by Miya Kazuki
“...I thought that bringing Dirk would be important for the discussion with the High Priest, but if you insist.”
I brought Fran and Damuel with me to the High Priest’s room, as I always did. Once inside, the High Priest gave a slight grimace of annoyance and asked, “What is it this time?”
“The matter I want to discuss is very important. Is it something we should talk about out here?” I said in a quiet voice, pointing my eyes toward the hidden room.
The High Priest raised an eyebrow, then held out the sound-blocking magic tool. I firmly gripped it.
“This discussion is important enough for you to actually pay attention to your surroundings and think?”
“...Yes. It’s about Dirk, the baby from yesterday. I believe he has the Devouring.”
After I explained what Dirk had looked like this morning, the High Priest’s brow furrowed hard and he let out a heavy sigh. “I would say it depends on how much mana he has, but given those physical symptoms, it would be safe to say that he has quite a sizable amount.”
“So he has the Devouring for sure?”
“Indeed.” The High Priest gave me a grave nod before rapping a finger lightly against his temple. “It would probably be wise for him to sign with a noble as soon as possible.”
“A contract...”
“He will not survive otherwise.”
I tightened my grip on the sound-blocking magic tool. Signing a contract meant selling your life to a noble. In return for being given the magic tools you needed to survive, you would spend your whole life enslaved to them, essentially becoming a walking mana tank for your noble to drain. I shuddered at the thought of Dirk, a baby as young as my little brother, suffering a fate like that.
“High Priest, could you not make him a blue priest that offers up mana like myself, or otherwise set up an adoption with a noble?”
“It will cost a significant amount to raise the baby as a blue priest. Who will pay for that?”
Having become a blue shrine maiden myself, I knew all too well how much money it cost to live like this. I had almost run out of money preparing for winter despite the Myne Workshop supporting me; clothes, shoes, and pretty much every other little thing was expensive.
“You have been able to cover your expenses by earning your own money,” the High Priest continued, “but do you expect an orphan baby to do the same?”
“...No.”
“Or are you suggesting that you will cover both of your expenses? Would you pay that much for a baby that has no blood relation to you? Is that something your family would permit? Even if so, would that not be the orphanage director showing favoritism to a single orphan?”
I fell silent. I wasn’t even sure I could afford to cover both of our expenses forever, and it was forbidden in the orphanage to prioritize one orphan over the others. I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t think of what to do. All I could do was keep quiet.
The High Priest, seeing my hesitation, softened his expression. “In regard to having a noble adopt him, all adoptions need direct authorization from the archduke. It is not possible for me to simply engineer one wherever I like. In your case, it was determined that you and your quantity of mana, talent for earning money, and otherworldly wisdom being put in the care of an archnoble would be for the best for the city,” he said, indirectly revealing that there had been a lot of background forces at play when he was arranging for me to be adopted by Karstedt. The High Priest had clearly stuck his neck out and worked hard for my sake.
“Myne, am I correct to assume the baby is a male?”
“Yes.”
Oh, right—we hadn’t checked to see the baby’s sex when I spoke to the High Priest yesterday. He must have determined its gender by me calling it a “he.”
“That will make things more difficult...” he said with a slow shake of his head. “I believe I mentioned before that it is the mother’s mana that influences how much mana her children have. A female baby might have had a future being adopted, though she would have been passed off as a natural child rather than an adopted one so that she could be used as a pawn for political marriage.”
I bit my lip. Maybe it was just because I had my memories of living as a Japanese person, but I considered being a pawn for political marriage and being enslaved via lifelong contract not much different.
“There is a slight chance that a noble might want to adopt him given the current mana shortage, but I can say nothing for certain until I have measured the baby’s quantity of mana. Tomorrow morning... Yes, at third bell tomorrow, I will come to your chambers with a magic tool for measuring mana. I imagine that is alright?”
“Absolutely. I shall be waiting,” I said, handing the High Priest the sound-blocking magic tool. But he handed it right back to me. I cocked my head in confusion and took it back, wondering if he had forgotten to say something.
“Myne, who else knows that this baby has the Devouring?”
I lowered my eyes in thought. None of my attendants were familiar with the Devouring. Fran had asked me about Dirk’s symptoms since even he couldn’t recognize them on sight. Lutz could probably guess since I had asked for the taue fruit and then gestured toward Dirk, but none of my attendants would know what that meant.
“I think I’m the only one who firmly understands that Dirk’s symptoms are being caused by mana.”
“In that case, continue keeping this a secret. Be particularly careful that the High Bishop does not learn of this.”
“...Understood.”
I would have to keep it hidden from Delia that Dirk had the Devouring; if she didn’t know about the Devouring, she couldn’t inform the High Bishop about it. I felt a little sad that I had to hide things about Dirk from Delia despite her showing him so much love as she strove to be a good older sister.
The next day, at third bell, the High Priest visited my chambers with Arno. We had finished feeding Dirk and changed his diaper ahead of time. He often, er, did his business right after we put his new diaper on, but there was no helping that.
