2. On Intercourse

As soon as they left the chapel, the congregation, who had come out first, flocked to Nicholas.

With a quick, businesslike glance, Nicholas assessed the size of the crowd and deliberately lifted the corners of his mouth as he walked toward the main building of the temple.

The procession of believers gathered like a cloud, forming a long line behind his steps.

“Today’s sermon was so moving, High Priest.”

“That’s right, I almost cried while listening.”

“You are truly amazing, I will also engrave your words in my heart and muster the courage!”

Each poured out praise and admiration. Most of the followers were devout unmarried noblewomen and ladies.

“You flatter me. I am merely conveying the word of God.”

Nicholas responded, as always, with a gentle smile and a touch of modesty. Even at that minor reaction, the believers exclaimed in admiration.

While engaging in light conversation with the believers, a woman suddenly blocked Nicholas’s path, bowing her head politely. As a result, Nicholas had to stop.

“High Priest, I was in trouble because I spilled juice that time… Thanks to the handkerchief you gave me, I was saved. Thank you very much.”

It was Lady Adeline, the daughter of a Viscount. She was so enthusiastic that she would always sit in the front row during the services Nicholas conducted.

“Not at all. Anyone would have done the same upon seeing a believer in distress.”

Even after hearing his answer, Lady Adeline did not step aside and suddenly extended both hands.

“I wanted to return the handkerchief to you. I washed it clean. And, this is a gift to show my gratitude…”

Nicholas alternated his gaze between the hands holding the handkerchief and the gift, and Lady Adeline’s face.

Her hands were trembling, and her ears turned red as she couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“Of course.”

Nicholas personally lowered himself to meet Lady Adeline’s gaze.

“God would not want his precious children to be in trouble. I simply did what I ought to do as a messenger of God’s word.”

Nicholas took only the handkerchief from what Lady Adeline offered. In that moment, she attempted to grasp his hand, causing their fingertips to brush, but he didn’t mind and smiled brightly.

“I’ll accept the gift in spirit. May you always be with God’s grace.”

***

Only after entering the inner part of the main building was Nicholas finally alone.

He stopped walking when he reached a place where no one was around. Then he exhaled a long breath and looked at the handkerchief he had just received back.

There was a dense floral embroidery on one corner. It seemed she not only washed it but also embroidered it by hand with care.

“…Damn. Filthy.”

It was an expression that was hard to believe came from a face as noble as a living angel.

Recalling the sensation of the damp fingertips, possibly from nervous sweat, touching him made him feel as if goosebumps were rising all over his body. He had only taken back the handkerchief in front of the believers, but thinking about how she had embroidered it while fondling it with those hands made him go crazy.

Nicholas threw the handkerchief into the trash can and meticulously washed his hands at the sink.

He had no qualms about tossing someone’s pure affection into the trash.

***

The perfect son of God.

It was a moniker used to praise Nicholas Reinhart. Naturally, he agreed with it. Despite having such a perfect body, he was not seduced by base desires like lust.

In front of others, he would modestly say it was excessive praise, but Nicholas fully understood why others had no choice but to say so. It was hard to find words to describe him other than ‘perfect.’ Therefore, this was not some frivolous arrogance but a fact. One cannot deny the truth.

After finishing his daily tasks, Nicholas would cleanse himself of the filth that had clung to him in his personal bathtub. Today, since he had preached at a crowded chapel and was surrounded by people, he washed even more thoroughly.

For Nicholas, bathing was a clean and personal ritual to end the day, akin to a perfect reward he bestowed upon himself.

Although there was a communal bathhouse used in the temple, the thought of sharing such a sacred object as a bathtub with others was chilling.

His obsession for cleanliness, a chronic condition since childhood, rendered him with a clean and noble image, and somehow gave him an aura of detachment.

When he smiled gently, people never realized that he considered the presence of others as nothing more than contaminants dirtying him.

