I Still Don't Realize This Is a Romance Fantasy
Why the hell do I have to go through this?
I'd come home from work like any other day and thrown myself onto my soft bed, ready for the next morning. Then...
“Ugh...”
The moment I opened my eyes, what greeted me was a filthy back alley that looked like a trash can. A jumbled mess of memories from a runaway child flooded into my head. But the pain and terror I was feeling for the first time in my life were so overwhelming that I couldn't even pay attention to the kid's memories.
The hunger had gone beyond that—my stomach felt like it was being torn apart, and my throat felt like it was splitting open. The agony was unbearable.
“Just hold on a little longer, dear.”
Even as my vision blurred, a gentle voice I had never heard before reached my ears. Since I was on the verge of death, I thought an angel had come down to take me away.
“Are you awake now?”
My vision brightened, revealing an unfamiliar ceiling. And there, welcoming the newly awakened me, was a nun.
She wasn't exactly angelic in her beauty, but to me, she was my savior. Still, repaying that kindness in the body of an eight-year-old boy was impossible, so I simply tried not to cause her any worry while learning about this new world.
“Goddamn it, another orphan route...?”
Having lived in a world where a single device could give me access to almost all information, being dropped into some 18th or 19th-century-like pre-modern era was already unfair. And to top it off, I was an orphan again, just like in my previous life. At least there wasn't some greedy orphanage director this time. That was probably the silver lining.
“Hey. The little brat's here?”
And it was clear this wasn't the past of the world I'd come from. A being that looked similar to a human was smoking a pipe outside a blacksmith shop, taking a short break. The owner of the forge that helped the church was a dwarf, the ones managing the city's gardens and parks were elves, and the salon that made passing perfumes and beautiful dresses was run by tiny fairies working together.
Looking at this alone, it seemed like a beautiful fantasy world. But even with my short experience reading web novels, I knew this kind of world wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.
“Dante reads an awful lot of books, doesn't he?”
“Knowledge is power, after all.”
One good thing about the church: the children under their care were allowed to read any books they wanted, as long as they had permission. Of course, I had to learn how to read first, but with my willpower and the sharp brain of a child, I picked it up quickly.
Yep, there it is.
Demons. And monsters that devoured intelligent beings. They said things had gotten better since ancient times, but to someone who'd lived in a world without any of this, it was all the same bullshit.
“Hmm. Dante, why are you reading a book about such wicked things?”
Maybe it looked strange to the head priest of the church—a young child silently reading a terrifying book that most kids wouldn't even glance at. The head priest started taking an interest in me.
Oh no...
The saying “If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you” applied here too. It was written that showing interest in demons made it highly likely that demons would show interest in you. So when a kid who wasn't even ten years old was sitting there reading that kind of thing, it was no wonder the head priest gave me such an odd look.
“I need to prepare myself.”
“Prepare?”
“It says demons are always lurking among humans, so I'm reading it over and over.”
“Hmm...”
Why was he looking at me like that...? He was definitely a good person, but his eyes had changed to something like a scholar who'd discovered interesting prey. And that gaze didn't disappear for over two years.
“Dante.”
“Yes, Father.”
“We have a guest coming to the church. It's his first time here, so he might get lost. Take this token with you—he'll recognize you and you can guide him.”
“Understood.”
It was a necklace adorned with the emblem of the Cheonil Church, made from blessed silver. He usually wore it like it was some sacred relic, but the fact that he was giving it to me meant this guest was important. So I waited at the plaza from early morning.
“Yawn...”
Normally, if a ten-year-old kid walked around openly wearing silver jewelry, he'd get all kinds of trouble. But if it bore the emblem of the Cheonil Church, it was a completely different story.
Hmm. Being a religious nut doesn't seem so bad.
Back on Earth, there were plenty of people who hated religion for one reason or another, but the atmosphere here was different. Sure, there were corrupt individuals, but in a world where demons and monsters actually existed, faith in God was the only way to overcome fear.
“So it's you.”
“Huh?”
