The Saintess's Frustration – The Holy Halo and the Misunderstanding of Poison

Tarte, leader of the party, had a splitting headache.

It was true that one of her party members had stolen a mountain of goods from the village. But murder? She had no idea what that was supposed to be about. She was not about to wear a killing they hadn't committed.

And that was exactly where her head started to hurt. Should she confess to the theft and deny only the murder? Or lie from the outset and claim they hadn't stolen anything at all? What if hard evidence of the theft turned up? And even if she said, Look, we stole things, but we didn't kill anyone — would anyone actually believe her?

"What happened in the village?"

Tarte decided to test the waters first. The girl who had ambushed her, however, showed no sign of calming down. She didn't look like a trained warrior — just a girl in ordinary cloth clothes, her grip on the sword clumsy and unpracticed. She kept coming at Tarte with a stance so unsteady that Tarte worried the girl might cut herself with her own blade.

Even so, Tarte felt the pressure. A real sword was not a toy. Just because she could block the attacks for now didn't mean she could let the girl swing freely until she wore herself out. A single mistake could mean a fatal wound — for Tarte herself, and for the girl swinging the sword.

Maybe this will work?

Tarte parried the village girl's blade and, in the same motion, pulled off the neat trick of opening her skill window and switching on Hero's Light.

Light flared behind her head. She hoped the village girl would recognize the Hero's Light and stop attacking. She hoped. Nothing of the sort happened.

She doesn't recognize it.

Even the Forest Druid had said she'd only ever seen it in books. And a druid was, what — basically a sage, right? If even someone like that had never seen the real thing, hoping a village girl would know it on sight had been a bit much.

"Stop! Emily! These people are not the culprits!"

That was when the village elder started pulling the girl back. They said there was such a thing as an old man's wisdom. Tarte was grateful he'd recognized the halo.

Well. We are the culprits. Partially.

As far as the stealing went, Muraebae was guilty. Tarte chose silence over the truth.

The viewers watching all this laughed at her.

Because we had to stop by the village at least once anyway, and there's nowhere else that's safe to rest…

Tarte bristled at the viewers nagging her like a mother-in-law, then forced herself to look on the bright side.

Better this than finding out later that I'd been broadcasting the whole time and keeling over from the shock.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

How generous of the Demon, really, to tell them about the broadcast in advance so they could put on a mask instead of baring their inner selves. The chat window that followed her around all day was a bit of a nuisance, but it came in handy now and then.

"I am sorry, Saintess. Please forgive her. This child lost her family today. She cannot see anything in front of her."

"What on earth happened?"

The girl was still too worked up to talk, so the old man who had recognized the Hero's Light took over the conversation.

"Someone poisoned the village well. The healthy young men died first. This child's parents were among them."

Sometimes being healthy was the more dangerous thing. Certain poisons hit the young — the ones with a fast metabolism — hardest of all.

"You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suspected outsiders. I think that's only natural."

Unless someone in the village had truly lost their mind, they wouldn't poison their own well. Who would know who was going to die?

"There was another group of outsiders besides us, wasn't there?"

Tarte reminded the old man that Team A existed.

"I was told that you and your companions are on a pilgrimage, following the will of the gods. That a Saintess such as yourself has come to this village may itself be divine guidance. I beg you — judge those heinous murderers."

The old man could not keep his rage in check. His whole body trembled as he spoke. The irony was almost funny.

Not a god's guidance. A Demon's.

It was the Demon who had stuffed them into this game-like Tower, after all.

Do I tell him to leave it to us?

Was this some kind of side quest? Team A were real people, and yet their actions were shaping the scenario. If this had been a game you played on a computer, she would have called it a masterpiece. From the perspective of Tarte, who was actually inside that world, there was nothing enjoyable about it.

Do we have to fight Team A?

Inside the Tower, Team A and Team B were unmistakably rivals. The whole game existed to pick a winner between them. But so far, the two sides had never clashed directly.

If we kill each other… would that be real murder?

Tarte still did not know that dying in the Tower only cost you a minor penalty before you came back. The question of whether death in the Tower was real death led straight into another: if you killed someone in the Tower, was that real murder? She had no way to be sure. And because she had no way to be sure, killing Team A was a choice she simply could not make. Which meant she could not live up to the old man's hopes.

One side was NPCs. The other side was people. Those two things could not even go on the same scale.

Behind Tarte, above her head, a quest accepted itself without anyone asking her.

Tarte turned to confirm the face of the person who had said it. She had already known from the voice, but yes — it was Hyeolpung Geomseong.

"Thank you. Thank you."

Only then did the old man relax. Tarte considered the situation. Accepting a quest did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not mean you necessarily had to complete it. Maybe Hyeolpung Geomseong had simply given the old man the answer he wanted to hear, like a proper adult. Tarte was an adult too, of course. She just wasn't the type to invent things she didn't mean just to make someone else feel better.

"Are there still people in the village suffering from the poison?"

The old man had never once asked her to heal the sick. Tarte could not heal anyone in the first place. She was a novice priest with no recovery skills.

"There are still people in pain, yes."

The old man's answer sparked a thought. Some quests could not be accepted unless you met the prerequisites. Maybe the reason he hadn't asked a priest to treat the villagers was that she didn't have a recovery skill.

"Please rest here in the village. I'll be back shortly."

"Why are you doing this too?"

Ninejibdaepokpal, who still hadn't caused a single incident, moved to stop Tarte from going off on her own.

"I'm a priest, so if I level up, I should learn a healing skill, shouldn't I?"

"You're going to go level by yourself?"

"Yes."

"I don't agree with that."

"Pardon?"

"I don't know what you think, but I think Team A might come after us. So going off alone is dangerous."

Tarte recalled the conversation she'd had before dawn with the girl from Team A. The girl had declared that she was terminally ill, that she had to make magic exist in the world no matter what — or she would die. If her own life were ever weighed against someone else's, she would choose her own. That was only natural, for any living thing.

"But you must all be exhausted."

"Not enough to send a teammate off alone."

Tarte had figured that moving alone would be the most efficient option. But after hearing Daepokpal out, she had to admit it: if she went off by herself, got ambushed by Team A, and died, she would be causing trouble for everyone. There were rules to horror movies, after all. The one who ignored everyone's warnings and went off alone was always the first to die.

She weighed it all and came to the same conclusion anyway. They should still level.

"Then would you mind working a little harder?"

What they did, however, was not a little hardship.

Tarte learned Healing at level 5, but it was an HP recovery skill. It could not treat poison. So they kept going.

By the time Tarte's party had pushed to level 8, learned a status recovery skill, and made it back to the village, a full day had passed.