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Chapter 15
How to Replace a Father
“Let’s put this aside for now.”
I asked the patriarch.
“Any other problems? Are you dizzy, or feeling unwell in your stomach?”
I had carefully calculated so the mana of the other members wouldn’t enter his body, but there was always a possibility, however small.
The patriarch stared at me.
He seemed about to say something; his lips moved briefly, then he shook his head.
“There’s nothing wrong with my body.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry — you’re so used to enduring pain that I can’t help but mistrust you. Vice-patriarch, I think we should get a doctor and a cleric to examine him.”
“…”
I said it firmly.
‘Huh?’
Something about the atmosphere was off.
When I turned my head I saw the other members crowding on the doors and windows, staring at us with strange expressions.
“To the patriarch…”
“Wow…”
Someone fainted.
Someone else gaped, urging me to stop.
Antoniozo’s Chari in particular looked green around the face, waving his hands and clutching his throat in a panic.
‘Ah, I must have sounded too blunt.’
I thought maybe normal members would be surprised at that and turned away.
Antonio and the vice-patriarch were frozen too.
“I knew the young lady had guts from the first time she clung to the patriarch’s leg on the cliff….”
“….”
Hm. Even the elite members were shocked.
Worried the patriarch might be offended, I glanced at him.
“There really is nothing wrong with my body.”
But the patriarch’s face didn’t show concern.
‘See? He’s a much better person than people think.’
I felt relieved—thankful he hadn’t been hurt.
Later.
The doctor confirmed there was nothing abnormal with the patriarch’s body.
In the afternoon a cleric came.
An old man who used to be a cleric swept his hand over the patriarch’s abdomen a few times and said,
“Normal. Completely a monster.”
He said that and held his hand out to the vice-patriarch.
The vice-patriarch sighed with relief and handed him a sack the size of a basketball.
The ex-cleric quickly took it, opened it, and bit down on a silver coin… wait—
‘Silver coins?’
Was that all silver? It looked like at least five hundred coins.
The ex-cleric grinned.
“From now on, don’t bother coming and going — come to my house. Do you know how annoying it is to lug a sack this big around?”
Antonio clicked his tongue with annoyance but said nothing.
The vice-patriarch cleared his throat.
“Sir, please, don’t be like that. Inspect him thoroughly. Are you absolutely sure there’s nothing else?”
“Well, I said he’s a complete monster.”
Very disrespectful.
Of course, the assassin guild couldn’t call the temple’s official clerics, so they needed a cleric who worked in the shadows.
Like all people who work in the shadows, his fee would be high.
Still, it wasn’t worth five hundred silver coins.
And he’d been so casual about it, despite it being a matter of human life.
“Um… former cleric.”
When I called, the ex-cleric looked at me sharply.
“What did you say?”
“I wasn’t sure how to address you since I didn’t know your name.”
“Didn’t you hear him call me ‘sir’?” His voice rose nearly to a shout.
I answered calmly.
“This gentleman is not just anyone but the commander of San Miguel’s knights. If you show proper respect, I will, too.”
The vice-patriarch blinked at me.
Antonio also looked startled, eyes wide.
It was the kind of moment that showed how rude the ex-cleric had been to irregulars all this time.
The ex-cleric stood up, displeased.
“Youngsters these days… Do you think I’d be intimidated just because someone claims to be the commander of San Miguel’s knights?”
“I didn’t tell you to be intimidated.”
“You’re hopelessly dull. Those who cannot properly address clerics become more dangerous the higher their status. If I report you…”
“Will only we be arrested?”
“What?”
I smiled.
“If you report us, it won’t be only us who get taken. Using a shadow cleric is a worse crime than hiring one.”
“If I reveal you are irregulars…!”
“You’ll be on your way out.”
“…!”
I waved my hand toward Antonio and the vice-patriarch.
When the ex-cleric heard the word ‘irregular,’ Antonio and the vice-patriarch’s eyes widened.
The ex-cleric flinched.
“One can cooperate, but when a blade is pointed at you, you can’t show goodwill. Irregulars aren’t saints.”
“So what do you want us to do…!”
“I’m pointing out that our positions aren’t so different.”
In other words: behave respectfully.
‘Especially…’ I glanced at the sack of silver.
The ex-cleric flinched.
“When you call a cleric normally it’s ten silver coins, and hiring someone from the shadows would be five times that, right?”
“…”
“Right?”
“Damn. That kid is sharp.”
He dropped the sack on the floor and pocketed exactly fifty silver coins.
Just as he was about to leave—
“Former cleric?”
I called him back with a smile.
He hesitated, then said,
“The patriarch really has nothing wrong. He’s in very good health.”
