Chapter 4: The Truth Is...

Port Town Welapoli

A coastal settlement about half a day’s train ride from the Sacred Leyline.

Bordering the eastern seas, it was known for its abundant marine resources.

But Welapoli wasn’t just a fishing town—it thrived on trade, too. A lively place where the vigor of fishermen clashed with the hustle of merchants.

Yet now, Welapoli was… quiet.

The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken tension.

Was it because the sun had begun to set?

No. That wasn’t it.

Welapoli had plenty of taverns. Even at night, the town was usually just as rowdy as the day—sailors drinking, dockworkers brawling, barkeeps yelling.

But now, even the sailors in those taverns lacked fire in their eyes. The barkeeps wore joyless expressions.

The reason was obvious.

A demon had been sighted at sea.

The reports claimed it was the size of a house, gliding across the water.

Officially, it was classified as mid-tier—maritime combat made things harder. Had it appeared on land, it might’ve been deemed low-tier. At least, that was the local priest’s assessment.

But for the fishermen and traders who had no way to fight back… the demon’s presence meant they couldn’t set sail.

"…………"

Yuri and I stepped off the train, taking in the sight.

His expression darkened slightly.

…It’s admirable, really.
That he can empathize with their pain.

But sympathy alone won’t save them.

"Quit dawdling, would you? We’ve got a church to get to."

"Huh? Oh… right."

I nudged him forward with my bag and took the lead.

The town’s usual clamor had faded, but no casualties had been reported yet.

Compared to the tragedies I’d seen before… this place was still peaceful.

No need to get worked up.
No need for misplaced outrage.

As an Exorcist, I just had to do my job. Like always.

Still—

"…Ugh, depressing."

No fishing.
No trade.

Sure, I could understand their anxiety.
But drowning their sorrows in taverns? Not a great look.

I got it.
I even pitied them.

Yet I still talked trash.

Because that’s what felt right for me right now.

Yuri, predictably, reacted.

"Elsie, come on… A demon showed up. Of course they’re struggling. You shouldn’t say things like—"

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the lecture."

I brushed him off and kept walking.

A few thoughtless remarks wouldn’t make him hate me.

That’s why I had to keep pushing—just enough to maintain the status quo.

I’d say something sharp. He’d scold me.

That was the twisted rhythm of our partnership.

Right now, Yuri was annoyed with me.
Good.

I had to keep it that way.

The cobblestone road sloped downward.

Welapoli was built on hills, descending steadily toward the sea.

Near the waterfront stood our destination—a whitewashed building bearing the Holy Burial Church’s emblem.

Though whitewashed was generous.
The paint was peeling in patches.

"That’s the church? Looks like a dump…"

"…Uh, yeah. Kinda… rundown."

But this was Welapoli’s church—the local stronghold of the Holy Burial Church.

The priest stationed here was supposed to spread the faith and relay reports (like this demon sighting) back to the Sacred Leyline.

Not in person, of course.
Probably by mail.

Still, having a church in town made an Exorcist’s job easier.

We could resupply here. Lodging was provided.

That’s why every decently sized town had one.

I pushed the door open like I owned the place.

"Pardon the intrusion…"

Yuri, ever the polite one, actually announced our arrival.

I ignored him, scanning the interior.

The inside wasn’t much better.

Salt air must’ve accelerated the decay.
Or maybe donations were too meager for upkeep.

Maybe both.

I ran a hand along a pew, where the wood grain showed through.

Then, at the far end of the chapel, I spotted him—

A broad-shouldered, middle-aged man with streaks of white in his hair.

Old, but built like a fisherman.

I walked up and spoke from behind.

"…You the priest here?"

He startled, turning sharply.

His robes were disheveled, but they were Holy Burial Church vestments.

Back in the Sacred Leyline, he’d be reprimanded for that.

Didn’t seem like the devout type.

"Ah, yes, that's right. You two are—"

"Exorcists Elsie and Yuri. We're here to exterminate the demon."

"Ohh, you've come at last!"

The priest beamed, reaching out eagerly for a handshake.

I glanced at his outstretched hand. Then at his face.

…He was a little sweaty.

Forcing a strained smile, I extended my own hand. He gripped it tightly, shaking it up and down with way too much enthusiasm.

Too close. Too familiar. Too thoughtless.

Exactly the kind of person I couldn’t stand.

Just as I was mentally cursing, the priest—Owen—spoke again.

