Chapter 5

Zem the Priest / Falsely Accused Pedophile / Playboy The town Zem lived in was famous for its medicine. As it was the closest outpost to the front line during the war against demons, demand for the healing arts was high, and the priests of the divine god Medora studied both magical and herbal remedies at their sanctuaries. Zem was one of those priests. “Father Zem! I picked some herbs!” A teenage girl raced into Zem’s treatment room located in the sanctuary. “Oh, Myril. Thank you. Here is a reward for you.” “Thank you!” Zem gave her a copper coin and patted her on the head, and she wriggled as if it tickled. Zem was a tall man, and Myril was short for her age. Only about ten years separated them, but anyone seeing them for the first time would have thought them father and daughter. “Is there anything else I can do for you? I’ll help with the medicine!” Myril offered. “Do not worry; I can handle that myself,” Zem responded, dodging her offer as she tugged persistently at his uniform. Myril was still a child. Zem was about to create a medicinal compound, which required sanitary considerations and precise measurements. He also had to work with a poisonous flower. He could not allow someone her age to help with that kind of work. “Really? I swear I can do it,” Myril protested. “I will teach you how to do it after you get a little better at math,” Zem assured. “Oh, come on, that’s what you always say!” “Do not fret. You are a smart girl. Studying will be no problem for you if you apply yourself.” “Don’t treat me like a child… Do you hate women who are bad at studying, Father Zem?” Zem was used to dealing with kids. The sanctuary doubled as an orphanage, and the older kids looked after the younger ones. Zem was an orphan, too. He had taken care of many kids younger than himself, and he was not going to give in to Myril, no matter how pretty she had become. He had also chosen to live the rest of his life as a priest of Medora. “My personal taste in women does not matter. You should work hard to ensure yourself a fulfilling life,” Zem answered. “You always say that, too! I know what you mean, but I’m a girl. I’m going to be married someday, so I shouldn’t interfere with the work of men,” Myril said. “Myril, that’s…” “If you’re that worried about my future…” Myril grabbed one of Zem’s wrists and tiptoed, puckering her lips to kiss him, but he stopped her. “Myril,” Zem said sternly. Myril braced herself for a scolding. “Don’t look at me like that,” she responded. “Haah… Listen to me, Myril. I am a priest. I do not intend on involving myself romantically with anyone.” “But there are some priests who are married!” “They were either already married when they became priests or got married after quitting. You cannot get married while serving as a priest, and I have no plans to leave my role,” Zem lectured matter-of-factly. “So you’re saying you’d follow the rules even if you found someone you love?” “Priests aren’t allowed to fall in love in the first place, so that situation would never arise.” “You liar! Nobody sticks to that! Everyone is seeing a woman in secret but you!” Myril threw the basket of herbs at Zem and ran out of the room. “Oh goodness…” Zem sighed to himself. Girls were hard to please at that age. Zem was popular with women. He was tall and handsome, he had glossy brown hair, and his voice was low and calming. He was the embodiment of a young ideal priest. He was also serious about his work. He was inflexibly straitlaced and didn’t save money or accept bribes. As a result, it was rare for women his age to take an interest in him as a candidate for marriage. He was, however, fawned over by members of the opposite sex who had no interest in marriage, such as older women…and younger girls like Myril. Zem had always received such affection and was used to it. That was also why he was oblivious to the jealousy and ill will building toward him in the sanctuary. Myril felt dejected as she raced out of the treatment room. Helping Zem wasn’t considered a chore to the girls of the sanctuary; it was a privilege that gave them an opportunity to receive compliments from him. Myril had used every method she could think of to gain that chance. She had maneuvered herself to the highest social standing among girls her age through a process of threatening and bullying, and occasionally soothing and befriending others. After much work, she finally gained the privilege to work by Zem’s side, and she was trying to enjoy it for all it was worth. If Zem desired it, she was willing to go beyond kisses and give him her body. But Zem had stuck to his principles as an adult and a priest. He hadn’t just avoided her approaches; he refused to give her or anyone else among the girls in the orphanage any kind of preferential treatment. Myril thought that was unfair. All the girls who loved him, including herself, drove themselves crazy with the plotting and jealousy born from their efforts to spend time with him. Despite that, Zem just maintained his pure ideals as if their suffering had nothing to do with him. He wouldn’t give her the attention she deserved, no matter how hard she worked. “I think I’m starting to hate Zem.” Myril was one of the most beautiful and mature in appearance among the girls her age, and she became very popular with the boys in the orphanage around the time she turned fourteen. Even adults would do whatever she asked after a little enticing. Other than Zem, that was. He was the only man who wouldn’t become hers, and he happened to be the most handsome one in town. At