Chapter 5: The Scent of Sea Breeze

Morning.
Port town of Velapoli.
The church.

Priest Owen had just arrived and gave Yuri and me a once-over before speaking.

"You two look exhausted. Rough night?"

His gaze lingered on Yuri—specifically, the faint red mark on his cheek.

We answered at the same time. "No, nothing at all."

"Haaah…? If you say so."

Owen tilted his head, clearly skeptical. I fidgeted, replaying the morning’s events.

Last night, Yuri and I had shared the church’s only room.
He took the bed. I was supposed to sleep on the floor.

Supposed to.

But when I woke up, I was in bed too.

Reflex took over. I smacked Yuri—only to realize, too late, that I must have climbed in half-asleep.

Now that I'd calmed down, I felt guilty.
But apologizing? Out of the question. I had a reputation to maintain.

So here we were. Stewing in awkward silence.

I exhaled sharply and changed the subject.

"…By the way, this church is falling apart. There's a hole in the wall, and the roof leaks."

Peeling paint. Creaky floors. A building held together by faith and rust.
Better than sleeping outside, but only just.

Owen winced. "Ah—my apologies. The Velapoli branch is… financially strained."

"Broke, you mean? Not enough donations?"

"Well… yes. Something like that."

Haaah…?

His evasive tone made me frown.
Embezzling church funds was a capital offense in the Holy Burial Church.

I eyed him suspiciously.

Owen forced a laugh. "Haha, well then! I should prepare for morning services… May I excuse myself?"

"…Do what you want."

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall.
Even if this priest was up to something, it wasn’t my problem.

Our mission was demon extermination.
I had no intention of interfering unless it got in our way.
Fighting both humans and demons was too much hassle.

"Um, Owen—"

While I tuned out, Yuri raised his hand.

"Can I help with the church preparations?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.

Hopeless do-gooder...

True, we had no plans today.
Owen’s intel covered the town’s rumors, and demons only moved at night.

Meaning we were free.
And if Yuri wanted to waste his free time playing altar boy, that was his choice.

Owen beamed. "Oh, certainly! But are you sure?"

"Yeah. You’re letting us stay, so… I’d like to return the favor."

Before me stood two men radiating goodwill: a sweaty middle-aged priest and a naive young exorcist.

I desperately wanted to fade into the background.

In the end, Yuri got roped into sweeping, replacing flowers, and other chores.

Not that I was helping.
Partly because it was annoying, but mostly because helpful wasn’t in my character.

I lounged on a pew, watching Yuri meticulously polish the pulpit.

His thoroughness was almost impressive.

But doing nothing grated on me.

"Hey, Yuri."

He glanced up. "Hm? What’s up?"

"Why’d you volunteer for this?"

"Why? Like I told Owen—we’re staying here. Helping out when I can just makes sense."

Too nice for his own good.

And that’s exactly why seeing him get taken advantage of pissed me off.

"Our job as exorcists is to hunt demons, you know?"

"I know. But even so… when someone’s kind to me, I want to repay that. That’s just how I am."

"…Hmph. Whatever."

The church was obligated to provide for exorcists—it was part of the job. Yuri had to know that. Yet he still insisted on returning favors.

I wasn’t about to argue. That kindness of his was a virtue.
I wasn’t mocking him, not even as a joke.

But that didn’t mean I’d stay quiet.

"Still, don’t you think this priest’s a little… shady?"

This town thrived on fishing and trade—it was prosperous. Donations should’ve been enough to cover basic repairs. Yet the church was falling apart.

I wasn’t looking to pick a fight, but I wanted Yuri to share my skepticism.
Trusting people was fine. But he needed to learn suspicion too.

"Well… maybe. But I don’t think Owen’s a bad person."

"…Why?"

"Because he seems nice?"

"…Haah? That’s not a reason. Where’s your proof?"

I uncrossed my legs and leaned forward.

"Uh… uhhh… gut feeling?"

"That’s hilarious."

A lie. I wasn’t amused at all.

There was a difference between kindness and naivety.
The former was a virtue. The latter, a flaw.

I opened my mouth to lecture him—

"I’m actually… pretty good at this, though."

Yuri cut me off. I frowned.

"Hah? ‘Good at what?’"

"Telling who’s a good person and who’s not. I’ve got a knack for it."

"…Hah."

I nearly laughed.
If he really had an eye for people, he’d never have partnered with me.

Exhaling in exasperation, I slumped back.

"Haah… Fine. Do what you want. I’m not helping."

