The Priest Wants to Retire

〈 Chapter 42 〉 Being Lost

*

I heard someone say.

The scariest part of being lost is that even while moving down the right path, the distrust that one can’t possibly be on the right path and the anxiety that this doesn’t feel right is so overwhelming, it ends up leading one off that path.

The wrong path. It’s strangely comforting to walk down the easy road without thinking, like I’m at peace.

”Pfft.”

A foolish laugh escaped my withered lips.

That rumor was quite ridiculous and it seemed to perfectly represent my current situation.

In reality, there were countless better paths, yet I chose the worst decision to cowardly turn away from what I ought to confront, closing my eyes and running away, all because it felt comfortable.

The back of my right hand throbbed.

It was unavoidable. This place is where my guilt resides.

In front of others, I had never once taken off the glove on my right hand. I pulled it down and quietly gazed at the hideous scar that stood out on my hand.

A savage scar viciously cutting across the bones of my middle and ring fingers.

Because of this guy, I had countless sleepless nights.

Not just because of the blunt pain shooting up my hand, but the painful memories I wanted to forget that this pain was silently dragging up.

Among the many stains in my failure-laden life, this regret was the first weed that needed to be uprooted, and it rarely allowed me a peaceful night.

Compared to that, the pain of flesh being pierced and bones misaligned was nothing significant.

The pain of the body gradually fades with time, and sometimes you can vent it to someone.

But.

The lamenting time seeping through the cracks of the scar etched on my body was not only refusing to fade but gradually expanding instead.

Since I could never confide that miserable past to anyone else.

Today, once again, I extinguished the spark of courage to face my mistakes with my own will, covering that ugly stigma with thick gloves while turning my gaze away.

”I should’ve asked if I’m doing well…”

I shook my head.

Caring about her health was a pointless concern, more so than worrying about a celebrity’s livelihood.

Just considering the time I resolved to escape, her body was in such a state that even if she fell off a cliff or was trampled by a dragon, she wouldn’t have so much as a scrape, truly reaching the realm of invulnerability.

I decided to dismiss unnecessary worries.

It was a flaw if one considered being slightly clueless a flaw. However, that was hardly an element that would change much with or without me, so it had long been set aside in my mind.

Moreover, she now had reliable comrades that were trustworthy enough to make up for such minor flaws.

People far stronger and more reliable than someone like me.

I, who was far too weak to even offer a shoulder to lean on, could not shamelessly occupy that place indefinitely.

To her, I am a rust. A rust that must be scraped away.

An obstruction sticking to her joints, a deadly rust that would surely collapse her organization in the near future.

I could not be with her.

Or rather, I shouldn’t be.

”This… this is enough…”

It was fortunate that the first person I encountered was Apis.

I had steeled myself somewhat, but mustering the courage to face her dazzling, sun-like face head-on would not have been easy at all.

If it was the thoughtful Apis, she would surely understand the meaning behind my words and gently console her, who was grieving the loss of her comrade.

Moreover, they were quite alike in many ways.

The reason I sometimes remarked that they appeared to be close sisters was because of that similarity.

Apis often looked quite incredulous every time she heard that.

Honestly, it was understandable.

That image of her, woven from the words “innocent and pure,” being so similar to the usually improper Apis was quite the stretch.

I recall smiling awkwardly at Apis’ rough rebuttal asking if my eyes were broken.

But did Apis truly know?

That the person I had met in the past, with her mannerisms, behavior, and that fierce temperament, was an exact replica of Apis.

I could never forget that moment when I first encountered her.

The beastly figure that, without a moment’s hesitation, tried to plunge a blade into my throat with a clear malice was a memory engraved not just in my mind but in my very skin.

The reason that ferocious fang did not touch my throat was solely thanks to my right hand, which reflexively blocked its path.

Pure luck. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that my life was sustained because of that stroke of fortune.

The reason my life is currently at its low point is probably that I’ve exhausted all my luck at that moment.

“Get your filthy hands off my sister right now, you bastard!”

The little kid, no bigger than half my size, trembling with the malice that erupted from him was quite the sight to behold.

Honestly, I had done something that could certainly be misunderstood.

In the dead of night, it’s not normal for a human to sneak into a children’s bedroom and fondle a sleeping boy’s body.

Santa Claus has never been prosecuted for breaking and entering solely because of the minimum moral high ground of leaving presents for good children.

If not for that, he would probably now be wearing furry handcuffs, writing appeals asking for cookies and milk as food.

It was a past laden with regret, but at the time, I thought it was the best course of action.

I had seen countless children in the poor orphanage meet terrible ends, burdened by illness and curses.

God granted humanity divine power to save those who needed help.

Even now, I believe that choice itself was not wrong.

It was just that I made the decision too late.

I cherished the worthless things I had been holding onto, finding them precious beyond compare.

Even in the final moments, I couldn’t choose the simple option of reaching out for someone and hesitated endlessly.

The outcome of that pathetic hesitance was this.

A hole blasted through my right hand. Neither a savior nor a mere observer, just a pathetic bystander.

That’s why, looking into her clear eyes that remind me of my foolish self from that day was unbearably frightening.

Years later, when I met her again, recognizing her immediately despite her drastically changed appearance and atmosphere was due to her eyes holding onto that brilliance from that day.

I felt that the sacred light could illuminate the past mistakes buried in the dark depths of my memory at any moment and rebuke me harshly.

I never wanted to see that face again.

So, I turned away from the light. I turned my back. I ran away.

”Hoo…”

I covered the unsettling thoughts overlaying my contemplation with a fabric of emotion.

With a gentle smile and calm breath. After confirming that I had created a decent mask considering it was hastily put together, I straightened my hunched back as if a heavy burden had been placed upon it.

Right after that, I opened the door.

”Saintess, I’m here!”

”Aah!”

Boom!

Like someone throwing a pillow, a feather-like presence landed softly on my lower abdomen as I entered my room.

Thanks to quickly raising the tray I was holding above my head, I successfully prevented my carefully prepared meal from spilling.

I had anticipated that the Saintess would come flying toward my lower abdomen based on previous experiences.

The elegant wobble right after the collision didn’t throw off my balance, at least.

On days when she was served food she didn’t like, this has become one of the bad habits that the Saintess developed, trying to discreetly upend my meal.

While the rapid growth of the Saintess’ mental age to the point of being able to play house was a good thing, the increase in her subtle tricks was certainly a downside.

”Saintess, if you thought I would fall for the same trick twice, you are sorely mistaken!”

”Hmph! Hmph!”

Though her face showed no signs of movement, I could see her stomping her feet in frustration from her spot, meaning her plan had quite clearly backfired.

”I told you last time, Saintess. Only the good child who patiently eats the things they don’t like can receive a reward.”

”Uuh! Uuh!”

A rebuttal!?

I could understand why parents grieve when they witness their children misbehaving.

Yeah. This must be how they feel.

Raising children is truly useless for anything, indeed, this situation must be what they were referring to…

”Ha, ha…”

What a funny joke. It’s truly a laughable thing.

Even if it was just for a moment, I couldn’t help but chuckle at my own ridiculous role as the Saintess’ guardian.

No, it wasn’t just a moment. Although I had never thought of it as a shameful recognition until now, I had often entertained similar thoughts.

It was just embarrassing and absurd.

Here I was, planning my escape from this place someday.

*