The Monk Who Mistook a Light Switch for a Miracle
Something's off here, isn't it?
"Wha… then what happens to this stuff?"
"Shouldn't the thing that purifies leprosy be the real holy water?"
"Exactly. The Church's holy water can't cure leprosy, can it?"
The murmuring of the crowd began to swell, louder and louder.
"No! Isn't the whole thing a scam?"
"It's rigged, I'm telling you!"
"That witch pulled some kind of trick!"
The agitators in the crowd tried their hardest, but no one was buying it.
"Come to think of it, who are you, friend?"
"That's not the local accent, is it?"
"Something's suspicious here."
Instead, the people who had caught on were narrowing their eyes at him.
And there stood the man at the center of it all — Johann Tetzel.
What is this? How did they cure them? Is it truly holy water? More than that, what happens to the authority of the Church?
A whirlwind of questions churned through his head. He had lived his life as an inquisitor, selling the name of God for profit in the form of indulgences, so he understood the situation well enough.
Does God really exist?
Right — holy water doesn't exist anyway. It must have been some actual cure for leprosy…
Setting aside the doubt whispering in the corner of his mind, he racked his brain over how to salvage the situation right here and now.
"So the Pope's special envoy is a fraud?"
"Surely not a fraud."
"Then what?"
"Maybe the Church's holy water is just the weaker one?"
The ignorant crowd, seeing only the result before their eyes, began jumping to conclusions.
Ignorant wretches. Salvation lies within faith…
He buried his doubt in a corner of his heart and took up his faith once more. This was the monastic path he had walked his entire life. To deny it would be to deny himself. He could not give it up.
"Everyone has been deceived! Open your eyes and see the truth! Let us all pray!"
And he truly believed that if he prayed with a sincere heart, the scene before his eyes would change.
"You swindler!"
"Liar!"
"Get lost!"
Splat! Splat! Splat!
The crowd began hurling food and filth. Johann and his band of monks were soon drenched in it — some of it found its way into their mouths, some into their ears.
"Our Father, who art in heaven…"
Yet they sat steadfast where they were and began to pray.
"Whoa! Look at that!"
"Tough bastards, aren't they?"
"Go home already!"
But the fury of the crowd would not settle.
As the sky darkened toward evening, the monks prayed on in silence.
Click!
Suddenly, everything around them lit up.
"Oh! The Lord has heard our prayers!"
The monks, eyes shut in prayer, felt light pouring down on them — not the level of lamplight, but something closer to full sunlight — and opened their eyes in rapture. Such brilliant light in the middle of the night!
"God has sent down a light to save us and to judge those heretics!"
"Oooooh! Lord!"
"Amen!"
They were certain God had answered their prayers.
"Huh? What are they on about? It got dark, so I turned on the lights."
With that single cold remark from Haneul, their hearts were dashed into the gutter.
"What did you say? This light…?"
"It's not an answer from God?"
The monks, already caked in filth, stood there dumbfounded. They couldn't make heads or tails of it.
"Good grief."
Click! Pop!
At a flick of Haneul's hand, punctuated by a weary sigh, the switch went off. In an instant, the plaza plunged back into darkness.
"Gah!"
"No!"
"The light's gone!"
"Ooh! O Lord!"
And the monks lit up like glowworms.
"Ha. Unbelievable…"
Click! Pop!
Another quiet word and a wave of Haneul's hand, and the lights blazed back on.
"Huh?"
"Oh no…"
"No way?"
After the trick repeated two more times, the monks finally understood. This was not an answer to their prayers.
"Let us return. There seems to be no place for us here."
The blazing brightness of those lamps, and the filthy muck coating his own body laid bare beneath them — it looked to him as though his sins themselves had been exposed. He no longer had the confidence to do anything at all.
"Sob…"
"Sniff."
Johann Tetzel led his weeping monks and began the retreat back to the harbor.
"Hey! A bunch of frauds, the lot of you!"
"Aren't the indulgences all lies too?"
"Give me my money back! I want a refund!"
"Damn it!"
"Do you know how much I pay the Church in tithes?!"
Too terrified of the Holy See to lay hands on them directly, the crowd settled for shouting and pelting them with filth.
And so the monk who had whipped up the crowd was driven back the way he came, hounded by the very mob he'd brought with him.
"Ugh, damn it all!"
"We never needed any of this!"
And the lepers who remained in the plaza were throwing their indulgences to the ground and tearing them to shreds.
They had no further need of the Church.
"Our holy lady is here!"
"Thank you!"
And so the rumor spread: the City of Angels, the Saint, and the true holy water.
"No! Clean this up before you go, you cursed wretches!"
Haneul's fury at the crowd that had trashed the place and walked away rang out across the plaza as well.
"Ugh… so annoying…"
"You're that mad you didn't make them clean up before sending them off?"
"The smell still hasn't gone away!"
Who knew how much junk people had thrown, but the plaza still reeked like a sewer, she swore.
"And now some patient with a splinter wound came dragging himself in demanding medicine, raising a whole fuss."
"Must be the miracle working, right?"
"Hmm…"
Wait a moment. Wasn't this a golden opportunity?
"Moses!"
"Yes?"
"Build a structure! Let's put up a hospital."
"So you can sell real holy water here?"
Ugh, there's no need to use holy water on our own kids. Why would I sell any? I barely have enough amylase for myself!
"The people we brought in who got branded as witches, and the doctors — they're short on patients anyway, right? Just have them do their research and training here."
"Oh?"
"And we'll charge the rich folks for treatment."
Not a little — a lot? And use it to cover the bills of the poor while we're at it.
Redistribution of wealth. What's not to love?
