Wasn’t This a Night Game

Another Spoiler

The last thing I remembered was Mammon impaling my heart with his long, pointed arm like a spike.

The chilling and gruesome sensation of my heart bursting remained vividly in my mind, and I still recalled the feeling of my body growing cold and sinking into water.

I seemed to have glimpsed a sight of the Goddess Lilia briefly appearing before me and then fading away.

And then…

Peace.

It was so peaceful.

A soft and comforting sensation, devoid of pain, misfortune, or fear, enveloped my entire body.

I was thinking I did not want to wake up from that hazy bliss.

[It’s all done. You’ll be alright now.]

A warm voice reached my ears.

In that unreal feeling, indistinguishable from a dream or illusion, I lifted my head at that voice, like an auditory hallucination.

I feel a woman embracing me.

Multiple pairs of wings, I could see, sprouted from behind her.

The wings on the right shimmered with a white light, holy in its brilliance, while the wings on the left were black, repulsive even to look upon.

And then, strangely, one of the black wings twitched, trembling before my very eyes, slowly shifting into the same white as those on the right.

What is this?

Another one of my soothsaying abilities’ arbitrary, self-serving visions of the world’s end?

I twisted my head, trying to see the face of the being cradling me.

But I couldn’t make it out.

Her face was obscured by a golden light, so dazzling it threatened to blind me.

“Who… who are you?” I managed, my voice hazy.

She stroked my cheek in response.

[That is not for me to answer. It is you who must answer. What do you wish for me to be?]

What utter nonsense is this?

Is this some kind of Zen riddle?

“Where am I? Am I dead? Is this hell? Is this heaven?”

[That too depends on your definition. Where do you wish to be? Do you desire hell? Or heaven?]

A rather obvious question, wouldn’t you say?

“Heaven. I want it to be heaven.”

[Then it shall be so. Amael. Remember this. Everything will change depending on your choices. If you choose heaven, it will become heaven.]

She pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

[You who will suffer alone henceforth. Now, go forward.]

The light began to intensify.

I flailed my arms.

“Who are you?! Tell me who you are!”

She offered no answer.

And then, in the next instant.

A chilling sense of reality abruptly returned to me.

Wasn’t I just pierced through the heart?

But what is this?

This body, overflowing with vitality?

This mind, near-perfectly clear?

A moment defying all common sense.

A single hope bloomed within me.

Yes.

I must be dead, then?

Already deceased once before.

Mamon himself descended and wrecked me; my soul, surely, was shattered beyond repair.

Please.

When I open my eyes, let it be the familiar ceiling of my little studio apartment.

Let my hand, groping blindly, find the smartphone next to my pillow.

When I open the window, let cars and densely packed concrete structures fill my vision.

Please, I beg you.

Korea.

It *has* to be Korea…

“H-Holy One!! Holy One!!”

Ah.

No good.

Just in case, I closed my eyes and opened them again, but the scenery before me remained unchanged.

Old Man Yodel.

I see Old Man Yodel.

And behind him, the paladins of the Grace Order stand in formation.

The weeping eye emblazoned on their armor, clear and unmistakable.

Ah.

Not Korea, then.

I didn’t die.

No.

Mamon pierced my heart.

Shouldn’t I be dead?

Why am I still alive?

No, why, *why*!?

“Holy One!!”

“Ah, blessed Saintess!”

“Prophet of grace!”

“Praise Lilia!”

Witnessing the collective worship after so long, I felt more bewildered than joyful.

Seriously, even after Mammon himself descended and tried to turn me into a donut, I didn’t die? What am I supposed to do then?

What do I have to do to finally kick the bucket?!

Should I be happy?

Or despondent?

Unable to tell, I stared blankly at old man Yodel.

“Saintess. It seems you must go to the Imperial Princess first.”

Wiping away tears, old man Yodel extended a hand towards me.

“She wishes to consult with you regarding maintaining order and cleaning up the aftermath in Scrap Yard. Are you able to go?”

Hearing those words, it finally clicked.

