Chapter 9 …

What Any Visitor to a Temple Ought to Do

The knights left.

Naturally so. The “young lady” they were escorting had arrived at her destination.
Now they had to return to House Danyer’s territory and report my safe arrival to my father.

As loyal knights of my father, they went down the mountain with the guides without even looking back once.
Even though they knew there was absolutely nothing here, they were utterly merciless.

Those rotten bastards. I hope they come down with a plague before they’ve even gone ten li.

If I were being honest, I wanted to share the secret I had just learned and drag them all straight into hell with me… but merciful as I am, I restrained myself.

It definitely wasn’t because saying something like that without evidence would probably get my head chopped off by the king before I could even complete the first revelation.

“My goodness, to think a young lady of House Danyer would come all the way to such a remote temple for lessons. How devout you are.”

Pythia happily clasped my hands.

I looked up at the saintess—who, unlike me, was not devout in the slightest—and tried not to smile bitterly.

In any case, the die had already been cast. I had crossed the Rubicon.
From here on out, it was a race against time.

No matter what, within the next three years I had to become one of Hamilkar’s key figures and secure the position of countess.

And to do that, first of all—

I needed to clean this place that had absolutely nothing in it yet was filthier than a pigsty.

“I’m truly delighted to hear you say that, Head Priestess. In that case, may I make a small suggestion to commemorate my arrival today?”
“Ah, of course. P-perhaps there’s a dish you’d like to eat? I’m not very good at cooking, but I can at least grill meat….”

Pythia glanced shyly toward my luggage and smiled.

Meat, my ass.

“A place where the gods reside should be clean. Let us start by tidying up together, Head Priestess.”

The moment she saw my expression, Pythia slowly tried to step backward.

But I tightened my grip on the hand trying to slip away and leaned my face closer to hers.

“We’re going to clean together, aren’t we?”
“B-but the weather is so cold today….”
“It’s practically spring temperatures in here.”
“N-no, but there’s still a blizzard outside, and cleaning means going in and out constantly, and if we do that we might fall ill. I don’t know healing magic, so if we get sick we might die—”
“Of course someone like you shouldn’t be doing that, Head Priestess. Please clean the inside. I’ll handle going outside.”

I had received the Blessing of Bamildo, so I didn’t get sick. I wouldn’t even get frostbite.
I was simply cold.

But I would rather endure the cold than sleep in a place this filthy.

I knew I couldn’t get sick, but Pythia didn’t know that, so she tried desperately to stop me.

But I began persuading her.

Wasn’t it disrespectful to the gods to serve them in a pit of dust like this?
And weren’t priests meant to keep both body and spirit pure?
Et cetera, et cetera.

I mobilized every argument I knew.

Saintess or not, this woman had spent nearly her entire life in this temple.

How could someone live here for that many years without reviving the temple even once, instead building this pathetic little shack inside it? What exactly had she been doing all this time? I couldn’t respect it.

Head Priestess, my foot. From now on, I’m the one running this temple.

“Do you at least have a duster?”

Pythia shook her head vigorously.

Right. Of course you don’t. I wasn’t expecting much anyway.

I rummaged through my luggage, but naturally there was nothing remotely suitable.

In that case, there was no helping it. I went outside, gathered some branches, then wrapped one of my sleeping headscarves around the end and tied it securely.

“Use this to dust the higher places first. Head Priestess, every object that possesses an ‘upper side’ or a ‘side surface’ must be dusted. Understood?”

Suspicion appeared in Pythia’s eyes.

Is this child insane?

Ah, even after I explained things so kindly and at such length, she still wasn’t moved.

Well, there was no helping it.
It seemed Pythia required a bit of education too.

Still, it probably wouldn’t take long.

There were several things that had been difficult to adapt to after I was born into this world, but the most representative examples were food and hygiene.

The food shocked me because, generously speaking, the flavors were mild, and less generously speaking, there was no flavor at all.

Likewise, hygiene shocked me because hardly anyone washed themselves with water.

Then I was shocked again when I realized people washed themselves in rivers and dumped filth into them afterward.