One interesting thing, though, was that Dirk didn’t cry very much. He generally had a happy smile on his face as long as his diaper was clean and his belly was full. He was rarely fussy when put to bed and didn’t require as much upkeep as most babies might, which was much appreciated by everyone.
Incidentally, our Kamil cried a lot more than Dirk. He was especially noisy when he wanted to sleep, and he wouldn’t fall asleep unless Mom was carrying him. I couldn’t tell whether this contrast was due to the difference in age or whether it was just down to their personalities.
At the moment, Dirk was sleeping on top of a large straw-stuffed cushion set in the corner of my room. Delia was sitting next to it, looking after him. The cushion was Dirk’s bed and could be easily moved to the first floor when Fran was looking after him, then to Rosina’s and Delia’s rooms on the second floor when it was their turn.
I heard a door open on the first floor, then heard Fran say, “Good morning, High Priest.”
“Where is the baby?”
“The second floor. Please follow me.”
Delia, realizing from Fran’s voice that the High Priest had come, dropped her happy smile and turned to look at the staircase with a hard frown. To me, the High Priest was someone I could rely on for anything and everything, but it seemed Delia saw him as someone who wasn’t to be trusted.
“I thank you ever so much for coming all this way.”
“Myne, clear the room.”
Arno set a magic tool down onto the table and crossed his arms in front of his chest before stepping back. It was a circlet studded with small magic stones like those on the divine instruments.
“Please leave, everyone.” I cleared the room, and Delia looked uneasily between me and Dirk, who was still resting on his cushion, while slowly walking down the stairs.
Once everyone was gone, the High Priest took out the sound-blocking magic tool. “Clearing the room is not enough to prevent our voices from bei
ng heard downstairs,” he explained.
After grabbing the sound-blocking magic tool, I walked toward where Dirk was sleeping. The High Priest followed with the mana-measuring magic tool. He pressed the magic stone against Dirk’s head, and the circlet shrunk to fit him perfectly. At this point, something that minor wasn’t enough to surprise me even a little bit.
“Oh, the stones are changing colors.” I knew very well from offering up my mana to the divine instruments that feystones changed color when absorbing mana. That was apparently how noble children had their mana measured when they were born.
Once the color changing slowed, the High Priest removed the circlet and counted the number of differently colored stones.
“Hm. He has about as much as a mednoble on the stronger side.”
“...A mednoble? I would have thought he had more mana than me.” Myne had lived up to the age of five with the Devouring, so Dirk being close to death already made me think he had much more mana than I did, but apparently that wasn’t the case.
“A baby so ruled by emotions it is incapable of controlling mana and a small girl with the mind of an adult are incomparable in mental strength. But most importantly, you have been compressing your mana without anyone having taught you how to, no?”
The High Priest explained that as one grew used to controlling mana, they could compress it and fit more into their body. He could estimate how much mana Myne had from the fact that it was enough to eat her alive at five years old. Dirk probably had more mana than she did when she was born, but then I awoke in her mind and successfully pushed the heat deep inside of me, which made space for more mana to grow. Each time the mana filled up and started to rampage within me, I compressed it even deeper inside of me, making even more space. This process repeated until I basically had a stupid amount of mana.
The High Priest went on to say that I had an enormous amount compressed within my small body—so much that it was hard to believe I could contain it at all. Compressing mana like that was apparently a technique that nobles usually learned in the Royal Academy before puberty hit.
“Doesn’t that mean all nobles could have more mana if they practiced from a young age?”
“Don’t imply it’s so simple, fool. Allowing mana to fill your entire body before containing it with sheer force of mind is to dance with death, putting yourself on the verge of being eaten alive. You have experience with that, no?”
“Yes, it’s happened countless times.” It really was hard to count how many times I had battled with the heat to push it back inside of my body. In the end, I had so much mana because, over the year and a half that had passed between me starting to live as Myne and me joining the temple, I had spent every day on the verge of death.
“It is difficult to compress mana without having a mind strong enough to force it into place. Does it not make sense to wait until children grow and can be taught the proper methods for doing so? Every year, there are a number of students who fail to control their mana and consequently have a brush with death.”
Brushes with death had been a normal daily affair for me, but noble children were given magic tools from birth to shield them from such danger. They just poured their mana into these tools until they could go to the Royal Academy and learn to control it. Blue priests didn’t go to the academy and so never learned to control or increase their mana, which meant they were stuck pouring away their mana forever.
“Well, your case is irrelevant here. There might be some who would like to adopt a Devouring child with such an abundance of mana due to the mana shortage, but given that we are in the process of concealing information to keep you safe, it would be dangerous to spread word of us seeking a family for a Devouring child.”
If an adoption wasn’t possible, I at least wanted Dirk to sign with a family who would treat him right. I looked up at the High Priest. “Um, High Priest, could you sign a contract with Dirk?”
“I could, but I will not. I have absolutely no need for that baby’s mana.”
