Chapter 47: The Church and Omurice
Wrapped in the tattered clothes we’d found in the castle dungeon, we slipped out into the city through one of the castle’s hidden passages—secret routes known only to a select few within the royal household.
The cool night air struck my face the moment we emerged outside.
Compared to the suffocating stench of the dungeon, it felt like paradise.
Still, one concern lingered in my mind.
“Do you think that guard knight will be okay?”
“I treated his wounds.”
Tardolf continued walking without slowing.
“At this point, all we can do is pray that someone finds him and summons a priest.”
The knight who had been cut down by the black-clad men had still been breathing.
Tardolf had quickly bandaged the worst of the injuries, stopped the bleeding as best he could, and moved him somewhere more visible.
Ideally, we should have stayed and called for help.
But—
The assassins had clearly intended to use me as a hostage against Raphiel.
If there were accomplices inside the castle, lingering around would only put everyone in greater danger.
“By the way, where exactly are we going?”
I glanced around nervously.
“The temple, maybe?”
“The temple would certainly be safe.”
Tardolf shook his head.
“However, it’s some distance from the castle.”
“And?”
“We don’t know who our enemies are.”
His voice hardened.
“We don’t know how many there are.”
A pause.
“Traveling across the city under those conditions would be reckless.”
“Then where are we—”
“We’ve arrived.”
“Huh?”
I looked up.
The building before us resembled a church.
Built from pale stone and illuminated by warm lantern light, it stood only a short distance from the castle itself.
Above the gate was the sacred emblem of the Temple.
Anyone could tell at a glance that the place was connected to the faith.
“This is the hideout!?”
I stared.
“It’s right next to the castle!”
“Precisely.”
Tardolf nodded.
“This church is protected by a barrier created by Saintess Mikaela herself.”
“Mikaela?”
My image of Mikaela mostly consisted of her furiously losing her temper at Eve’s constant nonsense.
But apparently she really was an extraordinary saint.
“The barrier prevents those with malicious intent from entering.”
“That’s amazing.”
“There are more than twenty churches like this throughout the royal capital.”
“Twenty!?”
“Indeed.”
Tardolf chuckled.
“Apparently visiting them has become popular among young people lately.”
“Like temple-hopping back in Japan, huh?”
That reminded me.
Before I went to live with Grandpa, the town where I had lived with my parents had been full of temples.
Though even then…
Twenty churches still felt like a lot for a city this size.
Tardolf passed through the gate and knocked firmly on the church door.
“Sister Marusa! Are you there!?”
“Yes, yes, I’m coming.”
A gentle elderly voice answered.
“Oh my. Tardolf-sama.”
The door opened.
Standing there was an elderly woman wearing the robes of a priestess.
Her silver hair was neatly tied back, and countless wrinkles lined her face.
Yet there was a warmth to her smile that immediately put people at ease.
“I would like to ask for shelter.”
The old woman’s expression became serious.
“…Something has happened, hasn’t it?”
“It has.”
“Then please come inside.”
“You have my gratitude.”
Without asking for further details, the woman welcomed us inside.
She led us through the church and into a modest guest room.
Only after sitting down on a proper chair did I realize how tense my body had been.
For the first time since escaping the dungeon, I finally exhaled.
“We apologize for imposing on you, Sister Marusa.”
“Oh, not at all.”
She smiled kindly.
“Tardolf-sama has done much for us over the years.”
Her gaze shifted toward me.
“And who might this young man be?”
“Allow me to introduce him.”
Tardolf gestured in my direction.
“This is Eight-sama.”
“I’m Eight. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yes, likewise.”
Marusa’s smile deepened.
“You have very beautiful black hair.”
Her voice was calm and soothing.
Listening to her felt strangely comforting.
Like sitting beside a fireplace on a winter evening.
Tardolf then explained everything that had happened.
The poisoning.
The imprisonment.
The assassins.
Our escape.
Marusa listened quietly without interrupting.
When he finally finished, she folded her hands together.
“My goodness…”
A troubled expression crossed her face.
“So such things have occurred.”
She nodded.
“Understood. I’ll personally send word to the Temple.”
“Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Marusa laughed softly.
“If I never returned any of the kindness Tardolf-sama has shown us, the Goddess might decide to punish me.”
While they talked, I leaned toward Tardolf and whispered quietly.
“Mr. Tardolf, what’s your connection to this church?”
“This church is close to the castle.”
He answered just as quietly.
“Whenever I develop new dishes for His Majesty, I occasionally bring the leftovers here for the children.”
“Children?”
“It also serves as an orphanage.”
He pointed toward the doorway.
“Look.”
I followed his finger.
Then froze.
At the entrance stood roughly ten children.
All of them were peeking into the room.
All of them were staring directly at us.
…That’s a lot of kids.
The sheer number of curious eyes made me slightly uncomfortable.
As I shifted awkwardly in my chair, Marusa suddenly spoke.
“Oh!”
She clapped her hands.
