"This must be what the Lord meant when he said to behold his wonders!"
Lady killer Wong Ji Jun whispered the almost ceremonial lines into Sister Maralynn's neck when he heard a deep voice.
"Maralynn? I'm home! I bought your favorite!"
His body froze and he grew pale. He turned to the door and back at Maralynn, his eyes and mouth wide open.
She sat up like she'd been hit with a bolt of divine guilt. "That's my father," she hissed, grabbing the blanket and yanking it over herself.
Wong blinked. "You said your dad was on a pilgrimage!"
She glared at him. "I lied!"
Another voice followed, louder, closer, older. "You left the gate open again! I told you—"
"You have to go," she whispered, pushing him toward the edge of the bed.
"I'm going, I'm going," he mumbled, scrambling for his clothes. He found his robe. His pants were under the bed, next to a forgotten rosary and a sock that wasn't his.
Footsteps grew nearer as Ji Jun could hear the man walking up the stairs. He only had his undergarments on, but that didn't matter. Time was short. He quickly made his way to the window and popped it open.
"Not the window," she snapped.
"Why not?"
"It's a two-story drop!"
The doorknob rattled.
"In a second dad! I'm not decent!"
He made a decision only a desperate, half-naked seminary student could make.
He leapt.
There was a thump, a curse, and then the soft crunch of shrubbery breaking his fall. He rolled to his feet in nothing but red boxer briefs patterned with tiny hearts and a very obvious halo stain of grass and shame.
"Ji Jun!" She whispered from above. "Your clothes!"
His pants and robe fluttered down like divine providence. He caught the shirt. The pants hit him in the face.
As he yanked his pants on one leg at a time, something about this whole scene struck Ji Jun with déjà vu.
It wasn't the first time he'd done the "midnight escape from someone's bedroom" thing.
Two months ago, he'd almost been caught with the Arch-Deacon's niece in a confession booth during a planetary prayer conference.
He was trying to "help her find clarity."
He couldn't bear to look at the Arch-Deacon's face: the cheery old man always praised his niece's celibacy, though Ji Jun couldn't comprehend why that would be important at all.
Still, he did not know how to tell the Arch-Deacon the truth for fear it would hurt the old man. And, of course, he didn't want to hurt his chances getting into the seminary. The old man's recommendations were probably the only reason he got in.
He'd even given a commendation for Ji Jun's commitment to counseling. Spending long nights with his niece and helping her along with others in the Church with Bible studies.
After that, he'd promised himself: No more close calls.
A cough snapped him back to reality.
A man stood nearby, holding a leash. At the end of it, a droopy-eared dog squatted, wagging its tail and panting with its tongue out. Man and beast both stared.
Ji Jun blinked. Smiled. Waved. "Nice weather today, isn't it?"
The man gave a slow nod. The dog barked once, as if judging him.
As he tossed his tunic over his head and jogged barefoot through the alley, he grinned despite himself.
"Okay," he muttered, catching his breath. "Maybe I have a type. And maybe it's 'people I definitely shouldn't be sleeping with.'"
He reached the bench behind the statue of Saint Yelva the Patient. Ji Jun collapsed onto it, breathing hard, trying not to laugh.
This wasn't the first time he'd made a daring escape in the name of love.
But it was the first time he'd done it while technically on track to become a priest.
Still breathing hard, heart still hammering in his chest, he watched the sun peek over the horizon, bathing the garden courtyard in a golden warmth that made everything feel strangely peaceful.
Ji Jun tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and let the cool stone of the bench press into his spine.
"One day," he whispered, "I'll learn how to say no to beautiful people with complicated family dynamics."
A moment passed before footsteps approached from the gravel path.
He cracked one eye open. Two acolytes stood nearby—first-years like him, judging by the nervous way they held their robes and the eagerness written all over their faces. One was a tall pointed-ear Velmar boy with luminous blue eyes and an emerald braid too perfect to be natural. The other was a round-faced human girl clutching a charm like a stress ball.
Ji Jun sat up slowly, stretching his back. "Morning," he said with a lazy grin.
The girl tilted her head. "Uh… what's that on your neck?"
Ji Jun blinked. "What's what?"
She pointed. "That red mark."
The boy leaned closer. "That kind of looks like a—"
Ji Jun laughed, a bit too loud. "Oh! No no no. That's a bruise. From my very graceful fall into a very ungraceful bush."
He gestured to his arms and legs, revealing a tapestry of scrapes, scratches, and a twig still stuck to his sock.
The girl gasped. "Saints preserve you! That looks bad!"
"I can try a healing charm," the boy offered, already reaching for the rune around his neck.
Ji Jun raised a hand, smiling like a man who had things well in hand and absolutely no secrets to hide.
"No need. I've been training for this? Priest track."
They blinked.
He closed his eyes, placed a palm on his chest, and whispered something softly. A golden light pulsed gently under his hand. When he pulled it away, the scratches faded. The bruises vanished. Even the questionable mark on his neck dissolved into smooth, unblemished skin.
The acolytes stared, awe-inspired.
"That was amazing," the girl breathed.
"You must be really faithful to channel that much divine energy," the boy added, eyes wide.
Ji Jun rose to his feet and dusted off his robe.
He flashed them a radiant smile and winked, saying, "I try my best."
Then he turned and strolled toward the seminary entrance, hands in his pockets, bruises gone, guilt carefully buried beneath swagger and charm.
Behind him, the acolytes whispered in reverence.
Ahead of him, the chapel bells began to ring.
It was going to be a long day.