Wasn’t This a Night Game

I’m No Saint, You Hear?

A worn and shabby tent pitched before a derelict factory in the slums.

Here, the inaugural board meeting of Karma Company, incorporated just three hours prior, was in full swing.

Inside the tent, faces were grim with determination, nothing less.

Jonathan Karma’s wife, Olivera, had been appointed Chief Financial Officer.

Cecilia, Jonathan Karma’s daughter, took the helm as Chief Operating Officer.

Jonathan Karma himself would serve as Chief Executive Officer.

And beyond that, various other roles were tossed out to each, based on Jonathan Karma’s say-so, no hesitation.

In any organization, deciding who should do what was one of the hardest tasks, but Jonathan Karma’s appointments were seamless.

After all, these folks were all industry veterans who’d worked under Jonathan Karma back when he ran a distribution business.

“I declare it here and now.”

A rickety table set up inside the worn tent.

Jonathan Karma’s hand thumped the table like a drum.

“We received 10,000 Salred in seed money from the Lilia Order. And the money keeps rolling in, live, so if we need more, we can get more. Outside, there are workers eager to toil, and in our hands, we hold the Elixir source – a business item that *cannot* fail!! To fail with these conditions is madness.”

The face of a wizened, sickly, harsh middle-aged man was no longer visible on Jonathan.

It oozed instead with the force of an experienced, battle-hardened veteran, deep-rooted in the industry.

“I swore to the Saint of Healing, who saved my daughter and family, who gave me this incredible opportunity, that I would make the Lilia Order the wealthiest in the Empire!! So, let’s do what we do best! Let’s sell this blue gold and pile up the money! And more money!!! So the Saint of Healing will never face difficulty because of money!!!! To help, even just a little, in spreading the grace far and wide! That’s how it’ll be!!!”

Jonathan Karma’s family, of course. And the former colleagues brought here at Jonathan Karma’s request, all gazed at him with awe-struck faces.

They were the very ones who had witnessed, closer than anyone, how Cecilia’s rot disease had crushed and mangled Jonathan’s family.

Cecilia, who hadn’t recovered despite Jonathan pouring no small amount of wealth into her care, was now transformed, working proudly as a senior executive in the company.

And Jonathan Karma, his actions, his words, like a man completely reborn.

If this ain’t a miracle, then what is?

“Alright! Let’s *move*! Earn money, earn money, and earn *more* money! We just gotta do what we’re good at! Mirdah! You go and seal those deals! Toby! You secure the usage rights for large transport trucks and trains to ship the elixirs! Cecilia! You snatch up technology from the Magic Tower! You *must* bring a mage who can process the elixirs! If not, then at least a technical collaboration!!”

“Understood!!”

Everyone scatters from the tent.

And in a daze, they each went to do their assigned tasks.

Everyone’s face was bright.

It was as if a business item that could not fail had fallen into the hands of a businessman more weathered than anyone.

But Jonathan Karma saw something even bigger than that.

The elixir was just the beginning.

To make the Lilia Order the most affluent order in the empire, he needed even bigger ventures.

Establishing the elixir business as a central pillar, and then expanding it, branching out again and again into various kinds of businesses, building a massive corporate kingdom.

And placing that corporate kingdom in the Saint’s hands.

That was Jonathan Karma’s grand ambition.

*

The two months flew by like an arrow.

To be honest, it was truly comfortable and good.

The solitary cell was cramped, sure, but without having to worry about being struck down or burned at the stake, having time to peacefully read books, enjoy meals, sleep, and do simple exercises felt incredibly precious to me.

*This* is a peaceful life.

Suddenly, a Saint this and a Saint that? Does that even make sense?

Is it even right, me being called a Saint?

A coward, selfish me?

I just want to live through this year and get out of here as fast as possible.

“It’s today, Jericho Amael.”

I’d just finished eating the simple but tasty meal delivered early this morning and was doing some exercise when the guard came to fetch me.

Finally, today!!

Today, I’m spilling *everything*.

I’m no Saint, just the dead-last failure of a family of prophets, a broken-down b*stard with no divine power or anything.

But I did save a lot of people, that’s true, so please, just give me a year in the dungeon for impersonating a Saint and be done with it.

That’s what I’m planning to say.

Handcuffs clamped onto my wrists, and a happy smile plastered on my face, I followed the priests of the Silent Order.

How long did we walk, and walk again?

Inside a colossal, circular dome.

A dizzying number of people, easily over a hundred, surrounded me, and in the very center.

There it was, the defendant’s stand where I would stand.

Hmm…

How do I even describe this?

Similar to what I’d often seen of the British Parliament on the news.

“Saint-nim!! Saint-nim!!”

“Saint of Healing! We are here!!”

The moment I stood in the defendant’s dock, I saw them – a throng erupting with shouts.

The priests of the Lily Order and the folk from the slums, plain as day.

I grinned at them.

Right then.

This is it, the finale.

I’m done being a saint as of today.

That’s why I can smile.

Sorry for letting you all mistake and misunderstand for so long.

Maybe you’ll be disappointed when you learn who I really am, after today.

But what can I do?

I don’t want to falsely claim to be the Goddess’s saint and get struck by divine wrath.

So, even if I tricked you all for a while, try to understand a little.

“Have the representatives of the Pantheon’s 24 Orders arrived?!”

