Wasn’t This a Night Game

Blessed Sleep (Revision)

After the Saint of Healing was imprisoned in the Pantheon’s dungeons, the Pantheon summoned Yodel, the Grand Priest of the Order of Grace.

“It’s been a while, Yodel-nim. You’re usually in the southern regions, so you rarely come up to the capital. I almost forgot your face.”

The representatives of 23 of the 24 orders belonging to the Pantheon sat around the round table, silently watching Yodel standing in the center.

“Rules are rules, so we will ask you. In the event that the Saint of Healing is a fake, tell us how to discern it.”

“He is not a false saint. He is the apostle of Grace! I can swear it on my faith!”

“We know. But Yodel, you know the procedure. An accusation of heresy has been made, so we need to be sure. If he’s a true saint, this might actually be for the best.”

“That’s right, Yodel. A saint recognized by the Inquisition will have their name officially added to the Pantheon’s list of saints. It would be the first new saint in a full 300 years.”

“The first saint in 300 years, and from the Order of Grace’s perspective, the first Saint of Healing to ever appear since the Order’s founding.”

At those words, Yodel sighed and hung his head low.

“…This too must be the goddess’s guidance. Very well. Based on what’s written in the Grace Bible, I will tell you how he will act if he is a false saint.”

The entirety of the bible was already recorded in Yodel’s head.

He had devoted himself to the Order since childhood and had read the scriptures without missing a single day until now.

“If he is a false saint, he will act like this.”

Slowly.

Yodel explained to the representatives from the 23 Orders how to recognize a false Saint.

*

Tüdel was moved from the White Order’s interrogation room to the Silent Order’s investigation chamber.

From a criminal who attempted to indirectly murder through the White Order by slandering a non-Abomination, he’d ascended to, at least, the position of accuser reporting a false Saint.

Anxious, yes, but Tüdel held firm in her conviction.

That Healing Saint, this ‘Amal’ or whatever, was surely a fake.

A Saint without Divine Power could never be a true Saint.

If she could send him to the abyss, Erpa would naturally fall alongside.

Though expelled from the Magic Tower, she might evade punishment from the Pantheon, and then, as a commoner, she could witness Erpa being executed as an Abomination once more.

The thought alone brought bliss.

And it wouldn’t end there.

“Those b*stards who betrayed me.”

Her faction.

They clung to her, singing praises while there was something to be gained, but the moment things went sideways, they betrayed her and ran.

She had no intention of letting them off easy either.

During the investigation in the Magic Tower, under the Truth Potion, it was revealed they’d been coerced into participating in Tüdel’s plan, and as a result, most received significant leniency.

Even so, the fact remained that they participated in attempted murder and concealment of evidence, so they would, in all likelihood, be expelled, left outside the protection of the Magic Tower.

She would kill them off, one by one.

Tüdel would never forgive betrayal.

Of course, for that to happen, the Saint had to be declared a heretic first.

And Tydel figured that wouldn’t be so hard.

A Saint with no holy power.

It didn’t make a lick of sense, no matter how you sliced it.

“Just you wait, Erpha. I’ll be laughing at you soon enough.”

She let out a choked, twisted giggle.

*

Happy.

Even if it was a cramped, cramped place. This room, no bigger than two pyeong, just a bed and a toilet squeezed in, but I was so damned happy.

A laugh just bubbles up.

Meals came, regular as clockwork, and unlike what I’d feared after hearing the words “underground prison,” the humidity and temperature were perfectly maintained.

No one to bother me, no clamoring mob of paupers screeching for healing.

This charade as a fake Saint, supposed to take out the Nuclear Witch, stretched on longer than it needed to.

Now, after the trial, just a year rotting here and then I get to leave, that’s it.

Ah.

I’m so damn happy.

So damn happy.

“Saint.”

Perhaps it was because I was the Saint, earning me some special treatment, but there was a guard watching me 24/7 outside my cell.

The guard, clad in the robes of the Silent Order, cautiously looked my way, calling my name.

I waved a hand at the guy, just like that.

“I’m no Saint. You can just call me by my name.”

They’d figure out I wasn’t no Saint once the Inquisition started anyway, so I just said it plain.

The guard, he kinda hesitated, then kept on talkin’.

“I believe you *are* a Saint, touched by true Grace.”

What kinda bullshit was that?!

I ain’t!

Just some cripple born with RPG abilities, that’s all!

“That’s not me. Like I said, I ain’t no Saint. No stigmata, can’t use no Divine power. Everything Tydell said, the guy who ratted me out, it’s all true. I ain’t no Saint.”

“But the countless miracles you performed… those aren’t true either?”

“They are, but still, I’m not a Saint. You got me wrong. Just call me Jericho, Jericho Amael, that’s my name.”

I said that, grinnin’ like an idiot, and suddenly the guard, real careful-like, he looked at me and dropped to his knees.

“Can you… help me?”

“…Huh?”

