Thus Saith Goddess Yustia (5)
A few days had passed since returning from the thugs' hideout.
Labor.
The problem I'd agonized over was solved—just like that. If this wasn't a miracle, what was?
Well, I had to admit the method of resolution wasn't exactly ordinary. Still, I wasn't one to believe everything would sort itself out peacefully. Peace was great, of course, but I knew all too well that reality didn't always cooperate.
The church courtyard was now always bustling with people.
Men who'd once slunk through alleys were hauling water buckets.
The thug who'd swung an axe in rage was now chopping firewood.
Those who'd wielded knives were prepping vegetables in the kitchen.
Clumsy.
That one word summed them up. But it didn't matter.
Hands stained with sin were washing away their karma through good deeds. Wiping away all their past evils might be impossible.... But atonement and how they lived from here on out—that mattered too.
I didn't say much to them.
I just told them what needed doing and left the rest to them. People find their own ways when you give them a task.
The church was gradually reclaiming its form.
The space once filled with market clamor and haggling had returned to its role as a Holy Light Church sanctuary.
And relief efforts for the poor were starting to take shape.
Mornings brought simple meals; afternoons, work assignments.
Those with energy left helped repair crumbling village walls or tidy up for the elderly.
People who'd only taken food at first... after a few days, they naturally pitched in.
No one ordered them to. I was no different.
I learned later that word had spread through the village.
They say the church in Brunel hands out food... offers beds... gives work in exchange for meals instead of pay...
In a village with no real jobs, people who wanted to work were skeptical. A scam, they thought. They'd cheat you out of wages for sure. So they came to check it out themselves.
And most came back the next day.
The atmosphere inside the church was changing too.
Eyes once hollow now sparked with life.
Wary glances softened; people started talking to each other.
Small smiles bloomed.
A chuckle at a silly joke—that was enough.
As sunset approached, I gathered everyone.
They sat sporadically on the long benches inside. Some arms crossed, others dozing against the walls. I didn't mind their attitudes. Their ears were open, after all.
I stood before them and spoke.
Of Goddess Yustia's teachings.
I never used hard words. I barely understood the fancy passages myself. I just met their eyes on the same level.
No judgments. No demands to believe.
Just one thing.
Love thy neighbor.
Share food with the hungry.
Give rest to the weary.
Help the fallen to their feet.
That was enough, I said.
I didn't invite them to join the Holy Light Church.
No forced prayers.
Listen if you want; leave if you don't. A few did get up and go midway.
I didn't stop them.
More came back the next day anyway.
At first, villagers avoided the church.
"What's the catch this time?"
That was their initial impression. But time heals most things, as they say....
A merchant heading to market, a woman with a child, a bored elder—they sat quietly at the bench edges.
And then.
One day.
Two days.
Three.
Familiar faces multiplied.
Then one day, after the sermon, a man lingered hesitantly before speaking up.
"...Anything I can help with?"
That one sentence started it all.
After that, volunteers appeared.
People shared meals, watched kids, silently hauled heavy loads.
I watched quietly.
I hadn't done anything special.
Just kept doing every day what I'd only thought about in my heart.
Yet....
Brunel was changing, little by little.
After quitting pickpocketing, Lilia scraped by helping villagers with odd jobs.
Hauling firewood, carrying leftover market goods, occasionally minding kids. The pay was pitiful, barely enough for a drink—back in the day, anyway.
But she wasn't complaining.
At least now she didn't eye pockets or dodge stares, worry about curses behind her back, or check for followers on night walks.
...Should've lived like this sooner.
The thought flitted by now and then. A late regret.
She recalled the thugs she'd run with—big lugs strutting empty bravado through alleys. But rumors said they'd all been wiped out.
Village watchmen? Out-of-town mercenaries? Stories varied....
No way...?
Impossible.
Who in this village had the guts?
"...Whatever."
Lilia shrugged and pushed open the tavern door.
Evening taverns were always rowdy: clinking mugs, drunken laughs, pointless arguments blending into noise. Rumors flew fastest here.
Perfect for village news. Sometimes jobs too.
She plopped into her usual seat and ordered a beer. Downed a long swig as soon as it arrived. Cool foam slid down her throat.
Propped one leg on the table, leaned back loosely.
"...That church lately."
"It's legit, they say."
"Hands out food?"
"Shares work too."
Lilia's brow twitched.
Church...?
Her hand paused mid-sip.
That guy's place, right?
She drank casually, but her mind was hooked.
"Used to be a total marketplace."
"Now even kids go."
"Sermons, but no forcing..."
The talk dragged on; her face subtly hardened.
One guy changing the village vibe? Ridiculous.
...But.
She knew he was weird. A laugh escaped.
The type to say absurd things straight-faced.
"Maybe he could."
She muttered to herself, drained her glass.
Thud.
Empty mug hit the table.
"I'm out."
She fished out a few coins, slid them to the owner.
He waved without a word.
Outside, night air cooled her buzz. She paused, glanced toward the church.
Her feet hesitated. No real reason.
Just... wanted to check.
If it really changed.
Or if she'd just deluded herself.
She exhaled softly and walked.
But.
Arriving soon, she let out a quiet gasp at the sight.
"...!"
Even she, versed only in sin, felt something holy.
But the surprise didn't end there.
"...Lilia sis?"
The voice from behind made her shoulders jump. She turned to a familiar face.
"...You?"
One of the alley thugs. Always reeking of booze, loafing. A face she'd never bothered naming.
But now?
Shabby but clean clothes, work gloves on his hands.
Lilia's eyes narrowed.
"What're you doing here?"
He scratched his head, grinned sheepishly.
"Uh... well."
He glanced around, then whispered.
"One day, this guy bursts into our hideout."
"...What?"
"For real. Smashes the door, turns the place upside down."
He swung his arms dramatically, exaggerating.
"We smash bottles, swing knives, total chaos... nothing worked. Total monster."
Lilia's face stiffened oddly. She knew who without asking.
"Then he says repent or whatever... drags us here."
"...Crazy bastard."
"Thought so too."
He laughed.
"But sis."
His tone shifted.
"Not anymore."
He peeked inside.
"Food. Work. Beds."
Paused, then cautiously added.
"...Most of all."
"People... look at us different."
Lilia said nothing.
"Today, some lady... thanked me for hauling stuff."
He coughed awkwardly.
"First time hearing that. In my life."
His face beamed with pride. She just watched.
This guy pulling all-nighters...? The one hunting booze at dawn...?
Unbelievable. That's why it shocked her more.
"...Rate?"
She asked casually, but it slipped out fast.
His face clouded.
"Boss?"
"Yeah."
"That night... bolted out a window alone. Fast as hell."
Tension eased from her shoulders.
"...Right."
Short reply, laced with relief. Creep she never wanted to see again.
She looked around.
Even at night, people came and went. First time the church was this packed.
"...Why so many people at night?"
He grinned.
"Perfect timing."
Pointed at the door.
"It's 'that time' now."
"That time?"
"You'll see inside."
Lilia hesitated.
Then stepped to the door. Pushed the thick wood; warm air enveloped her face. Inside, packed with people.
Kids, elders, workers, merchants.... No forced looks. Just quietly facing forward.
And up front....
The familiar man stood.
No fancy robes or gaudy authority. Plain clothes.
A worn bible in hand.
The very one she'd once stolen.
He slowly scanned the crowd, speaking on.
Like... just sharing a story.
Lilia froze by the door.
For some reason... her feet wouldn't move.