I instinctively looked up at the shadow that blocked the warm sunlight. A giant nearly two meters tall, dressed head to toe in black—from his black coat to everything else. Far from looking small, his muscular body practically burst through the fabric. It was the kind of presence that made you bow your head automatically, but what caught my eye was the emblem on the necklace around his neck.
Behind the Cheonil Church emblem were crossed swords and hammers, with a single gun taking center stage. Thanks to my obsessive reading about demons and monsters, I immediately recognized what it meant.
“An exorcist?”
“That's right. I am Homerus, the exorcist who will be taking you as my disciple.”
“Excuse me?”
Who asked for your opinion? Who the hell would willingly take a job that's dirty, exhausting, dangerous, and then some? Add another “dangerous” on top and it still wouldn't be enough!
“Haha. Where do you think you're running off to?”
“A priest dragging a child—!?”
Since it was the plaza, there were guards around. The moment I tried to scream for help, I saw smoke rising from the direction of the church.
“Hold on tight.”
“Whoa!”
Homerus, who had spotted the smoke at the same time, shoved the struggling me under his armpit and broke into a full sprint. The scenery flew by like I was riding in a car, and when we arrived, my sanctuary was already gone.
“Sister...?”
I didn't really care whether that priest who'd basically sold me out lived or died. But the woman who had saved me and raised me being trapped in those flames was something I couldn't accept.
I used all my strength to bend Homerus's left pinky finger. The moment he loosened his grip, I thrashed free.
“Huh?”
Homerus was briefly stunned by Dante's quick thinking.
“That's not it, you idiot! What are you going to do by running in there?!”
I ignored Homerus, who was shocked by the desperate struggle of a ten-year-old child, and ran toward where the nun and the other children would have tried to escape. Demon attack or not, accidents could happen anytime, and the church had emergency exits. The moment I forced one open and tried to rush into the flames, Homerus grabbed me by the back of my neck.
“Give up.”
“You're an exorcist, aren't you?! Shouldn't you be saving them?!”
“Even an exorcist cannot bring back the dead, my disciple.”
Maybe because I'd been treated like a child? The reality that my original age should have let me accept easily felt impossible to swallow. The nun was someone who should never have met an end like this.
“Can you identify who did this?”
“I cannot.”
The exorcist's firm declaration. Then there was only one simple, brutish path left.
“Then I'll just have to kill every demon and monster in this world.”
Age 16. The youngest ever to pass the exorcist exam.
Age 20. The first new divine power user to appear in twenty years.
And now.
Clink.
On my twenty-sixth birthday, I was sitting alone in a cheap tavern on the outskirts of the Includ Empire, near the border with the Prind Kingdom, quietly sipping a birthday drink.
Anyone watching would probably ask what kind of lunatic drinks alone on his birthday, but who cares? After days soaked in the blood and flesh of demons and monsters, a quiet day like this to drink in peace was practically a small happiness.
“Young man, why are you drinking in a place like this?”
“Isn't the owner who asks his customers why they came to his store the weirder one?”
The tavern owner, wearing a dirty shirt that strained over his protruding belly but a clean apron, scolded me. It was ridiculous, but in a place filled only with middle-aged men and no female servers, a young guy drinking alone looking all pathetic probably did seem strange.
“It's my store. I can say whatever I want. What's the problem?”
“That's true, I suppose. Still, don't you think you should avoid crossing certain lines?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I mean, don't you?”
As I'd said before, for an exorcist, quietly drinking alone on his birthday counted as a small happiness. But there was no crazy bastard who would deliberately come to a rundown tavern on the empire's outskirts just to enjoy such a trivial moment.
“I'll say it clearly. I'm giving you one chance to repent.”
A procedure that every exorcist was required to follow, unless dealing with completely corrupted followers or fully manifested demons and monsters. A single warning. Even if someone had already fallen to evil, they must be given a chance to repent. It was an incredibly merciful iron rule.
“Kill him!”
Half of the ordinary-looking face twisted in an instant. It wasn't a simple illusion—this was the change that occurred when someone had sold their soul to a demon. It was the evidence that appeared when emotions flared or power manifested.
“Thanks.”
