Volume 9 Chapter 14 The Bishop of Boston and His Daughter
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”That outfit… you belong to the Church of the Goddess, don’t you? Judging by your robes, I’d say you’re a bishop. But what brings someone of your rank to a place like this? Are you in charge of this district, perhaps?”
”You know a Succubus in a high position?” The woman’s tone turned sharp. “That’s not something we can just overlook.”
”A-ah, no, wait—please!” The man in the cassock waved both hands in flustered denial. “She’s not exactly an acquaintance.”
Despite his protest, suspicion hung in the air. He didn’t seem to be the Succubus’s ally, but the two girls clearly weren’t ready to trust him.
”Don’t bother denying it,” one of them pressed. “That Succubus saw you and ran. She even said your name. You expect us to believe you’re strangers?”
”I’m not hiding anything,” the man said, voice calm. “My name is Boston. As you guessed, I’m a follower of the Goddess. I was killed by her—and that’s how I ended up in this world.”
The others frowned.
Killed? What was he talking about?
A moment passed before anyone found words.
”Killed…?” one of them echoed.
”She seemed to take a liking to me,” Boston continued, his tone strangely composed. “She dragged me into this world. My body in reality must have died. But apparently, she didn’t care much for how I turned out here. I was cast out, and now I live freely.”
”She didn’t like the man you became after your ‘blissful return,’ is that it?” one of the girls asked, skeptical.
”So it seems,” he said with a gentle smile. “Well, thanks to that, I’ve settled comfortably into this world.”
He smiled like a man talking about a minor inconvenience, not his own death.
To wear such a face after being killed—he must possess an extraordinary calmness of spirit.
”So when you say you’ve ‘become a resident’ of this world,” the other girl said, “you mean… because you’re dead?”
”Precisely,” Boston replied. “This is a dream world. When you’re drawn here and your real body dies, there’s nowhere left to return to. Without a living vessel in reality, one becomes a permanent inhabitant of this place.”
”What?” she snapped. “So those creatures bring people they like into this world, kill them, and trap their souls here in Crimson Spire? That’s monstrous!”
No body to go back to.
Which meant he could never leave.
If he tried, he would simply vanish.
”I’m sorry for doubting you,” the girl said quietly. “You’ve… suffered.”
”No need to apologize,” Boston replied, still mild. “Truth be told, I’m not that unhappy. Here, we can relive what we once regretted.”
”Relive… your regrets?” asked Klock, tilting his head.
Boston gave a small, wistful smile. “In life, I lost my position and my family. But in this dream, I returned to the past and rose again to the rank of Archbishop. I stepped down from that post to come here—to this slum—so that I could find my daughter, who was forever lost to me in the real world.”
Klock let out a small gasp. Gina’s eyes widened. Even Kuzuha’s expression turned uncertain.
”Archbishop…?” she murmured.
”You were an Archbishop?”
”And now you’ve come to reclaim your daughter?”
”That’s right.”
To redo one’s regrets.
It was, undeniably, a tempting idea.
The Dream of Blissful Return showed people the time they longed to revisit—perhaps even allowed them to meet those they’d lost.
But wasn’t it all just illusion? The thought crossed Klock’s mind, though he kept it to himself.
Pointing that out would have been cruel.
Whether the bishop understood it or not didn’t matter—what mattered was that he was trying to reach his daughter. For him, perhaps the “real world” was the illusion now.
”If that’s the kind of dream you’re chasing,” Kuzuha said softly, “you must have loved your daughter very much.”
”…No,” Boston said after a pause.
”What?”
”In life, I wasn’t that kind of father. What drives me now is a collection of regrets. I suppose you could say my actions here are more… curiosity. I wanted to see what might happen if I chose a different path.”
”I see,” Kuzuha said, her tone unreadable.
There was clearly a story behind those words, but neither Kuzuha nor Gina pressed him further.
Whatever his past, it wasn’t something they could change. Perhaps it was kinder not to know.
”…By the way,” Boston said, turning to Klock, “and you are…?”
”Me?”
”Yes. May I ask your name?”
”Kuro—”
”Brother. Don’t,” Kuzuha cut him off sharply.
”I’m sorry,” she told Boston coldly. “But we’re not ready to trust you completely. Please don’t speak to him.”
”Ah… I see. My apologies.”
”I’m Kuzuha. This is Gina.”
The two girls stepped subtly between Boston and Klock, a living barrier of caution. They wouldn’t even allow introductions.
Klock had no chance to protest.
Boston merely smiled, rubbing the back of his head in mild embarrassment.
He accepted their suspicion without complaint, like a man long used to it. A model of patience and grace—truly, a bishop of the Goddess’s faith.
Klock couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
”So,” Klock ventured, “you’re going to meet your daughter now, right?”
”Yes, that’s the plan.”
”Would it be okay if we came with you?”
”What?” Kuzuha snapped. “Have you lost your mind? We’re being hunted! We don’t have time to play escort.”
”But he helped us,” Klock insisted. “Thanks to Boston, we drove Athena away. If he runs into trouble, I want to help.”
