the wavering in her eyes, the words caught in her throat.

After a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Then, she slowly extended her arms to her sides, wearing a look akin to that of a cow led to slaughter.

“M-my, my body, if you must.”

“That’s hardly necessary.”

“H-hardly necessary?”

Akrede’s face contorted.

A look of utter dismay, as though the possibility of rejection had never crossed her mind.

“What I desire is the promise of a single favor, to be repaid when I need it.”

The moment will inevitably arrive when the Saintess’s help becomes essential.

Especially when dealing with the matter of the Archdemon.

Insurance, the more you have, the better.

Lukas possessed a heroic disposition, inclined to offer anything and everything freely.

But I, alas, lacked Lukas’s vast generosity and talent.

So I had to hoard every tool, every method, regardless of the means, that I could lay my hands on.

The soliloquy of a third-rate extra, not the protagonist, preparing for the main event.

Meanwhile, Arkrede, already drooping, began kneading at her own chest.

“…Indeed, I’m built like a milk cow, not a saint. No wonder you don’t desire my body.”

It seemed someone, in the past, had said something to Arkrede regarding her bosom.

She carried quite a complex about her ample chest.

“Arkrede-nim, enough with denigrating your own chest. It’s hardly about that.”

“But, Narea complained every time it was bothersome, and often said she wanted to tear them off.

She often said she felt uneasy because she couldn’t see her feet.”

Narea was the main culprit, was she?

Come to think of it, Narea in the portraits was a slender, saintly figure.

For her, with her past memories, it must have been uncomfortable.

My gaze took on a subtle glimmer as I looked at Arkrede.

Perhaps the complex Arkrede felt wasn’t about her chest, but about herself.

Narea, one of the heroes who defended the past world.

Arkrede possessed her memories alongside her own.

Therefore, compared to Narea, her current self would seem exceedingly paltry.

The same title, Saintess, but she could not be like Narea.

Her memories were severed from her past life, creating a sort of split personality.

So Arkrede naturally compared herself to Narea.

And as a result, she fell into self-deprecation, noticing how different she was.

Among those differences, the most superficially apparent was her prominent chest.

“Arkrede-nim, do you wish to become Narea-nim?”

Arkrede’s shoulders twitched at my question.

Having only played the Flame Butterfly arc, I knew only Narea.

I knew little to nothing about Arkrede.

Therefore, to know her, I had to ask.

Acrede, hearing the question, lowered her head, her face clouding over slightly.

“…I am a Saintess so very lacking compared to Narea.”

“Then, who was it that healed me?”

The Saint and Saintess together healed me, allowing me to return from the ninth floor with my life intact.

Back then, who was it that saved me?

Acrede began to hesitate.

“That’s…”

“It was not Lady Narea, but you, Lady Acrede, yourself.”

Acrede was greatly underestimating her own abilities.

That was clearly an issue brought about by the comparison to Narea.

“Lady Acrede, if you were to go back to that time, even if you had to heal me instead of Lady Narea, would you truly have been unable to heal me?”

“……”

Acrede was silent.

She herself knew the answer to my question.

The answer was: it was possible.

Because the Goddess’s blessing resided within Acrede’s very body.

“It was the Saintess who saved me. And that Saintess is you, Lady Acrede.”

I could feel Acrede’s eyes wavering.

She was a noble Saintess.

A figure in a position that no one would dare point out flaws in.

However, there was one person – only Narea – who must have constantly told her things.

Never stinting on advice in order to make her a proper Saintess.

That very thing had trapped Acrede, bound her.

“Lady Acrede, everything that Lady Narea does, you are capable of doing sufficiently.

Because everything that Lady Narea did was done through your body.”

Clearly, Acrede and Narea were different.

But now, the one existing in this world was not Narea, but Acrede.

There was no way Acrede couldn’t accomplish what Narea had done, using Acrede’s body.

Because she, too, was the same Saintess.

“I was able to preserve my life thanks to you, Saintess.”

Even if Akrede had other intentions, the truth remains the truth.

“Akrede-nim, I ask again. If I were to find myself in the very same predicament, would you disregard me and simply pass by?”

Akrede slowly shook her head.

“No. I am a Saintess. Even if someone is an enemy, a Saintess who has achieved remarkable feats must offer a hand.”

Akrede was more keenly aware of her Saintess status than anyone.

It was simply that, until now, she had deferred the responsibilities of being a Saintess to Narea, remaining unseen.

“That is precisely it. Akrede-nim is a Saintess, and that is a fact that will not change in the future either.”

I spoke to her with conviction.

“Akrede-nim, have faith in yourself, in your Saintly self. To me, Akrede-nim is a splendid Saintess who saved my life.”

Perhaps it was because I instilled confidence in her.

Akrede’s back straightened more than usual.

“Th-then, is there also nothing wrong with my… chest?”

Akrede asked, lifting her chest slightly.

Is she still stuck on that?

“Yes, it is magnificent.”

“R-really?”

“A chest worthy of boasting to the entire world.”

A radiant smile bloomed on Akrede’s face.

*Clunk-*

Just then, the door behind me opened.

I turned my head back with a creak.

There stood Iris, her eyes narrowed in a glare.

Behind her, Hania gazed at me with pity.

It seemed our conversation had gone on for too long, and they had come to inquire.

“Hanon?”

Iris called my name.

Before me now was Akrede, lifting her chest proudly.

My praise of her chest, following this situation.

I fully understood how this situation would appear to a third party.

However, I am a party to it.

“It’s a misunderstanding.”

“Is that so. Was that to your liking, then?”

Iris smiled faintly.

But it seemed a far cry from a genuine smile.

“Hannon was still wet behind the ears, wasn’t he.”

With that final, piercing jab, Iris turned away.

“Suckle a little, then head on back.”

Could one truly speak of the lateness of the hour in such a way?

When I glanced towards Hania, she sighed.

“That’s why you shouldn’t get too fond of things, don’t you know.”

That never happened.

In an instant, I became a babe who hadn’t even weaned, left with no choice but to swallow back tears.

Waaah.