By the way, I really hated that procedure. I was willing to bet that over twenty percent of current exorcist deaths were caused by following it. And what I hated even more was having to deal with those who only pretended to repent because they didn't want to die.
Bang!
I pulled out the sawed-off pump-action shotgun hidden inside my black coat and pulled the trigger at the owner's head. It felt incredibly refreshing. Thank you for not repenting!
“Next.”
When I thought about all the procedures I'd have to go through with someone who repented, it was much easier to just kill them all. Since the procedure was so well-known, the follower bastards—who already knew they had no chance after refusing—used the tavern tables and chairs as shields and charged at me.
Bang!
With the gunshot, I blew off the head of the one charging at the front. Since it was a custom weapon from the Exorcism Bureau made to match the enhanced physical abilities of exorcists, flimsy wooden furniture had no chance of stopping it.
Click. Click.
“Tsk.”
If I didn't maintain it carefully, it was prone to breaking down. That was unavoidable. It was an old gun, after all. What could you expect from a pump-action shotgun made in the 18th or 19th century?
“Graaaah!”
The moment the gun jammed, the bastards rushed in happily. They really should have prayed that the gun didn't break.
“O Sun God. I'm trying to send these lost lambs to heaven, so please lend me some strength.”
A prayer that would make other priests clutch their necks in disbelief. But the Sun God, who graciously answered even such irreverent prayers, granted power to my two fists—the power to send the lost lambs to His embrace and turn them into roasted lambs.
“Th-this is divine power!”
“Yeah, it's divine power. So what?”
I heard the dumbfounded voice of someone seeing divine power for the first time. What else would it be? It's burning, obviously. The Sun God really is quite cruel. It would be easier if they died in one hit, but when I punch them with divine power wrapped around my fists, it only burns them.
“Aaaaargh!”
I didn't even need to put in much strength. With light punches, the demon followers rolled across the floor. Once the fire caught, it never went out. It only burned away evil and demonic energy. The followers died one by one in the most intense pain a human could feel.
“Cheers to a happy birthday.”
In the middle of the chaos, I downed the glass of alcohol that had somehow survived being spilled, then walked over to the only one I'd left alive.
“Wow. Look at that. His soul's almost completely devoured.”
“Hiiik!”
The reason we had to kill demon followers who refused to repent was because the moment their souls were completely mortgaged to a demon, they became a vessel for demonic manifestation. The way to tell was when the twisted half of their face gradually spread further.
“Answer me.”
“Y-you're going to kill me anyway, so why should I?!”
“Why? Do you want to go cleanly, or do you want to burn to death?”
The role of divine power was to burn away the corrupted parts of the soul and guide it to heaven. Naturally, even after death, the pain would continue endlessly until purification was complete.
“I-it's Lord Asmodeus...”
“Tsk. Lord? For a perverted voyeur bastard like that?”
Calling a cheap knockoff of the lust demon Lilith “Lord” was far too generous.
“Just kill me already!”
“Really? If you die like this, you'll suffer in hell for eternity, you know?”
“D-don't make me laugh! His Excellency made me his servant! Even if I die...!”
Even when someone tells the truth, they won't believe it. If you die by divine power, at least you'd have a chance in the next life. But if you just die normally, a follower's soul is bound to hell forever. I granted the bastard's wish—the one who had kicked away the mercy offered to erase the demon's traces—and cleanly blew his head apart.
“It's done.”
“Yes sir! Moving in!”
The troops waiting outside entered. Since this kind of scene was rare in the outskirts, even the veteran soldiers struggled to hold back their nausea as they cleaned up, let alone the rookies.
“Thank you for your hard work, Father.”
“Whatever. Tell the priest here that the demon those bastards followed was Asmodeus.”
“Understood! But are you leaving right away? The lord said...”
“Tell him to do his own damn paperwork. I'm out.”
Leaving behind the scene filled with the stench of blood and burning, I stepped out of the tavern. The damp, characteristic sky of the Includ Empire came into view.
“What a wonderful birthday.”
For ten years straight, my birthdays had been fucking shit.