Stepping into the chapel, Cia pondered for a moment before approaching the area near the front statue of the god. Then, alternating her gaze between that gentle smile and the status window, she pleaded fervently in her heart.
'Status window, please contact the god who created you!'
There was no change whatsoever.
'Maybe the summoning method was too rude for a god?'
After folding her hands neatly, she demanded clearly this time, speaking aloud.
"O almighty god Pyrphoros, your pitiful servant calls upon you—will you not answer?"
Still, no response.
Cia let out a disappointed sigh, then composed herself.
'No, let's try a bit more.'
After all, high and mighty beings are bound to be slow to respond. If a god answered so easily after just a few calls, priests wouldn't invest decades in training. She began muttering various prayers with 'Pyrphoros' as the subject, but since she barely remembered any repertoire, she ended up mobilizing religions from the Second World as well—prayers that anyone who heard them would clearly recognize as nonsense.
'...It's not like something like "Pyr-Amitabha" is going to pop out, is it? I should have visited the chapel more often.'
In her first life, she'd had no interest in the kingdom's state religion. Since her younger brother Philost was quite devout, her feelings were closer to vague opposition.
'After all, even the name "Philost" was taken from the god Pyrphoros.'
They'd given him that grand name with the wish that his weak body would quickly become healthy. Later, when Philost was revealed to have inherited 'light magic,' there was a big commotion about how he'd 'received the god's blessing befitting his name.'
'To him, this place probably felt comfortable, but to me, it was the exact opposite.'
Even visiting this chapel inside the palace had happened only twice—for her mother and father's funerals.
'Honestly, my faith is below zero, practically negative. Why did you bestow the blessing of magic on Philost and not me? If you appeared before me right now, I'd grab you by the collar and—'
"...Um, excuse me, is that person over there... perhaps... sister?"
"Whoa!"
Lost in thought about Philost, Cia was so startled by the voice of the very person she was thinking about at that perfect timing that she nearly rolled off the pew.
'The god I called didn't come, so why!'
Cia barely managed to compose her surprised expression and answered.
"Th-that's right. ...I just stopped by to say a prayer."
"I see. I didn't know you were inside, sister, and I barged in rudely. I'm sorry."
A boy with the same golden hair as Cia's but softer and fluffier in texture bowed his head deeply. He was holding a thick bible and commentary books that Cia would have declined even if offered for free—clearly, unlike her, he'd come for voluntary prayer.
"It's f-fine. Don't mind me, you can come in and pray comfortably too."
With Cia's permission, Philost, who had been standing at the doorway, brightened and soon sat in the pew next to her.
"It seems you have something you're earnestly wishing for? Seeing you come all the way to the chapel after so long."
"Ah? Uh-huh... well, something like that..."
Cia, thinking that saying 'I came to meet God' would seem strange, mumbled evasively.
"I'd like to pray with you for that wish to come true too—if you could tell me what it is—Ah! I suppose that's, you know, a bit too personal? Your private matter."
Philost, who had briefly shown curiosity befitting his age, covered his mouth as if he'd made a grave mistake. Recalling Janet's misunderstanding about her and Duke Tenneris in the carriage earlier, Cia waved her arms in panic and denied it.
"Ah, no! It's not like that! It's just, ordinary... Yes, it was a prayer for your health, Phil."
The green eyes that had held a worried expression about her words now sparkled with a different light.
"Is that so? Truly... I'm honored. That you'd come all the way to the chapel to pray for me..."
Seeing him so moved that his eyes even glistened with tears, Cia stammered slightly.
"I-it's nothing. We're siblings, after all."
In fact, it was the duty of royalty to visit the chapel at least once a quarter to attend regular mass or offer prayers. It was just that no one had openly scolded Cia for her neglect.
Philost took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes, then sent her a warm smile.
"Ah, right. It's been so long since you called me Phil, sister. You used to always call me that when we were little."
It seemed he'd deliberately brought up a light topic, reading Cia's heart that was writhing in awkwardness and embarrassment.