first, she was only curious about him, but her feelings for him became real once she got to know him. He spoke kindly and treated everyone fairly. He was the ideal man. But that affection was beginning to turn into something else. The more time she spent with Zem, the more her desire turned to angst. She was gripped by the thought that she would never be as good a person as him, and she even found his lack of worldly desires frightening. But Zem was a man. She was sure the day would come when he performed immoral, selfish actions, just like she did. Myril looked forward to that day as she continued her efforts to seduce him, and her wicked feelings of love continued to grow. Every time before they met, she would give herself a thorough check in the mirror. She would try to toy with him using suggestive language and always attempt to hold his hand or intentionally trip so she could cling onto him. Despite all her efforts, Zem still didn’t give her the attention she wanted. If she ultimately proved unable to seduce Zem, Myril would have to accept a hard truth about herself—that she wasn’t an irresistible young seductress, just a puny nymphomaniac. “God, this sucks…” Wishing to be alone, Myril headed for the sanctuary’s rear garden. She didn’t want anyone to see her face right now. The garden was always empty because the person who managed it was a hopeless slacker, making it the perfect place for a private conversation. “…Are you serious? That Goody Two-shoes is going to be promoted to a high priest?” “The chief priest is off his rocker. Why does he like him so much?” “If only we had some dirt to sabotage him with… Crap.” Myril happened upon a group of mid-level priests when she reached the garden. She could tell from their conversation that they were also jealous of Zem. If she had been a little younger, she would have derided them for being terrible people. If she had been a little older, she would have fled to avoid being wrapped up in any trouble. Instead, she was at that dangerous age when a child began to lose their innocence but retained their feeling of omnipotence. “Hey, you guys,” she said. “Wh-who’s there?!” one of the men reacted. Myril watched the flustered middle priests and licked her lips. “Can you tell me what you were talking about in more detail?” Zem was devoting himself to preparing medicine and treating the injured, as per usual. His treatment was gentle and without error—he was very skilled and received plenty of patients who did not just come to ogle at his good looks. There were many people lined up outside his treatment room on this day as well. He was currently prescribing medicine to a mother and child who caught a cold, and the mother was lavishing him with praise. “Thank you so much, Father Zem. It is such a great help having a person like you around,” she said. “No need to thank me. I am simply doing my job,” Zem replied. “Oh, by the way, I heard something about you being promoted to a high priest.” Zem knit his brows. Talk of that promotion had reached him as well. Priests normally achieved high priesthood once they gained sufficient experience. A lot of training was needed, which included going on a pilgrimage to receive letters of recommendation from sanctuaries in various lands, or devoting oneself to a journey of societal service in which one performed tasks such as killing monsters and giving relief to the poor. Zem was in his twenties and had yet to go on a journey of training or a pilgrimage. The promotion would be nonsensical, and he made it clear to the chief priest that he was going to decline. “That is not going to happen. I am too young,” Zem responded. “I suppose so… I know all of us patients would be grateful for it, though.” Zem forced a smile and ignored the woman’s words. A promotion would make him stand out too much and invite jealousy. Thinking that, he decided he shouldn’t take her praise seriously. Unfortunately, it was already too late. “Move aside! Is Zem there?” “Wh-what’s going on?!” a patient shouted. Five of Zem’s fellow priests suddenly forced their way through the crowd. The bewildered patients stared at the newly arrived priests and Zem in turn. “What is the matter, you all?” Zem asked. “Ha, he’s shameless!” one of the priests yelled back. The five men were all mid-level priests, just like Zem. They were glowering at him as if he was a criminal. “…I apologize, but I cannot comment until you tell me why you are here,” he said. “Still you feign ignorance?! You have no right to call yourself a priest, you depraved sinner!” another priest screamed. “Once again, I do not know what this is about.” This isn’t getting anywhere, Zem thought. While the surrounding patients sensed that something was off, not one of them doubted Zem. What one of the priests said next, however, perplexed everyone. “You are under suspicion of raping a little girl.” “What?! That is nonsense,” Zem answered. He obviously knew he had done no such thing, and even the patients thought it was probably a misunderstanding. The priests seemed to delight in their confusion. “If you refuse to confess, we have no choice but to bring your crime to light right here… Bring her in!” A priest who was waiting outside the room ushered in a girl. Her eyes were wet from crying, and her hair was disheveled—it certainly appeared as if she had been abused. “Myril! What happened?!” Zem shouted, jumping to his feet with surprise. He tried to go to the girl’s side, but the priests stopped him, and Myril screamed. “Yes! This is the man who raped me… I trusted