“Hmm…”
“I swear on the goddess Teressa… my faith’s the real deal, you know…”
He trailed off, crestfallen.
I bowed deeply.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Where did you get such a child?” he grumbled. He said he wasn’t that surprised even when the party had been captured by the central temple.
The vice-patriarch chuckled.
“We didn’t get her; she came to us. It was fortunate. Shall we escort you home?”
“No, it’s fine…”
The old cleric waved his hand.
“Farewell, sir!”
He looked at me once more as if incredulous, then burst into laughter.
‘Good, then the problem’s solved.’
I chuckled and looked at the patriarch; he watched me intently.
“You’re odd.”
“Me?”
Where?
When I tilted my head, Antonio and the vice-patriarch looked at me like I was ridiculous.
Eventually they laughed too.
The patriarch’s expression had softened in some way.
Night finally came.
As soon as we reached the room, I washed up and collapsed onto the bed.
‘What a long day…’
Actually, every day had felt long since the patriarch’s curse.
Still, I was glad it had ended well.
Then my fingers caught my eye.
There were black lines under my nails.
I flinched.
‘Symptoms of mana poisoning.’
Simply put, it’s when mixed mana sickens the body.
I had taken in someone else’s mana — such a large amount — so this was to be expected.
‘Fortunately I know the purification for mana poison, so I’ll endure the pain and do it tomorrow…’
I pressed the blackened nail and frowned.
Then suddenly…
‘Huh?’
The black line began to fade slowly.
“What is this…?”
I stared at my hand.
A sentence that had appeared in the air right after finishing the role blessing popped into my head.
Second Class Change Successful!
[Purifier]
※This system has been restructured with a familiar interface for user convenience.
‘If I’m a Purifier…’
When you start the game, you can’t change the main character Stella, but you can pick a job.
And jobs can be advanced.
-
Swordsman → One who wields the Sword of Courage
-
Mage → One who manifests through imagery
-
Warrior → One who possesses fighting spirit
-
Shaman → One who shakes the laws of the world
And so on.
The promotion path for ‘Purifier’ is:
Cleric → Purifier
‘So as a Purifier I can cleanse mana poisoning.’
Apparently I had the talent of a cleric.
But why cleric?
In the game, hardly anyone chose cleric as a job.
There were other careers like mage and shaman that were useful in both offense and defense, and they looked cool to others.
But what clerics could do was only support.
They could use mana to cleanse curses, and if they used up all their mana, it was game over.
Meaning, they died.
It was the worst disadvantage — not helpful for breaking the story, and at the ending…
“I will now depart into the arms of the goddess. Father, brother — farewell…”
Stella left her family and entered a convent.
It was almost a bad ending, and players had criticized it.
“Still, being a purifier might help my life… no, that’s not going to work.”
If others knew, they might covet me.
In the protagonist’s long storage — if my future self became a purifying remedy for curses or poisons anywhere, I’d be used everywhere.
And if I depleted my mana while purifying, I’d die.
“Better keep my mouth shut and live.”
Resolved with a mild expression, I tried to sleep.
After hardship, peace came.
“Wow…”
Everyone gasped when they saw the patriarch in a robe embroidered with San Miguel’s emblem.
The members who had lugged the sack of money to stab Esgarot’s councillor in the side were moved.
Yes—the patriarch had risen to the rank of lord.
And I…
“No matter how I think about it, I’ve had enough of flower-growing. The north is too cold. Let’s switch to trees.”
“Isn’t a colorful garden pretty though?”
“We’ll plant conifers so when it snows they’ll look like flowers. Put glass balls to hang normally.”
“Hmm. That might be pretty.”
I was decorating the garden with Antoniozo’s Chari.
As the patriarch had become the new lord, many guests would come.
Decorating the garden was proper work.
‘But it’s so fun.’
I enjoy producing the maximum result with limited resources.
Work that shows clear, visible results is truly enjoyable.
When I was in Andres, I always catered to my birth father’s taste and worried constantly about whether he’d approve.
It was stress first, not enjoyment.
But the patriarch…
“Before we start the garden, I want to know the patriarch’s tastes. I want to minimize the chance of failure. You can give me reference samples.”
“…?”
“Um… if that’s troublesome, at least the color palette…”
“The garden is not mine. It belongs to the entire castle. The person who tends it’s intention matters most.”
“Ah…”
“If it fails, then that’s an experience.”
…he said that.
I remembered the conversation and smiled.
“The patriarch is a good person, isn’t he?”
“…huh?”
Chari, who was checking tree counts, paused.
The members moving soil turned and looked at me.
When I gave them a questioning look, they rushed over.
