Kjera and Mobius spent the entire afternoon chatting, while the ever-diligent Saintess worked tirelessly in the background.
"So the Seaborn is really that dangerous? So many of our kind have been corrupted by it?"
"Yes. Those slippery, tentacle-like creatures never seem to stop evolving. Thankfully, there are ways to defend against them."
"Like what?"
"They don't actively guard against their own kind. As long as you carry even a trace of their blood, they'll regard you as one of them."
"…That's genuinely terrifying."
"From what I've observed, individuals with strong wills can even coexist with the parasitic Seaborn through certain special methods."
"You've certainly lived an eventful life."
"You live too narrowly, Kjera."
As they reclined in their rocking chairs, sipping tea and chatting like two old women in their twilight years, a knock came at the door.
"Should I give you two some space?"
"No need. My current Saintess is outside. She's trustworthy."
Kjera used the wind and snow swirling outside the house to carry her voice.
"Come in, little Enya."
The door creaked open.
Though the house appeared no different from an ordinary residence, those who dwelled here were sacred. Entry was only permitted to a Saintess—with the god's approval.
Yet what met Enya's eyes left her stunned.
A young woman with green hair, wearing a monocle, sat comfortably beneath a blanket, tea in hand, laughing and talking freely with Lord Kjeragandr.
To a devout follower like her, the sight was beyond unexpected.
"Enya, don't just stand there. Come closer."
Kjera waved her over.
She then introduced her to Kashchey(Mobius) with the enthusiasm of an elderly woman showing off her granddaughter.
"This is my current Saintess. Her name is Enya…"
Then, turning to Enya, she gestured to the guest beside her.
"And this is my old friend… Mobius, the prototype of the snow monster in that legend you people created—'Kjera Conquers the Rebellious Snow Monster.'"
"Greetings, Lord Mobius."
Enya bowed formally.
She had heard that story as a child: a fearsome snow monster, cloaked in white and with a hidden face, once invaded Kjerag from the outside world. But captivated by the wisdom and strength of the divine Kjera, the monster eventually surrendered and became her ally.
"…Hello. Kjera, since when did this 'legend' of Kjerag exist? Are you trying to slander me?"
"Well… I'm not entirely sure. It's something the people came up with, like a folk tale. It's been circulating for a while now—even Parliament has it documented. By the time I found out and tried to stop it, it was already too late."
Mobius narrowed her eyes slightly at Kjera's casual excuse, unconvinced.
I've been here many times before, and I've never once seen a book mentioning that story…
Could it be that the other party had deliberately hidden it?
"That really wasn't me! I'm not like you—writing hymns about yourself!"
Kjera's desperate defense only made Enya more determined to leave this place of chaos before she became the first Saintess in history to be dismissed by her goddess for knowing things she shouldn't.
"Respected Lord Mobius," Enya said cautiously, "would you like me to prohibit the spread of this tale from now on?"
She had no choice but to ask. The being before her clearly stood on the same level as her own goddess, and if she somehow angered her, Kjerag might not survive the consequences.
After all, Kjera could suppress natural disasters—there was no telling if this Mobius could create them.
"No need," Mobius replied calmly, her demeanor softening from the earlier argument. "I'm not particularly bothered by such false titles. If your people wish to regard it as part of their culture, then let them."
"You clearly care quite a bit," Kjera muttered under her breath.
But with a smile, she added, "Don't worry. Mobius and I have been friends for many years. She truly doesn't mind such trivial things. Still, I hope that in the future, if similar stories start circulating among the people, you'll exercise more caution."
"I will follow your will."
Enya bowed deeply, suppressing the urge to ask her goddess to please return to work.
She bowed once more to Kashchey, then promptly left the scene—wanting nothing more than to flee this nest of divine mischief.
Still, the image of Lord Kjera and Lord Mobius reclining side by side in rocking chairs… was surprisingly harmonious.
No wonder the journals of previous Saintess mention a strange visitor who would occasionally appear beside Lord Kjera. Could it be that even gods…
Bang!
She forcibly shut down the thought before it could become blasphemy.
---
"This Saintess of yours has a good disposition," Mobius remarked. "She's far less uptight than her predecessors."
"I am quite satisfied with Enya," Kjera agreed. "But I think her predecessors had their own merits as well."
"…By the way, I need some rest. Could you help me settle down somewhere?"
"Do beings like us even need sleep?"
"I don't," Mobius admitted. "But this body does. If I push it too far, it'll break down—and that would only shorten its lifespan."
"You could attach your will to me and keep chatting. I've grown quite bored of the endless snow."
"…You really do have a big heart."
"Haha, with your current level of willpower, do you think you could take over my body?"
"…What if I'm just pretending to be weak?"
"But you wouldn't do that… would you?"
"…Put on that monocle."
Mobius, still lounging in the rocking chair, closed her eyes.
Kjera gently removed the monocle from Mobius' left eye and placed it over her own.
"I originally thought you had attached your will to this body," Kjera murmured, "but I didn't expect it to be in the monocle. Have you made new progress in refining your abilities?"
"It's certainly more refined than a certain 'goddess' who lounges in the snowy mountains all day and still uses her powers on instinct—like a wild beast," Mobius replied dryly.
"…Your consciousness is now perched on my left eye. If I were to toss this into the ice, would you feel the chill?"
"…Let's move on to discussing the current state of Terra."
In the quiet flicker of firelight, a woman lay soundly asleep in a rocking chair, bundled in a blanket, her face peaceful like that of a child.
Across from her, a woman with a monocle on her left eye sat in another chair, gazing into the flames and speaking softly.
"If your Saintess saw this," she whispered, "would she think the goddess she worships has finally gone mad?"
'Mobius, you really are good at chatting.'
'Thank you for the compliment.'