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“Now, that was an interrogation,” Veronika said with a smirk when they had ascended the stairs.
She had promised to stop Yukinari “when he snapped,” but in the end she had never intervened. It wasn’t that she had betrayed her promise; rather, she knew that Yukinari had been under control the entire time.
Yukinari let out a long sigh and leaned on the wall. “That really took it out of me...”
“I bet.”
“I know maybe it looks like I’m not one to talk right now, but I hate violence. Whether that means hurting someone with my words, or actually raising a hand against them.”
“I know that,” Veronika said, leaning against the wall next to Yukinari. “But you had to do something, or you would never have gotten through to that girl. Frankly, it was what she wanted.”
“I guess... I guess you’re right about that.”
Masochism.
It wasn’t clear whether she herself knew it, but Angela had clearly been excited to be slapped and verbally abused by Yukinari. The way she had brought her thighs together a little too tightly in an effort to hide something was most likely, as she had said, not because she had wet herself.
“She wants someone to be her master,” Veronika insisted. “She’s so strong and proud herself. She wants someone to walk all over her, treat her really savagely. You did great, Yukinari. As an observer, I was pretty impressed how you managed to come right up to the line. I guess that girl really is a good judge of people—or gods.”
“Please, stop it already,” Yukinari groaned, looking up at the ceiling.
The reason he had struck Angela, called her an insect and those other vile things, was because he wanted to see if they were right about her fetish and perhaps drag some information out of her as well. The saying goes, “If pushing doesn’t work, try pulling,” but on the assumption that neither physical nor verbal abuse alone would work, Yukinari modulated his approach, checking Angela’s reactions, figuring out exactly what kind of person she was looking for and then playing that part.
✦ ✦ ✦
“You almost had her,” Veronika said, shooting a glance in the direction of the basement.
“What do you mean? Almost had her what?”
He had been able to get the information he wanted; he doubted Angela was in a state to lie.
“Falling from grace.”
He said nothing.
“Whenever you get an extremist believer—not just in religion—it’s possible that they’ll change who or what it is they worship. It can be pretty dangerous.” Veronika had crossed her arms and seemed to be remembering something. “People always want someone supporting them.”
“Even you, Veronika?”
“Good question,” she said with a wry smile. “Probably.”
People can’t endure absolute freedom or equality. It would be the same thing as leaving them naked in a barren field. They need something to cling to, they want someone who will grab them by the collar and say, “Look at me.” If all people are equal in the state of nothingness called freedom, then responsibility for every decision redounds upon the one who made it. But people are all too aware that they are neither all-powerful, nor absolute, nor omniscient; they know how frequently they make mistakes.
Hence, they are anxious. They seek something that will tell them what is right, something that will absolve them of responsibility for their thoughts and actions. It may be their parents, their rulers, or their gods, among other things, but when confronted by an existence overwhelmingly greater than themselves, people come to reverence and worship it. By abandoning choice and decision-making to these entities, they find relief from their anxiety, and life becomes easier.
In short, self-interest is at the center of it all.
So if they find some object that will make their lives even easier, they may switch allegiances. Yukinari understood this psychology, albeit dimly. After all, in his previous world he had lived with the dictionary definition of it.
“You’ve got to admit you’re a pretty imposing presence, Yukinari. When she saw you in that armor with those wings, maybe you already had her even then.”
“Ugh,” Yukinari grunted.
It was true that the body of the Bluesteel Blasphemer was one that had been intended to do “miracles” for the Church in order to more efficiently convert people to the faith. It looked very intimidating and seemed altogether inhuman—or so he gathered. Yukinari himself wasn’t really sure one way or the other, but that was what Berta and Fiona told him.
And on top of that, Angela had seen him fight. She had seen with her own eyes just how powerful he was. As Veronika suggested, if Yukinari had delivered that first slap in the form of the Bluesteel Blasphemer, she might have immediately converted to his worship.
“We’re expecting to have it out with the other Missionary Brigade from Aldreil, right? We could do with anyone at all on our side who had information about the enemy...”
“On our side, huh...?” He remembered a manga he had read in his previous world, where two men had started out fighting each other, but had ended up the best of friends.
“You’re a god, aren’t you, Yukinari?” Veronika was looking at him. “A god has to at least be able to watch his followers throw themselves into the flames while chanting his name, or he’s not much of a deity.”
“Is that how it works?”
So that was why she thought he should just convert Angela. Yukinari let out another long sigh, and then he and Veronika headed for the living area.