Wasn’t This a Night Game

Red Flavor

The sudden turn of events seemed to startle the police.

They reflexively drew their pistols and batons, but of course.

They couldn’t swing them, couldn’t shoot.

Naturally.

Just let me get so much as a scratch.

And see what happens.

“Th-this is a blatant obstruction of public authority!”

“To disregard lawful enforcement under Imperial Law and wield miracles like this is an illegal act!”

Yes.

That’s right.

It is an illegal act.

But listen, when I beat up that factory owner and that Baron in the capital, did you think that wasn’t an illegal act then?

“Illegal? I’ll commit one.”

“What?!…”

“So, what exactly can you do about it?”

“…”

“Are you going to shoot me, beat me with your batons, drag me away like a dog and throw me into a camp? Like you did with so many of these workers?”

The police didn’t answer.

Yeah.

It would be a burden, wouldn’t it?

Because I’m a being you’re afraid to touch.

I released the officer I had forcibly suspended in mid-air with time-stop.

He collapsed to the ground with a thud, half-unconscious from being choked.

“When these people are healed, and when they no longer need treatment. I will leave, even if you tell me to stay. Until then, do not stop me.”

The police helped up their unconscious colleague, glanced at me warily, and then retreated, defeated.

The patients and their families, who had been gathered around me, erupted in cheers, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Yeah! Get out of here! You dog-like b*stards!”

“We are human too! We have the right to be treated like humans and to live like humans!”

“Expulsion, my foot! Since when have the pharmaceutical companies and doctors ever thought of us as important!”

Amidst jeers and derision, the police retreated, powerless.

The laborers seemed elated, but I felt a strange unease.

Logically.

A person had appeared who could heal them, for free, without any expenditure of social resources. Shouldn’t they be rejoicing? Why were they trying to drive him away?

Furthermore, to touch me would be to provoke the Imperial Family and the Pantheon?

What could the upper echelons of this place be thinking to enact such measures?

“Saint! My daughter!!”

Such thoughts vanished with the desperate cry of a father who rushed before me, carrying his injured child.

Yes.

What was I doing, concerning myself with logic?

This was a place ruled by greed-crazed b*stards who ground down children for profit.

It was entirely possible the pharmaceutical companies and doctors, feeling their singular hold on the city threatened, had mobilized the police.

“Have no fear, now.”

I placed my hand upon the child’s body and healed her with ease.

Seeing his daughter completely recovered, the father embraced her tightly and began to weep.

“Thank you, Saint! Thank you!”

I patted the man’s shoulder.

“Return home in peace. Your child will suffer no more.”

This was not a path I could tread for long.

I had to prevent my power from growing by consuming faith.

But at least for as long as I could, I intended to do my utmost to save them.

It was in my nature.

To stand idly by when others suffered and I possessed the ability to help… it was simply something I could not do.

*

Most clergy, priests, or paladins, when faced with the law wielded by the police, would generally yield and withdraw.

In the first place, this city was hardly amicable to religion, and few were willing to bear the burden of breaking the law to proselytize.

But this Saint, with infuriating nonchalance, refused to leave so easily.

Furthermore, a common priest could at least be beaten and driven out as a last resort, but this Saint was a person of utmost importance to the Imperial Family and the Pantheon. Such measures were unthinkable.

[That damned Saint!! Just leave! Get out of here!!]

Mammon, even after that, dispatched the police several more times, attempting to banish the Saint.

“How many times must I tell you, your presence here is unlawful! Free treatment is for labor agitators! And assaulting the police on top of that! I am deporting you! Leave this city!”

They tried to keep things as gentle as possible—handcuffs, capture, deportation—lest a clubbing or a gunshot cause the situation to spiral out of control.

Of course, it failed.

The Saint, seeing the police attempting to subdue him by force, silently unwound his belt and gripped it in his hand.

And with a single crack of the whip, he demonstrated a monstrous power, splintering police shields and driving them back.

The way he wielded that belt was less Saint, more berserker.

“Why are you doing this, Saint? Just return to the capital. There’s nothing to gain healing these people here.”

When brute force proved ineffective, they attempted a softer approach.

