This Isn’t an Erotic Game?

Erpha made a surprised expression.

“Why… is such a person living in such a shabby apartment?”

“I told you, didn’t I? He had tremendous misfortune.”

Yorgen began to unfold the story with a sigh, “Several bad things happened at once, overlapping in a way that made you wonder how someone could be so unlucky. He was a distributor who moved various goods between the Kingdom of Tramata and the Arcal Empire, but one day while transporting elixir, the transport vehicle suddenly exploded.”

Erpha opened her mouth in disbelief.

“It suddenly exploded?”

“According to later research findings, it was discovered that when large amounts of elixir are gathered, static electricity is sometimes induced with rare probability. It exploded due to that static electricity. Of course, this was unknown knowledge at that time.”

“So what happened?”

“Because of that, the elixir transport trucks lined up behind it caused a chain explosion. In an instant, Jonathan’s company not only suffered massive losses but also faced damage claims from nearby residents who had suffered great losses from the elixir explosion.”

“It’s an actual incident that happened. It became the catalyst for establishing a new regulation that all elixir transport means must install lightning protection magic circles as a necessity.”

Erpha was speechless at this unbelievable misfortune. But Yorgen’s story wasn’t over yet.

“But that wasn’t the end. The finance minister of the Tramata royal family, who was supposed to pay Jonathan’s company, suddenly died of a heart attack. The royal family suspected poisoning, and because of that, a power struggle broke out within the royal family over the minister’s death. The payment that was supposed to be made within a month was postponed indefinitely.”

“…”

“Later, it was revealed that it was really an acute heart attack due to overwork, not an assassination.”

“How could such…”

“On top of that, his wife Oliviera had a difficult childbirth and her health deteriorated. Oliviera was a woman who deserved the modifier of genius when it came to numbers. She was a woman who could handle enormous amounts of money coming in and going out as if looking at the palm of her hand. The person who knew all the cash flows of Jonathan’s company suddenly collapsed.”

Erpha was at a loss for words.

Unless they were under some curse, the situation couldn’t have possibly deteriorated this much.

Yorgen let out a deep sigh.

“In the end, he had no choice but to close down the company. Still, I heard that he had saved quite a lot of money, and when his wife recovered and the child had grown to some extent, he started a new business with that money. It was a toy factory. It was incredibly popular. At one time, all the children in the capital played with toys from Jonathan’s company.”

“Was it to that extent?”

“Yes, it was to that extent. Do you know what’s even more frightening? It’s their daughter Cecilia. Perhaps because she inherited her mother’s brain and her father’s charisma. I heard that a child who was only 5 years old helped her father make various business decisions together.”

Yorgen burst into laughter, seemingly recalling those times.

“I even heard that she conducted market research and directly designed toys from a child’s perspective, leading to a big hit. I heard her business sense was at a level that surpassed her father’s. Among the people I’ve seen, she was a genius comparable to you, Erpha.”

“A young child really did business with her father?”

“It’s not a lie, really. I heard that by the time she was 12, she was managing and supervising the entire factory. That was the last news I heard. After that, it became quiet, so I thought they might have closed the business again… To think that their daughter Cecilia had the rotting disease. They really have no luck at all.”

After hearing all this, Erpha couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh.

“…I thought they were just ordinary people, but to think they were such amazing people.”

A legend of self-made success in the distribution industry.

A woman who could see enormous cash flows as if looking at the palm of her hand.

And even a possessor of genius business sense who had ran an entire factory at the age of 12.

With the elixir source in the abandoned factory as well, the person he strongly pointed out was too perfectly fitting talent, as if drawn.

What was this natural flow that would be criticized even if written as a novel?

“Miracles really do exist, Tower Master. There’s no other way to interpret this.”

At Erpha’s words, curiosity amplified even more in Tower Master Yorgen’s eyes.

“Is this what the Saint of Healing ordered?”

“Yes. He is at the center of all this. As someone walking the path of magic, I know it’s not good to use words like miracle or coincidence, but… It’s no exaggeration to say that there are no words to express this other than God’s miracle. How can the necessary beings appear right away at the necessary moments like this?”

Yorgen looked like he could no longer contain himself at those words.

“You said he’s in the slums, right? That person called the Saint of Healing.”

“Yes.”

“I should go visit him sometime. I’m curious. What a real saint looks like, that is.”

To think that such a strongly curiosity-stimulating subject would appear in the latter part of his life.

Yorgen said that with rarely passionate eyes shining.

At those words, Erpha smiled.

“I’ll introduce you. You’ll definitely be surprised when you meet him.”

“Alright. Let’s meet him. I’m really curious about what kind of person he is.”

If the Saint of Healing had heard this conversation, he would have screamed for them not to come, but unfortunately or fortunately.

The saint was not present at this moment.

***

Another hectic day passed by.

The area around the abandoned factory where I had completely settled down felt like it had become a holy site for the poor.

They slept on the stone floor that was as warm as ondol heating, and when they woke up in the morning, the priests of the Lilia Order distributed free meals at the soup kitchen.

Was that all?

“Give them work. Give them work and pay them generously. That is the will of grace.”

As I ordered for the Lilia Order bankruptcy project, High Priest Aloysius paid the poor people a generous, even explosive amount of 1 saled as daily wages in exchange for their work.

In return, the poor were cleaning up the slums.

Picking up trash, cleaning mud soaked in filth and sewage, bringing the sick to me, and planting trees on the bleak city streets.