"Yeah, this is my own thing anyway… You can just stay seated, Elsie."

"I don’t need your permission."

I sank deeper into the pew, letting the backrest take my weight.

Some time later, after Yuri finished cleaning…

"Thank you, Yuri. The place looks spotless."

"N-no problem."

"You’ve been a tremendous help… I’m the only priest here, so I usually clean on a much smaller scale."

"Haha…"

Yuri fumbled under the praise, his ears red.
I watched through half-lidded eyes.

Hmph. So that explains it.

No wonder the guest room had been dusty—with just one priest maintaining the whole church, unused spaces would naturally be neglected.

As I mused, Owen spoke up again.

"Well then... I must go welcome our guests now—"

"Hah? Guests?"

I couldn’t help but voice my skepticism. Priest Owen turned to me with an easygoing smile.

"Yes. Small guests."

"That’s not an ans—"

Before I could finish, the church doors creaked open. A young boy stood there.

"Teacher! Good morning!"

"Ah, good morning, Kevin."

So this was the "small guest." His worn clothes suggested he wasn’t some noble’s kid—just an ordinary, slightly scruffy boy.

But why was he a guest?

"Good morning~!"
"Good morning, Emily."
"...Mornin’."
"Good morning, Mary."

One by one, more children filed in—all around early teens. Owen knew every one of them by name.

Soon, nearly twenty kids had gathered. As I stared, bewildered, Owen glanced at me before addressing them.

"Everyone, head to the study room first, please."
"Okay!"
"Yes, sir!"

The children shuffled off, leaving Owen free to face us again.

"What was that brat brigade?"

"They’re... children who lost their parents in this town."

Orphans, then.

...I’d guessed as much. None were dressed well, and their numbers had grown steadily. For me, this was just confirmation.

Yuri, though, seemed clueless. Owen sighed and explained.

"We’re far from the holy capital. No monasteries here... nor orphanages."

Yuri tilted his head.

"But... are they victims of demons?"
"No. That’s precisely why sending them to the capital’s monasteries feels... inappropriate."

Yuri blinked, then shot me a questioning look.

Seriously?

"Yuri."
"Y-yeah?"
"This is a port town. Lots of sailors. Get it?"
"Oh..."

Realization dawned on him.

"So those kids... their parents were sailors who died at sea?"
"Yes. Nearly all parentless children here are sailors’ legacies."

Owen’s expression darkened.

...In this era, the sea was a gamble. No modern ships, no safety guarantees. Yet sailing was their livelihood.

I nodded, finally understanding the church’s poverty.

"So you... been using donations to feed those orphans?"
"Yes. Among other things."
"...Hmph."

I scratched the back of my neck.

By Holy Burial doctrine, his actions were borderline heretical. Churches weren’t charities.

But I wasn’t about to report him.

Not just to avoid hassle—though that was part of it—but because, grudgingly, I respected his choice.

And he’d trusted us with this secret.
Probably because of Yuri’s do-gooder antics.

I wouldn’t betray that.

"...So. You’re gonna teach those brats now? For free?"
"Indeed."
"...Weirdo."

No profit. Just pure charity.

Out of the corner of my eye, Yuri was practically glowing.

...Ugh. Hero worship.

Owen noticed too.

"Ah, Yuri. If you’re willing... might you teach them as well?"
"Eh? Me?"

Yuri glanced at me, eyes pleading—probably unsure of his own skills.

I pointedly looked away.

"Oh, nothing too difficult. Just share some teachings of the Holy Burial Church—its doctrines, history, that sort of thing."

Priest Owen clarified that he wasn’t asking for academic lessons, just for Yuri to speak as an exorcist about the church’s tenets.
Yet his words made me frown.

"Shouldn’t you be doing that? You’re the priest here."

"That alone wouldn’t be enough. If I’m their only teacher, their perspectives will stagnate. I want them to see the world through many eyes."

"...Sure."

"Besides—"

Owen’s gaze dropped to his own disheveled vestments.

"—I’ll admit, I’m not as well-versed in doctrine as I should be. As you can see."

"...You are a priest, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"…………Haaah."

I couldn’t help but sigh.

A priest’s job was to preach doctrine and grow their flock. No wonder this place was poor—if even its own priest was half-hearted, no donations would follow.

My exasperated gaze shifted to Yuri.

"So, what do you think, Yuri?"

"Uh, well…"

He kept glancing at me. At first, I thought he was seeking permission—but no.

Finally, he gave in.