Boston chuckled softly. “I don’t mind at all.”
Whatever “reclaiming his daughter” meant, Klock knew this was their one chance to repay the man.
He clasped his hands and pleaded with Kuzuha, who sighed, exasperated.
”So all we’re doing is helping him bring his daughter back, right?” Gina said. “I think it’s fine. I’m in favor.”
”Gina, you too…? Ugh, fine. Just that. We help him, and then we leave. Immediately.”
With Gina’s gentle nudge, Kuzuha relented.
The smallest among them ended up leading the group—a sight strange enough to make Boston smile with quiet amusement.
＊
”By the way,” Kuzuha asked as they walked through the dark streets of the slum, “how did you even realize this world wasn’t real? Most people can’t recognize a dream while they’re still in it.”
”Oh, that was simple,” Boston replied. “Athena herself told me. She explained that this place is another realm entirely—and that if I left Crimson Spire, I would die, since my real body no longer exists.”
”Then at the start, she didn’t hate you yet,” Kuzuha remarked.
”I think she did,” he said with a rueful laugh. “When we first met in the Spire, she looked visibly disappointed. She taught me a few things, but every time I approached, she’d make a face like she couldn’t stand me. Ha-ha-ha!”
They walked down a quiet street, his laughter oddly warm against the stillness.
Klock thought he seemed like someone who could find light in any darkness—a man serene, detached, and full of quiet strength.
But then Boston sighed.
”…It might’ve been my appearance,” he said glumly. “A bit of a shock, really.”
So the Succubus rejected him for his looks.
Athena—a shallow one, apparently.
By that logic, if she’d straddled Klock every night, maybe he was more her type than he realized.
Or perhaps it was Boston’s build that turned her off.
”You are… rather heavyset,” Gina noted frankly.
”Hmm. So this body type really does put women off?”
”Not necessarily,” Kuzuha replied. “Among beastkin, many prefer men shaped like you. In my country, the farther south you go, the more people think heavier men are attractive.”
”Ah, that’s likely cultural,” Boston mused. “Humans have similar patterns. On the Human Continent, most of the rich nations are in the north—while the south is poorer. It changes how people see beauty.”
”I bet I’d be popular if I went south too!” Boston said brightly, laughing in that easy, self-deprecating way of his.
For a former Archbishop, he was surprisingly friendly and lighthearted.
Kuzuha, on the other hand, kept her cool composure.
As expected of a princess—her attitude didn’t change even when speaking to someone who once held such a high rank.
The conversation drifted to the topic of wealth among nations.
For Klock, who’d once studied hard, it was a familiar subject.
They said the southern regions were poor because of the tropical climate.
In places with both hot and cold seasons—where agriculture had advanced—people learned to store and save, and wealth naturally followed.
Now, in an age where money itself was culture, the divide between north and south had only deepened.
The northern countries had struggled to secure food by any means necessary.
Through that drive, they’d gathered capital and built industries that shaped nations.
Meanwhile, in the south, where survival came easily but saving did not, few had the means to invest in large-scale trade.
And so, the gap in prosperity between north and south grew into a chasm.
Today, the northeastern nations of the Human Continent were known as the Three—or sometimes Four—Great Powers.
They controlled the major trades: gold, silver, magistone ore, enchanted weapons, silk.
Wealth flowed endlessly toward the northeast, while the southwestern lands were dismissed as backward—places so obscure that even commoners in the kingdoms barely knew their names.
”Whether you’d be popular in the south or not doesn’t matter anymore,” Kuzuha said bluntly. “You can’t go back to reality. If you want a mate, you’d better find one here—someone who’s not a Succubus.”
”Hahaha… yes, that’s true,” Boston chuckled. “Even if I met another Succubus, I’d only be reminded of Athena.”
His eyes grew distant.
Perhaps being abandoned by Athena had hurt him more than he let on.
After all, she’d killed him and brought him here—then discarded him. Forgetting that would be impossible.
”Harpies have to keep their bodies light to fly,” Kuzuha said coolly. “That should tell you something. You were dragged off, killed, and dumped here. I might feel sorry for you—but you let yourself be seduced by a Succubus. You’ve no one to blame but yourself. Try to make the best of it.”
Her words were merciless.
But then, this wasn’t just a love story. His “partner” had been a Succubus—one of those who toyed with souls. Harsh words were natural.
”Hahaha… you’re a tough one,” Boston said with a sheepish smile.
Even he couldn’t help but wince.
Klock scratched his cheek awkwardly. “You didn’t have to go that far…”
If this sharp-tongued girl was his future wife, it was hard not to worry about what their real relationship might look like.
Would his future self be strong enough to lead her?
Or would she be the one leading him around by the nose?
…The latter seemed far more likely.
＊
”This is your daughter?” Gina asked.
”Yes,” Boston replied.
From the doorway of a crumbling house, a young girl stepped out, clutching his hand.
Her dress was worn thin; her body, frail to the point of danger.
A pitiable sight, even for this slum.
She bowed her head slightly—a small, timid gesture.
