~Chapter 25~
What on earth is happening right now?
Floria stared blankly at the teacup in front of her.
Just a short while ago, she’d been in a literal life-or-death chase. Caspar had appeared out of nowhere and instantly subdued the figure who had been following right behind her.
Wait… wasn’t that supposed to be a “ghost”? You could just… catch it like that?
And now, somehow, she was having tea with it.
At two in the morning.
In the garden in front of the cemetery.
With the so-called ghost of the annex sitting across from her.
Where did this tea table even come from?
Who brings out a table at this creepy hour, sets up tea, and even heats it so that steam gently rises from the cup?
<Drink, human.>
…Would you drink it in this situation?
The one who had just been tormenting her minutes ago now offered her tea like it was nothing.
Not only was it a strange time for tea, but for all she knew, it could be poisoned.
Instead of picking up the cup, Floria pressed her throbbing temple.
Across from her sat the “ghost” of the annex—except apparently, it wasn’t a ghost at all.
Pale skin. Unusual purple eyes. Long silver hair down to the waist.
A sharp jawline and red-tinted eyes that curved when he smiled.
Just from the face alone, it was hard to tell if he was male or female—but though his voice was delicate, it was definitely male.
Though… is it even right to call him a man when he’s not human at all?
His appearance matched the rumors well.
Still, she had imagined something out of a horror movie—blood dripping, dressed in white rags. But the figure in front of her looked more like an immaculate, well-kept person.
Yet clearly, he wasn’t human.
They were in a garden filled with flowers and plants, a lamp set on the table—and not a single bug buzzed around.
That had to be his doing.
And everything was going differently than she’d expected.
As soon as Caspar had caught him, the “ghost” had lifted both hands like a joke.
<Surrender, surrender! Sorry, Caspar.>
He had even called Caspar by name without honorifics.
…What kind of relationship did these two have?
Floria tilted her head and asked,
“So… you’re not a ghost, you’re a spirit?”
<Yep!>
The “ghost”—or rather, spirit—answered brightly.
“Why are you acting so proud about it?”
<Sorry.>
Caspar scolded him immediately.
From what Floria knew, spirits in this world could speak human language and possessed special powers often called “miracles.”
For example, in the future, there would be a spirit in the Basilite Kingdom named Catsy—who lived disguised as a pet among humans.
They blended into human society to obtain what they needed—often feeding on a specific something from people: emotions, mana, etc.
But there was something strange here.
Can a spirit even look like this?
Every spirit she knew of from the original story had an animal form.
Yet the man in front of her had a perfect human appearance—not just a vague human-like face, but a fully realistic body and features.
Clack—
Caspar set his teacup down loudly.
“You’ve gotten out of hand, Shade.”
<Sorry, Caspar. But that new little girl—her holy power is so beautiful—Ack!>
Before he could finish, Caspar kicked him in the shin.
It didn’t even look that hard, but the spirit—Shade—clutched his leg and whimpered.
So much for the terrifying ghost from the rumors.
But… little girl?
“Little girl? You mean… Rose?”
Caspar answered for him.
“Yes. He was probably planning to steal her holy power. He’s been leeching off high-ranking priests’ power for a while.”
“What?”
“He enjoys the ghost rumors. At first he sucked off power in secret, but after being caught by one high priest, he just started taking it openly.”
Ah—so that’s why.
Floria finally understood some of the stories she’d heard from the priests.
About high-ranking priests being “bewitched” by the annex’s ghost and leaving the temple.
That meant this spirit needed human holy power to live.
If Shade had drained the power of high priests, they would have been forced to leave once they’d run dry.
<Oh, come on.>
Shade pouted, resting his chin on the table.
<You have no idea how boring it gets here. Watching the priests tremble—it’s so much fun.>
…Okay, maybe he was dangerous after all.
The temple priests were here to make a living. If Shade drained their power, he was basically taking their jobs away from them.
Those bright, innocent-looking eyes of his made it worse—there was no malice in them, which somehow made him scarier.
Even Caspar, who’d stayed calm until now, frowned slightly at that.
“So you were trying to steal Floria’s holy power, too?”
He pointed at her.
Shade looked at Caspar, then turned to Floria, eyes widening. He waved his hands quickly.
<No way. After seeing something that amazing, there’s no point in taking this tiny scrap of power.>
Then, with a crooked smile, he added—
<Probably wouldn’t even taste good.>
“…”
She already knew her holy power was weak, but hearing it bluntly like that still stung.
And he’d said it without an ounce of malice—just unnecessarily.
Floria shrank in her seat. She was about to pout when—
“…!”
Suddenly, Shade grabbed her hand and leaned in close.
His purple eyes, now glimmering with greed, were right in front of hers.
<Could I just have a little of that girl’s holy power?>
“What are you—”
Before she could finish, Caspar sent him flying backward with a single punch.
Shade collapsed—and stayed down.
Time passed. The blue-tinged sky began to turn faintly red.
Still, Shade didn’t move.
Sure, Caspar had punched him hard, but Floria didn’t think it was enough to keep him unconscious for this long.
I had so many questions to ask him.
She also needed to make it clear he was never to touch Rose’s power. But there was no sign he’d wake up soon.
Floria had to return to the dorm before Rose’s guardian priest came by.
***
A few days later.
Caspar came to see Floria again.
And for some reason—once again—it was in the garden at the cemetery entrance.
What is with this tea table?
She was sure it hadn’t been here the first time. It was like it appeared whenever they needed it.
She stared at the teacup, still unsure who had even set it up.
Caspar, meanwhile, sat comfortably with his legs crossed, leaning back in his chair, reading a newspaper.
He calls me out to meet, and then just sits there reading?
Was he just using her as an excuse to avoid work?
It didn’t feel like a date at all.
Still… it wasn’t all bad for Floria. Thanks to Caspar, she had gotten another week off.
Even if it meant twice the workload when I went back…
The believers who waited for her confessions didn’t just go to other priests—they waited specifically for her.
That was a problem for later. For now, she could rest.
And for some reason, the High Priest seemed pleased every time she took leave “to meet with the duke.”
“Hmm, Priestess Floria. I’m glad to see you and the duke getting along. You’ve been taking more breaks lately.”
“Haha… yes, it just happened that way.”
“It’s good for our temple’s famed priestess to keep a bit of mystery. Makes you more special.”
At first, she thought he was pressuring her to take fewer breaks, but no—apparently, he saw her like some kind of saint.
Which was annoying… but she had already told him she would “think about it,” so it was fine.
Floria glanced at her cup. The steam had long since faded; the tea was completely cold.
