All Realms Are Suffering, I Shall Pacify Them
Late in the evening, Noah sensed one person's suffering. She was a noble. More precisely, the daughter of a noble. Born as the youngest child of a greedy lord who ruled over numerous estates, her fate had been sealed from the moment of her birth: to be sacrificed in an unwanted political marriage.
For nobles who inherited the Divine Name, bloodline was more precious than anything, so her betrothal was set solely as a stud horse to continue that lineage. And she hated that fact.
She didn't dream of some fairy-tale romantic encounter. She wasn't asking for the joys of love like everyone else. She just wanted, once—just once—to see his face, talk to him, and then decide. But the "world" was so harsh that even that tiny wish couldn't come true.
["This so-called Divine Medicine didn't work on the young lady either. It's decent for wounds, but... it seems it doesn't have the rumored power to cure all diseases. Well, whatever. Rumors from the slums are always like that."]
She feigned illness. She didn't open her mouth. She didn't open her eyes. She didn't move her body. She didn't hold back her bodily functions. Even when bugs crawled over her skin, she didn't shudder.
It was like torture. But wasn't life inherently suffering? She was so powerless that she could endure her own helplessness.
'I hate everything. I just want to die like this.'
Noah pondered. What prescription did she need? If they drained every drop of her blood and refilled it with the lowly, filthy blood of a slum dweller, would her fate change?
—"Of course, you have to fight back! Tell that Fucking Asshole lord, 'I won't accept this piece-of-shit marriage.'"
"……."
Noah ignored Gigachad's loud chatter beside her. Instead, she listened to the young lady's suffering. Her god was one who looked upon all, so the pains of birth and death were all hers.
'I didn't choose to be born noble. My beautiful looks, my outstanding talents... if they're just skills to raise the value of a broodmare, then I wish I'd been born uglier than anyone.'
"Being born noble is your affliction."
'No, I wish... I hadn't been born at all.'
"In the time of judgment, even the most beautiful filly meets destruction. Beauty is vanity, fairness is vanity."
In that instant, black blood flowed from the young lady's body. Her flesh writhed, lumps bulging grotesquely. Her bones twisted, her skin split. Her sweat reeked with a sickening, damp stench. An appearance that anyone would recoil from in disgust—hideous. She no longer had value as a broodmare. No stallion would take her now.
—"What the Fuck—that stupid prescription, you're serious?"
"……."
—"She doesn't need healing. The reason she's suffering isn't because she was born noble. The key is she can't control herself at all. What she needs to do now is haul her heavy ass out of that bed and fight that damn lord."
"How can the healthy understand the sick?"
It was true. Perhaps what she truly needed was to stand and fight on her own. But not everyone was healthy enough to do that.
"The spirit can overcome illness—but when the spirit is wounded, no one can rise alone. Telling someone with broken will that 'your will is the problem' may be a correct diagnosis, but it's hardly proper treatment."
—"So, cut off the leg because it's diseased?"
"If necessary, yes."
—"Right. And finally, cut off the head because the head's diseased."
"……."
The saintess fell silent. No need to counter sharp words with sharper ones. Crooked words spread like poison. Spoken words always return to stab oneself.
—"You Fucking Idiot. I'm your inner self. I've told you a million times—you can't run from yourself."
Gigachad spoke seriously, but it was wrong. She could absolutely run from herself. There was no unchanging "I"—no need to equate her mind and her self. In the end, it was just another mental illness to overcome.
"Father in heaven, I have sinned much in thought, word, and deed."
However, there were a few things the saintess didn't know. Gigachad wasn't her "inner self." And "cut off the head because the head's diseased" wasn't hyperbole—it was a prophecy of her future.
House Hatz was abuzz with two pieces of news. The young lady had recovered. The young lady had fallen ill. It seemed contradictory at first glance, but it was simply one illness cured and another taking its place.
"It's good that Amelia woke up, but with such a horrific appearance, no noble house will accept her. Tsk."
Count Hatz's daughter. Less Amelia by name, more the greenhouse girl defined by her inherited bloodline. She had suddenly become ugly. For Count Hatz, who had planned to use her as a political tool, it was a massive headache. Who would embrace such an ugly, hideous woman?
"Did a witch envy her beauty?"
"Calling the Hero of Compassion..."
"No. Just give up. Actually, it's for the best. Now that she can walk herself, we save on servant costs."
"Understood."
In the end, reduced to a useless burden, she was left alone. Having such a hideous girl wander the territory under the "Hatz" name would lower their prestige... but she was still Hatz blood. They couldn't just dispose of her arbitrarily. And so, Amelia gained the freedom she'd only dreamed of in her sleep.
