Chapter 18

Stephenne perks up noticeably and takes a step toward me—before falling flat on her face. A brilliant swan dive. She didn’t slip on the floor or trip on anything in her way. She simply flopped onto the ground with a thunderous crash, without a chance to brace herself whatsoever. Amelia is silent. Hell, I’m silent, too. Still lying on the floor, Stephenne begins to sob. Her skirt completely flies up, putting her white panties on full display. I look away from the disgraceful sight and speak to Amelia. “You shouldn’t be letting her wear a miniskirt. It’s completely inappropriate for a priest, not to mention immodest behavior for any human being.” “It’s not like I wanted her to wear one. If it’s not this short, she keeps tripping over it and falling.” “She’s tripping even in the miniskirt!!” “She causes trouble the moment you take your eyes off her… Ares, this is all your fault for picking her without consulting me first.” Amelia looks up at me, seemingly irritated. Yes, it is my fault. In every respect. I should have consulted with you first… So I’m begging you, help me! Immediately before her arrival, I realized I’d forgotten to tell Amelia about our new recruit. I mentioned it to her casually, and Amelia—whose face is usually expressionless—reacted unexpectedly. Her eyes went wide as saucers. She seemed dazed, not too different from how she looked when we met with Gregorio. “…Do you know her?” “…She’s my junior. But let’s just leave it at that.” She sighed and continued exasperatedly, “There are many things I’d like to say, but first and foremost—Ares, you really are extravagant.” “Extravagant…?” I must have been visibly flustered by her statement. Amelia heaved another immensely deep sigh and went on. “What is it about me, Ares? Me, li’l old Amelia, the dynamic, high-level, good-natured, charming, cream of the crop among holy casters, the same girl who knows you so well, who you’ve completely forgotten about, the one who works so hard to assist you. What is it about me that you, Ares, in your infinite knowledge of magic and use of holy techniques, are so dissatisfied with?” “It’s your God-awful sense of humor.” That, and your failure to pick up on the TPO—time, place, and occasion—when things get serious, and how you end up making light of the situation. Amelia cleared her throat in response and stood up straight, opening her mouth to speak again. “…Well, let’s just leave it at that, Ares.” “Oh, we’re leaving things at that, too, are we…?” Come to think of it—should my subordinate really be the good-natured, charming, li’l old Amelia? As I pondered the question deeply, Amelia—who knows me so well and is so dynamic—put that dynamism to use and ignored my fretting glance, continuing on. “Ares, let’s pretend for a moment that you never became a crusader—forget about your location and your goals, and all that. You would’ve attended school, right?” I suddenly couldn’t find my words, and Amelia further elaborated with a stern look on her face. “Okay, so let’s forget the fact that you’ve got mean eyes and that you’re vulgar. You still have the latent potential to rise to the upper echelon of the Out Crusade. You’re book-smart and athletic. You’re also more or less good with others, and I don’t know which one of your parents you look like, but you’re not exactly hard on the eyes, either.” “Get to the damn point.” “And, well, it’s hard to say whether you would really fit in with your classmates, but people tend to flock to high-class specimens like yourself. Just like they do to me, the charming, good-natured, smart li’l Amelia… Or to Spica, for being, you know, unfortunate.” I wondered if Amelia has a grudge against Spica. Not to mention, she never has anything good to say when she’s this talkative. She wouldn’t drop the stern face, clear proof that she was trying to read my mind. “There’s a person in the middle of all of it. At a glance, they look extremely accomplished, there’s always people around them, they’re smart, they’re pretty fun to talk to, their quality upbringing is obvious from their choice of words, they’re extremely friendly and affable—and as a bonus, they’re super easy on the eyes, almost like the kind of character you’d find in a romance novel—” I didn’t see any problem with what she was saying so far. Amelia seemed to realize that I still didn’t understand what was going on. She inhaled sharply and gave it to me straight. “—the girl with the one fatal flaw… The klutz.” What the hell was she talking about? In moments like this, all I can do is stare at Amelia in shock. When I finally realized that her words held far more meaning than their face value, it was already too late. I’ve learned two important things from this. First, before adding someone to the fold, make sure they aren’t just skilled, but that they don’t have any fatal flaws, either. Second—I realized that I am indeed indulgent, to the point that me and my lack of satisfaction have to be punished by li’l old Amelia and her disastrous sense of humor. …Yeesh, Amelia, try a bit harder to stop me next time.