Chapter 39 - Name - 2

Her heart seemed to drop with a heavy thud. Renée stopped walking, feeling as though the ground were crumbling beneath her feet. Her thoughts cooled as abruptly as if someone had doused her in ice water. A faint voice escaped her lips.

“I-I suppose so...”

Her shoulders slumped. She needed to pretend she was all right, to put on a cheerful face. She needed to make it sound like a joke. But at this moment, she simply could not.

Bera was disconcerted to see Renée suddenly stop and look so dejected. Realizing that he had upset her, he felt a pang of alarm. He hurried to string together words that might comfort her.

“... I only meant that it would be far too great an honor for me. I felt that daring to do such a thing would be more than I deserved...”

His explanation was uncharacteristically long. As he continued, Bera realized that it was hardly a clear answer and bit his lip.

“... I am sorry.”

“No. I spoke without thinking.”

“Not at all. There is nothing you may not say to me, Saintess.”

Hearing that, Renée wondered why he was refusing if there was nothing she could not say to him. Did he mean he would at least listen, no matter what she said? Was that it?

A pout began to form on her face. Somehow, she resented Bera for remaining so deferential even now. It hurt her pride that he was perfectly composed while she alone was in this state. In a flash of temper, she let a petulant complaint slip out.

“... Then you could just do what I ask.”

* * *

Bera stared at Renée, his face filled with bewilderment. She had turned toward him and lifted her chin, wearing an expression he had never seen before. Her brows were drawn together, her lips pressed tight. Unable to judge his height, she had tilted her head too far back and was looking at the sky, but Bera understood that she meant to glare at him.

“Say my name.”

The words struck his ears again. At a loss for what to do, Bera ultimately gave the same sort of reply as before.

“... I beg your forgiveness.”

“Then why do something you need forgiveness for?”

“... I am sorry.”

“You could just stop giving yourself something to apologize for.”

Bera jolted. Renée had never behaved this way before, and her sudden sharp retorts left him unable to respond. As he stood there growing more flustered, unsure what to say or how to answer, she spoke again.

“Fine. If it makes you that uncomfortable, Sir Knight, I’ll go first. Once I’ve done it, you have to do it too. Understood?”

“Well...”

“Are you going to beg my forgiveness again?”

Bera’s eyes shook as though an earthquake had struck. As he looked at her with that unsteady gaze, he felt her grip on his hand tighten. He bowed his head deeply and answered.

“... I shall obey your command.”

“Good. Then I’ll do it. Be—”

She stopped short. This time, it was Renée who was at a loss for words. Just as she was about to say Bera’s name, she realized what she was doing. Her face turned scarlet, and her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. She was about to call him Bera. Her heart began to pound, thump after thump.

Only now did she grasp what she had done. In a momentary fit of temper, she had made an unreasonable demand. She had cornered Bera, who could not even think of disobeying her. Her conscience pricked her. She felt guilty at the thought that she was tormenting him for the sake of her own desires, while the prospect of saying his name set her heart racing.

“B-Be, Be...”

Renée squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to turn back time. Rather than these useless divine powers, she wanted divine powers that could turn back time. Not by much, either. Just five minutes. Five minutes would be enough. She prayed to the heavens to exchange her powers, pleading that she would give anything in return.

... Of course, that changed nothing. Spilled water could not be gathered up again. As dismay rose within her and her body began to tremble, Renée arrived at a thought that was little more than self-justification.

‘Now that it’s come to this...!’

She had to do it now. If she let this moment pass, she would never get another chance. Yes, perhaps this was for the best. She had brought this situation on herself, but if she failed to follow through now, that rigid man would never call her by her name. She would only be left agonizing on her own again. It was just two syllables. All she had to say was “Be” and “ra.” What was so difficult about that?

“Be...!”

It was difficult. Her face was far too hot. Her heart beat so violently that her chest ached. Just two syllables—the single word made by joining those two insignificant sounds—felt so embarrassing, so mortifying to say aloud, that she simply could not continue.

Renée squeezed Bera’s hand even harder, worried about how she must look right now. After hesitating for a long while, unable to force the words out, she finally took a great gulp of air and steadied herself.

“Saintess. If this troubles you, there is no need to...”

“Quiet.”

“... Yes.”

Why was he interrupting her while she was trying to concentrate? Renée rebuked him with a stern expression. She kept taking deep breaths until she felt a little calmer, then opened the hand holding her cane and held it out to Bera.

“Give me your hand.”

“... Yes.”

CLACK.

Her cane fell to the ground, followed by a soft tap as Bera laid his hand over hers. Renée now held both his hands. There was no backing out anymore. With both his hands in hers, she had to say it. That reasoning was wholly arbitrary, with no logic behind it, but that hardly mattered to Renée now.

Renée swallowed against her dry throat. Then her lips moved.

“... Bera.”