Silent. Shy. Her golden eyes, though dimmed, held a strange, unearthly light.
”I’m sorry,” Boston said quietly. “Cynthia can’t speak.”
”What? Is she sick? Or—”
”She doesn’t seem to have any injuries…”
”Maybe it’s something psychological,” Kuzuha guessed.
As they spoke, the girl slipped behind her father, hiding from their eyes.
Painfully shy, clearly.
When she peeked out and met Klock’s gaze, he gave her a small, apologetic smile.
This world existed within Boston’s dream—his personal vision made real.
Cynthia must be shaped by his wishes, molded from the memories and longings of a grieving father.
If the real Cynthia was “lost,” that meant she’d died.
Or perhaps, even when alive, she had never been so affectionate toward him.
”Well, that’s that,” Kuzuha said. “Your business here is done.”
”If you’d like,” Boston offered, “I could guide you around Schiefeld—”
”No need,” she cut in. “We have to go. We can’t afford to waste more time.”
”I see,” Boston said gently. “Then this is farewell.”
He didn’t cling or plead.
The invitation had only been courtesy—he knew it would be refused.
Always considerate, even in parting.
”Thank you for your help,” Klock said earnestly.
”No, no,” Boston replied. “I should be thanking you.”
He bowed deeply, a gesture of true grace.
”The chances are slim we’ll meet again, but… I pray you’ll find happiness with your family.”
”Be happy,” Gina said softly.
”And you as well,” Boston replied. “May the Goddess smile upon you.”
He smiled at them all—calm, warm, dignified.
If he were still alive, Klock might have asked him to join them. But that wish could never be granted.
”You remind me of someone,” Boston said suddenly. “If I’m mistaken, please forget it…”
The three turned to leave.
Klock was the last to hear the man’s parting words.
”…May victory find you, Captain Klock.”
”Huh?”
Boston and Cynthia watched them go.
Moments later, the trio turned a corner—and crossed the boundary of the dream.
Without realizing it, they stepped into a vast, unfamiliar forest.
＊
”Never thought we’d actually meet another dream-dweller,” Gina murmured.
”Given that we’ll be traveling through many dreams from now on,” Klock replied, “we’ll probably meet more.”
”I hope not,” Kuzuha said flatly. “It’s hard enough to tell friend from foe as it is.”
Their light conversation eased the heavy mood of farewell.
”You’re right,” Klock said. “Maybe from now on, I shouldn’t reveal my name at all—just in case.”
”Agreed. Succubi deceive people,” Kuzuha said. “They can change their shape easily enough. Best we keep our distance whenever possible.”
Succubi deceive.
With that truth spoken aloud, there was little room left to argue.
Boston had almost certainly been genuine—but what if he hadn’t? He could’ve been an Incubus, or another illusion entirely.
”…”
”Brother?” Gina asked.
”Ah—no, it’s fine,” Klock said quickly. “I was just thinking. I understand.”
The two girls kept glancing his way, worried.
Given that he was the one being targeted, their concern was natural—but a little overbearing.
It made him feel oddly smothered.
Maybe it was meeting Boston.
Leaving Crimson Spire suddenly felt harder.
Part of him didn’t want to go.
He was starting to realize—
He didn’t want to return to reality.
There were reasons, of course.
But the biggest one… was Alice.
He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
Even if her charm had been lifted, the memories wouldn’t fade.
Would remembering his time with Kuzuha in the real world change how he felt? He didn’t know.
”Well,” Kuzuha said, scanning the forest, “we’re supposed to reach the Dream of Death next—but who knows how far that is. Traveling blind won’t help.”
”Indeed,” Klock said. “But thanks to you, Princess, we have a path to follow. As long as we keep walking, we’ll get there.”
On the ground before them, faint lines glowed—like tunnels a mole might carve beneath the earth.
”Divination,” Kuzuha whispered.
The soil had risen at her command, shaping into a trail of light.
Her magic had drawn their road ahead.
The Dream of Death was said to be a symbol of fortune. Among the many paths her spell had revealed, they followed the one that shimmered with good omens.
Kuzuha’s magic was unlike anything Klock had ever seen—its style completely foreign to him.
The strangeness of it stirred both confusion and excitement.
And so, step by step, the three of them ventured deeper into the unknown forest.
Notes:
• Boston – Adelina’s father, who holds a position of power within the church hierarchy. He has a dark secret regarding the death of his wife, Adelina’s mother.
• Gina – A kind choir member who shows genuine concern for Adelina. She’s a rare ally in this unfamiliar place, offering some comfort and companionship.
• Athena – Harpies adventurer; appears alongside Alice at Barreith gathering, flirtatious, joins Klock and volunteers for upcoming battles
• Schiefeld – The capital city is a refined gem, appeared as Cynthia’s homeland, a place of rusted beauty and deceit. It’s a stark contrast to Cynthia’s unique appearance.
• Alice – Rabbitkin adventurer; appears at the same Barreith gathering, playful and mischievous, interacts with Klock, part of recruited volunteers
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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