Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Did I Perhaps Die?
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Looking back, the moment I realized I was sick, I should have killed myself.
This body that was rotting away—what was the point of clinging to life out of fear of death, only to drive my beloved brother to his grave?
If only I had died a little sooner,
if only I had made the decision just a bit faster,
the person who loved me more than anyone wouldn’t have had to die.
What am I?
What the hell is my life?
When I had power, I abandoned those who helped me, and by the time I realized who was truly on my side, I had nothing left in my hands.
Just a fool. The biggest idiot of all.
That’s me, a complete moron.
I know it’s an unreasonable request,
but if I could just have one more chance.
To repay the debts I owe,
to find a way to return the favors of those who helped me.
If that were possible, I’d do anything.
But no matter how much I regretted the past, what was gone wouldn’t come back.
“Princess, years ago you ordered your subordinates to cripple my son and plunder my family’s fortune. Thanks to that, my daughter developed mutism and still stutters to this day.”
Exactly as someone whose name I can’t even remember said to me.
“I’d tell you to go to hell, but you’re already there.”
The past couldn’t be undone no matter how much I regretted it,
and here I was, living in a hellish present,
with no future ahead—a life no different from death.
—Remember this, saint. The Lord helped you today because He wishes you to become one who aids your neighbors.
Until I met that priest, who gently stroked my back.
The dizziness that had always clouded my mind was swept away like a storm, replaced by an indescribable sense of euphoria. Vitality surged through my rotten body.
Grace. Immense, boundless grace was there.
I had met countless clergy, but I could say with certainty:
Not one of their divine powers came close to the toe of this great one.
Unknowingly, I spoke to him with utmost respect. In that moment, I didn’t even feel like a princess.
I was just a lump of flesh, a bipedal mass of meat standing on two legs, while he felt like something holy gazing down from the heavens.
The only word my common sense could find to explain it: god.
“A-Are you... an avatar sent by a god into this world?”
“No way.”
I am merely a priest who serves the Lord.
Nothing more, nothing less—just an ordinary priest named Kyle.
That’s what he said, but I knew it wasn’t true.
An ordinary priest couldn’t commune with a god like that. Couldn’t receive His will so directly.
Scriptures exist precisely because not everyone can hear the voice of god.
Even a pope of a sect couldn’t do it freely. Only saints and holy sons could, and even then, only rarely.
“Saint, please tell me the name of the one you serve.”
That’s why I could kneel without hesitation. To offer thanks to the god who had given me another chance. The unknowable god.
But no matter how much a human like me prayed, my prayers wouldn’t reach Him.
Pleading to a saint, no different from His son, was as good as pleading to God Himself.
“The one I serve encompasses hope and possibility. He does not grow on faith.”
“I’ve never heard of such a being.”
Even a fool like me, steeped in Ardein ignorance,
knew how impossibly close to impossible the conditions were for healing me.
“The one the saint serves must surely be one of the ancient gods who surpass even the Triad.”
Both god and priest had to transcend the ordinary.
Local deities worshipped in a single village couldn’t heal me even if a chosen saint came—let alone the god Himself.
Even a priest of a god surpassing the Triad would yield the same result unless he was at least a pope or saint. A god surpassing the Triad. Yes, I’d heard the tales.
“Only an ancient god—the very axis and law of this world—could grant me such a miracle.”
Called gods, but fundamentally different from personal gods like the Triad.
Existing from the dawn of creation, they were the laws of the universe themselves. They weren’t beings humans could serve. Prayers to them were empty echoes, unheard.
This world was vast beyond measure, and the laws governing all creation were no less immense. The cosmic laws were so broad and deep that personality within them was like a speck on an uninhabited island in the vast ocean—tiny and insignificant. Ancient gods generally lacked personality, existing purely as laws.
But “generally” implied exceptions.
In the long annals of history, I knew of secret tales where ancient gods awakened with self-awareness, granting power to their worshippers.
The universe needed no faith from us. Ancient gods were the strongest by their very nature.
Those chosen by such beings displayed miracles that astonished the world, leaving great and small marks in history. Probably not well-known.