"You really are some kind of money leech, aren't you?"
"Gasp…"
Wow. That genuinely hurt. A leech?
"Calling her a leech is going too far!"
I hate actual bugs and insects, thank you very much!
"Honestly, everything you do comes down to money, money, money. Impressive, really. Truly."
"If I'm going to keep feeding all these kids, I have to be thinking about money all the time!"
Look at the budget — our spending is way bigger than our tax revenue!
"Couldn't we live just fine without earning more?"
"We have to rake in as much as possible, just in case!"
Huh? Does it even matter? All the money's locked up in the Temple anyway, so is there no inflation or what?
"Understood. I'll send word back home and look into a building site."
"Also tell them we're buying more land in Portugal."
Those people bought land from us at absurdly inflated prices, so now they keep poking our sides asking if we want to buy even more!
Since this area generates enormous tax revenue, they seem to love it whenever we do anything more around here.
The weather was lovely, and while she was busy with this and that, the monk came calling yet again.
"What now? What's the gripe this time?"
"This time he says he just has something to ask — he claims he came as a private individual?"
"Hmm? A private individual?"
"Something like… Martin Luther?"
Does he think I know the guy just from hearing a name? What weird nonsense is it this time? Good grief…
"Fine, tell him I'll see him."
"Yes, my lady."
"Good day to you."
"Hey."
Luther's heart fluttered at the thought of finally quenching his curiosity by meeting the girl who bore so many names — demon, angel, witch, saint.
He wasted no time getting to the point.
"Is the Pope truly the Vicar of God?"
"Huh?"
How on earth would Haneul know that?
"I knelt and recited the Lord's Prayer as I climbed the twenty-eight steps on my knees, yet I felt no answer from the Lord. Is the Holy See truly sanctioned?"
Haneul began to wonder if this man had come to the wrong place entirely. She was floundering.
"I believe that one is made righteous before God not through indulgences or good works, but through faith alone."
"Mm. That part's right. Indulgences really are useless."
"Ah!"
What had been troubling him lately was precisely this: whether the indulgences sold by the Holy See truly absolved sin.
"Then what am I to do? We pray, yet why does God give no answer…"
"Hmm. Isn't faith what matters? God definitely exists. Of that much I'm certain."
On that one point, Haneul could be sure. Hadn't they once had a conversation, after all?
Not that they'd spoken a single time since.
"You — you've actually heard the voice of God?!"
"Yeah. We talked exactly once."
A flicker of hope kindled in Luther. He had met people who claimed to have heard God's voice before, but never anyone who had actually conversed with Him.
"What did you speak of?"
"It was right before I died, and He said I'd paid off all my sins with everything I'd been through — that I should just eat well and live well."
Luther didn't quite grasp this "before I died" business, but he chalked it up to a translation quirk — a foreigner, after all.
Does she mean that sin is forgiven through suffering?
"They say Daehan doesn't worship God. Then what do you believe in?"
"Us? Just 'love each other and get along.' That's about it. We don't really believe in a god — we care for each other. Look after one another."
In that instant, it was as if lightning struck his mind.
Before coming, he had heard that this city had no bandits, no beggars, no orphans, and he had wondered how such a thing was possible.
Well, granted, bandits got beaten to death, and beggars and orphans were simply taken in and cared for.
"So that's why you help the needy so…"
"No. They're just an eyesore, that's all."
"I see…"
Haneul only tidied things up so she wouldn't lose customers, and out of concern for the city's appearance, mind you.
So that is why they call this place the City of Angels and speak of a Saint. And the Holy See, envious of it, brands her a demon and a witch. A pack of men steeped in corruption and decadence.
Luther was a truly rare man who had lived the traditional monastic life of poverty, chastity, and obedience. The Holy See of today, drunk on greed and worldliness, looked anything but pure to him.
"Then what is your view on other religions?"
Luther asked because, in Daehan, there was no particular proselytizing or coercion of any faith.
"Do we really need to split religions apart? There's only the one God anyway, probably."
Haneul simply couldn't be bothered — her meaning was, you believe yours, we believe ours, and that settles it.
"Ah…"
Once again, it felt as if a thunderbolt tore through Luther's mind.
He took it to mean: since there is ultimately only one Being above all, their names merely differ — why go to the trouble of rejecting other religions?
The exact opposite of the Holy See's current march of forced conversion.
"Thank you truly for today's words."
"Uh… dunno if they helped, though."
"They helped immensely. May the grace of God be with you."
"Yeah. You have a blessed one too."
And so a conversation that had somehow gone slightly askew came to an end.
The religious reformation that would plunge Europe into a crucible of chaos had begun.
"No! Why are refugees coming here of all places?!"
"You're asking me?"
"They're all paupers!"
Ugh, the stress. Rich people only, please!
"Still, we're short on hands, so more people isn't a bad thing, is it?"
"There's so much to worry about!"
We have to feed them! We have to make beds for them! And if they get sick, we have to hand out medicine!
"That's exactly why they call you an angel without wings, or a saint, isn't it?"
"Ah, stop it! That's creepy!"
Gyaaaaah! I've got goosebumps!
"Go tell them we're buying up more land. We'll have to build staff housing, after all."
Ha! Really, there's no helping it. It hurts my wallet, but the more workers the better.
"They've gotten money-greedy lately and keep raising their prices. Are you all right with that?"
"However steep they get, it's pocket change next to what we rake in, isn't it?"
They can't even imagine how much we make, can they?
Drinks and food really are dirt cheap here, after all? And because it's so cheap, the kids eat and drink to their hearts' content.
Do they not know that fine drizzle can soak a coat through?