They were mobilized to work on purifying the surrounding area and in return, they were getting meals and food.

Still, I was anxious.

It wasn’t just anything, but elixir known as blue gold, was gushing out in the middle of the abandoned factory area.

Although I had no doubt that our Jonathan Karma would mess it up, I was still worried that there might be a possibility it could go well.

To cause bankruptcy, I needed to waste more money.

“Build public toilets. The disease occurs because feces and urine are scattered on the streets. No matter how much I treat them, if they stay close to filth, they’ll get sick again. And select people to manage those places and have them clean every day.”

“I will follow! Saint!!”

“Build bathhouses. Proper grace dwells in a clean body. Draw water from the waterworks and build and distribute public bathhouses. Being clean, well-washed, and well-fed is grace. Spend money generously and build the cleanest and nicest bathhouses possible.”

“I will follow! Saint!!”

High Priest Yodel had now reached a state where he would happily eat shit if I told him to.

Seeing him enthusiastically agreeing to whatever I ordered, I could feel a little relieved.

It wasn’t like pouring water into a bottomless jar.

Even the Lilia Order’s money supply would have to dry up if they kept spending money endlessly like this.

Plus, Jonathan Karma’s business funds also had to come from the Lilia Order.

If this went well, bankruptcy might be possible within a few months.

People might curse me for going bankrupt while helping people like this, but they wouldn’t go so far as to burn me at the stake.

Maybe they’ll say the saint was kind but truly incompetent. Then they’d leave and never see me again. That’s what will surely happen, right?

Thinking that, I was busy treating patients, feeding them, putting them to sleep, giving them work, building bathhouses, making them clean, building toilets, and wasting money.

No matter how I thought about it, this didn’t seem right.

“Money? We don’t need it!! The Saint healed my mother! I’ll build it for free, as if making an offering!!”

Public toilets were built for free. And in multiple places.

“Before I lost my hand, I was a successful stonemason. Money? I shouldn’t receive that as a human being. I’ll just do this for you.”

When I neatly healed another poor person who had been living like a cripple with his hand cut off, it turned out he was a famous stonemason.

He quickly gathered people and started building a bathhouse.

Was that all?

“Let’s repay the grace we received from the Saint!!”

“Grace for grace!!”

People didn’t stop even during the evening hours when they weren’t given daily wages, passionately cleaning the surrounding area, organizing garbage, sweeping, and wiping the floors.

It hadn’t even been a week, but already the surrounding roads had changed into clean and neat brick roads, to the point where I doubted if they were the same dirty, muddy roads I saw when I first came.

“This is an offering.”

“This is my heart. Please accept it.”

“I run a vegetable stand. If vegetables are okay, please accept them.”

“I run a butcher shop. If old meat is okay, please accept it.”

“You healed my son’s eyes. I’ll donate all the bread left over after a day’s operation. Share it with the poor.”

“I was once a chef at a famous restaurant. Give me ingredients and I’ll cook and share with people.”

Donated ingredients kept flowing into the free soup kitchen, strange people kept appearing from somewhere to throw money as offerings, and among the people I had healed, those with cooking talent kept repeating the process of cooking and distributing food to people on their own.

“Saint. We’ve saved an enormous amount of money. We can even cover Jonathan Karma’s initial business funds with the continuous donations!!”

Damn it!!

Why are you doing this to me, really!?

Why are you doing this!?

Go bankrupt!

Please just go bankrupt!!

Why is everything going well and shit!!

My cursed fate seemed determined to make me receive divine punishment and die.

I needed another method.

It seemed impossible to escape by causing bankruptcy.

How can I make these people leave me?

How should I…

While I was trembling inwardly like that, healing the poor who had flocked to receive treatment from me early in the morning again today.

Suddenly, the poor people started to part.

Along with that, my thoughts and worries also flew away.

In the distance, a group of people were walking straight towards me, pushing through the crowd.

And at the forefront, a witch with a sharp smile was walking towards me, wearing a Magic Tower witch uniform and a witch hat with a large brim.

“Saint of Healing?”

She, covered in freckles, walked towards me with clicking steps.

Wondering what this situation was, I blinked my eyes, and she giggled and looked at the people behind her.

“How about it? I’m right, aren’t I? This person. He doesn’t use holy power when healing people.”

Those standing behind her were all wearing black clothes.

Black clothes with black masks. And people wearing black shoes and pants.

The only white thing was just one.

Only the snow-white eye-shaped emblem engraved on their chests.

The moment I saw that appearance, I felt like all the blood in my body drained at once.

An emblem that no imperial citizen could not know.

It was the emblem of the Silent Order that worships Le-Neri, the God of Darkness and Secrets.

They weren’t a famous order, nor did they have many believers, rather, they were said to have few believers because they carefully selected their followers, but there was a reason why they gained fame.

It was because they were the heresy inquisitors in charge of heresy interrogation in the Pantheon, an organization created by the 24 officially recognized orders in the empire working together.

“Indeed, no manifestation of holy power was confirmed. Miss Tudel,” a priest of the Silent Order said in a low voice.

At those words, the witch called Tudel burst into laughter, seemingly in a good mood for some reason.

“As expected. My intuition is good. Hey, Saint of Healing.”

She pushed her boot’s high heel between my legs and smiled eerily.

“You’re impersonating the saint of Goddess Lilia, aren’t you, fake?”