Wasn’t This a Night Game

Virtuous Cycle

The Countess’s tear-stained face twisted with bewilderment and surprise at the Count’s outburst.

But no matter how great her surprise was.

It was nothing compared to that of her son, Henry.

Henry had his mouth practically hanging open, staring at his wailing father with a shocked expression.

But no matter what he did or didn’t do.

The Count’s mouth, with its 100% honesty stat, showed no signs of stopping.

“Your talent was just too exceptional!!! From a young age, you were called a genius!! I had no doubt that you would inherit the family business and build a company even greater than mine!! But music! Why would you want to do music of all things, something that doesn’t even make money! Don’t you think your talent is wasted!! I only scolded you because of those thoughts!!”

The Count hugged his own chest tightly.

Perhaps it was because he looked so heartbreaking.

Henry hesitated, rising from his seat.

“Ah, Father.”

“I had hoped you’d pull yourself together and carry on the family name!! Because you possessed a talent greater than mine! Because you were my proud son!! I pressured you, praying you would inherit the estate! But now I regret it!! Why did you hang yourself! How could you, in front of your parents!!… How could you do that in front of us!! Not a single day has been joyous since you died! Henry! Not a single day have I been happy!”

“Dear!!”

The Countess embraced the Count, both erupting in sobs.

The Count’s soliloquy didn’t cease.

“Now you don’t have to carry on the family name. Just be my son, Henry… Just live!! Call me a demon if you like! Hate me if you must! Son! Just live! Don’t die, just stay healthy… Just live like that!!!”

Henry’s face was a tangled mess as he watched the weeping Count.

He pondered for a long while, then finally turned his head.

“It’s too late now, no matter what. Already too late…”

Aish!!

Shi-bal, what a frustrating b*stard!!

You too, you fucking, poong!!!

[Honesty meter: MAXED OUT!!]

“I wanted to be a son Father could be proud of!!!!”

Henry, too, collapsed into his seat, wailing.

Now it was Count Levaton, the father, who was taken aback.

“I wanted to make Father happy with the things I was good at!! I can’t live without music!! I was only happy when I was playing an instrument!! I wanted to become the most famous, the most successful musician, and help Father!! I wanted Father to look at me and say he was proud!!”

“You are already my proud son!! There was never a time you weren’t!! Yes!! Make music! If that’s what resonates in your soul, then do it, son!! Nothing else matters now! I just need you! I just need you!!”

“Why!!… Why didn’t you say so sooner!! Why!!”

“Forgive me. Forgive me, son!!”

Henry clutches at his father.

And the three, as one family, begin to wail, to truly weep.

I quietly released the absolute hypnosis I’d placed on father and son.

And waited for the family to finish their lament.

A long while later.

The family, having emptied themselves of tears, slowly stood from the floor.

“I am ashamed. Holy One.”

Count Le Batton spoke, his eyes swollen and red.

I smiled, shaking my head.

“On the contrary, it was good to see. Count. A heart that cares for another rots the more it is concealed. Like today. From now on, show your feelings honestly. The good things, you must gather strength and share them.”

“I will… I will surely do that. Thank you.”

“Come here.”

I took the Count and Countess’s hands.

It wasn’t just anything, but an incident where their son attempted suicide.

Their bodies could not possibly be normal.

As expected, the Countess had issues with her stomach and digestion, and the Count was suffering from hair loss and serious problems with his vision.

I healed all of it.

“Ah!…”

“Ho… Holy One…”

“Don’t hate each other, stay together. If you understand and yield to each other, it will only enrich you further.”

“Thank you. Thank you!! Saint Amael!!”

“Don’t try to bind your son. If you bind clay, the form won’t hold, only the fingerprints remain.”

“I was foolish. Saint!”

He turns his gaze from the weeping father to look at the son.

“Don’t abandon the music. But neither should you abandon the family trade.”

Arts and entertainment are hard. Times are different, you know. No YouTube back then, no music dedicated sites.

Even with genius talent, it’s hard to make a living.

“Don’t abandon either, instead think of how to connect your music with the family trade. A car where you can listen to music while driving. Wouldn’t that be something?”

At my words, the son, Henry, widens his eyes and trembles.

It seemed a tremendous inspiration pierced his brain.

“T-Thank you! Saint! Thank you! I’ll remember those words!!”

I give a contented smile and step back from the family.

“I’ll be going now.”

“S-Saint!! A meal, perhaps!! ……”

Forget it.

After going through something like that, they need time to talk as a family.

Besides, you’re already cured, you have no value as my customers.

Better to go out in society and spread the rumors!

That way other nobles will seek me out, that way I can stick closer to the noble houses!!

“I shall depart. May your household always be filled with laughter.”

“Thank you! Thank you!!”

I exchanged farewells and then slipped out from the noble family’s estate.

Hah!

That should be enough.

Now the rumors will spread, and then the other nobles will keep trying to use me.

Then, naturally, I’ll become the exclusive saint of the noble families, and then the poor will curse me as they leave.

Old Man Yodel, too.

And the people of the Lilia Order will distance themselves from me.

That’s it!! I’m now completely out of reach of divine retribution!!

*

After the saint had vanished.

The Count Levatton family enjoyed a meal together, just the three of them, for the first time in ages.

Was it because they had wept and poured out their tears in one go?

Or perhaps because the saint had cleansed and healed their bodies so thoroughly?

The rift of emotions that had built and built for such a long period had vanished as if washed away.

“Father.”

“Yes. Henry. Speak.”