"I am Owen, the priest of Welapoli Church."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

I waved off his introduction.

Next, it was Yuri’s turn. Unlike me, who barely endured it, Yuri smiled politely.

Of course he did. He was always so earnest.

I wiped my hand on my robe and turned back to Owen.

"So, what’s the situation? Any changes since the request was issued?"

Owen raised a finger.

"Ah, yes. No casualties yet. However—"

"The demon’s moving closer."

"Exactly." He nodded. "Each time it appears, it inches toward land."

I rested a finger against my chin.

Demons were born from human negativity, twisted by lingering sacred ether. They emerged from humans, fed on humans, and grew stronger by consuming them.

Right now, it was lurking at sea.

But its goal was obvious.

"It’s only a matter of time before it makes landfall in Welapoli."

"Yeah, probably."

I replied casually, but Yuri’s expression stiffened.

If it came ashore, it would reach people.

And people would die.

That was what he was worried about.

"…What should we do, Elsie?"

Well, in that case—

"What’s there to do? We’ll crush it when it gets here."

Wait for it to come ashore, then strike.

Yuri’s eyes widened.

"Elsie…"

"What?"

"The townspeople are already suffering. Shouldn’t we… eliminate it sooner? If it reaches land, people might get hurt."

…I had originally planned to take it out at sea.

That was the whole reason we came.

But—

"If it’s coming to us, that changes things. Why bother fighting it on the water if we don’t have to? Naval combat’s a pain anyway."

"That’s true, but…"

"…Hey. Since when did you start calling the shots?"

I lightly kicked Yuri in the shin.

"Ghk—!"

He crumpled, clutching his knee. I ignored him.

"You’re underestimating the demon. Sure, officially, it’s mid-tier because of the difficulty of fighting at sea… but who says that assessment is accurate?"

In reality, if this was the same demon from the original story, its true rank was high-tier.

Fighting it on the water would be hell.

Crossing my arms, I raised a finger.

"Assume the worst and prepare accordingly. That’s the golden rule. Exorcists who rush in blindly die first. Do you get that?"

Yuri nodded, eyes slightly watery. His knee must’ve really hurt.

"Sorry, Elsie… You’re right."

…Well, his earlier remark had been reckless.

But at least he could admit his mistakes.

Plenty of exorcists ran on nothing but "Kill the demon!" rage.
Those were the ones who abandoned logic, acted on emotion… and died young.

Suppressing emotion with reason—that was a crucial skill. Hard to learn, but necessary.

And Yuri had it.

What he lacked was experience. Judgment required both knowledge and experience.

…I had to make sure he gained as much as possible.

Before I was gone.

I sighed and looked away.

"Well, as long as you get it now."

With the priest present, I didn’t want to drag the sermon out any longer.

I cut it short and glanced at him—only to find him watching us with an amused look.

I frowned.

"What’s so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. I just think you two share a wonderful bond."

My frown deepened.

What bond?

I glanced at Yuri. He looked flustered.

…Great. Now the priest was getting the wrong idea.

"He’s my slave, just so we’re clear."

"…Heh. Is that so? Is that so."

Ugh. This guy’s annoying.

For the first time in a while, the word "irritating" came to mind—unfiltered and sincere.

"Irritating."

It slipped out.

The moment it did, Yuri turned to me, wide-eyed.

"Um, you really shouldn’t say that to the priest—"

"I know, okay? But he’s so irritating that I’m saying it anyway."

Yuri wasn’t wrong—keeping good relations with the priest was important.

Exorcists like me and priests like him both served the Holy Burial Church, but under separate chains of command.

Neither outranked the other.

Even if I held a higher rank as an exorcist, here, we were equals.

Still… Priest Owen didn’t seem to mind.

He smoothly steered the conversation back on track.

"Now, about the demon extermination—you don’t need a ship?"

"Right. We’ll intercept it on land."

"Understood. In that case, your stay will be extended. I’ll arrange lodging until it makes landfall."

Yuri and I nodded.

This town thrived on trade—there had to be plenty of inns.

But making arrangements was a hassle.

Providing accommodations for exorcists was the church’s duty. Every branch had guest rooms, so—

"Ah… I should mention—"

"What?"

"There’s only one available room in this church."

…Wait, what?

"And only one bed, so… do try to share nicely."

"…Huh?"

Yuri and I spoke in unison.

Not that it changed anything.