Feeling a pang of conscience about her lie, Cia gave a safe answer with gratitude.
"That's true, I suppose. You're already seventeen now, so you must dislike being called that anymore."
"Dislike? No, please call me whatever you like, sister. Whether it's Philost or Phil. Philina or Philo is fine too."
When Cia replied that she'd comfortably call him 'Phil' from now on, he looked genuinely delighted.
"That's great. It feels like we've gone back to when we were children."
"...Did I visit you often back then?"
Phil was born with a weak body and had lost his mother immediately after birth. He was the 'poor prince' whom everyone—including Cia's father and all the kingdom's people—worried about and pitied.
And Cia, feeling jealous of the attention showered on her younger brother in so many ways, had kept her distance all along.
...At least in her first life, that was the case.
"Of course you did. You'd come to my room sometimes and show me all sorts of things. Like acrobatic somersaults. And you'd show me stag beetles you caught in the garden."
"Ah, right."
Philost described it in a tone of warm recollection, but since she hadn't done it with particularly positive intentions, her heart stung again.
'Phil, look at this. Aren't I amazing?'
She'd been just a young child, wanting to show off to someone all the various things she could do.
Even if she couldn't use magic, she wanted to prove that she could do things too. With just a little bit of showing off—'You can't do these things like me, can you?'
'I used to get scolded for going in and out of a sick person's room, saying I might spread illness.'
Looking back now, it seemed she'd grown more resentful because of those surrounding reactions rather than toward her brother himself.
"The stories you told me about the outside world were so interesting that I thought I wanted to get healthy quickly and play with you, sister. I think your stories helped me endure the boring times."
Seeing his gentle smile, Cia felt conflicted.
'This personality of mine was also the cause of my inferiority complex.'
Her brother possessed magic that Cia lacked—even a rare healing attribute. The so-called 'light' attribute, a type of magic that symbolized the orthodox royal line.
With strong innate magic and diligent study, he could treat most physical injuries and illnesses.
On top of that, his personality was kind, pure, and humble without a single twisted corner. He was nicknamed 'the Angel of the Astley Kingdom'—one could only say his personality matched his magic well.
'Does personality follow magic attributes? Ah, would that be disrespectful to Duke Tenneris to say?'
Anyway, he was already the eldest son, advantageous for succession, and also excelled in both magic and character. Apart from his childhood frailty, he was a brother without any weaknesses.
After his health stabilized and the king seemed reassured enough to close his eyes, Philost was receiving succession education according to the king's will and the support of the kingdom's people.
'And I became even more twisted.'
She resented Philost, who monopolized everyone's love and attention—including their father's. So whenever he tried to approach her, she'd snap and keep her distance.
Philost's gaze, filled with pure goodwill far removed from Cia's complex feelings, turned toward her.
"My current health is all thanks to you, sister. If you ever feel unwell anywhere, you must tell me, okay? I'll heal you right away."
"...Yes, I'll tell you if I need it. Thank you."
Her past self would have snapped back with something like 'Are you showing off just because you can do some magic?' or cut him off with 'I don't need it.'
But Cia, who remembered the end of her first life, could no longer answer her brother that way.
'Sister, snap out of it! Sister!'
'It's already too late, Your Highness.'
'At least you must escape, Your Highness!'
'You all go. I'll stay with my sister.'
Beyond her fading vision, she saw Philost pouring magic into her.
'Why...? Why me?'
The last scene she remembered was Philost forcing healing magic upon her, who seemed beyond hope, until he eventually coughed up blood.
'I'm sorry.'
If only she could have said even one word of apology at the end. But unfortunately, she'd died crushed by a collapsed building, unable to say anything.
And that fact continued to weigh on Cia's mind from time to time, even as she lived her new life.
She wondered if he might have been reborn in the Second World while retaining his self like she had—she even checked faces whenever she heard the common name 'Phil' at international academic conferences her guardian had taken her to.
Even now, sitting face to face with her brother in the same place, she no longer felt resentful as before.
Rather, in a situation where the world could end at any moment, she thought it might be okay to act a little more like siblings.