The churches, led by the Triad faith, wouldn’t want such stories spread.
The saint just smiled brightly. Somehow, he seemed to think I was wrong. But I couldn’t be.
I had seen it with my own eyes. Witnessed the miracle.
The tears streaming down my cheeks were proof.
Tears I thought had dried up,
this sensation trickling down my face,
proved I had truly shaken off the curse of leprosy. The itchiness I felt after so long was strangely novel—and delightful. I could smile all day.
“It’s not even noon yet, so it might be premature to say, but you should sleep here for the night. The Lord took your illness, but not the fatigue you’ve accumulated.”
“Ah!”
Only then did I realize how dizzy I was. My body shivered with cold, my forehead slightly hot.
My head throbbed and spun. I could tell my stamina had plummeted.
I collapsed onto the bed. It felt soft and pleasant, like sinking into a warm bath. I sensed cozy divine power wrapping around me like a blanket.
“Sister, rest your eyes for a bit.”
It wasn’t an illusion. A soft blanket draped over my sleeping form.
Praying this wasn’t all a dream, I fell asleep. I didn’t mind sleeping, and even if I did, I was too exhausted to resist.
Come to think of it, I rode here on horseback with this unclean body.
And hadn’t rested properly. With all tension released, suppressed fatigue exploded at once. I’d been worn out enough for days of agony, but the divine power had eased most of it.
‘Wait... me...’
In the haze of drifting consciousness, my face flushed.
‘Me, right now, so filthy...’
But only for a moment.
Sleep embraced me gently, carrying me to the land of dreams.
*****
“In the end, I’ll have to wash these blankets again. And the bed sheets too.”
Roca grumbled. As if you’re the one doing it.
I just smiled. I’m the one who does the laundry, not you. I’d wash them anyway.
I didn’t know where Ldein had come from, but her state was no different from a beggar’s. As if she’d rolled in the dirt, dust covered her body, dirtying the bed.
But people matter more than beds—that’s common sense. Beds exist for people, not the other way around.
“I should prepare a bath at least. And some travel money for her way home, wherever that is.”
“Do we have to go that far?”
“She’s a guest. A guest who came to see me. That’s no different from a guest who came for the Lord.”
“Still...”
Roca grumbled, glaring at the sleeping Ldein.
“Fine, I’ll prepare the bath.”
“You? I’d appreciate that.”
“...I don’t like it, but she’s the master’s guest.”
She’s not spitting in the bath, is she?
Nah, trust Roca. Just as the Lord trusts me, I should trust Roca too.
After Roca headed to the bathroom, I sat briefly in a chair, crossing myself in a short prayer.
As I rose, suddenly a pale white arm blocked my path—not one arm, but hundreds, thousands, filling my vision, covering everything before me.
“Did I perhaps die in that short time?”
Turning around, I saw a familiar face...
If you could call it a face. Empty void like an abyss without light, devoid of eyes, nose, or mouth. This faceless angel and I went way back.
—Not yet, but soon enough.
“I thought Ldein had poisoned my tea or something.”
—Ldein is an alias. Her true name is Ardein von Illumia, princess of the empire where you live.
“That’s a lame joke.”
By now, we could joke without reservation.
Ardein von Illumia. The empire’s war hero. The undefeated Steel Princess.
Even so, by the time Yurinel started getting injured, she’d already begun fading from people’s memories.
Yurinel, backed by the theocracy, wasn’t on good terms with the imperial family.
And I, a mere priest who followed her, was even less so. I knew the princess had leprosy, but it was absurd to think I’d seek her out first. Above all, as the empire’s first princess, she could receive treatment from the theocracy’s saintess anytime—she’d never think of asking me for help.
No way someone like that would come here.
The lords of the Triad faith were as great as my own Lord.
“Why would a princess of the empire come to me looking like that?”
—Shall I tell you an even lamer joke?
I thought it was just a joke, but apparently not.
—Disciple, the day you come to our side draws near.
The angel spoke to me very seriously.
—It’s not just your story, either. Soon, a new cycle will begin in this world. More dramatic than any before, and likely the last.
* * *