Right.

Didn’t I end up like this because I incited a general strike among the workers?

I sighed deeply and rose from my seat.

Failed to die again.

Just like with the fragment of the Evil God.

And now this.

Why can’t I even die when I want to?

But regardless.

Since I’m stuck alive, I need to clean up the mess I made, right?

“Please, lead the way.”

I wouldn’t want the workers of this city to suffer.

*

Almene and Iomene, despite seeing me, maintained cold and composed expressions, not even raising an eyebrow.

In their hearts, they must be pleased, but the atmosphere of the place they were sitting wasn’t conducive to friendly greetings.

The grand hall inside the Town Hall, where all administrative and political decisions for Scrap Yard were made, was currently filled with factory owners, labor activists, and figures from the Pantheon and the Imperial Court, seemingly brought here by Iomene and Almene, creating a suffocatingly heavy atmosphere.

“So, are you implying that the root cause of this entire situation lies with us? Mr. Bias?”

“Indeed! I told you he had it!! This rebel scum, defying the Imperial Law!! I knew you labor theorists were shady, but I never imagined I’d live to see you in league with demon worshippers!! And don’t call me by my name! Address me as Mayor!”

“Demon worshippers aren’t exactly absent among the factory owners either!! But you conveniently ignore that and pin everything on the labor theorists? Truly magnificent! I could pluck your eyes out and discard them, Bias. They hardly seem to be serving their function anyway!!”

“Karl Lenaro!! You miserable son of a b*tch!! Call me Mayor!! Have you any sense of security!!”

“Enough!! Enough!! Silence, both of you!”

Only after Gerson, the High Priest of the Order of Silence, whom I’d seen at my own heretical questioning, raised his voice did both sides finally shut their mouths. Yet the murderous air between them remained thick.

“Esteemed Princess. Distinguished guests of the Pantheon. And interrogators of the Black Fortress. This man before you, Karl Lenaro, the ringleader of the labor theorists, is a repeat offender of the Imperial Law. He has committed countless acts of terrorism against public authority and striven to ruin legitimately operated businesses.”

The Mayor of Scrapyard, the one Karl Lenaro persistently called “Bias,” spoke with refined politeness, gesturing towards Karl Lenaro as he did.

“Furthermore, although I haven’t verified it personally, I’ve heard that the Saint was attacked and collapsed by demon worshippers while among them. Isn’t it obvious? They’re the ones who conspired with demons to murder the Saint. Seize them immediately and execute them, whether for heresy or whatever other charge applies.”

“Bias, you son of a b*tch!! It’s a fabrication! We never tried to kill the Saint!!”

The Mayor ignored Karl Lenaro’s outburst and turned to me, who had just entered the room, smiling broadly.

“Saint! Perfect timing! Give your testimony! Weren’t you attacked while among the labor theorists? Tell us the truth!! We must unveil the entire situation, mustn’t we?”

Mayor Bias looked at me with hopeful eyes, while Karl Lenaro averted his gaze, unsure what expression he should wear.

The last time I met him…

Relations between Karl Lenaro, the labor theorists, and myself weren’t exactly amicable.

I had told them what would happen, and they had resisted my words.

And then Mammon had intervened, causing chaos and leading to this.

Karl Lenaro and the labor theorists exchanged glances and whispered amongst themselves before he stood up and looked at me, speaking.

“Saint. You know, don’t you? You know how the workers of this city have lived. How they’ve been treated.”

He spoke with difficulty.

“We had no choice but to rise up. We believe that you, of all people, will understand the purity of our intentions. You who declared a general strike for the sake of the workers!!”

“Purity, is it? I doubt that you, criminals like you, are even worthy of uttering such a word. The situation is exceedingly simple. These labor theorist terrorists made a pact with demons to destroy Scrapyard and the corporations, and as a result, they attacked the Saint, who only wished to help the city with a pure heart!”

Mayor Bias stood up and pointed at Karl Lenaro and the labor theorists.