---

"Ugh… This is the worst."

Inside our assigned church quarters, Elsie flopped onto the bed with a groan.

I didn’t have the energy to scold her.

One desk in the corner.
One large bed.
That was all the room had—just Elsie and me, alone.

Priest Owen, it turned out, lived outside the church. And since night had fallen, he’d left us to ourselves.

Being alone with Elsie wasn’t something I was dwelling on.

As an exorcist, I’d endured worse—nights spent in near-wilderness conditions.

So having a roof over our heads should’ve been a luxury.

…Maybe that was the problem?

No external threats. No tension. Just the two of us in a quiet, safe space.

Which made me hyperaware of—

"Yuri."

"Huh? Y-yeah, what’s up?"

Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

She was holding a towel.

"I’m gonna wash up."

"O-oh. Sure. Take your time."

"…Tch."

She scoffed, grabbed the wooden bucket from the corner, and marched out.

I’d answered on reflex. But then—

The sound of running water echoed from the next room.

The creak of a hand pump followed.

…Wait.

The washing room was right next door?

Huh. The realization crept in… followed by something far less innocent.

Elsie’s bathing. Next door.

Right. Next. Door.

I shook my head violently, as if to fling the thought away.

"…Gotta focus on something else."

I busied myself organizing our gear on the floor.

Holy water, ropes, restraints, throwing spikes, and—the Bible.

We’d packed for a sea battle. Now none of it would be needed.

"…Sigh."

Arguing with Elsie earlier had been a mistake.

The townsfolk were suffering. If the demon made landfall, they’d be in danger.

That urgency had made me push for an offshore extermination.

…I’d underestimated the demon.

Stupidly assumed that even if I was in danger, saving others would make it worth it.

But that was arrogance—the delusion that I could survive reckless risks.

And I’d almost dragged Elsie, my partner, into that recklessness.

If we died, the town would still be defenseless.

If two exorcists fell, who’d protect these people until replacements arrived?

If the demon reached shore in that gap—

"…Pathetic."

I’m pathetic.

Training with Froila had made me feel stronger.

But strength alone wasn’t enough.

My judgment about demons was still lacking.

Being able to fight didn’t make me a true exorcist.

Lost in thought, I noticed a damp spot on the wall.

"…A leak?"

I stood and approached.

Water was seeping through a finger-sized hole.

This church was old. Holes and leaks were inevitable.

But beyond that hole was—

"…!?"

I grabbed a towel and shoved it into the gap.

The leak stopped.

And so did the… view beyond it.

My heart pounded.

Breath ragged.

I hadn’t peeked. I hadn’t seen.

But the thought of Elsie—just beyond that wall—

THUD.

I smacked my forehead against the floor.

Okay. Okay. Composure. Composurecomposurecomposure—

I’m calm.

Yeah. Calm.

Super calm.

I’m a guy. Sixteen.

It’s not like I’m uninterested in those things.

But that doesn’t mean I’d peek. I’m not that kind of person.

So it’s fine.

Yet my mind rebelled anyway—conjuring images of Elsie, water sluicing down—

THUD.

The impact rattled my skull, scattering the thoughts—

"…The hell’re you doing?"

Elsie stood in the doorway, freshly washed.

Gone was her usual habit-like robe, replaced by a thin white sleep shirt.

She stared at me, sprawled on the floor, with pure bafflement.

"N-nothing… It’s nothing."

Even as I said it, I couldn’t bring myself to look at her.

The thin fabric clung slightly to her damp skin, revealing a side of her I wasn’t used to seeing.

Somehow, it made me hyperaware.

My heart pounded.

I just… couldn’t meet her eyes.

"Whatever. You should wash up too, Yuri. You reek of sweat."

"…Ah, yeah. I will. Yeah."

Awkward.

Grabbing my sleepwear, I bolted from the room.

The hallway floor creaked under my steps.

I blinked.

Let out a slow breath.

"…Haaah."

Like exhaling could purge the tangled mess of emotions inside me.

It didn’t.

The restless feeling only tightened, swirling in my chest.

I pushed open the washroom door, stepping onto the cool tiles.

Dropped my clothes into the basket.

Grabbed a towel.

The pump groaned as I worked it, water rushing into the bucket.

I stared at the rising surface—

And the reflection staring back at me wore a stiff, awkward smile.

---

Yuri was acting strangely.

I sat cross-legged on the bed, chin resting in my hand.

