✠
In the chapel after the knight order had left, I straightened my ceremonial robe and repeatedly fixed my hair.
Though the official schedule was over, there was someone I wanted to impress.
[‘The Scales That Judge Souls’ lights up its eyes, wondering when the formal meeting will be.]
[‘The Eye That Watches the Chaos of All Things’ chews on a tear-soaked flower-embroidered handkerchief.]
[‘The Creative Economy Manager’ urges to quickly purchase the trial version of the genre change ticket.]
[‘The Cliché Gourmet’ wants to see the aftermath of a trashy family regret story.]
[‘The Balancer of Harsh Words’ yawns, asking if there are no plans for a dungeon burst.]
I familiarly ignored the messages from the gods, each true to their own quirks. Responding would only invite teasing.
As I left the chapel and crossed the palace, my steps were slow at first, mindful of others’…