The Priest Wants to Retire

〈 Chapter 2 〉 Saintess. You shouldn’t do this. (1)

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Everyone has probably seen a child throwing a tantrum, rolling on the floor and crying dramatically, at least once in their life.

For kids, the means to achieve what they want are limited, so they choose what seems to be the most rational and effective method. But honestly, from a third-party perspective, it’s not a pretty sight at all.

Why do these little things cry as if the world is ending over something trivial? Watching such a ridiculous scene makes you realize just why the world’s birth rate is plummeting.

If women’s tears are weapons, then children’s tears are deadly weapons. Cluster bomb level.

And witnessing such a scene, soon-to-be parents inevitably think something like this:

“When I grow up and have kids, I can’t let my child turn out like that brat. I’ll be a true parent who firmly says no when something is off-limits.”

If those who are actually raising kids heard this, they’d probably laugh it off as a ridiculous comment.

That’s just the nature of people: they often belittle things they haven’t experienced themselves, so I want to defend their childish steps, even if just weakly.

“I will do it.”

The Saintess, hugging my waist like it’s a lifeline, urged me to hand over something as if it were her turn to play with it.

On tiptoes, she occasionally bounced up and down in place.

It was a cute action that children her age would do, but the emotion in her bright red eyes, looking up at me, was so dark that rather than tenderness, it sent a wave of fear crashing over me.

“No… it’s not allowed.”

This rejection felt foggy, as if I couldn’t count how many times I had said it already. However, the strength in the arms holding my waist showed no sign of weakening. In fact, it felt like they were tightening gradually.

Back in school, my friends and I would often giggle and wish for a stunning beauty like her to cling to us at least once in our lives, but even after realizing that wish, all I felt was confusion.

I had come just to give her breakfast, yet here I was, entangled and bickering with the Saintess without a clue about how it had come to this; a long-winded explanation would be unnecessary, just like what the bumbling male leads of light novels babble on about in their introductions.

I picked the wrong fairy tale book.

That was the only sin that led to this situation.

◈◈◈

Saint’s Personal Guardian Priest.

The name sounds grand, but my belief is that the fancier the title, the less it lives up to its name.

The job of a Guardian Priest is less glamorous than you’d think. It’s mostly just following the Saintess around, running errands. No, it’s closer to a caretaker really.

You know, like those high-school babysitters in American teen movies who get paid to play with kids. That’s how I viewed this position.

So, worried about the Saintess’s eye health as she stared at a broken TV all day for no apparent reason, I started reading her fairy tales to distract her from it. Fortunately, it seemed to work, and before I knew it, fairy tale reading had become a regular event between us.

And it was only natural for the Saintess, at a time when she was growing dreams, to want to mimic the stories. I understood completely since I had my fair share of hero-fantasy plays with friends when I was her age.

But of all things…

Of all things, she chose to imitate the kiss scene between the princess and prince.

Up until now, the scripts had mainly revolved around heroic knights battling monsters or sorcerers commanding dragons, so acting out such a pink-hued scenario with the Saintess was far too embarrassing for me.

“Saintess. I must reiterate, kissing between a man and woman should only happen if they’ve sworn their futures together. Moreover, you should maintain your purity as a Saintess. I am the Guardian Priest who protects you, ugh…”

“…”

“Please don’t bite me…”

She bit my stomach.

It seems she was really mad now. Even when I’d warned her against doing something she shouldn’t or had said it politely, she would get angry, but expressing her frustration so directly like this was a rarity for her, who usually shows no emotion.

She reminded me of a robot slowly learning about human feelings, and sometimes I felt like I wanted to turn her off for a bit, too.

“This is pointless. No means no. If you keep this up, there won’t be any more fairy tale readings. I won’t pat your head or hug you either.”

“…”

“Phew.”

Could it be that my determined will reached her? Finally, the Saintess released me.

I guess my grimace from her earlier bite had worked after all.

Thud.

Watching the despondent figure of the Saintess, slumping to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, didn’t sit well with me either.

Honestly, what’s the big deal about a kiss? I would’ve liked to oblige. If it were in my previous life, I would never have had the chance to even exchange a word with such an otherworldly beauty, and here she was, wanting my lips. What man wouldn’t be tempted?

But thinking of my position and how others would view it, I had to firmly reject her.

If word got out that a Guardian Priest, responsible for the Saintess all his life, tried to steal a kiss from her, you bet it would be my end.

The punishment for stepping on the Saintess’s shadow as some clueless apprentice priest had been nothing short of torture, and if I rashly kissed her, I might as well be dead.

Just for reference, that unfortunate apprentice priest was me from a few years back. To be frank, even now when I look at the Saintess’s face, I sometimes feel a twinge in my pinky as my past trauma resurfaces.

“Then, I will take my leave, Saintess. I’ll be back during lunch—”

Craack.

Just as my relieved self was starting to relax, a blood-curdling voice and a flash of crimson before my eyes swallowed my consciousness, which was just about to dive into relaxation.

They say that when witnessing a shocking sight, your brain freezes for a few seconds; that’s exactly what it felt like. The horrific reality unfolding before my eyes was something my mind had trouble accepting, twisting my vision into a nauseating blur.

The Saintess was… plunging a sharp object into her own hand.

“Saintess—!!”

Craack. Craack. Craack.

Even in the brief moments I rushed to her, her self-harm didn’t stop.

With the knife relentlessly stabbed at her hand at a steady angle and speed, it felt like I was staring into the eyes of an emotionless machine.

“What are you doing right now?!”

I yanked the weapon out of her grip rather roughly. The weapon turned out to be a fork used at breakfast. Apparently, she had smuggled it away when she hugged me earlier.

Why didn’t she even pretend to hold one while eating…?

“Show me the wound!”

“…”

Carefully lifting her red-stained white hand, I examined her injuries.

It was terrible. There were scars all over her hand, fingers, and wrists, with the iron tang of blood making me furrow my brow.

For even a grown adult, these were screaming injuries, but the Saintess showed no change in her expression as she stared blankly at my hand gripping hers.

“Divine one, I am merely your finger. A mere lamb. Beneath your power, I shall grant rest to all on this earth. May all glory be offered to you.”

Clutching the rosary at my chest, I quickly began to recite a healing prayer.

Why is she doing this…

Erasing the doubts seeping into my mind, I focused all my attention on gathering divine power.

No, to be precise, that’s what I tried to do.

Had it not been for the someone who gently lifted my hair with their eager breath, I might have been able to concentrate.

Craack.

“Ugh…!”

It was close. If I hadn’t hurriedly dodged back, I’d have felt the soft sensation of lips brushing mine.

That sensation was unmistakably from someone else’s lips, an irrefutable fact known to anyone present.

A painful truth I desperately wanted to ignore.

“W-Welna…!”

“…”

I tried to ask her with a voice that left no doubt about my panic, but sadly, it seemed my plea failed to reach her.

With her blood-stained finger, she playfully touched her own lips, and though her doll-like face remained emotionless as always,

Did I feel this way because it was my mood?

It oddly appeared as if she was smiling.

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