"...Sorry. I’m not exactly an expert either. I can only really cover the basics…"

I made sure my sigh was audible.
Yuri responded with an awkward, deflective smile.

Then I glared at both of them.

"Unbelievable. Do neither of you even remember which church you belong to?"

My blunt criticism made them avert their eyes.
Pathetic.

Was Yuri neglecting his studies?
Sure, doctrine wasn’t essential for hunting demons, but not knowing your own organization’s origins was just sloppy.

As I massaged my temples, Owen spoke up again.

"...Then, Elsie, are you well-versed?"

"Obviously. I’m a senior exorcist—written exams are part of the evaluation."

Beside me, Yuri muttered, "Wait, really…?" in surprise.

As a junior exorcist who’d never been promoted, his ignorance was almost understandable.

Almost.

For exorcists, doctrine was law. The scriptures were our foundation. The church operated under the same principles—of course they’d favor those who shared their ideals.

Owen, oblivious to my thoughts, brightened.

"How wonderful! Then, Elsie, might you teach them?"

My brow twitched.

"Hah? Why would I—"

"Please. I can only give them textbook answers at best."

"I never agreed to—"

"They’d be thrilled to learn from someone like you."

"Will you listen for once!?"

My shout made Yuri flinch. Owen, however, didn’t even blink.

Steely nerves.

...With that look, he’d probably been a sailor before becoming a priest.

He met my glare evenly.

"...So you won’t?"

"Obviously not."

"A shame."

"Tch."

Owen lowered his eyes, feigning disappointment. I crossed my arms and ignored him.

"The children would’ve loved hearing from a real exorcist…"

"…………"

Silence.
But something churned uncomfortably in my chest.

"Ah, well. You have your own duties. I understand."

"…………"

I tapped my arm impatiently.

The children’s faces flashed in my mind—their worn clothes, their uncertain futures.
Orphans of sailors lost at sea, raised by single mothers… if they even had mothers left.

Was I really going to turn them away?

...But what choice did I have?

What Owen was doing—caring for these children, asking for nothing in return—was undeniably good.

But I paid for miracles with my lifespan.
I didn’t know how much time I had left.

If I let myself grow kind… if I let myself be liked…

I’d only leave behind more people to grieve.

So—

"Haah..."

No matter how many excuses I conjured, they were just that—excuses.

I stole a glance at Yuri. Our eyes met—then he quickly looked away.

...Right. His opinion of me was already low.

So maybe... just this once, it'd be fine to relent.

Besides, once this mission ended, I'd never see these orphans again anyway.

So—

"...Fine. I'll do it."

"...Huh?"

"I'm saying it's nothing to teach some brats for an hour. Don't make me repeat myself."

Yuri's stunned expression beside me was... mildly irritating.

---

Over a thousand years ago...

Humanity waged an endless war against a devouring black mist. But humans were powerless—they had no means to fight these so-called "demons."

Then, in what would later become known as the Holy Land, a girl was born.

She was Saint Rayline—a child beloved by the gods, a miracle-child who gained the power to oppose demons.

She possessed 128 miracles, capable of achieving anything and slaying any demon. But more than that, she used her miracle of linguistic manifestation to codify all her powers into books.

These transcribed miracles, called "sacred verses," could be recreated by anyone through specific incantations, exchanged for etheric divine energy. It was an act of kindness—so others wouldn't need to rely solely on her.

She taught humanity to wield ether, establishing an organization to combat demons:

The Holy Burial Alliance.

After her death, her followers deified her, and the alliance evolved into the modern Holy Burial Church.

"—Got it?"

Elcie's lecture wove textbook knowledge with deeper context, blending history with present relevance—not just dry facts, but lessons the children could use.

"Yes!" the kids chorused.

I sat farther back, listening alongside Priest Owen. He nodded approvingly before whispering to me:

"...Remarkable. She's a natural teacher."

His voice was low, careful not to disrupt the lesson.

"...I'm a little surprised too," I admitted.

"Oh? Teaching is a skill honed through experience. Have you never seen her instruct someone before?"

"Well—"

Memories surfaced.

Her usual demeanor—arrogant, yet always imparting useful knowledge to me.

I shook my head.

"She... does teach me things regularly."

"...I see."

"Just not this gently."

My tone was wry. Comparing myself to these kids wasn't fair, but—

The harshness she usually wielded like a weapon was absent now.

Why?

I sank deeper into my chair, watching her at the podium.

She almost looked... happy.

"She's a kind person at heart, isn't she?" Owen murmured.

"...Elcie?"

"Don't you think so?"

