Priest Han Saje (1)
From the time I was old enough to understand the world, I asked my mother the same question again and again.
“Mom, I have something to ask you.”
“Why on earth did you name me Saje?”
“Hmm? It’s easy to say and easy to remember. The meaning isn’t bad either.”
“Still, what kind of parent names their child Priest….”
Abandon (sa), save (je). Han Saje. A grandiose name meaning to break free from obsession and save others. It belonged in the biography of some saint, but to me—the person actually carrying it—it was pure torment. Because of that damned name, everywhere I went people treated me like a devout believer. Every introduction came with the same tag-along misunderstanding: “Is your father a pastor by any chance?” I’d answer, “My father passed away early,” and unintentionally make things awkward for the other person.
So it would be a lie to say I never resented her. I stared at my ID card countless times, swearing I would change my name the moment I became an adult. But once I actually grew up, that petty grudge softened. I had finally come to understand how hard it must have been for her to raise me alone. In an era where child-rearing costs three hundred million won, how exhausting it must have been. And right after I turned twenty, she suddenly received a pancreatic cancer diagnosis. Without ever enjoying any real comfort, she spent her remaining time fighting the disease, eventually lying in a hospital bed waiting for the end.
Even then, my mother held my hand and said this:
It was a last wish I found hard to accept. After all, the one who had lived her whole life in hardship was my mother herself.
Maybe that’s why a blunt reply slipped out before I could stop it.
After hearing my question, my mother paused, then gave a small chuckle.
That conversation had taken place nearly six months ago. I thought the memory would have faded by now—
“...It was a dream.”
I opened my eyes to early dawn. Still lingering in the aftertaste, I stared blankly at the ceiling. This one-room apartment I had moved into two months ago felt unusually hot today. Whether the heating was turned up too high or I was coming down with something, my whole body ached and burned.
“Thirsty...”
I slid out of bed, staggering, and opened the refrigerator. I grabbed a plastic bottle and poured water into a glass.
—Clink!
“Huh...”
The glass felt strangely heavy. My wrists had no strength, so I unconsciously wrapped both hands around it to drink. The refrigerator also looked higher than usual. Was I still half-asleep? Unfortunately, since I was usually indifferent to everything, I didn’t immediately notice anything strange. I simply wiped the water from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand and turned back toward the bed.
That was the moment.
“...?”
As I tried to walk past the full-length mirror on the wall, I froze. An unfamiliar woman was standing inside it.
Who is that at this hour? A burglar? A pervert? No, neither. She was too delicate to be a burglar and too elegant to be a pervert. With sleep completely gone from my mind, I widened my eyes and examined the reflection carefully. A woman with cherry-blossom pink hair flowing down to her waist was copying my every movement.
Height around 160 centimeters. Maybe even a little shorter. The kind of face that would need an ID to buy anything at a convenience store. An unrealistically beautiful appearance, like a ball-jointed doll crafted with painstaking care by a master artisan.
I lifted a trembling hand and touched my cheek.
‘...Soft?’
It was an unfamiliar sensation. The skin beneath my fingertips was impossibly smooth, nothing like what a healthy twenty-one-year-old man should have. Only then did I look down at my own body like an idiot and mutter.
“...What the hell is this?”
The voice that came out was a gentle, unfamiliar alto. The hand in my field of vision was small and pale, and the T-shirt I normally wore now hung off me like an oversized box tee, nearly reaching my thighs.
This can’t be real. Am I still dreaming?
I pinched my cheek hard, but only felt pain—no sign of waking. I almost screamed when I tried bending a finger, so I stopped. This wasn’t a dream. It was reality.
The moment I accepted that fact, strength left my legs. I sank to the floor and stared at myself in the mirror for a long time.
“Wait, let’s calm down first...”
I muttered to myself as if trying to hypnotize my own mind, but my voice still shook. I barely pulled myself together and sat on the edge of the bed.
Right. Let’s organize this. I woke up as a woman. And not just any woman—an obviously beautiful one. A phenomenon that modern common sense couldn’t explain. There was only one possibility that made sense.
‘...An awakening?’
I had seen stories on the news. People growing taller or turning into muscular giants after awakening. I had never heard of anyone changing gender, but in a world where all kinds of monsters appeared, what was truly impossible?
I steadied my heart and whispered quietly.
“Status window.”
Word of Encouragement (Lv. 1)
Word of Peace (Lv. 1)
Heal (Lv. 1)
‘...I really awakened.’
I stared at the status window with a dazed face. I thought “nun” might suit this slender body better than “priest,” but that was beside the point. Among the modest numbers, I had spotted the meaningful letters EX.
Almost entranced, I read the detailed information.
A Prayer That Reaches Anywhere (EX)
Your voice’s reach, your gaze’s resting place, every place you perceive becomes a sanctuary. Healing and buff skills ignore distance and spatial limitations. In exchange, the following restrictions apply.
