Episode 19: Excessive Consideration (4)
Hashana did, in fact, have a somewhat legitimate reason for stealing Iskandel’s lips.
It happened when she had begun the full-scale extermination of the troublesome flying insects that kept blowing in from the sea, no matter how many times they were wiped out.
The strange books were still vivid in her mind, the man’s voice talking about “cultural exchange” still rang in her ears, and the warmth of his hand lingered too clearly at her fingertips for her to focus properly.
To make matters worse, Rsanda showed up and started needling her.
“Oh, look at you.
You dragged the very man Karasvati was salivating over into your bedroom, the one I told you never to let inside the fortress, and instead of tangling up with him, you’re out here in the fields?”
“I need to concentrate if I’m going to get rid of these bugs, so please don’t talk to me.”
“Listen to this kid.
I felt bad for saying something I shouldn’t have, so I pretended not to notice the liquor you sent to get me drunk, and I even pretended to be fooled by that slick spy’s nonsense about helping with war preparations.
After all that goodwill, shouldn’t you be about ready to let go of your anger?”
Hashana remained silent.
Hashana knew it in her head.
She was the creation; Rsanda was the creator.
No matter how endlessly generous and soft Rsanda might be toward her, even Hashana herself knew that her recent words and actions went far beyond mere insubordination.
She still kept her mouth firmly shut, but the stubborn way she pressed her lips together carried a clear sense of remorse.
Rsanda snorted and sidled right up next to her.
“I may be a forgotten god whose divinity has frayed enough to occasionally misstep, but I am still the god of war.
You know that, right?”
“I know.
That’s why I’m making such a fuss about delegations and whatnot, so that you won’t be forgotten for as long as possible, Rsanda.”
“I know that too.”
Their gazes met and locked.
The two women could not have looked more different, but they engaged in a silent staring contest before almost simultaneously jutting out their lips and snapping their heads away from each other.
Turning her eyes in the exact opposite direction from Hashana, Rsanda casually set a hand on her busy creation’s shoulder and asked in a lazy tone, “Given that, don’t you find it a little strange that I singled that prince out as a spy, while you, my own priestess, insist he absolutely is not?”
“It would be stranger if it weren’t strange. His Highness’s mother was a priestess of Disorde, remember? He was born to drag trouble around with him.”
Hashana even nodded as she said it, agreeing with her own words.
Iskandel really was a strange man.
A human whose nape and earlobes were steeped in the blessings of Karasvati and Disorde.
He would seem to be flirting, then suddenly pull away; he acted as if he had seen straight through her, yet at the same time, he could be as indifferent as someone with no interest at all.
Shaking her head sharply to clear away the man’s face that had once again filled her mind, Hashana closed her eyes, stretched out her hands, and began to pour out her divine power.
Her effort to empty her thoughts was wasted, however, as Rsanda brought up Iskandel again.
“Just like you said, the man is chaos and commotion incarnate. He’s like the eye of a typhoon. He throws everything around him into turmoil and confusion, yet he alone stands calm at the center of it all.”
Hashana said nothing.
“That’s why I’m sure he’s a spy.
Every human who has been heavily blessed by Disorde is like that.
They quietly sow discord everywhere they go, then live for the fun of watching from a high wall with a glass of wine in hand.
To think I let a walking embodiment of uproar and bedlam into my precious creation’s bedroom.
Even I can hardly believe my own decision.”
“…I think Disorde is the one who brings about all the delightful changes and miracles in the world.”
“And I think you’re going to get hurt very badly someday because you insist on seeing the best in people.”
Spreading her arms wide, Hashana released a halo of light to purge the insects, then frowned and shot Rsanda a sideways look.
“I simply like unfamiliar things and new people.
I’m not the empty-headed fool you seem to think I am.”
“I would love for that to be true. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
In any case, take to heart what I said about your divine power being staked on that damned man’s devotion and effort.
Rumor has it his skills are every bit as impressive as his face, so it should be quite the experience.”
“…Pardon?
What skills?”
When Hashana blinked wide-eyed and asked, Rsanda just shrugged and kissed her on the cheek.
Hashana narrowed her eyes at her creator, who now seemed like a completely different person from the one who had been straining her neck and shouting about war just moments ago.
Rsanda, as if she could see right through what Hashana was thinking, gave a short snort and gently stroked her precious creation’s cheek.
“What skills do you think?
The ones he’ll need to give you the best coming-of-age ceremony of your life.
Did you think I left that book on your bed for no reason?”
“Yes.
I was actually going to talk to you about that book—”
“What is there to talk about?
I noticed you weren’t particularly taken with the captains of the guard, so I figured you must prefer something prettier than those hulking brutes and decided to spoon-feed him to you.
If that pretty boy ever tries to use his charms on you, remember what I said.
If he wants to live, he’d better behave, devote himself, and work hard to bolster your divine power.”
“Oh, honestly.
Devotion, hard work… what in the world are you even talking about?”
Shaking her head as if she’d heard enough, Hashana stepped away from her and started toward the farm.
Rsanda trotted after her, her brow furrowed in disbelief.
“My word.
Have you really cut yourself off from that part of life so completely that you can’t even understand a simple metaphor?
