The Reluctant Healer
Believing in God doesn’t automatically grant you divine power. And even if you do awaken it, that doesn’t mean you can immediately become a healer and go around treating people.
If you pray diligently from a young age, you may eventually awaken divine power. ‘They schedule everything so tightly that it would be strange if you didn’t awaken it.’
Of course, the time it takes to awaken divine power varies greatly from person to person. Still, if you continue to pray with sincere faith, divine power will eventually manifest. In the worst cases, however, some people never awaken it at all.
At this point, a question naturally arises: ‘Anyone can gain divine power just by praying? Then why are healers so rare?’
Most people who pray can indeed obtain divine power. However, not everyone gains enough to actually heal wounds. Some only awaken power so weak it can’t even mend a fingernail scratch. Shockingly, eighty percent of believers fall into this category.
The remaining twenty percent gain enough divine power to treat injuries, but even they aren’t automatically qualified to become healers.
‘I thought gaining divine power would mean walking a flower path.’
The real suffering begins the moment you awaken divine power. From then on, it isn’t just your mind that suffers—your body has to suffer too.
“You want me to go on a pilgrimage?”
“It’s an essential course for increasing your divine power.”
“Do I really have to go? I’ve never heard anyone say my skills are lacking.”
“Is that all you’ve managed to achieve?”
“……”
The jab at my pride made anger flare inside me. But since I had no desire to volunteer for a path clearly paved with hardship, I decided to resist one last time.
“What happens if I refuse to the very end?”
“Why are you even asking? You’re going to do it anyway.”
“Ah.”
It wasn’t a choice after all?
To become a healer, I had studied for a very long time. And now they wanted me to go on a pilgrimage on top of that!
‘What exactly am I lacking?!’
It felt unfair, but I couldn’t possibly lash out at the person standing before me. Not only had he taken me in, his rank was that of a Bishop.
Even after being reborn, even after becoming a priest—a respected profession—there was nothing I could do in the face of power.
“…I will go on the pilgrimage.”
Do you know what kind of training aspiring healer-priests must endure?
‘Are they telling me to attain enlightenment or something?’
It’s a hundred-day silent fast where you eat only grains as a form of asceticism that avoids taking life. Surprisingly, this is one of the trainings that priests enjoy the most. It’s not that difficult to endure, and the amount of divine power gained is substantial, making it highly efficient.
Having already possessed a respectable level of divine power, I reluctantly began the training, swallowing my tears the whole time.
And then—
“Excellent! Well done.”
My divine power had increased significantly.
‘…It would have been better if it hadn’t grown at all.’
Now there was no escaping further training. The priests would never pass up such an effective method.
‘Damn it.’
So it went—study and training, training and study. My childhood flew by in the blink of an eye. Before I knew it, I had become a proper adult and a skilled healer. All thanks to a choice I made as a child without understanding what it truly meant, enduring every kind of hardship along the way.
The Church deliberately fosters illusions about divine power among the people. Since it is power bestowed by God, they promote the healing abilities of healers—who use that power—as a universal cure capable of fixing any illness.
‘Universal? That’s ridiculous.’
Only someone like the Pope, whose divine power overflows like a river, could truly perform the miracles they advertise.
‘Yes, someone at his level could probably cure any disease.’
But ordinary healers?
‘If that were true, would we still be ordinary? We’d have been promoted ages ago.’
Divine power only increases in tiny increments no matter how many ascetic trainings you endure. Nevertheless, the temple continues to encourage misunderstandings about priests, and people believe every healer is an all-powerful doctor.
And we healers cannot bring ourselves to correct the misconception the Church itself created. Because the only answer we could give to “Why can’t you?” would be “Because of my own lack of ability.”
“Aigo… my stomach. Aigo!!! I’m dying!”
“Sir, please calm down so I can examine you!”
“It hurts so much I’m dying!! Aaaagh! Hurry up and fix it!!”
“Where exactly does it hurt?”
“For crying out loud! Can’t you see I’m clutching my stomach?! Aaaagh!!”
The patient was writhing, clutching his belly and screaming. A sigh escaped me. I knew pain made people irritable, but that didn’t stop the stress from building.
“Sir, I need you to show me where it hurts so I can treat it.”
“Ughhh.”
At my words, the man who had been rolling around claiming he was dying quickly lifted his shirt. So it really did hurt.
“H-hurry…! It hurts so much. I feel like I’m going to die!!”
“Alright~ I’m going to press on your stomach. Tell me if any spot hurts.”
Swallowing another sigh, I began pressing gently with my fingers, starting from the lower abdomen and moving across different areas.
“Aaaagh!”
The patient screamed when I pressed the painful spot.
“Just heal it already! Why are you pressing?!”
“It’s necessary for treatment. Does it hurt right here?”
“Aaaagh, yes! It hurts!”
Watch the informal speech.
“Does it feel like it’s being pinched and torn?”
The patient started yelling again in response to my question.
“It just hurts!!! Pain is pain—what does it matter how it hurts?!”
“It’s information I need in order to treat you properly.”
“Just—just use your divine power and heal me! Last time you didn’t ask all these questions! Why are you doing this now?! Is it okay to torment a patient like this?! Do you think I paid all this money to come here and be treated this way?!”
“You’ve already been treated for this before? Was it the same symptoms then?”
