The cause of her worries, as it happened, was a birthday present—for High Priest Archield.
Reyes’s brain kept churning even as she went out to the garden to pull weeds.
The garden of her rented house, which had been spacious at the start of their lease, was now overflowing with life: lush, full greenery, and blooming flowers in all sorts of colors.
The number of plants might strike some as overwhelming. Even so, Reyes wanted more. She was thinking about moving to a house with an even larger garden; her maids were trying desperately to prevent that from happening, though. They said anything bigger would be too difficult to take care of and asked her to content herself with what she had already.
Trifling matters aside, she was running out of time. She had to decide soon, or it would be too late.
It was just that, with this particular issue, she couldn’t settle on anything. Every prospect felt wrong somehow. Going with the flow wasn’t enough.
Reyes was taken in at the Great Temple before she was old enough to remember, and ever since, the High Priest had looked after her with great care. As busy as he was, he still checked in on her in various ways and made time for them to spend together.
Before coming to Dirashik—when she had not yet developed her love for plants—she had taken her circumstances for granted without a second thought.
Then she left the Great Temple, and money became an issue. She worried about where her next meal would come from. What’s more, there hadn’t been anything she wanted to do. She had no clue what she ought to do while at magic school.
It was only after confronting those hardships that she realized how sheltered her life at the Great Temple had been.
She realized then that not only Archield but also the archbishop and the priests and priestess had taken very good care of her and brought her up wanting for nothing.
That was the reason why Reyes felt so opposed to the idea of repeating the same old song and dance for the High Priest—a man who had cherished her so much.
“Is it really that troubling?”
Jirni didn’t quite understand what Reyes was struggling with.
The Saint’s emotions almost never showed in her expression or demeanor. But after looking very, very closely, Jirni was surprised to see that Reyes seemed preoccupied lately.
“It’s a little complicated,” said Philea.
Although she hid it from Jirni, Philea was a devotee of the Radiant Goddess and understood the Saint’s worries.
“It’s a present for the High Priest’s birthday, right?” replied Jirni. “Wouldn’t liquor be fine?”
The household’s economic situation had improved considerably.
When Reyes started school, they had fallen into hard times, but as time passed, the red had disappeared entirely from their account books. At the moment, they had quite a comfortable cushion.
Reyes had personal contracts with local restaurants, who bought the surplus fruits and vegetables she grew. Because her produce was high-quality, it sold for a good price.
It was established public opinion that sorcerers had good earning potential. Saint Reyes was just another example that proved this. As an adventurer who had always risked life and limb to get by, Jirni was quite envious.
“Surely giving him some expensive, rare alcohol would be acceptable.”
“I heard His Holiness doesn’t drink much.”
Not only was that true, but when he did drink, Archield preferred cheaper spirits. Philea was pretending not to be acquainted with the High Priest, however, so she couldn’t make any claims that were too precise or definitive.
“Isn’t that weird? Why would the head of a country avoid luxury goods?”
To Philea, it made perfect sense. Even though his title was High Priest, Archield was no better than any other believer in the eyes of their goddess. He often said so himself in his sermons. It was a promise he made to Kira Leila and his parishioners, as well as a standard he held himself to—that was why he stated it out loud.
That was another reason Reyes was worried.
Things would be easier if the High Priest had a taste for fur clothing or something similar, like his friend the archbishop.
But Archield was a true ascetic. He didn’t like expensive things. He drank only a small amount of cheap alcohol. Even his meals—save for ceremonial ones and the spreads made for guests—were probably more modest than what the average commoner in his city ate. He took excellent care of his belongings, so everything he owned was a favorite item he had been using for years.
What kind of gift would make such a person happy?
That was where Reyes’s troubles lay. In previous years, she had gotten him flowers. But since enrolling in magic school, her emotions and sentiments had clearly matured. For better or worse, Reyes was changing.
She always gave Archield a bouquet for his birthday. That had been the case every single year. But this time was different.
As it came time to grow the flowers, and she wondered what kind to give him, Reyes had started to wonder. Was a bouquet of flowers really an okay present?
“This is the influence of that boy, isn’t it?”
“Yes, undoubtedly.”
The Saint’s frivolous little friend had said something to her: “I made this magic tool to give to someone important to me.” Those words had struck a chord in Reyes’s heart.
She had sensed how much care the gift giver felt toward the recipient. And so she was troubled.
She didn’t know if flowers were acceptable. Would thoughtlessly continuing to give someone a bouquet year after year actually get her feelings across?
“Well, I think it’s nice that she’s giving it so much consideration.”
Reyes had never felt much concern for anything, not even for other people. But now she was anxious for someone else’s sake. Philea didn’t think there was anything wrong with that at all.
She expected that High Priest Archield would be pleased with any gift Reyes chose. All the Saint had to do was decide.
And at last, that problem, too, was a thing of the past.
“I made up my mind. I’m going to give the High Priest some underwear that will give him clean panty lines.”
“Please wait a moment.”
Reyes had made that declaration the second she got home from school, prompting Philea to slam on the brakes.
What brought this on? What led to this choice?
Archield was sure to love it. As long as it was a gift from Reyes, even just some stones or twigs she’d found lying around would probably satisfy him.
But why underwear? Of all things she could have picked, underwear?
And why, on top of that, had she decided specifically on underwear that affected how the wearer’s butt looked?
“Ah, underwear is a good idea.”
“Jirni, shut up.”
“They’re consumables that come into contact with a person’s delicate bits, for one thing; plus, when they’re nice, they’re really pleasant to wear.”
“Jirni.”
“Also, weirdly enough, once you start paying attention to panty lines, you’ll notice them all the time. Yours and other people’s, too.”
“Jirni!”
“Huh, what’s wrong? I really don’t think it’s a bad idea.”
Underwear was certainly important. People wore it all the time, so it was good from a practical perspective. But it was still underwear, no matter how useful it was.
Underwear as a birthday present for the High Priest—a man old enough to be a father or even a grandfather—from Reyes, a young lady who was practically his daughter.
Was that really okay? Was underwear an acceptable gift in this situation?
Would it make Archield happier than the usual bouquet of flowers he got every year?
Well, perhaps.
With all the fretting and pondering she had done, there was no way Reyes had landed on an answer without taking it very seriously. She had probably arrived at this conclusion after a lot of careful consideration. Philea didn’t doubt that, and she did understand the importance of underwear.
And yet…this was underwear they were talking about.