“Seize these terrorists! These criminals, who seek to dismantle the sound businesses of the Empire and undermine the rule of law, are the source of this entire crisis! If only they are captured, everything will be resolved!!”

The labor theorists, their faces simmering with rage, glared daggers at the factory owners and Mayor Bias, but that was all they could do.

Iomene and Almene looked at me.

“Is this true? Saint? We need the truth to make an informed decision.”

“Karl Lenaro and his followers have been wanted for violating Imperial Law for a long time. Is it really true that they made a pact with demons? You, as the one who was closest, are in the best position to know.”

All eyes were on me.

Karl Lenaro and the labor theorists looked at me with anxious faces, while the factory owners looked at me with faces of victory.

I did not answer.

For the labor theorists planning revolution, this was nothing short of the worst possible circumstance.

The authority of the state had descended so suddenly, seizing the entire city.

It was likely that the Imperial Family and the Pantheon had not been on the side of the labor theorists for quite some time.

Naturally.

These were the very people who preached that religion was the opiate of the masses, blatantly violated imperial law, and terrorized factory owners who had legally established and operated their businesses.

One word from me…

They would all be dead.

With a mere flick of my tongue, they could all be extinguished, but I would not.

“I wish to speak with Kal Renaro and the labor theorists present here. Could you arrange a place for us, if you please?”

*

A small room adjoining the conference chamber.

The labor theorists and I sat in silence on the sofa.

Iomene and Almene questioned the wisdom of placing me in the same room as terrorists once more, but in the end, they deferred to my judgment.

“Saintess. We rose up for the sake of the workers. You understand, don’t you?”

Kal Renaro, who had been silent until now, spoke cautiously after what felt like an eternity.

“We could no longer stand by and watch those capitalist swine treat people like cogs, exploiting them without end. Yes. Granted, we committed many illegal acts. The imperial law itself was not on our side, so we had no choice. You, who led general strikes and spent sleepless nights and skipped meals to treat the workers… you must understand.”

I could only offer a bitter smile at those words.

Though their methods were radical and extreme, their passion itself was undeniably pure.

However, I also knew with absolute clarity what end that pure passion would ultimately lead them to.

“The Saintess of the White Order delivered this to me.”

I withdrew a neatly organized dossier, handed to me just now by Almene.

“The followers of Mammon were revealed so suddenly that they had no time to destroy the materials necessary for their organizational management, and so all the evidence remained intact. Even a cursory search of the hidden lairs above ground and the bases below yielded a flood of crucial evidence, so it seems.”

Mammon.

The followers of this avaricious Demon Lord managed their organization with the meticulousness of a corporate entity.

They crafted detailed plans to maximize the intake of resentment with minimal expenditures.

As a result of this nature, the documents explaining how they planned for the future were also very well organized, and that document was now in my hands.

I handed the dossier to Kal Renaro and the other labor theorists.

They cautiously accepted the documents and began to read.

And soon enough…

Their eyes began to widen.

“I… I, becoming the warden of a labor camp, leading the charge in monitoring and brainwashing countless workers?”

One of the labor theorists muttered, his voice trembling as he read the document.

“Issuing the order to starve millions of workers to death?”

Kal Lenaro’s voice, too, was shaking.

And that wasn’t all.

“Scraping up every piece of metal from people’s homes to boost steel production, only to create low-quality junk? Felling every tree in the process, destroying the natural environment?”

“Inciting and brainwashing adolescents and children?”

“Publicly humiliating intellectuals in the city center… having them murdered?”

Everyone was quietly horrified, their voices trembling.

Then, one of the female labor theorists shrieked.

“Me, isolating women, endlessly fueling hatred of men, ultimately spawning tumors in society? That’s impossible! I… I’ve worked harder than anyone for the women’s liberation movement! There’s no way I would do such a thing!…”

Everyone seemed deeply shocked.

But what could they do?

“That’s exactly how it will be. Mark my words, everyone. As a seer, I guarantee it. Not a single word will be wrong. It will all come to pass.”

This was reality.