“I’ve just had an idea.”
“Hm?”
“Tardolf-sama, since you’re here, would you mind cooking something for the children?”
Tardolf stroked his beard.
“Normally I wouldn’t mind.”
“Wonderful.”
“However?”
“The ingredients left over from that cooking competition at the colosseum were donated to us recently.”
Marusa smiled.
“It would be a waste not to use them.”
“…I see.”
Tardolf nodded thoughtfully.
Then pointed directly at me.
“In that case, Eight-sama shall do it.”
“Wait.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Eh?”
“WHY ME!?”
Just as I was about to protest, Tardolf muttered something under his breath.
“Hotpot.”
“Huh?”
“Only me.”
“…”
“Excluded.”
The sheer bitterness in his voice sent a chill down my spine.
“F-Fine! I’ll do it!”
I immediately surrendered.
“But you’re helping!”
Tardolf was absolutely the type to hold a grudge.
And so, before I knew it, I found myself borrowing the church kitchen and preparing a meal for the orphanage children.
Now then.
What should I make?
“Eggs… Rockbird meat… onions… tomatoes…”
I examined the ingredients.
Then my eyes widened.
“Oh.”
There was rice.
“If they have rice…”
A grin spread across my face.
“I might actually be able to make that.”
First, I finely chopped the onions.
Then I diced the Rockbird meat into small cubes roughly one centimeter across.
A little oil went into the pan.
Medium heat.
The meat first.
The onions second.
The sizzling aroma immediately filled the kitchen.
Once the onions softened—
“EIGHHHTTTTTTT-SAMMMMAAAAAAAAAA!!”
I nearly jumped.
“What!?”
Tardolf burst into the kitchen holding a bowl triumphantly.
“I HAVE CREATED KETCHUP FROM THE TOMATOESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!”
“Oh.”
I blinked.
“That was fast.”
“Naturally!”
He puffed out his chest.
“Who do you think I am!?”
“Your face is way too close.”
Ignoring him, I poured the homemade ketchup into the frying pan.
The sweet and tangy aroma intensified immediately.
After stir-frying everything together for a bit longer, I added the freshly cooked rice and mixed it thoroughly.
“The chicken rice is done…”
Now came the important part.
I cracked eggs into a bowl.
Added milk.
A pinch of salt.
Then whisked everything together until smooth.
The egg mixture flowed into a clean pan.
As the edges began to set, I placed the chicken rice in the center, shaping it into a neat dome.
Carefully.
Slowly.
I tilted the pan.
Folded the egg over.
And let it finish cooking over low heat.
Finally—
“All that’s left is the ketchup.”
A bright red line across the top.
Simple.
Classic.
Perfect.
“Omurice is complete!”
Ideally, I’d have liked to make the kind where you slice open the egg and let it cascade over the rice.
But that version was considerably harder.
Better not risk it when cooking for a crowd.
Just then, drawn by the irresistible smell, the children began gathering around.
“Something smells amazing!”
“What’s that!?”
“It looks delicious!”
“Did the Oniisan make it!?”
I quickly prepared enough portions for everyone and carried them to the dining hall.
The children’s eyes sparkled the moment the plates were set down.
“Waaah! It looks like an omelet, but there’s bright red rice inside!”
“It’s delicious!”
“The acidity of this red sauce perfectly enhances the overall flavor!”
“The moment the spoon cuts through it, the aroma of meat and onions rises forth!”
A young boy dramatically pointed at the plate.
“A treasure chest of fragrance!!”
“Yummy!”
A few of the food reviews sounded suspiciously mature for children.
But overall?
They loved it.
And that was what mattered.
As I watched them happily devour their meals, one little girl timidly approached.
“U-Um…”
“Hm?”
I smiled.
“Want seconds? I can make more right away.”
She quickly shook her head.
“No.”
“Then?”
“I just wanted to say…”
Her cheeks turned slightly pink.
“It was really, really delicious.”
For a moment, I simply stared.
Then a smile naturally spread across my face.
I gently patted her head.
“You’re welcome.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“Ehehe.”
The girl giggled.
“More.”
“Hm?”
“Pat my head more.”
“Oh.”
I laughed.
“Like this?”
“Mm-hm.”
I continued gently stroking her hair.
After a while, her face turned bright red.
Smiling shyly, she hurried back to the other children.
Watching the scene, Marusa looked utterly astonished.
“My goodness.”
“What?”
“That was Mea.”
“Mea?”
“She’s terribly shy.”
Marusa shook her head in disbelief.
“Normally she avoids strangers entirely.”
Her gaze shifted toward Tardolf.
“Even now, she still runs away from Tardolf-sama whenever she sees him.”
“That’s because Eight-sama has a face that looks completely harmless.”
“Wait.”
I frowned.
“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Of course.”
“It didn’t sound like one.”
And so, for the time being, Tardolf and I found ourselves under the church’s protection.
Safe within the barrier of Saintess Mikaela.
At least for now.