“Yes!!”
Just who was the healer that treated this patient so poorly that he ended up hospitalized again? It seemed they hadn’t properly addressed the root cause last time.
“Did the exact same area hurt back then too?”
I heard the sound of grinding teeth. The patient finally answered my question.
“It feels like someone is stabbing me with a knife! Is that enough?!”
“Have you ever seen blood in your urine?”
“I don’t know!! I haven’t!”
It seemed asking any more questions would only upset the already irritated patient further. Since I had a rough idea of how to treat him, I decided to begin.
“Understood. I’ll start the treatment now.”
The patient glared at me with a look that said, Let’s see how good you are. I had received that exact expression so many times that it no longer bothered me.
I drew up my divine power and began the treatment.
What had fascinated me most after becoming a healer was that I could treat people even without specialized medical knowledge. Of course, having that knowledge made treatment much easier, so I couldn’t neglect my studies.
‘Still, if you just pour in divine power, it usually gets better, right? In that sense, healers really are overpowered.’
There was also a slightly cheat-like ability: the moment I raised my divine power, the proper way to treat any illness would naturally surface in my mind. That was why the patient couldn’t understand why I kept asking strange questions instead of just healing him right away.
But that complaint came from ignorance. Everything I had done was far from meaningless. The more detailed information I gathered about the symptoms, the more efficient the treatment method that came to mind.
‘That’s why I need to understand the patient’s condition thoroughly. It allows for more effective treatment.’
This was also why seriously ill patients needed to seek out skilled healers. Many healers found this process annoying or unnecessary and simply skipped it.
“Is this actually working? I don’t feel anything.”
Even though the treatment was going well, the patient asked suspiciously.
“Yes, it’s progressing nicely.”
“Last time, as soon as they started, the area around me felt really warm.”
“Don’t worry. Every priest treats a little differently.”
In truth, the warmth was a sign of the previous healer’s lack of skill. It meant the divine power was being wasted on heating the skin instead of treating the illness. That waste had caused the condition to relapse. Telling him all that would only be spitting in my own face, so I ignored it and focused on the treatment.
The patient’s body, which had been rigid with pain, slowly relaxed as strength left his limbs.
“Treatment complete.”
“Huh?”
The patient who had been doubting whether I was even treating him now lay there with hazy, relaxed eyes. Then he blinked in surprise as my words registered.
“There’s no pain anymore, correct?”
“???”
“Priestess, the patient’s treatment is finished.”
“Yes~ Sir? The treatment is over, so you can get up now.”
“W-wait a moment. Are you sure it’s really done? It finished way too quickly. I still feel a little pain.”
Because divine power itself is beneficial energy, there were occasionally patients who, even after being completely cured, insisted on receiving more. These kinds of troublesome patients were usually handled by the nursing priestesses, so I took off my gloves and left the examination room.
“Hey?! Where are you going, leaving the patient like this? Do you think I spent all that money to be treated this way?!”
Although I strive to follow God’s will as a priest, every time I see scenes like this, I can’t help but question whether the path I’m walking is truly the right one.
‘Endure it. Endure. This is all training and ascetic practice.’
I believe that if I continue to endure, repent, and bear the constant waves of misanthropy, brighter days will come. And the misanthropy I’ve accumulated has already been rewarded more than once or twice with the precious ability known as divine power.
‘May I become a little more mature tomorrow than I am today…’
If I continue to grow even a little each day, someday I will be able to face even the most insufferable patients with a gentle smile. Enduring the present for the sake of the future was something I had done consistently ever since entering the temple. So today, once again, I smiled. Because that was what a healer was supposed to do.
Today began like any other day. I woke up and headed to work. Up until that point, it had been an utterly ordinary day.
“Priest Arthur.”
“Yes?”
I had barely set my bag down after arriving when Priest Leo called out to me.
“You’re early. That’s good. I have a message for you.”
“What is it?”
I wondered what could be so urgent right after I arrived, but the words that followed were unexpected.
“The Bishop is calling for you.”
“…Why?”
“I’m not sure?”
Usually when that person summoned me, it was because I had caused some trouble or bad news had arrived from the Church. But since I hadn’t done anything wrong recently, I tried to calm my racing heart and spoke.
“I haven’t done anything wrong, though?”
I really hadn’t. Which only made me more anxious. Because whenever I was called for reasons other than causing trouble, it usually meant some annoying task was coming my way. Like another pilgrimage, for example.
An ominous premonition prickled sharply at the back of my head.
“Didn’t you hear anything from the Bishop?”
“Unfortunately, I wasn’t told the details.”
“Do I have to go right now?”
“He said to send you as soon as you arrived, so yes.”
“Understood. Thank you for letting me know.”
I didn’t want to go. My steps felt heavy. I hadn’t fought with any patients lately and had been behaving myself. So why?
I hesitated for a long time in front of the Bishop’s door before finally giving up and knocking. Since I had been called, I couldn’t just ignore it. If I was going to get scolded anyway, it was better to get it over with quickly to reduce emotional exhaustion.
Knock, knock, knock—
“Bishop, you called for me, so I’ve come.”
“Come in.”
I turned the ornate golden doorknob and entered. The Bishop was already seated on the sofa, as if waiting for me. The white ceremonial robes he wore—neatly pressed every morning—stood out especially today.