Morning broke.

Indigo light brushed my eyelids. I opened them slowly, wincing against a headache.

The fireplace glowed warmly. The room was comfortable. The sheets were pure white and of fine quality, and the blanket draped over me was soft. Abby had gotten us a good room.

“Did I overdo it yesterday?”

I had completely drained my divine power and collapsed. The magical exhaustion still lingered. My body felt like it was running at seventy percent. My head was spinning.

“Zoë, wake up. I’m starving. And I want a bath—”

I stopped mid-sentence. The person sleeping beside me wasn’t Zoë.

It was the pointy-eared Annette.

I shouted.

“Abby! Abby! If you’re nearby, get in here!”

I didn’t understand anything. Why Zoë wasn’t here, why a strange woman was in the room—I couldn’t make sense of it.

Before I could react further, Abby and Oni-girl burst in, practically kicking down the door.

“Di! Are you alright!?”

I shouted back.

“What the hell is this woman!? Damn it, bring the incense!”

My outburst woke the elf girl.

“W-wait—”

But I roared in anger.

“Get out, you whore! Did I ever ask you to tend to me!? Abby! Answer me, or I won’t forgive you!”

I kept yelling, furious without knowing why.

Abby dropped to her knees, shoulders slumped.

“Di, I’m sorry! I didn't mean to make you angry! But I had no choice!”

Dark circles shadowed her eyes. She looked exhausted.

“Di-Di. Please calm down, okay?”

Oni-girl tried to step in between us. It only made me angrier.

“And who are you!? Insolent! When did I ever call for you!? I entrusted everything to Zoë! Abby! Answer me!!”

Inside me, Dietrich Becker was shouting.

Filthy. Unwelcome. Disgusting. A strange woman in a strange room. Nothing here had my permission. Everything offended me.

Mother Asclepia had always loved the silence that reeked of death.

Abby bowed so low she almost touched the floor with her forehead.

“Forgive me! Forgive me, Di. Please quell your anger. I beg you! Don’t unleash Thunderclap!”

“Thunderclap?”

Only then did I realize—the fury I felt wasn’t mine alone. It was Dietrich, a full-fledged priest of Asclepia.

Unlike me, who was still learning, the priests of Asclepia were conservative. They hated disruptions to their routine, especially early in the morning when they devoted themselves to meditation and contemplation.

And Dietrich was no exception.

The explosive reaction I was feeling was called “Thunderclap.”

I exhaled, slow and deeply.

I was Dietrich, but also I wasn't.

In the end, I was me.

I breathed, forcing my anger down.

I won't let it control me!

Slowly, Dietrich’s rage faded, but the disgust in my chest remained. Because I, too, found this situation intolerable.

The room sank into silence.

Yes, morning should always carry a quiet weight, like fresh death.

I felt the same.

I liked the cold blue morning light.

The chirping of birds. The distant hum of passing cars. TV in the background, the anchorwoman reporting the day’s weather.

No need for change. Focus lived in stillness. The usual rhythm promised the usual strength.

I showered, shaved, and straightened my appearance.

In the mirror, my usual self stared back.

◇◆

Talent is honed through stillness. Character is forged by the torrent.

—Words of Asclepia

◇◆

I wiped my face with my hand.

“Abby, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Y-yeah. I’m sorry too.”

“Tell Zoë to bring the incense. Prepare a bath, then food.”

I glared at the bed.

“You whore. Stop staring at me. I told that muscle-head before. Don’t ever show your face again.”

The pointy-eared woman—older than Abby—stared at me with frightened eyes. Her voice trembled.

“I-I’m not a whore.”

“Don’t you know? A woman who slips into a man’s bedchamber uninvited is called a whore.”

Filthy woman. I wasn’t especially finicky, but I had no taste for sharing a bed with some stranger.

An odd silence followed.

Her face flushed bright red, eyes narrowing in fury.

“This is my room, you idiot! I show a little kindness, and this brat gets all cocky?!”

Ah, this is bad.

Clearly, there had been a terrible misunderstanding.

Well, a priest’s “Thunderclap” often caused this sort of trouble, making misunderstandings worse. But I was still groggy; it was only natural.

I ruffled my hair.

“I see… then forgive me. Dietrich Becker admits his fault, and in the name of Mother Asclepia, I apologize.”

I made the sign of the faith with my right hand, pressed it to my chest, and bowed.

It was a formal apology, although forgiveness wasn’t guaranteed.

Thus, I chose silence.

◇◆

The wise keep silent.

—Words of Asclepia

◇◆

Once I fell silent and the thunderclap subsided, Abby finally spoke.

“This is Alex’s clan house.”

“So that’s it…”

“Yesterday, after we removed the lump, a lot happened.”

“A lot?”

I narrowed my eyes at the vague answer. Abby, perhaps sharing my distaste, shook her head.

“A lot means a lot. Anyway, you’re picky about where you sleep. You ended up in Annette’s room because it’s the best one, and it was her kindness.”

“…I see. So that’s how it was.”

I let out a heavy sigh.

“Annette, I apologize again.”

The elf girl clicked her tongue, then snorted, as if to say, Finally, you get it.

“Abby, if you’re fine with it, then that’s enough,” I said at last.

The pointy-eared woman, still wrapped in a sheet, continued to glare.

“You’re an arrogant brat, but cheap and skilled…”

That couldn’t be all. She had other motives. Abby’s vague “a lot happened” had to be hiding something serious. That would be the first thing to uncover.

“Where’s that muscle-head? I want to talk to her.”

It had been gnawing at me. Abby profited off my power, yet still tried to keep me hidden. There had to be a reason. Likely the same reason why old Ada had to die.

I needed to understand the true nature of the “Priest” class.

Now then—was the fish that took my bait a big one?

Or…

Translator's Note: Part One is already complete in 50 chapters, so read at ease. If you’re curious to see what happens next and enjoyed it, bookmarking or following would be a huge encouragement.