The Numbered Follower

'A god's follower? What does a god's follower want with me? To be clear I ain't joining. Even if you bailed me out. Pffft. Now that I look at it clearly, it's very funny to look at. First time seeing one but if I see more of them gathered in one place, I won't promise I can hold my laughter.' He thought laughing inwardly at the absurdity of the situation.

'Sigh. Good thing there's no followers in Seiren Kingdom. Or else I might have incurred blasphemy. Do they write numbers on those people who sinned too? Pfffftt. Give me a break. Pffftt'

He was a follower of a god, and the number on his forehead indicated the rank of his deity among the others. "45" meant that he served a god who had overpowered 65 other gods and had a high status in the divine hierarchy. But having a visible number also meant that he had renounced all worldly activities and devoted his life to his god. Those who were inactive had the number too, but it was hidden from others.

He wondered impatiently what the man wanted from him and if they were done. He wanted to get out of this awkward encounter as soon as possible.

"Place your hand here." The man showed him a white circular porcelain plate with some symbols on it.

'A plate? He was confused by the object and the man's intention. He placed his hand on the plate without understanding what was happening. 'Selfish bastard.' The man did not bother to explain anything to him or why he was there. He felt annoyed, violated and uncomfortable. He thought that if he was not a prisoner, he would have run away from this lunatic.

"I'm done here. I thank Madam." the man said, leaving the room without waiting for a reply from the lady or him.

"Tsk, rude fanatics. The respect in the beginning was just a bluff." The lady said, shaking her head. She was not impressed by the man's manners or attitude. 'Interesting.' She wondered what he had seen in that plate. He seemed to have gotten what he came for.

'That's it?' He felt confused and disappointed. 'Oy, oy, what about bailing me out?' He inwardly complain that the man had used him and then discarded him. He wanted to ask him for some help or freedom, but the man had already left.

'Tsk, bailout and guest route plan failed. I need to come up with something, this might be my last opportunity.' He scanned the surroundings, trying to find a way out of this room. He even considered taking the lady as a hostage, but he knew that would be risky and foolish.

The lady asked him with a friendly tone, "Do you want to sit?" He snapped out of his thoughts and nodded politely. He did not want to offend her or make her suspicious of his motives. "Then, open that closet, wear some clothes and you can sit." She said casually, pointing to a closet near the bed.

'Let see how this one revealed his agenda.' She observed his actions, curious about him and his reactions. She wondered why he was here and if he was suitable for her plot.

He walked slowly to the closet, his eyes searching all over the place. He was looking for any signs of danger or escape. He felt uneasy and nervous in this unfamiliar situation. He thought that the guest route might still be possible, but he did not trust his luck.

He opened the closet and was dumbfounded by what he saw. 'The heck, what's she's on?' There were only girl dresses inside. He realized that this was a girl's room after all. But he did not know how to handle this. He felt a headache as he thought that the lady was playing with him. He wondered if this was some kind of joke or test. 

He looked back at the lady with a puzzled expression. He hoped she would explain herself or give him another option. But the lady was just reading her book, not giving him any hint.

He saw the undergarments among the dresses and thought sarcastically that the lady was not shy at all. He looked at the variety of colors and designs and picked several white ones that looked like thin dresses. He tore them apart and tied them together until he made an exomis, 'Good thing I know a thing or two about improvising' He was proud of his creativity and skill, and admired his handiwork.

[A/N: Exomis: a type of clothing worn by ancient Greeks that consisted of a single rectangular piece of cloth wrapped around the body and fastened over one shoulder.]

He put on the exomis over his clothes, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. He tore a few more clothes, making a grim expression. He wanted to show his displeasure and defiance to the lady, who had given him such a ridiculous ordeal. When he was done, he closed the closet with a thud, indicating that he was finished.  'Everythings done.'

'Did he just made that?' The lady mumbled inwardly, surprised by his choice. She had expected him to choose the dress with floral design, which she thought would be amusing and cute. She was impressed by his creativity and skill, but also disappointed that he did not pick any dress. She had hoped to see him in a more feminine attire.

He sat across from her in a tense silence, separated by a large table. He avoided looking at the window next to her, which drew his attention.

It stretched from the ceiling to the floor, giving the impression of a massive window. He wondered if it led to a balcony and marked it as a potential escape route.

The minutes passed without any conversation, and he grew more nervous but also had a chance to assess the adversary in front of him.

She had blonde hair that contrasted with her fiery red eyes, making her look like a ruthless queen who could ruin someone's life if they displeased her. In this situation, he was the one who needed her mercy.