As soon as they confirmed I was in the dock, a black-robed priest seated at the judge’s bench right in front of me bellowed in a great voice.

At his words, some of those seated in the gallery ringing around me rose to their feet.

“The apostles of the Pantheon’s Gods are all gathered here!”

“Have the nobles of the Senate arrived?!”

At those words, another group of people stood from their places.

“Those who represent the glory of humankind are all gathered here!”

“Have the judges of the High Court arrived?!”

Another group rises.

“All those who judge humanity are gathered here!!”

“Have those who walk the Path of Magic attended!!”

This time, the wizards and witches rise from their seats.

“Those who walk the Path of Magic are gathered in this place!!”

Among the many witches and wizards, that grateful witch who accused and reported me, Tudel, wasn’t there. She sat separately in a special seat, the accuser’s seat.

Because of that, the only witch I recognized was one.

Erpa, the nuclear bomb Dawan Witch.

“Then, let us begin! The single thing we will judge today! Is whether the man before us is indeed the Saint granted by the Graceful Goddess Lilia! Or whether he is a heretic, impersonating the Saint! All be seated!!”

Those who had risen in unison take their seats.

A chilling silence swirls within the courtroom.

The judge at the tribunal stares down at me with a blank face.

I swallow hard and meet his gaze.

“Jericho Amael.”

“Yes. That is me.”

“First, I ask you this. Are you an Apostle of the Graceful Goddess?”

Finally!!

Finally, it’s here!!

I close my eyes tightly and smile.

Finally, farewell.

My own saintly act, so far above my station.

“I am not an apostle sent by the Goddess of Grace. Esteemed Judge. I am no saint.”

A low murmur began to ripple through the crowd at those words.

But what does it matter?

I plan to lay it all bare today.

“Does this mean you admit to impersonating the Saint of Grace?”

“I have never, not once, uttered from my own lips that I was an apostle of Grace. I merely healed people. At some point, those around me began to call me a saint. I did not intentionally impersonate a saint… But yes. If this is impersonation, then I suppose it is.”

I nodded meekly.

The murmuring swelled, louder and louder.

But I had nothing to hide.

“I am too weak, too insignificant, too foolish a being to be called a saint.”

Frankly, compared to those otherworld reincarnators I’ve seen in novels and anime, I’m truly useless.

I don’t even excel at fighting.

Nor do I possess exceptional reincarnation skills.

I’m just a plain, ordinary human being with nothing special about me.

“What was your reason for healing people, even though you were not a Saint of God?”

At the Judge’s words, I looked toward the witches.

More precisely, at the four-armed witch, Erpha.

Hmm.

To be honest, that b*stard is a real piece of shit!!

“I tried to burn down the Empire!”

Saying that would probably set off that nuke-witch again, make her explode.

So, gotta fudge it.

Not a lie, but not exactly the truth either, a hazy answer.

“Because they were pitiful.”

“Pitiful?”

“I saw children, not getting proper care, abandoned in the streets. I saw the poor waiting to die, day after day, without hope. I saw a family collapsing under the weight of their daughter’s incurable disease. I felt sorry for them. So I healed them.”

All of it was true.

I was trying to survive by healing that nuke-witch, sure, but I truly wanted to heal those pitiful people too.

They really were unhappy humans, a sight that brought tears to your eyes.

Of course, that doesn’t mean I want to be struck by divine punishment and roasted alive.

So this saint act ends today.

“That’s the only reason?”

“Yes. I still don’t know why they call me a saint of the Graceful Goddess. I just acted on instinct. I am no saint. I’m just a foolish, stupid person who happened to gain the ability to heal people.”

Finally, I look at the people from the Lilia Order.

They must have been deeply shocked, because some priests were even kneeling, staring blankly at me.

Especially Grand Priest Yodel, his eyes were brimming with tears.

Yeah.

I understand.

It must have been a big shock.

Still, what can I do?

This is the truth.

“My body bears no stigmata. I have never heard the voice of the Goddess Lilia. I haven’t read a single line of the Scripture of Grace. I am just a common human being, with no connection to the Goddess whatsoever.”

Finally, I took a long, deep breath and exhaled.

“Let me state it clearly one last time. I am not a Saint. I am merely someone who has healed the sick and the weak. Therefore, Judge, please render a wise judgment.”

My words were done.

The judge seated at the bench called over several clerics of the Silent Order and was muttering something small with them, while the people watched me, continuing to murmur amongst themselves.

Every single one of the Lilia Order folk were in tears.

A bitter yet relieved smile formed at the edge of my lips.

Yes.

This is right.

This is the truth.

It will be shocking, but in time, it will all be forgotten.

Even though I didn’t want it, I’m sorry for deceiving you all this time.

Goodbye forever, with this…….

“Jericho Amael.”

The judge at the bench looked at me and smirked ever so slightly.

“Congratulations on passing the first trial.”

The moment the judge’s words fell, the clerics of the Lilia Order cried out in unison.

“He denied his divinity!! Ah, Saint!!”

“You will arrive with a pure body!! Is it not as the scriptures foretold?!”

“Ignorant and glorious you shall be!! Saint! Saint!”

They screamed towards me with voices of passion, unmatched by anything before.

Fanatics. Utterly so.

Wait, what is this?

What is even happening?

I told you, I’m not a saint.

I just said it clearly!

Why are you calling me a saint?!