Sure, he was timid and prone to nervousness—acting skittish wasn’t unusual for him. But today felt… different.

“…Did something happen?”

He hadn’t said a word to me. Which meant he was hiding something.

Annoying.

We were exorcists. A single unresolved worry or lapse in focus could mean the difference between life and death. I couldn’t let this slide.

"…………"

I flopped onto my back, legs dangling off the bed as I swung them idly.

Maybe he was still brooding over interrupting my conversation with the priest earlier.

Plausible. Yuri was the type to hold midnight self-tribunals. An overthinker by nature.

Not inherently bad—except when it spiraled into more mistakes. That, I couldn’t allow.

If he wanted to stew in silence, maybe I should—

No. "Heart-to-heart talks" weren’t my style. Yuri saw me as the capricious, abrasive, higher-ranked partner who lorded it over him.

And I fully intended to keep it that way. Petty? Arrogant? Good.

“…Wish I could at least guess what’s up with him,” I muttered, glaring at the adjoining room—

"Huh?"

A towel hung—no, stabbed—into the wall. Not draped over anything, just… jutting out.

It was clean. Fresh. Definitely not part of the room’s original furnishings.

Which meant Yuri put it there.

“…What’s the point of this?”

With a sigh, I shuffled closer and gave it a quick tug—

Plop.

The damp towel hit the floor.

My eyes snapped to the hole it had been blocking.

“…A hole?”

I leaned in, peering through—

And saw straight into the washroom.

Where Yuri stood, water sluicing down his—

"—!?"

I recoiled so hard I landed on my ass.

My brain sluggishly processed what I’d just seen.

That was… Yuri’s… Well. I’d seen the general idea before. Not the point.

The hole. Focus on the hole.

Natural wear-and-tear—rotted wood, not man-made. Priest Owen probably never noticed. This room rarely hosted guests; the dust on the furniture proved that.

So no ill intent.

But a fresh towel shoved into a peephole could only mean—

"…………"

I sank onto the bed. The image burned behind my eyelids.

…Huh. He’s ripped.

Always hidden under clothes, but of course—he trained relentlessly. Lean muscle glistening under—

I shook my head violently, as if to fling the thought away.

---

"……Phew."

I finished washing up, towel-drying my hair as I slid open the door—

—only to freeze.

"…………"

Elsie sat rigid on the bed, glaring daggers at me. Her expression was dangerously stern.

"…E-Elsie?"

Her eyes flicked toward the wall—where the damp towel lay discarded beneath the exposed peephole.

Oh.

"Elsie, w-wait, that’s—"

"Sit. There." She pointed at the floor.

…No excuses would work now.

I knelt like a penitent sinner.

"So?" Her voice was glacial. "The hole?"

The inquisition had begun. I was the defendant.

"I-It was already there! I didn’t make it, I swear—"

"Mhm." She leaned forward. "…Did you look?"

A direct hit. I shook my head violently.

"N-no! I didn’t peek!"

"Really."

"Really! I’d never—"

"…Huuuuh."

I clenched my fists, eyes shut. My defense was hopeless. The opportunity had existed. No proof of innocence—

"Okay. I’ll believe you~"

"…Huh?"

Her words were the opposite of what I’d braced for. She averted her gaze, resting her chin on her knees.

"Because Yuri’s too soft—no, too spineless to peek. A trembling little coward, right?"

"Ghk—"

The verbal stab hurt, even as relief flooded me.

"So yeah, I’ll believe you. Congrats, virgin~"

"V-virgin!?"

"You’re not?"

"I mean… technically, but—"

Why am I being bullied for this!?

As I slumped, Elsie stood abruptly—looming over me.

"How long are you planning to grovel?"

"Eh? You told me to—"

"Blaming me now? How selfish~"

Her familiar taunt made my eye twitch as I scrambled up.

She had to tilt her head slightly to glare—I was just tall enough to force that upward glance.

"We’ll plug that hole tomorrow. But tonight…" She jerked her chin toward the bed. "What’s the plan?"

Right.

One bed.

Two people.

Impossible to share, so one takes the floor—

"Uh, right. If I’m sleeping down here, maybe an extra towel would help…"

The floor’d be rough, but better than wilderness. Still, her expression remained stormy.

"…You assume you’re taking the floor?"

"Eh? Well, yeah—"

One of her eyebrows arched.

…That expression. The pre-rage tell I’d learned after months together.

