Wasn’t This a Night Game

Be Honest, Ya!

{Those doubting flocked to the Prophet, asking:

Why this divide ‘twixt rich and poor? Is it curse? Or the Goddess’s will?

The Prophet answered them, saying:

The wealthy are blessed, but it is to care for the poor.

The doubters scoffed at these words, answering: Then why do the rich torment the poor? Is this also the Goddess’s will?

The Prophet answered, saying:

Until the Saint arrives, they use their blessings selfishly for themselves, but when the Saint arrives, their blessings shall truly be used for the poor.

The Saint is the one who moves hearts, and you shall know this truly when you see their words and deeds.}

-The Gospel of Grace, Chapter 13, Verse 9-

*

I kept on healing people, hard as I could, even today.

Reached the point of just giving up, I did.

Felt like any second now, lightning’d crack down from the sky.

But there’s nothing I can do, not a damn thing.

Run?

They’ll come after me. ‘Cause of that damned irritating miracle of tracking, or whatever the hell they call it.

Asked High Priest Yodel about it, quiet like, a while back. This miracle…

It tracks the soul, so even changing your face ain’t gonna stop ’em.

Shit!

Can’t even declare bankruptcy and be done with it.

Every time I try to bankrupt it, the business just gets better.

I even thought about beating people up on purpose, to drive them away, but what if the ones I punch end up all being evil god worshippers or criminals?

Sounds crazy, but considering the unfair crap I’ve endured, it’s not entirely impossible.

Should I do something insane?

Will people leave me then?

Like, strip naked and dance, harass the women, something like that…

Even now, I’m scared the goddess, who’s constantly prepping a lightning strike, will see I’m tarnishing her name and just send all the divine punishment she’s been holding back straight at me.

Fuck!!

Naturally.

Without getting burned at the stake.

In a way that doesn’t infuriate the goddess any further, but just right.

Smooth and gently making people hate me, so I can disappear.

Isn’t there anything?

“Saint. I have a favor to ask. Would you grant it?”

As I’m diligently healing the poor again today, Cecilia comes slithering up beside me and speaks.

Cecilia.

You betrayed me.

Aren’t rich young women in their twenties usually supposed to be incompetent?

“Oh my! I spent 100 salreds buying a lavish dress today!” Hee hee hee!!

Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?

Just fucking ruin it already!!

Why do you keep…….

Forget it.

I don’t even have the energy to get angry anymore.

“Speak, then.”

“In order to get the budget needed to purify the District 3 slums… I invoked the Saint’s name. I said the Saint would also care for the sick amongst the noble houses. And so, several noble families wish to meet with the Saint.”

“I see.”

“They have children who were frail from birth, or those suffering ailments that no miracle or holy magic could cure. If it pleases you, could you possibly bestow your grace upon them as well?”

Hold on a second.

Listening to the story, a spark.

An idea flashes.

Corrupt Saint!!

Yes!!

If I’m a corrupt Saint, isn’t the proper thing to do to abandon the poor and go meet with the noble families?!

If I cling to the noble houses and only heal those people, the poor will naturally think, that b*stard only heals the ones with money?

That money-grubbing pig! Won’t they all leave me then?

Good!! It’s a perfect plan!

Cecilia.

I apologize for calling you a traitor.

Thanks to you, a path has opened!!

“I shall go. Lead me to those who desire healing.”

Cecilia beams, a joy vast and unchecked.

“Understood! Absolutely!!!”

Done deal!!

To pull off the corrupt saint gig, clinging to a rich house for comfort and ease is only natural!

Now, finally, escape from the divine punishment ending is within reach!!

*

“Oh, Healing Saint. Welcome, welcome.”

Count Levatone was a man who resembled nothing so much as a perfectly maintained symbol of wealthy middle age.

Beside him, a noblewoman, dripping with the same refined aura, smiled upon me.

“Jericho Ahmael. You may simply call me Ahmael.”

“No, no. Such discourtesy. I fear it would reflect poorly on the Grace Order.”

“First, let us eat.”

A living witness to the automotive industry.

Owner of Levatone Corporation.

The legendary figure who inherited the car industry started by the previous Count Levatone and transformed it into the empire’s leading automotive company was now slicing meat before my very eyes.

I shared the meal, prepared with such care by the couple, and directed my inquiries towards them.

“Who is it that I am to heal?”

“It… is our son.”

“What afflicts him?”

The couple hesitated at my words.

“Perhaps… perhaps we should dine first! Talking of such things at the table… ho ho!”

Something about Madame Lebaton’s words felt… off.

Usually, if one sought healing, wouldn’t they usher me immediately to the afflicted, begging for a cure?

Their reluctance held a darker note, a feeling of something amiss.

I laid down my fork and knife.

“Show me the sick one first.”

“Holy One…”

“I wish to see the sick one first.”

The Lebatons exchanged a glance, and, realizing concealment was no longer possible, lowered their heads and rose from the table.

“First… there is something we must make clear. My son did not fall ill as others do, to be like this.”

“Then?”

They couldn’t bring themselves to continue.

Lord Lebaton, his fists clenched tight, Madame Lebaton, her head bowed, after a long, heavy moment, spilled the truth to me as if vomiting it out.

“Three years ago, our son, Henry, tried to hang himself. A servant found him just in time, but since then, he has been in a coma, and has not woken since.”

“We have tried everything. We called in the most famed clerics, used every medicine considered beneficial. Yet, there has been no change. Holy One.”