* * *

Bera did not like his name. No, it would be more accurate to say that he could not like it. Born nameless in the most wretched alley of the gutter, he had been given the name Bera by the leader of a band of beggars, who had simply taken it from the label of a cheap rum to distinguish him from the others.

To Bera, his name was a brand. A brand that reminded him he had been a fucking beggar, and that he was a sinner who had used that as an excuse to commit countless sins.

He had therefore believed he could never love his name for as long as he lived. Yet now, he was bewildered by a sudden feeling of fulfillment welling up within him.

“... Bera.”

His name, spoken by Renée, somehow sounded unfamiliar despite being something he had heard all his life. A short “Be” slipped out, followed by the rolling sound of “ra.” Joined together in her flawlessly clear voice, those two syllables began to carry an entirely different meaning for him. How could he describe this feeling?

His name, completed upon Renée’s lips, had a color as clear and transparent as an autumn sky. Somehow, it felt like salvation, as though the burden of his deeds clinging thickly to that name was being washed away. Unable to react, Bera could only stare blankly at her. Light was suddenly pouring down at an unexpected moment, in an unexpected form.

Perhaps it felt that way because he knew the nobility within this girl, Renée. Because he believed that nobility imbued her every word and action. That must be why even such a filthy name seemed pure and clean when it came from her lips.

Faced with the light suddenly shining upon him, with the nobility that cleansed him without warning, Bera felt his expression begin to crumble. He drew a sharp breath and composed himself. Renée could not see his expression, whatever it might be, but for some reason he felt he had to.

“Now you do it, Sir Knight... No, Bera.”

Renée filled his vision as she spoke, her face flushed red.

“Oh, you have to leave off ‘Lady.’ I did, too... Yes, so just my name.”

Renée lowered her head. Bera quietly answered, “Yes,” then worked his lips, feeling her grip tighten around both his hands.

Her face filled his entire field of view. She was such an ingenuous girl that he sometimes wondered whether she could truly be the Saintess he had seen in his previous life. At times she seemed so much like a child that it was difficult to reconcile this girl with that Saintess.

Yet in moments like this, when he felt so undeserving, he found himself accepting it without even realizing it. He found hope. He found himself thinking that, with this girl, he might be able to live something he could call a life. That if he followed the life of someone so clear and pure, perhaps he, too, could become even half as pure a person.

‘For that to happen...’

For that to happen, he had to protect Renée. He had to protect her so that this light could stand whole and shine upon the world, so that filthy scum would never dare to hurt her.

Feeling his resolve swell once more, and the gentle warmth reaching him, Bera moved his tongue and spoke the name he had to protect.

“... Renée.”

* * *

Late that night, on the bed in her quarters, Renée curled up beneath her blanket and giggled to herself. What had happened that afternoon kept coming back to her.

[“Renée.”]

That voice returned again, its resonance tickling her ears. At that, Renée let out a squeal.

“Eek!”

She kicked the blanket hard and twisted beneath it.

Her heart had once again taken to racing all on its own, spreading heat throughout her body. The corners of her mouth rose so high that her grin nearly reached her ears. Trembling a little at those sensations, Renée curled up again and continued thinking.

Accepting it had brought her such peace. Now that she acknowledged her feelings for Bera as love, she no longer felt bewildered. The frustration remained. Her heart raced even harder. The imaginings that had occasionally crossed her mind had now grown so extravagant that they were better called fantasies. Yet she did not dislike any of it. All those sensations now lifted her spirits.

As she continued thinking, Renée felt her fantasies begin to bubble up again. Might they eventually do more than hold hands? Link arms, perhaps, or rest her head on his shoulder. Or even...

‘Kis—’

... Press their lips together.

The blanket jolted. The thought had sent heat rushing to her head again. Renée squeezed her eyes shut and began calming herself.

‘Take it easy...!’

That was what Lady Terisa had said. She needed to give her heart room to breathe. Impatience was poison. Taking deep breaths, Renée slowly began to clear away the thoughts rising in her mind.

She had only just recognized her feelings. She could approach him gradually, a little at a time. There was plenty of time. Bera had said he would always be with her. Someday, their feelings might reach each other.

Renée clutched the edge of her blanket tightly. As she followed that train of thought, for the first time she felt glad that she was the Saintess. How fortunate she was to have met Bera, to be someone who could stay by his side. That was what she thought.

She still hated the gods. She still thought her divine powers were useless. She did not understand in the slightest why she was the Saintess. But even amid all that, even as she was, she was truly glad that the person she had met was Bera. With that thought, Renée closed her eyes.

‘Take it easy.’

If she took her time and approached him slowly, surely they would grow closer than they were now. With that thought, she settled down to sleep.

... Had she taken things too easy for those three years?

Without her relationship with Bera progressing in the slightest, Renée reached the birthday that took her from seventeen to eighteen.