Ice shot down my spine.

"Because I outrank you?"

"N-no! It’s not like that…"

True, she was the senior exorcist. But that wasn’t why—

"Then why?"

"Because… you’re you?"

"The hell’s that mean?"

Why did I default to sacrificing for her?

Fear? Respect? Avoiding her wrath?

…Maybe.

But not really.

"…Dunno. Sorry. I can’t explain it."

The truth was simpler: I like her.

Her hidden kindness made me want to repay her.

But saying that would disgust her.

So I swallowed the words.

"…………Sigh."

Elsie exhaled like I’d exhausted her—

—then punched my shoulder. Hard, but controlled.

"Ow!? Elsie—"

"…Rest is duty for exorcists." She crossed her arms. "I napped earlier. You take the bed."

"B-but—"

"Or what? Gonna argue with your superior?" Her smirk was all teeth.

I surrendered.

Her logic was so absurdly disjointed that my cheek twitched involuntarily.

Undeniably proof—she was putting on this aggressive act to hide her own kindness.

"What? You planning to argue with me?"

"Ah—no, it's just..."

Was she seriously thinking this charade was fooling anyone? I couldn't help but avert my gaze.

"Then it's settled. You take the bed tonight. Tomorrow, we'll buy extra bedding in town."

She huffed confidently, but… further objections were clearly pointless. I nodded in surrender.

---

Night deepened.

Based on the demon sighting reports, Elsie estimated we had at least five days before landfall. Tonight, at least, we could rest easy.

...Or so I thought.

Elsie lay on the floor. I was on the bed.

And that single fact tormented any chance of peaceful sleep.

Guilt gnawed at me, sabotaging any hope of drifting off.

Still, exhaustion eventually began to pull at my consciousness—the fatigue from train travel and hours of patrolling the town finally weighing me down.

My awareness grew hazy, slipping toward sleep—

Creak.

A door groaned open. Elsie must have gotten up—probably heading to the washroom. I quickly turned my face away in the dark.

The sound of running water echoed briefly before the door opened again.

She was returning, I thought idly—

Then the bed dipped.

Someone—no, Elsie—was climbing in beside me.

Wh—WHAT!?

I nearly gasped aloud. Frantically turning my head, I found her face dangerously close—but her eyes remained shut.

…She must be sleepwalking. Mistook the bed for her floor pallet.

Rationalizing this, I tried to carefully slip away. Waking her would be rude, so I’d just let her stay.

But she was too close. And somehow—whether tangled in her sleepwear or actively gripping my sleeve—escape was impossible.

Frozen, my gaze drifted back to her face.

…I never noticed how long her eyelashes were.

Her quiet breaths filled the silence.

My heart pounded so violently I feared the sound alone might wake her. If this continued, I’d die of nervous overload.

I squirmed subtly, searching for an escape—

“…Don’t… go…”

A whisper. Her voice.

My breath hitched—was she awake? But no, her expression remained peaceful, if faintly sorrowful. A nightmare, perhaps.

Yet her fingers tightened imperceptibly on my sleeve, as if pleading.

"...Elsie."

I whispered her name softly, careful not to wake her.

The Elsie I knew was fierce, unyielding—but I also knew the truth.

Beneath it all, she was kinder than anyone, more caring than she'd ever admit... and, in moments like this, painfully vulnerable.

Her lips parted again, a fragile murmur slipping out:

"...Sherry."

A name.

One I recognized.

Her former partner—the one before me.

Froila had told me about her. The Elsie who existed before Sherry's death was different: gentle, selfless, the polar opposite of who she was now.

And the reason for that change was—

—because Sherry was gone.

I studied her sleeping face. The faint glimmer of tears at the corners of her eyes.

Her grip on my sleeve tightened slightly.

"…………"

Then, just for a moment... her expression softened.

Maybe, in her dreams, the warmth she felt made her believe Sherry was still here.

...I'll stay like this a little longer.

Until she wakes, I'll stay by her side.

After all—

—that's what a partner's for.

---

The next morning, I woke to the stinging impact of Elcie's slap.

She hurled insults sharp enough to draw blood, though the faint guilt in her eyes betrayed her awareness: she'd been the one to crawl into my bed. Eventually, she simmered down, that uncharacteristic remorse flickering across her face.

...Just a mishap, really.

I got slapped. Slept poorly.

But—

—I didn't regret a second of it.