I didn't meet his gaze.

"...Yeah."

A quiet admission.

Her usual malice was a facade—this was her truth.

...I hope someday, she can be this unguarded all the time.

And if that day comes... I hope I can help her.

Fingers tracing the frayed edges of my textbook, I turned the page.

---

"...Completely unnecessary detour, if you ask me."

Grumbling under her breath, Elcie drove a silver stake into the sandy beach. The Holy Burial Church's emblem was engraved on its surface.

"...Sorry for dragging you into this, Elcie."

"...Don't be. No need to apologize."

I stomped the stake deeper until its head disappeared beneath the sand.

We repeated this process along Velapoli's shoreline, tying ropes to secure them near the piers. By the time we finished, the sky had turned crimson. Exhausting work.

And why were we doing this?

"All set... Yuri, step back."

"Ah, right."

Elcie placed her hands on one of the stakes. Etheric divine energy surged from her body—visible, overwhelming—connecting stake to stake in a glowing network.

A web of light spread across Velapoli's coast.

"『O Lord, illuminate the wicked who dare defy Thee―』"

Her incantation transformed the ether into miracle.

"『Holy Array.』"

The stakes pulsed blue-white, pillars of light shooting skyward before fading to a faint glow.

"...That should do it."

Wiping sweat from her brow, Elcie exhaled deeply.

This was one of Saint Rayline's 128 miracles—a barrier to detect approaching demons.

Now, any demon attempting to make landfall would trigger the grid long before reaching shore.

Watching her work was awe-inspiring. The setting sun painted her cheeks red, like a portrait of some classical beauty—

"...Why're you staring like an idiot?"

"Eh? Ah—s-sorry!"

"Haaah? Makes no sense."

She sighed—whether from fatigue or exasperation with me (probably both).

"Ugh. Wish you could handle this already."

"...S-sorry."

Beads of sweat trailed down her face. Physical exhaustion compounded by ether depletion.

As I wallowed in guilt, Elcie gave me a tired, half-amused smile.

"How many miracles can you cast from the scriptures?"

"...Three."

"...Are you trying to be the worst exorcist?"

"W-well! Compared to others in my cohort, that's actually... decent..."

It was true. Most junior exorcists only mastered one. Two or three put me in the upper percentile.

"So you are just stupid."

Her karate chop to my head carried no ether—or real force.

"Comparing yourself to run-of-the-mill junior exorcists is pointless."

"...S-sorry."

"Honestly..."

I wisely didn't mention that before meeting Elcie, I'd only mastered one miracle. No excuse would save me now.

Instead, a question surfaced.

"...How many can you use, Elcie?"

"A hundred and one."

I blinked.

I'd known her repertoire was vast—she tailored miracles to each mission—but 101 out of 128?

"So... once you learn 27 more, you'll know them all?"

"...Are you actually this stupid?"

Her verbal jab came with another chop to my head—harder this time.

Dizzy and confused, I barely registered her sigh.

"Saint Rayline only codified 101 miracles in the scriptures. Didn't you know that?"

"Eh? But she had 128—why?"

"...Haaah."

Rubbing her temples, Elcie turned and strode down the beach. I scrambled after her.

"She possessed 128 Signs of Miracles—but not all were meant to be replicated. Some required... unsavory costs."

"...Forbidden miracles?"

"Life. Limbs. Memories. Lifespans."

A chill ran down my spine.

"She refused to transcribe anything that could harm others. The Church, in turn, never publicized them."

My boots traced her footprints in the sand.

"The '27 Unknown Miracles.' Not hidden per se, but omitted from scripture. An open secret."

Wait—if 27 were excluded, and Elcie knew 101...

"Wait, does that mean you can already use every—"

"Every existing miracle. Yes."

I stared.

"...You're amazing, Elcie."

"Hah? Now you notice?"

Of course, I'd known she was exceptional.

A senior exorcist at my age.
Wielding sacred silver with ten times my skill.

"N-no, I mean—it's reaffirming how amazing you are."

"...Hmph."

For some reason, she looked almost pained, avoiding my gaze.

The usually arrogant, self-assured Elcie seemed... uncomfortable with praise.

Not flustered—genuinely unhappy.

"Let's head back. We need to move the bedding Owen lent us inside."

"R-right."

Her tone was curt as she turned away. I hurried to match her stride.

Side by side, the sunset dyed her rose-gold hair crimson.

The crash of waves. Salt on the breeze.

The dying light framed her like a masterpiece.

My pulse roared in my ears.