“Miss. It’s good to be kind. Good, yes. But being so naïvely kind isn’t good.”
“What if you don’t have a good eye for people? Where are the organs? You didn’t give them away, right?”
If the spice shop man at the municipal market (who used to trick me out of salt for five copper) heard that, he’d clutch his neck and faint.
I tilted my head quietly, and Chari said seriously.
“Miss.”
“Yes?”
“You must memorize: just because someone’s handsome doesn’t mean they’re a good person.”
“….”
“Try saying it.”
“Just because someone’s handsome doesn’t mean they’re a good person.”
“Good.”
Chari sighed deeply.
“The patriarch is not a kind person but a strong one. Rational.”
Everyone nodded.
“Our miss is too gullible. We must stick close and protect her.”
“Don’t ever send her out alone. Her organs are in danger.”
“Yes. Everyone, stand in lines.”
It may have been the organs they were worried about, but to me it looked like Antoniozo was the naïve one.
Given how I’d even collected holiday wages that don’t exist here whenever I got paid, I was surprised by their reaction.
One of the members spoke again.
“From now on, when you call someone a good person, always precede it with ‘followable’ — ‘good to follow’…”
Then.
Ahem.
Someone cleared their throat.
The chatterers froze mid-sentence.
Grinning Antonio, the embarrassed vice-patriarch, and…
“Pa-pa-patriarch.”
Hmm. He must have been listening all along, and when the conversation didn’t end he gave a look.
Antonio chuckled and said,
“See, miss. You shouldn’t be so naïve.”
He said that, and the vice-patriarch slammed his side with frightening speed.
Antonio fell with a scream, and the vice-patriarch came up to me.
“The prince aspirant selection notice has been announced.”
Finally.
I rose to my feet.
My and the patriarch’s gaze met.
The notice from Esgarot summarized briefly:
-
The prince aspirant selection is overseen by Esgarot’s main keep.
-
Each jurisdiction may send one candidate for the prince aspirant.
-
From the time the notice is issued until the aspirant is finally chosen, no private meetings with the main keep’s councillors are allowed.
The notice also included the selection date and the location of the examination.
‘Exactly fifteen days left.’
It wasn’t a terribly tight period to prepare, but the vice-patriarch’s expression wasn’t good.
“This complicates things.”
“Why?”
He pointed to the clause about not being allowed private meetings with the main keep’s councillors until the aspirant is finally selected.
“It means we can’t bribe them.”
So they had intended to bribe.
Not because they didn’t trust me.
There were other reasons.
“You don’t want that because I’m from Andres. Andres and Esgarot are not on good terms.”
“That’s right.”
At first the vice-patriarch hadn’t recommended me as a foster daughter even though he knew I was the eldest daughter of a great noble house.
Only after many girls had been kidnapped and the situation became extreme did he reluctantly put me up for the foster daughter exam.
That was the reason.
Andres and Esgarot were different powers.
From the time of the previous Marquis of Andres — my grandfather — to the current Duke of Esgarot, they’d become bitter enemies.
Even if I was a daughter forced out of Andres, the main keep would hesitate to accept me.
“Originally, an Esgarot councillor in league with us would have been the chief officer of the exam.”
“They would have taken bribes and threatened to ensure I became the aspirant.”
“You’re perceptive. But…”
Antonio clicked his tongue and continued.
“That greedy old man got caught taking bribes elsewhere. He’s now in an underground prison.”
I see.
Things had certainly become difficult.
For an irregular like me, that is.
‘My view’s a little different though.’
I said,
“Then why don’t we just get selected without taking the exam?”
The vice-patriarch and Antonio frowned.
They thought it impossible.
“Do you mean have the princes appoint you directly? That’ll be difficult. The princes’ movements are kept strictly secret, and even if you knew, there’s no way to approach them.”
“Hmm. Would you look at this?”
I pulled a letter from my pocket and showed it.
Yustea Bogera.
I’m heading far north and thinking of you. I remember the time you went on a campaign with the supply unit where you worked, chasing the northern tribes. When the supply line was cut by an avalanche and we struggled, you single-handedly caught a boar and asked, ‘Can I carry this and roast it whole?’ You were more splendid than any soldier. I still miss that roast we had… (omitted) …and dumplings, boiled lamb, shark fin. Those days feel like a dream. If your employers treat you harshly, come to my arm… (omitted2) …Ah, dumplings…
— Missing your dumplings, Ragoni.
“Heading north…?”
“Colonel Ragoni of the Royal Guard…?”
That’s right.
Colonel Ragoni was escorting a prince and heading north to Esgarot.
I smiled.
“Seems like there might be a way, doesn’t it?”
