Chapter 98: Daily Life
The Chapel of Orlando.
Danica sat behind the wooden partition of the confessional, listening to the voice drifting from the other side.
"Sister Danica... I've come again!"
It was a man's voice, vibrating with irrepressible excitement.
"My pig—the one I named 'General' that I told you about last time? He took first place in the winter livestock evaluation! The Mayor personally placed a flower wreath around his neck!"
The man launched into a rambling, exhaustive description of how intelligent his pig was, how lustrous its coat had become, and the unique, dignified way it chewed its slop.
Danica listened in patient silence. If it had been Cecilia sitting here, she would have been mentally planning her dinner menu five minutes ago. But Danica didn't waver. She waited for the man to run out of breath before responding in her softest, most melodious voice.
"Your joy has surely reached the ears of the Holy Spirit."
"The care you provide to life is, in itself, a form of sincere prayer."
"That your General received such honor is simply the harvest of your own kindness and patience. Please, continue to cherish this love; your life will be filled with many more blessings."
Silence fell on the other side of the partition. A moment later, the muffled sound of moved sobbing drifted through the wood.
"Thank you, Sister... thank you so much."
"You're nothing like Father Anchi. When he saw my pig last time, he just said he looked 'perfect for a slow-braise'!"
The man departed, his heart lighter than it had been in years.
Danica sat for a moment, ensuring the footsteps had faded. She carefully raised a hand, touching the white linen of her habit to confirm that the two small, curved protrusions were still hidden.
Good. Still secure.
Danica stepped out of the confessional, squinting as the morning sun hit her face. So warm. She exited the chapel gates, heading toward the town marketplace to secure the day's ingredients. Every townsman she passed offered a warm, respectful greeting.
"Good day, Sister Danica."
"Sister-sama, you look as radiant as ever today!"
Danica smiled, returning a blessing to each of them. Since arriving in this small town, life had been peaceful. No shackles. No whips. No hollow ache of hunger. All she had to do was speak kindly to others, and she received respect and goodwill in return. It was a trade far superior to slavery.
The Hillside behind the Chapel.
Cecilia lay sprawled in the tall grass, her sleeves rolled up to expose her pale arms to the sunlight. Her eyes were closed, and she was humming a jaunty, discordant tune.
This is life.
No listening to tedious confessions. No facing Anchi's punchable face. Ever since Danica had arrived, Cecilia's workload had plummeted to near zero. That succubus seemed to actually enjoy working; she had single-handedly taken over the confessionals, the cleaning, and half of the prayer services.
What a bizarre creature, Cecilia thought. But I suppose I shouldn't complain.
Cecilia rolled over, adjusting her position to ensure an even tan.
There was only one downside. Danica was so efficient that it made Cecilia look pathologically lazy by comparison. Recently, the head cook in the kitchen had been giving her looks that clearly said: "Why does this nun only appear when the food is served?"
Cecilia sat up, brushing grass from her robes. She decided to perform a "patrol" of the chapel—partly to fulfill her nominal duties, and partly to walk past the kitchen lady so she could see Cecilia "at work."
Inside the chapel, Father Anchi was currently skulking, darting his eyes left and right.
Good. Clear.
Cecilia was off slacking somewhere. Danica should still be at the market.
A golden opportunity.
Anchi slid over to the donation box, fishing a ring of keys from beneath his robes. He selected a specific one, slid it into the lock, and gave it a gentle twist.
Click.
The lid popped open. Anchi peered at the copper and silver coins at the bottom, a satisfied smirk touching his lips. Thanks to the "Ghost Road" trade, Orlando was thriving. More merchants meant more donations. The box was much heavier than in previous years.
He began to "audit" the funds, whispering his justifications to the empty room.
"This is for chapel maintenance... this is the candle fund... this is the dry-cleaning allowance for next month's liturgical robes..."
He slid a silver coin into his private pocket.
"And this is the 'Spiritual Trauma Compensation' for the clergy."
He took a few more coppers.
"Artistic patronage for the hardworking local bards."
He took one more silver.
"And finally... a macroeconomic adjustment to ensure the price stability of Orlando's wine market."
Anchi's movements were practiced and fluid, his face wearing a mask of solemnity as if he were performing a holy rite. Just as he reached for a third silver coin, the main doors creaked open.
Danica entered, carrying a basket overflowing with fresh produce.
The air solidified. Anchi's hand remained frozen inside the donation box. Danica stared at Anchi. Anchi stared at Danica.
Slowly, very slowly, Anchi withdrew his hand. Between two fingers, he held a single copper coin.
"Ah... Danica. You're back."
Anchi's face was a masterpiece of unruffled calm. "I was just performing a structural integrity check on the donation box. We can't have wood-worms nesting in the holy offerings, can we?"
"Look," he added, holding up the copper. "I caught one."
Danica looked at Anchi, then offered a smile of pure, angelic innocence. "Is that so? You truly work hard, Father. To care even for such minor details personally... it is inspiring."
Her voice was soft and sincere. Anchi felt a cold trickle of sweat run down his spine.
This woman is dangerous, he realized. She had seen everything. She knew exactly what he was doing. Yet she didn't say a word; she simply offered him that "I see you" look and perfectly played along with his lie.
"Ahem." Anchi locked the box with a sharp clack. "Since you've returned, I'll leave dinner in your capable hands. I have... vital scriptures that require immediate study."
With that, Anchi turned to make a tactical retreat.
"HALT!"
A voice thick with fury erupted from across the hall. Cecilia stormed in through the side door. She had checked the kitchen, found it empty, and deduced Danica hadn't returned. She'd come to the main hall to "look busy," only to witness the scene.
That bastard Anchi was looting the box again!
Cecilia's rage boiled over. She charged forward, her leg coiling for a "Flying Kick of Divine Justice."
Anchi was faster. He bolted for the rear exit, shouting over his shoulder at the succubus:
"Sister Danica! You've worked hard! I'm granting you a half-day holiday! Go rest!"
Before the sentence even finished, Anchi had vanished through the back door. Cecilia's kick hit nothing but air, leaving her stomping her feet in frustration.
"YOU COWARD, ANCHI! DON'T YOU DARE GET CAUGHT! I'M TURNING YOUR ENTIRE WINE STASH INTO VINEGAR!"
Danica watched the duo with a small, private smile. She took the groceries to the kitchen and stepped back out into the sun.
Since the Father had granted her a holiday, she might as well enjoy it. She began a leisurely stroll along the cobblestone streets of the town.
The weather was beautiful. And Danica's mood was even better.
☆☆☆
-> 20 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you