“I know this breaks regulations. But I’m desperate. The god I serve, Le-Neri, God of Shadows and Secrets… He ain’t the type to give out Grace. All He does is clean up the trash that gnaws at the country from the darkness. I need your Grace.”

He sounded so damn desperate, his posture all hunched over… I was caught off guard, just lookin’ at him, when he said…

“My daughter… she’s sick.”

The guard, his voice was just so damn mournful.

“Only three months old, born with a malformed heart. They say she won’t last long. I want my child to see the light of this world, just a little longer. Saint… my wife, she cries herself to sleep every night. Please… You’ve healed Abominations and the Rot, I’ve heard. Please… please, my baby too…”

A sob, a broken, mournful sound, came from behind the mask.

With those words, I had to swallow back the anger that was rising.

Fuck.

What the hell am I gonna do?

If I heal him, won’t he go around spreadin’ the word that I’m some kinda saint?

No!

Wait a minute!

Isn’t this a damn good opportunity?

“Bring the child to me. I will heal him.”

“Y-you really mean it?”

“Yes. I will do it. But there is a condition.”

“Anything! Anything I can possibly grant, just name it!”

“After observing my healing closely… when I am later interrogated on charges of heresy… testify that I did not use divine power. That I am definitely not a saint.”

The masked man paused, taking a beat.

“… Doing so will disadvantage you. If I am judged as a heretic, you could be held in the dungeons for nearly a year.”

That’s what I want!!

That’s exactly what I want!!

“That doesn’t matter. Just speak the truth. Can you do that for me?”

“But… Saint…”

“There is nothing uglier than living amidst lies. I wish for the truth to be revealed. Can you do this?”

The guard was silent for a long while after my words, before finally nodding his head.

“If that’s what you desire. So be it. Holy One.”

With that, the warden melted back into his own shadow, vanished.

The miracles of the Silent Order, one doesn’t often get the chance to witness them.

Seeing such miracles, that’s usually tied to the Inquisition.

Anyway, while I was still reeling from watching the warden disappear into the shadows,

in a flash, he burst forth from the floor of my cell.

Suddenly, in his arms, he held a whimpering, small child.

“My daughter. Holy One…please.”

“Not a Holy One. Give the child here.”

I received the child with both hands.

A wriggling lump of flesh making faint, whimpering sounds.

So utterly adorable.

And yet, a heart defect means she won’t live long.

I can’t let that stand.

Slowly, I placed my hand on the child’s head and activated the Skill.

Just as the warden had said.

The child’s heart was grotesquely twisted.

You could tell at a glance, it wasn’t pumping the blood right.

Focusing, I manipulated the child’s heart this way and that.

Smoothing out the compressed parts, shrinking the stretched parts, patching up the holes.

Had I fiddled with it for quite some time like that?

[Cardiac Function 100% Operational.]

After confirming the message that popped up on the status window, I smiled contentedly and stroked the child’s head.

Once it’s revealed I’m no saint, I won’t be able to do this anymore, huh.

Isn’t it possible the number of people I can save will dwindle once I quit being a saint?

A little worried, I am.

No.

No, wake up!!

Want to be struck by lightning and have your skull blown open, you wretch?

Quitting being a saint is the right thing to do!

I’m a selfish, low-life b*stard, so this is the only way!

“It’s done.”

I carefully hand the baby over to the warden.

I couldn’t see his expression because it was hidden behind a mask, but with a sobbing voice leaking out slightly and his hands trembling like mad, I knew what kind of face the warden was making without even looking.

“Is… Is it alright now?”

“Take it to a doctor and have it checked again. It should be cured. It will grow up healthy and without incident.”

“Thank you… Thank you. Saint.”

To the warden who spoke like that, voice choked with tears, I waved my hand.

“Did I use Divine Power during the treatment?”

“No. You did not.”

“Later, at the questioning, testify for me. Please, testify that I’m not a Saint. Understand?”

“…….But aren’t you a Saint?”

No! No!!

I’m not a Saint!!!

Please, just!

“I detest being called a Saint. I am not a Saint. I am a human being unworthy of it. I want to discard the title of Saint. So, you must help me. You understand? That I cannot use divine power. You must testify that I am not a Saint.”

The guard, at my words, seemed to ponder something for quite a while before finally nodding his head.

“I will do as you say.”

“I beg you. When is the questioning?”

“It’s a matter of judging whether or not a Saint is falsely claiming to be one, no less. Representatives from major religious orders all across the nation, as well as the Magic Tower, the Senate, and even the representatives of the Supreme Court must all gather, so it will be in two months.”

“Then, absolutely! You must testify, without fail.”

The guard, at my words, bowed respectfully and then vanished from the prison.

I stretched languidly on the bed.

Done.

Another witness secured.

With this, there’s no arguing; I’m dropping out of the Saint thing!

This underground prison is comfy and good!

I smiled contentedly and sprawled happily on the bed.

With nothing to be nervous about, sleep poured over me.

It was a blissful slumber.