“It’s filthy and it stinks. By the looks of you, you’re not eating properly, or washing, or resting. I have secured a royal seat for you on the express train. You can shower on the train. Go, wash yourself, eat, drink, rest, and return to the Order of Grace.”

Naturally, this also fell flat.

“Did I not say? I will not leave until I have healed the sick here.”

“Don’t do this. Just return to the capital. Why are you deliberately suffering here? You would receive far better treatment with the Order of Grace.”

“Because this is the right thing to do.”

Mammon felt the urge to manifest on earth and rip that Saint’s mouth off.

The fact that he hadn’t summoned the paladins of the White Order and the Pantheon suggested he was still unaware of Mammon’s machinations behind the scenes in this city.

So, he wasn’t doing this deliberately to spite him, having figured out his identity.

Was he just… genuinely good and kind, and acting out of the goodness of his heart?

[What kind of picture-perfect Saint is this?]

Mammon couldn’t hide his bafflement.

Even among the numerous Chosen of the Pantheon from three hundred years ago, such a person was rare.

The Evil God had come to him, spewing nonsense about Asmodeus, the Demon of Lust, pretending to be a Saint—a claim as believable as a puppy’s fart—but Mammon could see that this was absolutely not Asmodeus.

It was clear that one of the divinities of the Pantheon, fallen to earth during the Heavenly War, had been reborn in a human body.

There was no other way such a fundamentally good being could exist.

[How am I supposed to get rid of this foolishly virtuous fellow?]

Assassination?

Impossible.

The Imperial Family and the Pantheon would descend faster than a bullet.

Deportation?

Didn’t work.

He couldn’t be driven out by force, gentleness didn’t work, shouting about his illegality was ignored.

Then how to drive him out?

A single method surfaced in Mammon’s mind.

[If I cannot torment you into leaving, how about I inflict suffering upon those around you?]

The people around him suffering because of him.

From Mammon’s experience, this method worked particularly well on benevolent beings.

And that saintly fellow healing people in his city was the most virtuous being he had yet seen.

[What if I show you the workers around you suffering because of your saintly deeds? What then? Will you still endure?]

*

Peter and Anna, along with Jim and Amy, were in charge of running the free soup kitchen and distributing food to the people.

Even in their own poverty, their kindness, which had led them to share black bread with me, shone brightly once more.

“Saint. Please have some soup.”

Having spent over twelve hours tirelessly healing, my mind was reaching its limit.

My body could be rested with physical modification, but my spirit was faltering.

Anna, noticing my weary expression and frequent sighs, offered me soup and spoke those words.

After drinking the soup, I lay down on the bare ground to rest my eyes for a brief moment.

There was no time to waste.

I would sleep for just one hour and then quickly get up again.

To prevent the Demon King’s power from growing any further, I couldn’t stay here much longer.

I had to leave soon, and before that, I had to heal as many people as possible.

Perhaps the workers, covered with blankets over rags salvaged from somewhere, had only just closed their eyes for a moment.

A sound of shattering woke me.

“Why, why are you doing this?!”

“A free soup kitchen, is it? A deed that laborists would certainly approve of. We are deeply suspicious of whether or not you are a laborist. We will need to take you in for interrogation.”

I could see the police smashing the free soup kitchen to pieces.

And this time, unlike the police they had sent several times before, their level of armament was completely different.

A special forces unit wearing steam-powered exoskeletons, armed with rifles and electric shock batons, were mercilessly beating and arresting people.

I quickly rose to my feet at the sight.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

One of the officers, seemingly the leader, glanced at me and smiled thinly.

“We are apprehending subversive elements suspected of being laborists. Is there perhaps… a problem?”

Peter and Anna. Jim and Amy were being handcuffed.

I roared in fury.

“How can it be a crime to open a soup kitchen, to feed the hungry, and to heal the sick?!”

“You are enacting precisely what the labor activists preach! Shameless villains, demanding welfare without contributing a thing. Uttering the preposterous drivel that the city’s taxes should be used to feed talentless trash.”

“Not a single penny of tax money went into it! It was all from my personal fortune! How can that be grounds for punishment?!”

“Even if it were done with personal funds, their actions embolden labor activists and incite social unrest. They deserve to be punished.”

“Release Peter and Anna’s family! Immediately!!!”

