The Reverend And His Plaything のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 96

Mia.I woke up to a throbbing pain in my head. The meds Grandma had given me the night before hadn’t touched it at all. If anything, the ache had settled deeper, sharper, like it had roots now. My whole body felt heavy and sore, a dull fire rolling through every muscle and joint, making even the simple act of breathing feel like work.I wasn’t even sure what was happening to me anymore. I’d told myself it was just the final college exams—the late nights, the stress, the pressure of finishing everything. But it didn’t feel like that now. It felt bigger. Heavier. Something I couldn’t name.“Mia…” Grandma’s voice came soft through the door before she pushed it open and stepped inside.“You’re awake now,” she said, crossing the room to sit on the edge of my bed.I rubbed the last of the sleep from my eyes and pushed myself up to sit. “Yeah… I woke up a few minutes ago,” I told her.She studied my face, concern creasing her forehead. “How about the fever? Has it gone down? Looking at you,

Thorne.The morning Mass today felt like a strain in my throat. It was as if I were doing it for the first time—standing at the altar, committing myself to a place that had always felt like my own, my rightful space. I knew the parishioners had noticed something off. The people of San Malerio were too observant, too quick to sense when their priest wasn’t fully present. I could feel their eyes lingering during the homily, during the consecration, during the final blessing. They would have wanted to ask afterward—about my mood, about a line in the sermon that didn’t land quite right, about anything at all. But I walked back to the rectory as fast as my legs could carry me, avoiding every conversation, every concerned glance.I reached my room and called Mia again—for what felt like the hundredth time since dawn. The line either connected and rang endlessly without an answer, or it went straight to unavailable. I hated it. Every bone in my body cracked with frustratio

Thorne.What was I going to say?I had always known what to say in difficult situations. Very difficult situations. Couples would come to me when the wife didn’t want another child while the husband longed for one, or even many. I would sit with them in the small counseling room, listen to their pain, their anger, their fear, and offer words that felt solid, words drawn from Scripture and years of hearing broken hearts. I could speak with calm certainty about sacrifice, about timing, about trusting God’s plan even when it hurt. But those were other people’s lives. Not mine.I was a priest meant to abstain from sex. Meant to commit every waking moment to God, to the Church, to the people who looked to me for guidance. And right now I stood in my own room with no words forming, no ready scripture, no practiced counsel. Mia stood in front of me, clutching the bottle of Scotch she had taken from my hand, the other wiping tears that kept falling no matter how fast she bru