Chapter 33 - Apostle of Love - 2

“She is coming.”

On the day the apostle of love returned to the Holy Empire, Renée waited for her outside the Grand Temple’s main gate. At Bera’s words, she felt her body stiffen.

There were two apostles she had yet to meet. The thought of meeting one of them had made her tense instinctively.

Bera was not quite his usual self, either. His reason was similar to Renée’s, yet different.

Hoping that this apostle, at least, would be a normal person, he narrowed his eyes at the figure approaching from afar and spoke to describe the apostle of love’s appearance to Renée.

“... She is an elderly woman.”

That was the first feature to stand out. The apostle of love was an old woman whose years were evident at a glance.

Next came:

“She has a gentle, dignified air. Her white hair is tied up, and her back is slightly bent. There are no creases in her robes, so she seems to prefer things clean and tidy.”

He had reached that conclusion by examining as many visible details as possible. Renée nodded repeatedly, committing his words to memory.

“Do I look all right?”

Was there anything someone might find fault with? In answer to that question, Bera glanced her over and replied in a perfectly casual tone.

“You look beautiful.”

Renée gave a startled shudder.

“Th-thank you...”

“I am merely stating a fact.”

Renée pressed her lips shut. His words made her feel as though her brain were being steamed through.

Surely he had said it without any particular thought, yet for some reason, she heard another meaning in it.

Her feelings were utterly confused. She had thought the fluttering would subside once she settled into the Holy Empire, but it only grew stronger with each passing day.

It would have been a relief if it happened only when they were together. Even when they were apart—when she was in her quarters with Hella, eating, washing, or going to bed—Bera came to mind at all hours.

His voice, the hand she had held, their conversations. They stirred up her mind.

Thoughts she could not control.

This was a time when she needed to devote herself to practicing sacred arts, studying doctrine, and learning all manner of academic subjects. Yet thoughts of Bera made it exceedingly difficult.

Why on earth was she like this?

While Renée was wondering about her symptoms—

“Welcome.”

Bargo spoke.

At his words, Renée lifted her deeply bowed head and faced forward. The apostle of love. She must have arrived. Realizing that, Renée began to stiffen as tension welled up within her.

The reply came just as she began pursing her lips in her rigid state.

“Well, Your Holiness, you certainly have grown old.”

“Not as old as you.”

“Hoho, I haven’t grown nearly as ugly as you, Your Holiness. Take that back.”

The conversation continued with easy familiarity.

Watching while holding Renée’s hand, Bera’s eyes widened at what he heard.

That cantankerous old man was letting someone provoke him without retaliating. Wasn’t that astonishing?

He had never even dared imagine such a sight.

Just who was the apostle of love, that Bargo treated her so respectfully?

As that question occurred to him, Bera’s expression began to turn peculiar.

Still talking to Bargo, the apostle of love noticed that expression beyond him and stared at Bera.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Bargo turned around immediately afterward. Only then did he utter an “Ah,” step slightly aside, and address Renée.

“Saintess, please say hello. This is Lady Terisa, the apostle of love.”

“H-hello!”

At Bargo’s prompting, Renée bowed deeply in greeting.

She felt the same astonishment Bera had. Bargo never used respectful speech with anyone but her, yet here was someone he treated with impeccable courtesy. Wasn’t that remarkable?

That thought left Renée feeling oddly awkward as she kept her head lowered. Before she knew it, the apostle of love, Terisa, had approached her. Taking Renée’s hand, she gently helped her straighten up.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Saintess. There is no need to be so formal.”

Her tone was soft. Studying Renée’s face once she had lifted her head, Terisa continued.

“What a lovely young lady. Grow a little older, and you’ll be able to capture the heart of every man in the world.”

She spoke with a chuckle.

Renée gave an awkward laugh, then focused her attention in Bera’s direction.

That, too, was an unconscious reaction.

Terisa blinked at Renée’s strange reaction for a moment. Then she looked at Bera, toward whom Renée was leaning, and spoke with an “Ah.”

“So you must be Oaths. I’ve heard a great deal about you. Quite the troublemaker, aren’t you?”

“... Nothing could be further from the truth.”

Bera’s expression tightened slightly as he answered, then he bowed his head.

“My name is Bera.”

“Yes, a pleasure to meet you.”

With her laughter lingering in his ears, Bera wondered what on earth people had said about him for him to hear that at their very first meeting.

Terisa watched him bow deeply in respect, then looked back at Renée, narrowing her eyes with a chuckle.

“Hmm...”

Letting that sound slip out, she turned her gaze toward Bera again and spoke in a playful tone.

“A fine-looking lad, aren’t you? Quite handsome for an apostle.”

“You flatter me.”

“Not at all. I’m only saying what I think.”

As she spoke, Terisa studied Renée’s expression.

She was twitching slightly and paying even closer attention to Bera.

Terisa knew at a glance what that reaction meant.

The smile on her lips deepened, and a pleased chuckle escaped her.

‘It seems...’

She was going to have a thoroughly enjoyable vacation.

* * *

After exchanging greetings with Terisa, Renée entered the Grand Temple’s meeting room and sat silently beside Bera.

Terisa had stepped out briefly, saying she had something to discuss with Bargo.

In the quiet, Renée felt Terisa’s earlier words stirring up her mind.

[“A fine-looking lad, aren’t you?”]

Those words about Bera’s appearance kept circling in her head.

Come to think of it, Renée still did not know what Bera looked like.

