Calling the Tax Collector (2)
As Luke preached the gospel in Caparnaum, he saw a man named Levi and said, “Follow me.” And he rose and followed.
The crowds saw Luke with Levi and said, “Benefactor, this is a tax collector. Why do you sit with filthy sinners?”
Luke heard them and said, “It is not the healthy who need a physician, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”
Tax collectors.
Those vested with the authority to levy taxes.
The name might evoke images of state-employed civil servants from the tax office, but the reality is far grimmer: private contractors, unbound by any true national allegiance.
They are the ones who lend money to emperors, kings, or lords, receiving in return the delegated right to collect taxes from their domains.
The woman standing before me now—the one I’ve been waiting for—is Levi, the tax collector holding the levy rights for this very city of Caparnaum.
To be precise, it was her father who loaned the money to the lord, but regardless, she acts on his authority, handling the collections here.
“I am Levi, a humble tax collector in this city.”
But…
What do I even say?
I’d been anticipating her arrival, yet now that she’s here, words escape me.
Join me as my companion?
It feels off. Too abrupt, too strange.
How can I draw her in naturally?
“O great one. I have no right to ask, but I beseech you with a favor.”
A favor? That’s unexpected. I never imagined she’d come seeking something from me.
In the three days since my arrival, countless people had sought me out.
Not all were without requests—far from it. After all, I was seen as the son of Deus.
The man who wrought miracles blanketing the city.
Petitioners were inevitable, begging for the impossible or the trivial. Even the feasible ones I turned away firmly, having no intention of indulging them.
Yet Levi, of all people, making a request? She was one of my favorite playable characters in Deus ex Machina, so if I could grant it, I would.
But what could it be? The current Levi… hmm.
“A favor, you say. What is it?”
“Yes. It’s just that…”
BAM!
The inn’s door flew open, cutting her words short.
The men who entered were the locals I’d spoken with yesterday.
What the hell? Why are they barging in?
“Benefactor, forgive our intrusion. We could no longer stand by and listen.”
The leader stepped forward and spoke.
“This woman is a filthy tax collector. It was already unbearable seeing her defile your presence, but to dare beg a favor from you?”
“He’s right, Benefactor! She’s unworthy of Deus’s grace—a wretched creature. We’ll drag her out now.”
With that, the men closed in on Levi, seizing her arms.
“W-wait! Let me go!”
“Shut your mouth, wench. How dare a filthy tax collector even look upon the Benefactor?”
“Her ‘favor’ is probably just groveling for more coin or easier collections—vile as always.”
“N-no, that’s not it! I didn’t come for that!”
They dragged her toward the door, her protests futile.
Despite her womanly frame, they gripped her roughly, without mercy.
Levi was beautiful, yet they treated her as less than human.
Is this the public’s view of tax collectors?
The Perseino house never borrowed money, so our territory had none. I’d never faced this hatred firsthand… but I hadn’t realized it ran this deep.
I knew they were despised—stories abounded of lone collectors ambushed and left as mangled corpses.
Levi likely traveled with guards usually, but she’d come alone, probably to avoid offending me.
Her fine clothes suggested she’d dressed to impress.
Never dreaming she’d be hauled out like this.
These men weren’t malicious, not truly.
They’d let her enter but intervened at her plea, hoping to spare me her “filth.”
Even so.
“Stop.”
“…Pardon?”
“Cease persecuting her. I will speak with her.”
Levi was one of my cherished characters.
Worth more than every extra in this city combined.
“B-but Benefactor! She’s filthier than a whore!”
“Indeed! Associating with her sort will taint even you…”
“I told you before. I came to this land to reclaim the faithless.”
To me, she was precious beyond this city’s treasures.
“All sinners shall be cleansed by the Mother’s love. The righteous need me not; it is the sinners who do.”
“Th-that’s…”
“Thus, Levi.”
“…Yes? Yes, O great one!”
“Follow me.”
“…How could I? Dare I trail in your wake? A filthy woman like me…”
“The Mother’s love shall purify you, and you shall be reborn clean.”
“Tax collector’s spawn! Your mother’s a filthy bitch—stone her!”
“Tch. If only she had no guards…”
From birth, I was an object of loathing.
No child would play with me; they’d hurl stones as I approached.
Without my father’s guards, I might have died young—the hatred ran that deep.
All because of Father’s profession.
“Filthy tax bitch! Burn in hell!”
“Like father, like daughter! Divine retribution awaits!”
As I aged and took up collections on Father’s orders, the loathing only grew.
I’d merely done my duty.
Collected only the mandated sums, never padding for profit—yet the hatred targeted me.
I longed to lower taxes, but the emperor’s decree demanded quotas to the capital. My hands were tied.
Just enduring the vitriol while fulfilling obligations.
Father offered no aid.
“It’s your duty,” he’d say. “The rabble’s hatred means nothing.”
Then he’d pawn his work on me and idle away.
I wanted to flee.
My duty, my home, this hatred.
Liberation from it all.
Perhaps a cataclysm toppling the empire, letting me adventure elsewhere.
Might a hero from the tales appear to whisk me away?
I fantasized daily, desperate to escape this drudgery.
But fantasies always crumbled.
Ending in the terror of harsh reality.
Then one day.
I witnessed something unbelievable.
The miracle healing every sick in the city—scars, wounds, ailments vanishing.
A true cataclysm, beyond even my wildest dreams.
Rumors spoke of a man claiming to be the son of Deus, performing these wonders.
Deus.
I’d heard the name—a rapidly growing faith from the neighboring Kallandra Empire.
The son of Deus?
Normally, I’d dismiss it as rumor.
But having seen it… this was opportunity.
A man wielding such miracles? At minimum, a hero.
The hero I’d dreamed of.
The companion from my fantasies had come to this city.
I dressed my best—frantic but hopeful—and sought the inn where he lodged.
The entrance teemed with supplicants.
I queued a full day.
To prove my sincerity, I’d left my guards behind; the stares were venomous.
First time unguarded in such a crowd… surely I wouldn’t die pointlessly here?
Thankfully, they only glared, avoiding contact—like I was plague-ridden.
Yes. I am filthy.
The filth everyone despises.
Wait—would the hero reject me too?
What reason for him to accept a wretch like me?
…What baseless arrogance drove me here?
Deluding myself I could escape this lot, primping and picking outfits.
Suddenly, I felt utterly pathetic.
“Next.”
As I resolved to slink away to my misery.
My turn was called.
Murmurs rippled.
Shock at the filthy me next in line.
How dare she?
Yes. I’ll go.
Thud.
A shove from behind propelled me through the door before I could turn.
And inside…
A man more breathtaking than any hero from my imaginings.
A beautiful blue-haired youth sat gazing at me.