I undid my belt and gripped it in my hand. The police, having faced me once before, flinched and recoiled.

Even the special forces commander, seeing my actions, waved his hand and slowly backed away.

“You’re really going all out. I suppose the Saint thinks laws and rules don’t apply to him. But do you know what? Those laws and rules *do* apply to *them*.”

The commander chuckled.

Then, as if for all to hear, he shouted,

“From this moment forward, anyone who seeks treatment from the Saint will be deemed a subversive and fired from their jobs!! Furthermore, they will be suspected of being labor activists, interrogated, and, in a crisis, imprisoned in a detention camp!!”

The word ‘fired’ froze the faces of all the workers.

“The Saint will not be able to save all of you. Police will be deployed throughout the city. And they will arrest you, put you on trial, and throw you into camps. The Saint may save some, but not all. Do you want to be fired? Do you want to be imprisoned?”

At his words, the workers and the families of the patients ground their teeth.

Yet, with anxious eyes, they could not bring themselves to step forward.

Fired.

It seemed that they feared being fired even more than being imprisoned.

Wow…

They were fighting dirty, truly despicable.

If it were just me alone, I could use time-stopping or hypnosis to somehow manage, but when they declared they would target all of them, it was obvious I couldn’t protect everyone.

The commander, noticing my wavering gaze, sidled up to me.

“Saint. Do you really wish to see them suffer for your actions?”

“…Why are you going this far?”

“I should be asking you that. They are, at best, penniless, filthy, uneducated laborers. Why do you go to such lengths for them?”

“….”

“Let’s be honest. We can’t touch you. But we can do whatever we want with them. Don’t let them suffer any longer. Just leave. If you continue your healing tomorrow, it won’t be you, but them, who will suffer.”

The police released Peter and Anna, as well as Jim and Amy.

“I’ve remembered your faces. Commit one more act that smacks of subversion, and you’ll be sent to the detention camp immediately.”

Following the brutal warning,

the police withdrew.

A free meal kitchen, utterly wrecked.

Several workers, already beaten, seemingly while I slept.

But above all else,

“Aye. Knew it’d come to this.”

“What’s the point of gettin’ healed anyway? Just gonna get hurt again…”

The greatest trouble was the way everyone had begun to slump into a bitter despair.

I clenched my fist tight.

Dragging all of them back to Karma Company in the capital was impossible.

Creating jobs for hundreds of thousands of laborers, even for Karma Company with its overflowing elixir, was out of the question.

Then… would things be any better somewhere else?

No.

The Empire’s other factories, too.

Most of the other jobs are just like this one.

Even if we ran, there’d be no paradise.

Just here.

Just this ending, of being treated like livestock, worked to death.

“Saint.”

Peter limped toward me.

He offered a sad smile.

“Best be leavin’. You’ve done enough already. There’s nothin’ more you can do for us.”

“…”

“Thank you… for everything.”

Peter forced another smile, then began to return to the barracks with his family.

The other laborers were the same.

They bowed low to me in thanks before starting to leave me behind.

My fist clenched tighter, knuckles about to crack.

Is this right?

Is this *right*?

“Is it truly necessary to hound me so relentlessly for simply treating people?

What did those folks do to deserve this?

Why are you going to such lengths, dammit!!

Why must you stoop to such filthy, underhanded tactics, you sons of b*tches!!”

“STOP!!!!”

I screamed, aiming the shout at the workers who were trying to leave me behind.

Shabby clothes clad wretched figures, their eyes turning back to me, hollow with the absence of hope.

I held the gaze of every single one of them as I slowly, deliberately,

climbed atop the wreckage of the shattered soup kitchen, now nothing more than rubble.

All eyes were on me.

In this instant.

The path to Hell.

The fury of the Goddess.

The power of Asmodeus pulsing within me.

All of it.

Forgotten.

All I felt was one thing.

Rage.

Only rage.

Alright.

I’ll admit it.

My skills from dating sims are useless in this situation.

But factory owners.

There’s something you don’t know.

I’m not just skilled in dating sims, I’m a reincarnated soul, too.

I cast a body modification spell on myself to amplify my voice.

And with every ounce of anger I possessed, I bellowed.

“A SPECTER IS HAUNTING THE EMPIRE!!!!”