That was only natural, since she could not see. Yet Bera had described everyone else’s appearance in detail, allowing her to picture them to some extent. In that sense, his was the only face in the Holy Empire she did not know.

Once she realized that, Renée began fretting without even noticing, her mind filling with the question, ‘How should I ask him?’

... In truth, she could simply have asked. But Renée became particularly foolish whenever Bera was involved, so that possibility never occurred to her. Instead, she insisted on trying to come up with an excuse.

No, even if asking outright had occurred to her, she would still have invented an excuse.

What if Bera found the question strange? What if he thought she had some other interest in him? Those worries kept arising.

Renée believed she had no romantic feelings for Bera.

There were several reasons for that, but the greatest was this:

She had never felt attracted to anyone before. It would be more accurate to say she simply did not recognize these feelings as romantic attraction.

The longer she fretted, the lower her head sank, and the tighter her eyes squeezed shut.

Just as her behavior was becoming visibly strange, Bera spoke.

“Saintess? Are you feeling unwell?”

Startled by his words, Renée snapped her head up and answered loudly.

“No!”

She resembled a roly-poly toy springing upright after being tipped all the way to the floor.

After answering, Renée’s fingertips twitched. At last, she thought, ‘Just take the plunge and ask!’ and cautiously moved her lips.

“Sir Knight.”

“Yes, please go ahead.”

“What do you look like, Sir Knight?”

Bera abruptly stopped moving. Renée’s expression stiffened further.

Only at her question did he realize he had never once told her what he looked like. A pang of dismay struck him.

How uncomfortable must that have been? How troubling must it have been not to know the face of someone she spent almost every day with?

Lamenting his absurd oversight, Bera apologized to her.

“I am sorry. I failed to consider that and never told you.”

“P-pardon?”

Renée felt bewilderment rising within her. Wait, why was he reacting like this?

As confusion spread across her face, Bera took her hand and placed it against his cheek.

“Eek!”

Renée jolted at the sensation against her hand, then froze rigidly, completely short-circuiting.

“Saintess?”

“G-g-g...”

Incomplete sounds sputtered from her mouth. It took some time for Renée to come to her senses.

Even then, she had not fully recovered. With the feel of his skin against her palm, her thoughts were still half out of order.

Watching her breathing gradually steady, Bera tilted his head slightly, then continued.

“You may touch as you please. If there is anything you wish to know, ask, and I will answer.”

Bera had said it while recalling how Renée had stroked his face in his previous life.

But this, too, backfired.

Touch as you please.

Those words made Renée feel as though a ball of fire had settled inside her.

They were far too potent for a girl in the bloom of adolescence.

Renée opened and closed her mouth, moving stiffly like a broken machine, before finally gathering her wits enough to nod.

“Y-yes...!”

As you please. As you please. As you please.

The words began filling her head. She kept swallowing hard.

Bera’s hand lifted from the back of hers. Feeling it leave, Renée slowly stroked his cheek.

It was slightly rough, but warm and soft.

“U-um... Bera, what color is your skin?”

“I believe I am paler than most. I suppose it is because I grew up in a neighborhood that received very little sunlight.”

As he spoke, Bera’s voice became vibrations that traveled through her palm.

It felt like a tingling current running down her spine.

Pale skin. In Renée’s mind, an image of warm cheeks and pale skin took shape.

“I-I see...”

As she spoke and moved her hand a little higher, the tip of her thumb brushed his eyelashes.

“Oh, sorry.”

“It is quite all right.”

Bera closed his eyes. As his eyelids lowered, his lashes tickled her thumb.

Renée felt herself shudder again at the sensation. Then she swallowed hard and asked another question.

“Wh-what color are your eyes?”

“I believe they are a shade of gray. I apologize that I cannot give you a definite answer, as I have never examined them closely. I will check again when I return today.”

“N-no! There’s no need to go that far!”

So they were gray.

Slightly sharp eyes with gray irises appeared in her rough mental picture.

That sharp look came from her understanding of Bera as a juvenile delinquent.

It might not have been intentional, but the Bera taking shape in Renée’s mind was turning out fairly close to reality.

Her thumb traveled up over his eyelid and felt its way along his eyebrow. It extended in a straight line, with his fringe brushing against it.

“What color is your hair?”

“Black.”

Black hair and straight eyebrows were added to the picture in her mind.

‘I thought it would be blond.’

That was a little unexpected.

Thinking that, Renée continued stroking Bera’s face. She traced the bridge of his nose, much higher and straighter than her own, then felt along his jaw to fill out her mental picture. Suddenly, her hand stopped.

The last part she had yet to explore.

‘H-his mouth...’

His lips.

Her hand had stopped at the thought of touching them.

Her heart began pounding heavily. Her throat, which had been swallowing all day, went to work again.

Little by little, in very slow movements, her thumb traveled across his cheek.

Her palm was growing hot.

Renée did not know whether that warmth was Bera’s or her own.

Then, as her thumb moved, it dipped into a hollow and met something soft.

His lips.

Renée jolted in surprise, snatched her hand away from Bera’s face, and practically shouted.

“Th-that’s enough!”

“Was that of any help?”

“Yes, yes. Yes! I think I know now! Thank you!”

The words tumbled out rapidly. After speaking, Renée worked her lips, clenched her fists, and sat perfectly straight, stiffening in that position.

Bera tilted his head again at the sight, then followed her example and straightened his posture.

Her heart pounded on.

Renée remained silent, anxiously wondering whether Bera could hear the heartbeat that felt ready to burst out of her chest.