One Silver Coin For a Pound of Demon

Chapter 19 | Extra Chapter From Lemuel's Perspective

Draft
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(Interchapter)

The strangest thing is that sometimes he reminds Lemuel of his sister.

No doubt they weren't at all alike; Maria was as flexible as paper, intelligent, and with heartfelt tenderness, but the father, Lemuel, can't tell what kind of person he is, but at least he can say what kind of person he's not. When he goes out, his robe will be always neat, with a gentle and sincere smile on his face. But at home, when there's no one, he'll still wear the robe (Lemuel hasn't seen him wear anything else) but his face won't have any more smiles, like his eyes.

If Lemuel was still an ordinary person, maybe his veteran's intuition would let him sense something wrong with the priest, but Lemuel wouldn't think too deeply about it, just like the town's residents who all adore the father. But when they met, Lemuel was already a demon, with a status similar to the priest's furniture the priest naturally had no intention of disguising himself around him. The gentle priest's hands were as steady as a butcher's, he mended Lemuel like he was sewing a garment with open threads. As he stood in front of Lemuel, staring at the latter and pondering something, the former soldier felt like he was seeing a lepidopterist holding a pin, thinking about which part of the butterfly should be nailed first.

He's nothing like Maria, whether inwardly or outwardly. Lemuel's sister had soft and curly brown hair, better than the finest wool. Her eyes were like caramel and honey in the sun, Lemuel felt that she was a living angel who had came to the world, but the priest...

Even in slander, it'd be unwise to target the priest's appearance. He wasn't hideous, on the contrary, even if Lemuel was restored to his former self, a stranger needing help would still probably prefer going to the priest instead of the soldier. The priest looks like something that had walked out of a calendar or clergy propaganda posters. His robe is neat and simple, his hair combed back, donning a sympathetic smile, "God loves the world". Blond hair would be too frivolous, brown or red were too reminiscent of the secular world, straight hair as black as crow feathers is just right, making him appear more steady and intelligent. Those sky-blue eyes are clear and clean, because of the priest's temperament, the slightest trace of excellence in him will be considered superhuman, holy and noble, extraordinarily compassionate.

But Lemuel thinks that he's similar to his sister.

When he was about twelve years old, Lemuel and his sister went out to hide from their alcoholic father, when they encountered a couple who's car had broken down in the middle of the road. Lemuel helped fixed their car. The husband was generous with money, and the wife stuffed Maria with a chunk of pumpkin pie. "I can't eat any more, I'll get fat." She giggled and patted Maria on the head.

It was quite a large piece of pumpkin pie, freshly cut and still hot inside. Maria swallowed twice to keep it from flowing out of her open mouth. She took a bite carefully, her eyes lit up, and she looked extremely happy. "It's so sweet!" she said, holding the pumpkin pie to Lemuel, "Brother, look, it's so sweet!"

Lemuel still remembered that his mother was very good at making pumpkin pie. It was sweet and warm, very delicious, but unfortunately she died before Maria could remember. When Lemuel's father became addicted to the bottle, baked goods became a luxury in their home. Maria grinned over the piece of pumpkin pie, eating it slowly and carefully, even though Lemuel had given her the whole piece.

The priest also ate slowly and carefully, hissing and gasping from the heat yet reluctant to stop, his blue eyes blinked and fluttered, like a puppy with a wet nose and eyes. When he wasn't at work, his hair wouldn't be neatly combed, the strands scattered by his eyebrows made him look younger.

Maybe he really is very young, just usually too prudent and lacking the liveliness of a young man. If there's anyone suitable for performing miracles at birth that he knows, they'll probably look like this. Lemuel suspects that he had the typical appearance of a clergyman since the age of eight till eighty. But this matter didn't make him think that the behavior of the "priest" is more childish. When he gratefully eats something very ordinary, or just stands in the kitchen, craning his neck and tilting his head to look into the pot, soft ripples appear in Remuel's heart.