Those rivers were drinking water, for heaven’s sake.

So at the very least, I thoroughly trained Danyer Castle according to my own standards.

Naturally, this had only been possible because I had successfully charmed my mother, Lady Louise.

I claimed I got sick if I didn’t wash, so I started bathing regularly, and I made sure the water I washed with was dumped onto the ground instead of back into the river.

At first Mother worried.

“But washing causes illness.”

However, after seeing that I never caught infectious diseases no matter how much I washed, she gradually changed her mind and decided washing might actually be beneficial.

So Mother began washing regularly too, and naturally many aspects of her health improved.

Once Mother experienced the effects personally, the castle became clean almost overnight.

I couldn’t claim there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere, but it was unquestionably cleaner than any other castle in the kingdom.

Items like bed sheets that touched skin daily were washed frequently as well, so compared to people in other territories, the residents of our castle suffered remarkably little from skin diseases.

In other words, I was someone who had successfully transformed the hygiene standards of an entire castle through persistent gaslighting.

Pythia was no match for me.

And just as expected, the shamelessly innocent Pythia was quickly influenced by me and began cleaning diligently.

Or perhaps she was simply tired of my nagging.

Whatever. As long as we reached Seoul, who cared whether we took the straight road or the crooked one?

A week after the two of us began living together, the weather became unusually mild.

There was no wind, and the sunlight was warm enough for a walk outside.

I dragged Pythia—who had been holed up indoors for an entire week—outside with me.

Of course, unlike me, Pythia looked like the sort of person who might fly straight to Gerka if so much as a gust of wind entered her lungs incorrectly, so I bundled her up thoroughly.

Holding my hand as we walked carefully, Pythia smiled.

“You’re like a daughter to me.”

We had only lived together for a week, and she was already talking about daughters. It really showed just how lonely this woman had been.

“Me too.”

You’re like a daughter to me too.
Who cares if you’re older than I am? The way you behave isn’t much different from a ten-year-old’s.

To outside observers, the way I held Pythia’s hand probably looked like a noble disciple attending to a holy saintess.

But over the past week, I had realized something.

Falling over, getting hurt, and breaking things were simply part of Pythia’s daily routine.

The best way to prevent that was to keep holding onto her.

It’s a miracle she hasn’t died yet.

How had someone with such horrifying survival instincts managed to live alone in a remote place like this for so long?

While cleaning, I discovered she genuinely had nothing.

A single shriveled lump of black bread had been everything.

Had she really been surviving on that alone?

She didn’t even seem able to walk properly, so I decided we would go for walks whenever the weather was good. Her muscles seemed to have deteriorated.

No—did she even have muscles at all?

This woman was so thin that while twelve-year-old me couldn’t manage it, a healthy adult man looked capable of snapping her arm clean off.

I was seriously concerned for her health.

“You know,”

Pythia murmured softly.

“When the day comes that you leave this place….”

Just as she was about to continue, I noticed a man approaching from the distance.

At a glance, he was obviously a traveler.

Because he wasn’t properly equipped.

The man had climbed all the way up here in summer clothing through sheer stubbornness.

Well, today’s weather was mild enough to make it possible. Had it been a few days earlier, he probably would have died.

“E-excuse me. Are you perhaps priests of Gerka’s temple?”
“We are.”
“Ah, I’m a scholar who came here seeking wisdom. An artifact of the god Gerka from four hundred years ago was recently discovered, and I thought perhaps there might be related materials here….”

His face clearly said Though there probably aren’t any, as he looked past us toward the ruins behind us.

Still, it was already too late for him to descend the mountain. Nightfall would come soon.

“It seems the god Gerka has guided you here. Please, offer your reverence.”

And naturally, Pythia smiled and guided him into the temple.

Apparently the tragic future so obvious to me remained invisible to this visitor.

Well, naturally. You only understand after experiencing it yourself.

The visitor stared blankly at Pythia’s chipped bowl.

He looked like he wanted to shout, What kind of highway robbery is this? but then he remembered whose older sister Pythia was and restrained himself.

Naturally he restrained himself.