“The clerics of the Sun Order… they all but said they did not *want* our son to be healed, that no miracle would take hold. It is… it is so painful. Holy One. I beg you. Heal my son.”

The story weighed heavier than I expected, and the few bites of meat I had managed felt like a lump in my throat.

Suicide?

Not some sickness, but suicide?

This was… what kind of mess was this, exactly?

Well, they were begging, so I supposed I’d save him…

Didn’t matter.

I was supposed to be playing the corrupt saint anyway, leeching off the rich, right?

Just dive in.

Fix him, build a name amongst the noble houses, become the personal physician only treating nobles!

“Lead the way.”

“Please, Holy One.”

I followed the couple to their son’s room.

*

After three years of immobility, their son Henry’s condition was… wretched.

A withered, mummy-like state. Henry was barely breathing.

“Step aside.”

I dismissed the servants, both men and women, who had been turning him and wiping him to prevent bedsores. Then I placed my hand on Henry’s head.

Checking his condition with the customization window, a section of his brain was… completely blackened.

So what?

Not like it was hard.

Real brain surgery was unbelievably difficult, but my skills came with huge buffs, letting even someone medically ignorant like me handle them.

[Restore?]

The prompt even popped up, nice and clear.

Without such… adjustments, how could I have played the Healing Saint ’til now?

Nothing to it.

Right.

Shall we fix him up, then?

[Restoration commencing!]

The brain, dead black, is restored just as it was.

And, while I’m at it, I swapped out Henry’s body too.

Pumped muscle into him, cleaned up the ashen skin, restored the hair and all the rest back to how it was.

And thirty seconds later.

[Brain State Restoration complete!]

Henry was perfectly back to normal.

Henry slowly opens his eyes.

I pull myself back from him.

“aaah!!! aaah! Lilia!!”

“Saint! Thank you! Thank you!!!”

The Lebaton couple couldn’t hide their tears as they wept.

Before I could even say a word, a sharp phrase spewed from Henry, fully recovered.

“Why are you in my room?! Why!”

Henry’s cutting voice shattered the cheery atmosphere to pieces.

Turning to look at Henry, I saw he was crying.

Loaded with hate, resentment brimming.

“Get out!! I said GET OUT!! I can’t even stand to look at you!! Get out!!”

Henry’s voice, screaming, makes Count Le Batton regard his son with a heavy, grieving face.

“Henry. You were bedridden for the past three years. You only woke thanks to the help of the Saint of Healing.”

“Who gives a damn!! Why did you save me!! Why!! I wanted to die!! Because I didn’t want to live with revolting b*stards like you!! Why did you save me! Why!!”

Uh…

What is this atmosphere.

The Countess began to shed tears of sorrow, not tears of joy, and the Count, looking lost, could only stare at the ceiling.

“I hate you!! I HATE YOU!!! Get out!! GET OUT!!!!”

Henry’s screaming voice, sharp and shrill, is so damn loud.

This is troublesome.

If I just say something like, ‘Your son’s recovered, so I’ll be taking my leave,’ no other nobles will call for me.

If this is left unchecked, he’s just going to try to kill himself again.

Looks like I’ll have to provide some after-service care for now.

“Henry.”

“And who the hell are you, you son of a b*tch!!!”

Such foul language for a first meeting.

Still, I must endure, what else can I do.

They are my clients, after all.

“Just calm down for now.”

“I’m gonna calm the fu–!!……..”

[Skill Absolute Hypnosis is used!]

“Calm down.”

At my words, Henry stops mid-sentence.

I stare straight at Henry and issue another command.

“Why do you hurl such insults at the parents who bore you and kept you alive? I want to know the reason.”

Henry looks down at his own body as if he can’t understand.

He seemed bewildered and startled, but the effect of Absolute Hypnosis was absolute.

“Father… he never once acknowledged me. I always wanted to do music. Only when I did music did I feel like my life was recovering. I worked hard composing and writing songs, and playing them. But Father, he always scolded me for that. Telling me to stop doing something that wouldn’t make any money and to think about inheriting the family business, the car company.”

As he began to speak, tears started pouring from Henry’s eyes.

Count Levaton, hearing those words, began to sigh deeply as if annoyed.

“One day, we had a big argument, and it was the day I went outside, drank, and came back. He’d burned all the instruments in my room and all the songs I’d composed. And he screamed at me to get my act together and prepare to inherit the family business. I couldn’t stand hearing that. So… “

“You pathetic b*stard!! You incompetent, weakling!! No matter what, how could you hang yourself!! Your mother hasn’t slept properly a single day since then!! She has to take pills!! It’s all your fault!! It’s all because of your weak and incompetent nature!!”

Henry’s voice rises in response to his father’s.

“That’s why I wanted to die!! Father, you’re a demon!! Not once did you see me as a human being, only as a means to carry on the family business!! I hate you!! I regret being born as the son of a demon like you!!”

“You son of a b*tch!!”

Count Levaton raises his hand.

Shit.

This isn’t the picture I drew.

No choice.

“Since I took the job, gotta make sure the AS is solid, right?”

[Activating Skill: Absolute Hypnosis!]

I focused my mind and hypnotized Count Levatong.

Then, I pulled a real simple trick.

[Boosting Honesty Stat to the MAX!!]

“You’re the son I love most in the world!! I love you more than my own life!! Henry!! These three years since your death have been nothing short of hell!!!”

The Count, who was about to slap him, suddenly couldn’t hold back his tears and collapsed, wailing.

Henry, too.

And the Countess as well.

Everyone was staring at the Count in shock.