you, Father Zem!” “Wh-what are you saying, Myril?” Zem asked. “Give it up already, you sinner! Take him away!” a priest yelled. The child Zem had been treating stood up and protested. “F-Father Zem has been treating people here all day!” The child didn’t realize how reckless that was. The priests glared at the kid. “Do you mean to challenge the word of a priest, you brat?!” one of them bellowed. “P-please stop! My child was only joking!” the mother said, holding a hand over her child’s mouth before prostrating herself before the priest. Priesthood was a sacred profession. The members of this order were below nobles and had many obligations, but they possessed a variety of privileges ordinary citizens lacked. Even their healing and charitable work was performed for Medora, and people had no right to interfere with their duties. If anyone resisted here, the priests had maces to change their minds. “Please, do not hurt anyone!” Zem shouted. The mid-level priests laughed derisively. “If you don’t want this situation to escalate, I recommend you behave yourself and follow us.” “Grk…!” It was blatantly obvious how unnatural the events leading up to Zem’s arrest were. Naturally, the citizens who were indebted to him, and the women who had feelings for him protested. The narrative changed when a new discovery came to light. Poison was found on the shelves in Zem’s treatment room. There was poison used for paralysis, poison to make the target feel fatigued, and even poison that caused arousal and was used as an aphrodisiac. The aphrodisiac was the biggest problem, and the half-empty bottle was evidence it had been used. Even worse, patients came forward, having seen Zem picking poisonous grass used as an ingredient for the aphrodisiac. The line between medicine and poison was paper thin. Zem had performed careful analysis of many texts and was well versed in his art. He often used poison grass as an ingredient, and creating compounds containing poison was a piece of cake for him. It was also possible that a priest planted the poison in Zem’s treatment room while pretending to inspect it; that would have been an easy task. There were few citizens who understood any of that, however. At the very least, the patients who lived in poverty and couldn’t even read were incapable of seeing through the deception. Meanwhile, the priests with some knowledge of medicine kept silent to avoid any attention falling on them. Others gloated because a rival had been eliminated. Three months passed. After three months of imprisonment, Zem was excommunicated from the sanctuary and driven out of town through the back gate. There were a couple of reasons for the long length of his imprisonment. The sanctuary waited until the suspicion and anger that he was falsely accused died down, banishing him once the scandal had come to be accepted as the truth. By doing that, they avoided attracting any ire. The priests also trickled out a variety of rumors to strengthen the believability of the scandal, and the degree to which they spread through the information-hungry populace surprised even them. The other reason for the long imprisonment was just as important. “Is that Zem? How wretched.” “It looks like the rumors were true…” That was to rob Zem of his good looks that had made him so popular. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes were sunken, and his clothes were dirty and battered. He was still a good deal more handsome than average, but he looked haggard enough to disillusion those who loved him for his appearance. “…You did this to yourself, Zem,” Myril muttered angrily as she watched from afar. Zem was at fault because he wouldn’t accept her love. He should have given her what she wanted. She repeated it to herself over and over, drowning any rising guilt in stubborn vice. All the girls in the orphanage doubted Myril, but she had played the perfect victim, and the priests believed her. No one was able to claim that she lied in her confession. Zem was not seen nor heard from in public once between his imprisonment and his banishment. In the end, Zem was exiled because those in power in the sanctuary decided he was guilty. It was as simple as that. Even if someone could have reasoned out the suppression and behind-the-scenes maneuvering that went into that decision, they could not have raised a public objection. Speculation spread after his banishment that he must have secretly been up to some shady business. Rather than live with the guilt and fear that they abandoned a falsely accused person and that there was a girl who was able to ruin a man’s life with lies, it was much easier for the people of the town to accept the story that the evil Zem got what he deserved. “Get lost, you pervert!” “We were fools to ever trust you!” The town that received protection from the sanctuary exiled Zem. Betrayal, false accusation, insult, and violence—these were the injustices that ruined him and led the populace to jeer and pelt him with stones. But perhaps this was just the true beginning of Zem’s life. Zem muttered to himself as he walked along the highway alone. “Why did this have to happen?” He had been repeating those words ever since he was ruined by his fellow priests and Myril. No one had answered his question. He was interrogated two or three days after he was arrested and then left almost entirely alone during his three-month imprisonment. The guards might have been forbidden from speaking to him, because they didn’t answer any of his questions, either. The word Why? circled endlessly in his mind.