“It might be late, but…I’ll still take over the automobile business, even now. I will study and strive to carry on the family trade.”

“No. You don’t have to say such things to please me, Henry. Do what you desire. If you want to pursue music, you are welcome to do so.”

“Nay. The Saint’s words keep echoing in my head. A carriage that plays music. A carriage where one can listen to music whilst driving. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Henri’s words, which had drawn a pleased smile from the Count, sobered his expression.

“Indeed… we must create a new distinction. That path doesn’t seem so bad.”

“What would be needed, to allow music in an automobile?”

“We’d have to make the gramophone smaller, I reckon. Small enough to fit inside a carriage. And folk would tire of hearing only one or two tunes, so they’d need to choose from a variety of music at their whim.”

“Small it must be. Exceedingly small to be feasible. Far smaller and easier to handle than the gramophones of today.”

“Perhaps miniaturize a jukebox and put it in a carriage?”

“Not a bad notion. But a more fundamental solution is required. A small music storage medium. Easy to carry, light in weight, and with a sound clarity far superior to the gramophone.”

Watching the father and son, lost in their discussion, the Countess smiled.

“It warms my heart. Truly. The two of you. Ah, it feels like a dream. That our family should have this chance to dine together once more.”

The Count of Lebaton chuckled at his wife’s words.

“It seems, my son, that repaying the Saint’s kindness takes precedence over developing a music-playing carriage.”

“Agreed. He mentioned purifying District 3, the slums, did he not?”

“Aye. So, what if…”

“What do you propose?”

“We build a new tire factory there. The location isn’t bad. The problem has been that no one’s considered business there, on account of the high crime. But if law and order were established, District 51 would boast the closest proximity to the capital’s exterior.”

“Come to think of it, really!”

“The raw materials for tires arrive from the Tramata Kingdom, passing through District 51. It would shorten the journey to the capital! Even without owing a debt of gratitude, it’s a rather sound business plan!”

Henri and the Countess nodded in agreement.

“Not a bad idea! It is good!”

“I must meet Jonathan Karma, first thing tomorrow. I have to have words with him.”

Count Levaton kept his word.

The very next day.

He sought out Jonathan Karma.

Jonathan seemed ready to jump for joy at the prospect of a conversation.

“Hahaha! This is splendid! Do come in! If you do, I can offer the elixir needed to run your factory at half the market price!”

“Half price, you say?”

“Considering the distance, it’s even feasible to lay a direct line underground for supply. Establishing a factory or business in District Three of the slums makes such a cheap elixir offering entirely possible.”

Count Levaton’s eyes darted about, frantic.

His businessman’s instincts had caught a scent.

“See that you keep that promise.”

From that day forth, Count Levaton completely scrapped his tire factory establishment plan.

An astronomical amount of elixir was required daily to operate a factory, but at half price, it would be a business that more than paid for itself.

Word that a factory was to be built in the vacant 51st district spread like wildfire in all directions.

Naturally, curiosity abounded.

And to the question of why the factory was being built in the slums of all places, Count Levaton replied with a smile.

“I can get the elixir needed to run the factory at half price, you see.”

The rumor took hold.

And the number of enterprises looking to set up shop in the slums began to increase, one by one.

For the civil servants managing District Three of the slums, it was a sight that left them speechless.

“This isn’t the time for this, is it?”

“Gather the laborers! We’ll mobilize them for the factory construction!”

“To avoid desecrating the Healer Saint’s name, we’ll abide by his rules within his district. Wages will be the same as what Karma Company offers!”

One salred per day’s work.

Jobs began to appear suddenly, increasing.

The slum’s poor had no trouble finding employment.

Factories began rising everywhere, and after receiving money for tearing down the homes they lived in, the poor even received consolation money, allowing them to move into the new housing district Karma Company was building.

Hope.

A word unimaginable in the slums, hope began to spread, bit by bit.

They ate well, slept well, and had work.

The streets were no longer dirty, and people no longer looked down on them.

Their bodies grew healthier, and more than anything, the thought that tomorrow would be different from today moved them.

“The Healer Saint truly is amazing. He healed my son’s illness of thirteen years in an instant. Something no clergyman from any order could cure!”

“We must offer donations. To simply stand by after experiencing such grace is not the way of a person.”

The nobles who heard of Count Levaton’s affairs continued to summon the Healer Saint through Cecilia.

And those who experienced such miracles never forgot the grace, repaying it without fail.

More donations.

More capital poured into Slum District 3 and the Lilia Order.

“We cannot simply stay like this! To let this much money sit idle is to sin against the Goddess!!”

High Priest Yodel put the flood of donations to thrifty use.

The Lilia temples in the southern provinces received circulars, calling for the large-scale drafting of priests skilled in healing.

The Saint couldn’t keep caring for all the sick alone, not forever.

Gathering the drafted priests, Yodel established a clinic within the Mage Tower Temple.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to call it the Empire’s best clinic.

All manner of high-grade medicines and various magical potions were supplied without stinting.

“Only send to the Saint those in truly critical condition! Those beyond the aid of miracle or medicine! The Saint must rest, too!!”

A virtuous cycle.

An endless virtuous cycle was being established.

Everyone was happy.

‘No, goddamn it!! Why!! Why!! I wanted to be a corrupt Saint, leaching off the nobles, so why aren’t they leaving while cursing me!! Don’t they care about money?? Stop donating, already!!’

Only one person.

Instead of people cursing him and leaving, Saint Amael, beloved by nobles and commoners alike, was unhappy.