It turned out that it was largely nobles restrained by a lack of mana who signed with Devouring children. They were driven by their want of mana for maintaining their land and using their noble magic tools. Devouring contracts weren’t something they wanted to be particularly public, so while well-raised children would be given positions as servants or future mistresses, those who were poorly raised would often be locked in the cellar and treated like animals... which explained why the guildmaster was spending so much money on raising Freida like a noble.
I stared at the floor sadly as I thought about what Dirk’s future held, which made the High Priest give an exasperated sigh. “If you are that concerned about him, you can sign with him yourself after Karstedt adopts you.”
“...Me?” I asked, blinking in surprise. I hadn’t even considered signing with Dirk myself when I became a noble.
“Upon being adopted, you will have the noble status necessary to form such a contract. Hide the nature of his sickness and raise him in the orphanage until then.”
“I thank you ever so much.”
If I signed with Dirk, nobody would be able to complain that me raising him properly was a show of favoritism. Though I would have to listen to the High Priest and Karstedt’s advice—the latter because he would be my adoptive father. All I had to do was hide Dirk’s Devouring until then. It seemed that his future would be brighter than I thought.
As I rejoiced, the High Priest narrowed his eyes as if glaring at me. “Myne, this is no time to be rejoicing. The High Bishop will no doubt seek to exploit the baby if he learns of his Devouring. You defy him at every opportunity, whereas the baby has no will of its own. It is clear which of you he will attempt to make his own. If you wish to protect him, keep his secret safe until the very end.”
The High Bishop would want to use Dirk’s mana for his own means, and if the High Bishop demanded custody of Dirk, I had no means of refusing him.
“You would do well to always remember that your position in the temple and your future will be greatly determined by whether or not you can protect that baby.”
“Understood.”
After telling me that Dirk’s mana would be contained for a bit thanks to the mana-measuring tool draining him of mana, the High Priest took the circlet and left. Delia came running up the stairs a second later.
“Sister Myne, what did the High Priest say?! What is Dirk sick with?”
“He’s fine,” I said with a slow shake of my head. “The High Priest said to continue raising him as we have been.”
“I see... That’s such a relief.” Delia’s tense shoulders loosened as she hugged Dirk, rubbing her cheeks against his. The sight was a firm reminder that I couldn’t let any other noble adopt Dirk, nor sign a submission contract with him.
“Sister Myne, I have come for Dirk,” came another voice.
“Thank you, Wilma.”
Fran and Rosina went on break in the afternoon, and since they couldn’t rest easy with Dirk around, we would move him to the orphanage. Delia watched on sorrowfully as Wilma picked Dirk up and left for the orphanage with him.
“You can accompany him to the orphanage if you would like, Delia.”
“But Fran and Rosina are on break, and Gil is at the workshop. Sister Myne, you would have no attendants on hand if I went now.” Delia shot me a sharp look over the very idea.
“I do not mind coming with you.”
“Sister Myne, I think I mentioned that I didn’t want to go to the orphanage,” she responded coldly.
“I suppose you did,” I replied casually while heading to my desk. It wouldn’t be ideal for me to wander around outside my room while both Fran and Rosina were taking a break, so I decided to just focus on making a second black-and-white picture book for Dirk. Unlike Kamil, who had just been born, Dirk was already on the verge of rolling over in bed. He was surely almost old enough to see black-and-white picture books properly.
“Sister Myne, what do you think Dirk is doing right now?”
“Napping, I imagine.”
I drew pictures composed of circles and triangles on white paper using ink. All I had to do next was use the hide glue we had dried over the winter to stick the paper onto boards. I would have Fran prepare the hide glue for me when he woke up. Dad could then open holes in the boards, and after tying them together with thick string the book would be done.
“Sister Myne, do you think Dirk is crying, or maybe feeling lonely?”
“I imagine he isn’t feeling lonely with all of the children around. Though it may be too noisy for him to sleep.”
“But Dirk needs his sleep!”
“Raising your voice at me won’t change anything. I cannot even say for sure whether it is noisy over there,” I replied disinterestedly while writing down a to-do list on my diptych.
First, I needed to buy multiple different kinds of wax from a wax workshop. Stencils used for mimeograph printing were usually made with resin mixed into the wax to help them retain their form, but my plan was to try rolling using only wax this time. If it worked, it worked, but who knew what problems might arise?
“Sister Myne, aren’t you worried about Dirk?”
“Not really, since Wilma is keeping a close eye on him.”
Next, I wanted to talk to someone from an ink workshop about making colored ink. Nothing in the orphanage seemed like it would be a good material for making pigments, so maybe a workshop could help us with that.
“You can’t be sure of that. Geez! Sister Myne, are you even listening to me?” Delia exploded with anger after I kept giving half-hearted replies.
I looked up from my diptych to give her an exaggerated sigh. “If you’re that worried about him, go and check for yourself. Wilma would love to have you there.”
“...I don’t want to go to the orphanage.” Delia bit her lip in frustration. The conflict she was having between wanting to go and not wanting to go was clear on her face.