Dear Heroes,
I write to you from the den of demons, where I've been taken and confined against my will. It's far from a comfortable life, though I'm still alive—for now. If their mood ever turns sour, they could crush me in an instant. Forget me—a small-town priest of no importance. This may be the last letter I ever write, and I can't even be sure it will reach you. All I can do now is pray to God.
I apologize for abandoning the church so suddenly. I expect headquarters will soon send a replacement priest. Until then, please, try not to die.
May the grace of the Lord be with you all.
* * *
"Kiki, kikikyoke."
"Well, let's see what happened here. Show me."
A sound like claws on glass—one of the small monsters whimpered, wings trembling. A shallow cut ran across its tiny back, oozing a thin line of blood.
"Oh dear, that's quite a gash."
I touched the wound and murmured a healing spell. Light spilled between my fingers, and before I knew it, the mini-devil's wound had vanished. At once, the creature squealed with delight—and the rest of the monsters burst into applause, eyes shining as if they'd just witnessed a miracle.
"Pikyuee!!"
"Kikyukyoi!"
I couldn't understand a word, but they were clearly singing my praises. Yes, yes—praise me more.
Demons heal fast enough that they've never needed magic like this. Because of that, their kin—these monsters—never learned the craft either. True, divine resurrection magic doesn't work on them, but even a simple healing spell has them treating me like royalty.
So this is what a skill cheat feels like. Not bad at all.
I sprawled across a massive sofa fit for a Demon King, nibbling at a platter of "demon fruits." You have to be careful—some sprout wings and fly off, others grow mouths and bite you—but once you dodge all that, they're delicious. Ah, even the pseudo-grapes are here. I love these, though peeling them is a pain.
So I tossed them into a slime. Inside that gelatinous acid bath, the grapes gave a dying squeal. When the skin had melted just enough, the slime elegantly plated them for me. Perfect.
Here, I don't have to do anything but heal. If I so much as said, "Wiping my own ass is too much trouble," these monsters would probably fight each other for the privilege. Not that I've sunk that low—yet.
They're not such bad folks, really. Even without understanding me, they cheer whenever I use a healing spell. Some of them watch me with drooling fascination, which is... mildly concerning, but everyone has their quirks.
I'm no longer a priest who serves God. Here, I am the god.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself, Priest."
"Hm? Oh—Cian."
I sat up and greeted the one responsible for bringing me here. This comfortable life of mine was thanks to him, after all.
Then again... is it even right to call Cian "him"?
I studied Cian again. Long lashes. Round eyes. A face almost childlike, like Margaret-chan's. But the body—smooth, polished, entirely devoid of gender. And Cian called Margaret "big brother." Come to think of it, only male flowers scatter pollen, don't they?
Maybe demons don't even have sexes the way we do. Their whole biology feels... different. Better not dwell on it. Olivier's got enough problems without me losing sleep over this.
Still—"big brother," not "little." Margaret sprouted just a few months ago. So how old is Cian? And is Margaret really just an ordinary Alraune like he seems?
So many questions...
"Fufu, curious, are you?"
Cian smiled and spread out something black that had been hidden behind his back—like a magician revealing a trick.
I'd been staring more at Cian's body than the object, but I nodded dramatically to cover it up.
"Oh? What's that?"
"A bridal gown. Finest quality, woven from Arachne silk."
"Congratulations, then! Who's the lucky one?"
Cian blinked, then burst into laughter.
"Ha! What a funny thing to say. It's yours."
"...What?"
I rubbed my eyes. Sure enough, it was too big to be a woman's dress—plain, almost priestly in design. But he'd said it clearly: a bridal gown.
"Don't be shy. If you're marrying into our house, you'll need proper attire."
"Uh... sorry, but you've lost me. Also, I'm a guy. Is that going to be an issue?"
"Otoko? What is that? Sometimes human words make no sense. Anyway—don't tell me you haven't spoken with my brother yet? That won't do. These matters are best settled quickly."
...What?
None of this made sense. Not one word was connecting. As I stood there dumbfounded, Cian suddenly fidgeted, glancing away.
"Because, well... you've already sealed the bond, haven't you?"
"Bond? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Eh—w-why would you even ask that?"
"I don't know your customs! I'm human, remember?"
"U... ugh, it's... pollination! There, I said it! Gods, don't make me say things like that..."
Pollination?
That's, uh—what was it again? Something we learned in school—when pollen sticks to the pistil and fruit forms afterward. Farmers use little brushes that look like fluffy cotton swabs, right?
Oh... wait. Sometimes when I was watering Margaret, his vines would grab me and I'd end up covered in pollen. Could it be that?