After finishing his bath, Nicholas stepped out of the tub, dried himself, and donned a nightgown. He then took one of the perfectly arranged towels and tousled his damp blond hair.

“Ah, refreshing.”

He felt languid and good. Washing away the filth from others and enjoying a space filled solely with himself was Nicholas’s favorite time of the day.

Upon leaving the bathroom, Nicholas found mail addressed to him on the table. It bore the Reinhart seal. Seeing the golden wax, it was a letter from his mother, the Grand Duchess of Reinhart.

“She’s having her fits again.”

The content was obvious without even reading it. A request, tedious as ever, for the marriage of her only heir before it’s too late.

She would plead not to let the family line die out. She’d argue that at the very least, he should have the face to meet his ancestors after death. She would lament how her precious Nicki turned into a rogue who doesn’t understand his mother’s heart.

From the news that there were still many young ladies desiring marriage with him to how forsaking the heirship would bring about misfortune, the letter would be filled with anxious and earnest entreaties.

There was no need to spoil his good mood by reading it. Nicholas crumpled the letter without opening it.

If he didn’t reply, she would surely come to visit. And if he expressed refusal, it would lead to another long letter trying to persuade her son.

Nicholas wrote a short, affectionate reply as he always did.

Thank you for your concern.

I will engrave your words on my heart

and consider them thoroughly.

Has your migraine improved?

I always pray for your health.

May you always be with God’s grace.

-Nicholas Reinhart-

This should keep things quiet for a while. As the heir of Reinhart, Nicholas Reinhart had been forced to be perfect since childhood.

It wasn’t difficult. He was nearly perfect in reality. Occasionally, revealing even a minor flaw would be more troublesome.

Perhaps that’s why. It was easier to show others the image they wanted to see. That applied even to his mother who gave birth to him.

He deliberately put on a façade, not out of kindness, but convenience. Nicholas was inherently sharp-tongued and sensitive, but he lived wearing a mask of gentle smiles.

Heir, heir, heir.

As the Grand Duchess of Reinhart aged, perhaps her blood ties pulled at her, for she would harp on about the heir whenever the matter was forgotten.

To have an heir, he had to engage in s*xual intercourse. Nicholas despised s*x. He hated it in the past, hated it now, and would hate it forever.

Nicholas entered the temple and became a priest to avoid such filthy acts of exchanging bodily fluids with others. It was better to be an unattainable existence than to maintain the messy rumors of being a sodomite.

An unattainable, unreachable existence. That aligned with the self-image Nicholas had pursued from the beginning. He disliked humans, or more precisely, others.

Sodomite, yes. It was absurd no matter how he thought about it. It was a rumor spread by a young lady who bore a grudge after he rejected her confession.

The rumor, seemingly credible enough to appear in cheap gossip magazines, even led to receiving letters from unknown men proposing s*x. The world was disillusioning.

He couldn’t even bear the thought of touching others, let alone having s*x.

Suddenly, recalling the unpleasant incident in front of the main building earlier, irritation surged. Nicholas returned to the bathroom and compulsively washed his hands thoroughly.

To think he had to allow some inferior human to bear his noble bloodline… the mere thought was torture. No, even if the incarnation of a goddess appeared, he would refuse.

Through the slightly parted nightgown, a massive p*nis was revealed. Its shape and color were perfect. The flawless c*ck had a delicate hue like spring flowers. Perhaps that’s why it seemed more like a sacred artifact than a p*nis.

He disliked ej*culating so much that he didn’t even m*sturbate. If it came out inevitably, he would just wash it away, but he had no intention of shaking it off by hand.

Why, indeed? Why go to such lengths? He couldn’t understand. Nicholas considered m*sturbation a very vulgar and crude act.

He disliked even holding and shaking it himself. The thought of entering someone else’s sticky body was, ugh, the worst. Nicholas closed his nightgown again, covering his c*ck.

He would never engage in s*xual intercourse until he died.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror, Nicholas admired his perfect form and reiterated his resolution once more.

***