Devotion and effort—your divine power!”
“I find it hard to believe you were using a metaphor in the first place, Rsanda.”
“Good grief.
My dear Hashana, think about why I let that pretty boy into your bedroom, even though I’m convinced he’s a spy.”
“You hate flowers.
You always say they’re nothing but fleeting eye candy that bloom for a moment and then wither, completely useless otherwise.”
“You know me well.”
With a small chuckle, Rsanda snapped off a twig of enimu, its tiny white blossoms clustered along the branch, and tucked it neatly behind Hashana’s ear.
“That prince is even more useless than a flower, but judging by that face of his, I decided he wouldn’t be a bad sparring partner for my beloved creation’s training.
That’s why I backed off.
And since you seemed so fixated on protecting him, I tied a… let’s say, slightly but extremely dangerous bomb to him and then stepped away.”
“No way… You placed your divine power on His Highness?
When?”
“When we ran into each other earlier.
If he does well, it will naturally flow into you.
If he turns out to be completely useless, the divine power will crush him.”
For a moment, Hashana froze as if a wire had snapped inside her.
Then, with a vicious glare she’d never worn before, she shot Rsanda a look of pure fury and bolted toward her room at a dead run.
‘An ordinary human can’t withstand a god’s divine power.
If he doesn’t pass it on to me, he’ll die!’
A god needed only to brush a fingertip against a human to consecrate or heal them with a faint touch of divine power.
But a human could never endure a massive amount of it.
And if that power accidentally flowed into the wrong person, returning it to the god required much more effort.
The most common form of that ‘effort’ was sexual intercourse.
‘No… The coming-of-age ceremony is something I can just handle with whoever wins the tournament.
Did it really have to be turned into this big, noisy rehearsal?
Why?’
Normally, not a speck of dust would dare cling to her snow-white clothes, but now enimu leaves and dirt from the fields were smeared all over her.
She didn’t care that her legs were getting scratched or her clothes were rubbing her raw as she sprinted into her quarters.
“Oh, you’re back—”
Whatever pleasant thoughts he had been entertaining, the man sitting at the desk with a picture-perfect smile looked up at her in surprise.
Without slowing, Hashana closed the distance and blurted out an apology.
“Your Highness, I need to apologize. I am so sorry.”
She reached out, wrapped her arm around the back of his neck as he stared at her in confusion, and without a moment’s hesitation, she captured his startled, parted lips.
The instant Iskandel’s breath mingled with hers, divine power erupted from thin air like a bolt of lightning, piercing them both.
“Ngh.”
Even for Hashana, it was an intensely powerful penetration she had never experienced.
Every extremity of her body—from the tips of her hair to her fingers and toes—tingled and buzzed.
For a fleeting moment, she thought that with this level of divine power, she could wipe out every last insect infesting the enimu trees.
Then, glaring at the lingering energy that crackled throughout the room in tiny bolts of lightning, she raised her voice.
“Are you out of your mind?
How is a human supposed to endure this kind of brute force!”
“Ha ha ha.”
Rsanda’s laughter, sweet with the scent of alcohol, drifted in from afar, weaving through Hashana’s shouts.
Her formless, mocking giggles poured into the room, fanning the flames of Hashana’s irritation.
“No matter how much you resent me for talking back, or how suspicious you are of an outsider, how could you pull a life-or-death prank like this!”
“A prank?
This is proper training.”
“I really don’t understand why training always has to start out of nowhere like this!”
“Shouldn’t you be taking care of your little guest before you yell at me?
If you keep dawdling, he’ll die.”
Hashana let out a silent scream, scooped Iskandel into her arms, and carried him to the bed.
Iskandel, a mere mortal, was caught between the malicious laughter of a goddess and the outraged fury of a saintess.
All he could do was hold his breath and gulp.
Or at least, he thought he was swallowing.
When his throat bobbed, a liquid with the metallic tang of blood flooded his mouth.
He wasn’t holding his breath; he simply couldn’t breathe, because blood was pouring from his nose like water from a tipped jar.
“You’re going to be fine. This isn’t pain. As the divine power seeps in, all the impurities that have built up in your body are coming out with your blood… Don’t worry. Just get a good, long sleep, and then you’ll wake up.”
Cradling him like a baby, she rested his head on her shoulder and patted him gently, whispering with endless tenderness.
Iskandel, who had no idea what had just happened to him, could only blink blankly.
He finally went limp like a soaked rag doll, but not before drenching Hashana’s white clothes and the bed in his blood.
Only once he had passed out like a corpse did Rsanda appear, murmuring in admiration.
“He’s not bad at all.
Maybe because Karasvati and Disorde both doted on him, he held out pretty well.”
“Is this really something you should be watching so leisurely?”
“Of course.
From my perspective, it’s truly delightful entertainment.”
She remained silent.
“I’ve arranged it so that every time you have a satisfying practice session, the divine power stored inside him will seep into you. Think of it as my coming-of-age gift and make good use of it.”
Rsanda gently tucked the flowering branch she had snapped from the enimu tree behind the unconscious Iskandel’s ear, then waved her hand lazily and vanished.