"And what does that have to do with—"
The thought hit me mid-sentence. Flowers are reproductive organs. And pollination... that's reproduction.
"What's wrong? You've gone pale."
Cian leaned close, his eyes cold as frost, piercing straight through me.
"Don't tell me—you plan to shirk your responsibility after what you did to my brother?"
Responsibility? For what!?
How the hell is this fair? I get smothered in pollen against my will, and now I'm supposed to take responsibility? It's not like I wanted it! Margaret-chan forced—ah, no, that sounds terrible. Makes me sound like some scumbag dodging child support.
And besides, come on—inter-species and same-sex? That's a whole new level of cursed marriage. Not that I'm even sure Margaret-chan counts as male, but still...
One wrong word here, and I'd probably die on the spot.
No choice. Time to use that.
Heh... I thought I'd never need it again in this lazy paradise.
Behold, Cian. Witness my ultimate weapon—the Priest Smile!
"I understand your feelings for your brother, Cian. But... I'd like to be the one to bring it up myself. It's a once-in-a-lifetime thing, after all. I want it to be memorable."
"Hm... I see. Well, timing is important, they say. Besides, we still haven't perfected the replanting method for my brother. Yes, that's true."
Phew. Looks like I made it through. Sure, I just kicked the problem down the road—but future me can deal with that. Crisis averted. For now.
"Still, don't dawdle too long. Before my brother changes his mind. I'm off, then."
"Heading out?"
"Yes. I'm touring potential wedding venues across the country."
...He didn't hear a single word I said, did he?
Cian placed a small bell on the table.
"If danger comes, ring this. I'll be there in an instant."
With that, Cian vanished as suddenly as he'd appeared—teleportation magic. Figures.
Marriage, huh... marriage...
I tried to imagine life with Margaret. He doesn't talk. Doesn't move. So I'd just lounge around, let the monsters worship me, eat good food, and occasionally get covered in pollen.
Honestly... I'm struggling to find any downsides.
Crap. This should feel like a crisis, but instead, the anxiety's just... gone, like bubbles popping in water. The question of Margaret-chan's gender is the only sticking point—but I decided not to think about it.
I glanced at the closed door. I could probably escape if I wanted. But after getting used to this kind of comfort? I doubt I could. A life this soft chains you far better than iron ever could. If Cian planned it that way... clever devil.
Better than working myself to death surrounded by corpses, right? No. No, that's not good. This life isn't right. It's not... but—
"Kikyokekei!!"
"Kyo-kyo-kyo!"
Shrill cries like monstrous birds echoed from outside.
What the hell's that noise?
"Pikyuh! Kikiki!"
The door burst open, and a mini-devil tumbled in, drenched in blood. It dragged itself forward, leaving a slick trail behind, then looked up at me with fading eyes.
"Pi... pikyuu... i..."
Its tiny hand reached for me—and fell, lifeless, to the floor. I tried a healing spell just in case, but the creature didn't move again.
"What the hell...?"
I lifted my head—and froze.
Beyond the open door lay slaughter. Shining silver armor, flashing white blades, monster heads soaring through the air, blood raining like a storm.
A Death Knight. Death itself was dancing in the halls.
"Priest!!"
It saw me.
The reaper's sword sang, slicing through the air, painting the corridor crimson.
This is bad. Really bad. My peaceful life—my paradise—it's ending!
Wait—the bell! If I call Cian, maybe—
I lunged for it.
But my hand never reached.
"Julius..."
A pastel-colored figure caught my wrist. Eyes bright but hollow fixed on me—unblinking, inescapable.
"Priest! Ow—ow, ow, ow!"
A robed mage stumbled into the room, immediately swarmed by the demon fruits. She swung her jewel-tipped staff wildly, lost balance, and crashed straight onto the table—right on top of the bell.
"Ow! Stepped on something—Priest, healing magic, please!"
"Priest... thank the gods you're alive."
"Julius, don't cry. I'm here now. I've come to save you."
As I stared down at the crushed bell, something warm slid down my cheek. No matter how hard I tried to ring it now, it would never chime again.
Goodbye, my peaceful days.
Notes:
• Cian - a male forest demon with butterfly-like wings, dotes on his older 'brother' Margaret-chan and sometimes meddles too much.
• Margaret-chan - an Alraune(?) living in the church garden with pure white petals and hair, flat-bodied like a doll, releases pollen, gender subject to various theories, hopelessly in love with Julius.
• Olivier - A male adventurer burdened by the constant deaths of his companion Katarina.
• Julius - The Main Character.