Chapter 16
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: 5. Religion
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Rumors about the miracle show in the slums spread like wildfire in the blink of an eye.
Within just a few days, most people started calling me the Cult Leader. The slum square was packed with pilgrims.
I went out to the square every morning to perform healing rituals. Of course, they weren't real miracles.
They were simply the result of making full use of the recovery effects from healing spells.
'Even at this level, it's plenty to call a miracle. The uneducated will believe any rumor without question.'
Sometimes, people even rushed up to me begging to bring back the dead.
But the resurrections I performed were nothing more than clever use of my abilities.
There was no way to truly revive someone who had died.
'Well... not exactly. It depends on how you define "dead."'
In a technical sense, resurrection was possible.
But these people didn't seem to want that kind of thing.
So every time it happened, I brushed them off, claiming it was "God's trial" and that time was needed.
By the time a month had passed, the number of followers had already soared well past dozens.
Not just from the slums—word had reached the middle class and even the wealthy.
"The treatment is complete. The pain will be gone now. Please live always with faith..."
I was in the middle of easing an old man's arthritis.
At this point, I could barely tell if I was playing doctor or cult leader.
Just hang in there. This is the mess you started.
"Now more people come wanting my treatments than those who believe I came back to life."
It was a good shift in terms of pulling aggro.
But there was no guarantee it would lead to faith.
The Magic Tower could do similar things, after all. Sure, they'd cost money and be far cruder.
'It's hard to call something you think is doable a miracle.'
To qualify as a miracle, I needed to pull off something everyone saw as impossible—right in front of the masses.
"It's about time you stepped up. You've been watching closely, right?"
As if he'd misheard, the wooden puppet twitched.
Saw it. Saw it real good. Fuck, it doesn't feel like you've played savior once or twice. You did shit like this before we met, didn't you?
Back then, it hadn't been cult leader play.
Those had been the natural looks that followed sincere, all-out effort.
"Maybe. What I'm doing now is just recreating it. That reaction came from doing things that way, so my gut says do it the same and it'll work."
So I'm the one who ends up doing that insane crap, huh.
The idiom "birds of a feather" sprang to mind, but I swallowed it.
Back at the mansion, I slipped off the robe I was wearing and hung it on the rack.
The hem was soaked with the stench of the slums.
'Need to drop it at the cleaners. Even a saint can't go around reeking of sweat and grime.'
When running a cult or a shady religion, image was everything in the end.
Is this really what gets you off? You got that much time to kill?
"Truth is, cults aren't my thing. The reactions are always so predictable. But I do have time. Ceres needs to grow more."
I could enjoy cult-building to a degree,
but structuring the whole play around it? No way.
'It's just not fun.'
"Nothing's dumber than handing your freedom over to someone else. Life's for enjoying freely."
The Broker fell silent after hearing that.
I peered closely at the wooden puppet.
A transparent line stretched out from the top of its head.
A thread of mana. That's how Broker controlled it.
...Wild. I figured you'd love any kind of people-screwing con.
Then came a knock at the door.
Knock, knock.
Most of the servants had been let go.
After taking over this body, I'd cut unnecessary staff and guards to the bone.
I opened the door myself. A girl stood there, panting hard.
Strapped to her back was another child. A boy.
Her hair was matted to her face with sweat, her clothes threadbare.
"...Y-you're... the Cult Leader... right...?"
Her voice shook. Her breaths came in gasps.
She'd run a long way.
"Yes. Though my body's lowly, I'm the one conveying God's will..."
"...Please... help my brother."
The girl dropped to her knees. The boy nearly slid off her back, but she grabbed him desperately and pulled him up.
"My brother's... been breathing funny since this morning. And... he's burning up, can't stay conscious..."
Her words tumbled out in a jumbled mess. She was basically in full panic mode.
I swung the door wider and ushered her inside.
"Come in. We'll talk details inside..."
The girl staggered into the mansion.
I glanced at the boy on her back.
His face was ashen, lips tinged blue.
Eyes shut, breathing barely there.
'Too late.'
The wooden puppet rose from the table and stared at us. The girl flinched in surprise.
Bad color on him. Kid's already dead.
'I know.'
I lifted the boy off her back and laid him on the sofa.
The girl knelt beside her brother and clutched his hand tight.
"...I heard you heal sick people... for free. Please. Save my brother."
"That's right. But..."
I pressed fingers to the boy's neck. No pulse.
Checked his pupils—no reaction. Chest wasn't rising or falling.
'Dead for sure. At least an hour, I'd say.'
Died on the run here.
"Cult Leader—please. Brother... brother... everyone's gone... just us two left..."
The girl hadn't clocked that he was dead yet. That explained the raw desperation.
I looked at her. Her eyes were already going dull.
'No. She knows.'
Just straight-up denial.
I let out a slow breath. Knelt down to meet her eyes.
"I'm sorry, but your brother has already passed."
Her face went rigid in an instant. Every ounce of strength drained from her body.
I kept going. Her gaze flickered slightly.
"But it's not hopeless."
Her eyes went wide.
"Death isn't the end—it's a beginning. Pain isn't a trial—it's a blessing. Pain makes us despair and push forward. Death lets us start anew."
I lifted the boy's cold hand and placed it over hers.
"With true faith... and pure love... miracles can happen."
The girl stared right through me. A spark reignited in her eyes.
Not hope—more like desperate obsession.
"Y-you can... save him...?"
"Devote everything you have."
"...!"
The wooden puppet behind her shook its head slowly.
I ignored it and pressed on.
"If you truly want it... if you're ready to give everything... I can bring your brother back."
As I said—a lie. No bringing back the dead in this world.
Even if I pulled something similar, it wouldn't be resurrection.
But who cares?
Fake evil's still evil. Hypocrisy's still virtue. Fake resurrection's still resurrection.
'And if no one knows the difference, doesn't that make it perfect?'
The girl whispered in a trembling voice.
"Wh-what... do I have to do...?"
I gave a faint smile.
"Miracles demand a price. If your brother returns, you become the most devoted follower of the god I serve. For life."
She nodded without a second thought.
"Yes! Yes! Anything! Even my life...!"
"Your life isn't needed. Loyalty to the god is enough."
She nodded frantically. Her proof of faith, in her mind.
"Then when—"
"Not right now, at least."
"Wh-what?!"
I locked eyes with her, staring straight into that face brimming with betrayal and rage.
"You."
She flinched. I bored into her pupils.
"You claim to believe in God... but you couldn't shake your doubts about whether I could really save him. Thought I wouldn't notice?"
"...!"
"Like I said. Devote everything to God. That's the only way to save your brother."
I turned away. Broker's telepathy whispered in my ear.
You really planning to go through with it? Make that girl swear lifelong loyalty... and convince her the corpse you puppet is her brother?
"Yeah. Sounds fun, doesn't it?"
Broker went quiet.
A moment later, he spoke again, voice laced with shock.
...Don't tell me you set this up just to—
I cut Broker off.
"Aren't you overthinking it?"