Gerka protected her from the heavens, and the king protected her on earth.

In Hamilkar, she was considered a precious hostage more frightening than the king himself.

Someone like this visitor couldn’t casually lay hands on someone so valuable.

Far safer to pay some money and leave quietly than get dragged into pointless trouble.

The visitor tossed three bronze coins into the bowl with a clatter.

Despite her shamelessness, fundamentally kind and fully qualified as a priest, Pythia wore an expression that said Your sincerity alone is enough.

However—

“Only three bronze for the god Gerka? Then surely you mean to say that three bronze is the worth appropriate for the god Gerka. Ahh… to think He would be treated this way even within His own sanctuary…. This disciple can scarcely bear the sorrow.”

I, however, was different.

I had very precise standards regarding displays of devotion toward the gods.

As I covered my face with both hands and pretended to cry, the visitor gasped.

Beside me, Pythia became flustered and tried to comfort me.

“Oh my, don’t cry, Arian. Three bronze is perfectly fine….”

The moment I heard those words, I collapsed onto the floor in a mermaid sit and burst into even more tragic sobbing.

Ah, I really needed actual tears here. What should I think about? Sad thoughts, sad thoughts.

“Ahh, Gerka, this is too heartbreaking…!”

Sad thoughts…. I tried recalling every sad documentary I had watched in Korea.

Too long ago. It wasn’t making me sad enough.

Then I briefly imagined what would happen if I failed to gain Pythia’s support and had to face Mother afterward.

The thought terrified me enough to squeeze out a tiny tear.

More tears would be impossible, so I slightly lowered my hands and tilted my head so the tear would be visible.

Flow. Flow, damn it, flow!

In the end, I bit down hard on my tongue to force out another tear.

The moment a droplet rolled down my cheek, Pythia suddenly turned toward the visitor.

You made our disciple cry.

Her bright blue eyes silently condemned him.

Pythia was kind, but she truly lacked common sense.

Thank goodness. That made her incredibly easy to use.

“N-no, that’s not what I meant! I would never dare disrespect Gerka, I just—ah, um, I don’t have much money, b-but would food perhaps be acceptable instead?”

I sprang to my feet.

Food? Excellent.

“Since it is being offered at the altar, a sacrificial offering would indeed be more fitting.”

The visitor slowly began pulling things out.

One, two, three….

After placing down two loaves of bread and a block of cheese, he cautiously looked at me.

I responded with a sorrowful “Ahh…” and covered my face again.

The instant I staggered dramatically, the visitor screamed internally and hurriedly emptied every bit of food from his backpack.

That’s more like it. You’re heading back down anyway. Why hoard supplies?

Selling a single button off your clothes would probably buy four times this much food.

The man looked fairly wealthy.

Either he was a respected scholar, or he was some idle noble brat whose family was rich enough to support him indefinitely.

After stripping him of all his food, I prepared dinner.

Despite living alone for so long, Pythia couldn’t cook at all.

Fortunately, I was actually quite skilled at cooking.

I’d been pretty good back in Korea too, and compared to most people here, I was far better.

After all, the food in this world tasted so awful that I’d been forced to do considerable experimentation.

“You’re incredibly good at cooking. Judging by your appearance… you don’t seem like someone who should know how.”

Meaning: considering my age and clothing, I looked like someone of a status where cooking incompetence would be normal, so surely there had to be some dramatic backstory behind it.

“I have picky tastes. Since birth.”

And I possessed the status where picky tastes were perfectly appropriate.

As long as I remained merely a “disciple of the temple,” however, I had no choice but to shut up and eat what I was given.

Perhaps understanding my meaning, the visitor buried his face in his meal and focused entirely on eating.

Unlike the visitor, whose manners had apparently been boiled along with his rice, Pythia delighted me by saying,

“It’s delicious again today. Arian, how are you possibly this perfect?”

“It’s nothing, Head Priestess. I’ll do my best to satisfy you tomorrow as well.”

Perhaps I should use that cheese tomorrow morning.

It looked to be in remarkably good condition.

At this rate, I really needed to create a systematic guideline for squeezing supplies out of visitors.