1. Mana consumption increases with greater distance from the target.
2. Mana consumption increases with greater level difference from the target.
‘Just from the description it looks incredibly strong...’
Anyone who had played games would know. Even a slight difference in range could decide a character’s performance. Infinite range needed no further explanation.
‘How do I use it?’
I tried testing it, but I couldn’t get a feel for it at all. According to the description it should activate with just a thought, yet no matter how long I closed my eyes and concentrated, nothing happened. Was there some incantation or breathing technique I was missing? After several minutes with no progress, I grew anxious. The fear that I had gone crazy and was hallucinating crept in.
That was when a new message appeared.
You are not registered as an Awakened on Record.
Would you like to register an ID?
[Y / N]
“Record...”
I had heard of it before. Awakened people used an exclusive community called Record. Behind perfect anonymity, they shared all kinds of secrets and information. For someone like me who had no idea what to do, this was perfect timing. The power of collective intelligence was exactly what I needed.
I carefully tapped the floating button with my index finger.
Authentication of Awakened status complete.
Please set a nickname for use on Record.
‘A nickname? What a hassle...’
Registered as HS Grad Healer.
The screen before me changed completely. Looking at the dry UI, I unconsciously frowned.
‘This is Record?’
Record looked eerily similar to an online community site I already knew. It was even divided by country, and the atmosphere in the Korean channel was far from solemn.
Thanks to the complete anonymity, it was total chaos. It felt less like a noble space for heroes to communicate and more like a containment facility for basement-dwelling shut-ins. I wondered if I could even find proper information here. But after browsing a little more, it seemed there were plenty of normal people mixed in. Amid countless trash posts, the information I needed was scattered here and there.
Sometimes I see people whining that their skills won’t activate. It’s just that your desperation is lacking. Pray desperately and it’ll work. GG.
‘Sincerity, huh...’
I hadn’t expected to encounter such a spiritual approach, but it made sense. Since I was technically a priest, maybe I needed to pray with more sincerity for a god to listen. Come to think of it, my earlier attempt had zero desperation in it.
I calmly composed myself, clasped my hands in what I hoped was a reverent manner, and spoke to a transcendent being whose existence I wasn’t even sure of.
“...God.”
I don’t know why you suddenly turned an ordinary young man into a woman, and honestly it makes it hard to feel any reverence, but I still have a shameless request.
If possible, I want to live comfortably.
My nature is a bit lazy, so I don’t have the capacity to stand on the front lines offering service. Therefore, please let the power you granted me allow me to help the lambs easily while sitting down.
Helping others doesn’t have to be difficult, does it… That was closer to my true feelings, but it felt rude, so I softened it a little.
“If there’s someone who desperately needs help, please let me help them a bit.”
At that moment, I felt an unfamiliar sensation awaken deep inside my chest.
And on the other side of the Earth.
3:41 p.m. Eastern Time, USA. Durham Bulls Athletic Park, North Carolina.
Triple-A International League regular season game. Norfolk Tides versus Durham Bulls.
The game had reached the bottom of the ninth inning, two outs, bases loaded. The score was 4 to 3, Norfolk leading by one run. On the mound stood Norfolk’s thirty-year-old right-handed relief pitcher, Ethan Miller. He took a deep breath and adjusted his grip on the ball in his hand.
‘Not good.’
His shoulder had already passed its limit. The feeling in his fingertips had grown dull, and every breath sent a heavy ache through the inside of his right elbow. The count was three balls, two strikes. One more ball and it would be a walk, tying the game. A strike down the middle and it would be a walk-off hit. If he allowed a loss here, the name Ethan Miller could very well be erased from professional baseball.
‘...I can’t lose.’
Ethan Miller had a reason he could not lose. He glanced sideways at a young woman sitting in the stands. It was his wife, who had never once told him to quit during his long years in the minors. Even when they bounced between cheap motels, even when his mother-in-law looked at him with displeasure, she had always encouraged him. She had waited for him. She had believed in him.
‘So...’
He had to repay her. Slowly he lifted his head and looked at the catcher’s mitt. The roar of the crowd grew distant. He wasn’t normally a deeply religious man, but cornered by extreme pressure, he found himself reaching for God.
“Just once...”
Please let me throw one more pitch.
It was the moment he shouted that silent plea.
You have received the HS Grad Healer’s blessing.
“...?”
The incomprehensible text that appeared before his eyes made Ethan wonder if he was hallucinating. But before he could even process it, he felt his body grow lighter. The heat pressing down on his shoulder eased a little. The pain inside his elbow remained, but it didn’t matter. It was enough to throw one pitch.
Whether it was a hallucination or a real blessing, it didn’t matter anymore. Ethan laughed off the bizarre phenomenon and slowly drew in a breath. Then, squeezing out the last of his strength, he lifted his leg and—
—Thwack!
The instant the ball slammed into the catcher’s mitt, the umpire’s right hand shot upward.
“Strike!”
Strikeout.