"Angel! Thank you!"
Now, no forced marriage. No one demanding anything of her. She wasn't powerless. No one needed to do things for her. It was joyful. Truly joyful—so much so that she glanced at the mirror.
"……Urk!"
It was herself, but... she looked so ugly she nearly vomited. She laughed while retching.
A month passed like that.
["Angel, it's... so lonely. My heart hurts. Everyone hates me... Was I born just to suffer?"]
"……."
Noah had treated countless people. Some bore incurable deep illnesses, so she bled for them. However, when one illness healed, another arose—that was the cycle of birth, age, sickness, death. Suffering never ended.
["I don't want to be lonely..."]
New illnesses needed new prescriptions. The now-ugly Emilia suffered. It was from loneliness. From feeling lonely without love. The saintess preached to Emilia the joy of loving. It's okay not to be loved. True "not lonely" comes from loving others.
["Angel, why can't I help the ones I love...? I'm so powerless."]
Then, she suffered from that "love." The helplessness of not helping loved ones, the sorrow of losing them—those made her wretched. The greater the love, the more painful the parting.
["Angel... why am I..."]
Each time, new prescriptions. Each healed illness birthed another.
["Angel..."]
Reincarnation. Suffering was a massive wheel, endlessly turning. Suffering couldn't be severed. It existed only in the mind. Clinging to suffering only amplified it.
["I..."]
In the end, to end suffering was to end attachment.
["......"]
The saintess gave her final prescription.
["Love yourself."]
["Love your neighbor as yourself."]
["Love your enemy as your neighbor."]
["Ah...! It doesn't hurt anymore. I get it now! I'm not alone. Everyone's just like me."]
Emilia became one with the saintess. As countless patients before her had. And gazing at the saintess, burdened by everyone's everything, Gigachad spoke.
—"You Fucking Asshole. Noassppi. You know it."
"……."
—"A doctor who gives the same prescription to every patient isn't good. It's—sloppy bullshit. For 100 patients, there should be 100 prescriptions. That's a real doctor's job. Facing each one individually."
"……."
—"You're not a doctor. You're an undertaker."
"……."
—"How long will you stay silent? Get up now. Stand in front of the mirror. Look at your own face."
"……."
—"You can't run from yourself."
Noah looked in the mirror. A young girl tormented by a horrific disease stared back.
"……Father."
Noah bore everyone's suffering in their stead. Strong enough to overcome all illnesses.
"Please, save me from this disease... "
But she couldn't bear her own suffering in her stead. The tiny flaw in her cells was the kind she couldn't fix herself.
"Yet not as I will, but as you will..."
She was born with a disease that killed herself. Its name was...
malignant tumor.
—"Noassppi. The only one who can save you is yourself."
"People..."
—"Tell me your true feelings."
"I..."
Noah looked at Gigachad. That was a mental illness. The mind couldn't be deceived. That absurdly healthy hallucination was her ideal.
"I cannot save myself."
In truth, she wanted to be healthy.
"I suffer from a disease that can only heal through suffering."
Bearing others' suffering. The vitality to overcome it all. That was her sole authority. The two were not different. Not different, so inseparable. (Not Two, One Origin)
To be healthy, she needed suffering.
"This suffering is only for me. It's mine. I'll have it."
All the world was suffering. (All is Suffering)
She loved this world. Her disease healed only through suffering.
This world existed solely to heal her.
"I won't yield this pain."
Only I am noble in heaven and earth. (Heaven and Earth, Only I Am Venerable)
All realms suffer, so I shall pacify them.
"So get out."
Her first true words. And Gigachad's response to her heart was this.
—"Good job. Now you're finally talking like a Fucking Lion."
"......I'll revise the diagnosis. You're a demon."
—"That's weird. I'm your inner self—"
"Then I must be the demon."
—"Haha!"
"Cancer?"
"Yeah. That's why she looks like a little girl. The moment she grows, the cancer cells grow with her."
"So her actual age is older than she looks?"
"Who knows?"
Noah's age wasn't in her official profile. Just speculation.
"Maybe it means age doesn't matter."
"Hm."
"She'll die at that age anyway."
"......Tragic."
"Yeah. This world's like that."
My goal was for the saintess to abandon her authority herself. And her "bearing suffering" and "overcoming suffering" authorities were actually one.
"Better than doom, right?"
The moment I succeeded, the saintess would die. No—when Noah ceased to be the saintess, she would die. Inevitably.