The Endless Agony
The floor was thick with dust. Every step left behind a trail of tiny footprints. The dining table and chairs in the center of the room were in the same sorry state. I dragged a finger across the tabletop, and it came away coated in grime.
“Just how on earth have you been living in a place like this?”
I looked up at the ceiling. Spiderwebs hung in every corner. But after seeing the room I was supposed to stay in, this felt almost tolerable. The webs in that other room were so dense you could probably use them as mosquito netting, no exaggeration.
“It’s such a mess I don’t even know where to begin.”
I let out a sigh and glanced around. That was when something out of place caught my eye.
“That’s…”
It was the small table where the potato peels had been. It had definitely been covered in dust before, yet now the area around that single table was spotless—not a speck of dirt in sight. Even the teacup and teapot sitting on it gleamed like new.
Why is only that spot sparkling when everything else is a disaster?
The bizarre sight made me look closer, and then I understood. Those were the tea things the Saint had used when she served me. Should I be happy that she’d cleaned the ones meant for me? Or should I complain that if she was going to clean, she should have done the whole place?
In the end, a helpless chuckle slipped out.
“Honestly, I just can’t figure her out.”
Shaking my head, I surveyed the kitchen again. Thankfully, it looked like dusting would be enough. There were almost no signs of use, so there wasn’t much trash or clutter.
I should start with the sink, then.
I walked over and inspected the area. Since it was where water ran, it was noticeably cleaner than the rest of the room. A quick wipe with a rag should do it. I reached for the faucet.
That was when I remembered the Saint had summoned water with magic. It might have been for convenience, but maybe the faucet was broken?
…What now? I can’t use magic. Do I have to clean with holy water?
I turned the faucet carefully. A clear stream of water gushed out, cool and steady. A sigh of relief escaped me. But it was the middle of winter, after all. The water was mercilessly cold. The moment my hand brushed it, my whole body tensed up from the freezing touch. I twisted the handle left and right just to be sure, but the water stayed ice-cold.
“…Well, can’t be helped.”
Still, this was something I could fix with what I had. I opened my subspace and took out the red fire stone. It was a mysterious object my colleague Chunsam had given me—one that could generate heat and fire.
…I’ve only ever used it to boil water for instant ramen, though.
I dropped the stone into the sink. The freezing water began to bubble almost immediately, and soon steam was rising in gentle curls.
“This might be the most useful it’s been since I got it.”
I muttered to myself as I watched the steaming sink. When Chunsam handed it over, he’d said “Use it if you need it” in that indifferent way of his. But the second I told him I was using it for ramen, he’d launched into a full lecture.
I wonder what he’d say if he knew I was heating water for cleaning.
By the time I finished that pointless thought, the water was fully boiling. I pulled a rag from my subspace, soaked it, and began slowly wiping away the dust and stains around the sink.
—Creak.
The sudden noise made me spin around on instinct. But there was nothing behind me.
…Did I imagine it?
I tilted my head and turned back to the sink. That was when I felt something brush past my back.
Not my imagination.
I quickly sensed the presence. It was small and faint, on the verge of vanishing. Not human.
An animal? A monster? Or…
I marked the spot where I felt the presence and instantly moved there. A few rotten potatoes and the corpses of several dead mice came into view. The potatoes had clear bite marks, and the mice looked like they’d been dead for days.
A small sound came from under the nearby cupboard, along with the same faint presence. I crouched down carefully. A dim shape appeared— a scrawny mouse with patchy, thinning fur.
“What the… it’s just a mouse.”
The tension drained out of me. I glared at the creature and grumbled.
“You scared me. You can’t eat this. This is the Saint’s food.”
I wasn’t sure if half-rotten, sprouting potatoes even counted as food. The storage box that seemed to serve as her pantry held more of the same: half-rotten potatoes, grains covered in mold, and fruit that had gone so bad it reeked of fermentation.
“How could you just leave it until it rots like this? You should have eaten it sooner…”
Even as I said it, a heavier thought crossed my mind. Was the situation so dire that she had to save even food this spoiled?
My heart grew heavy. Come to think of it, the Saint had spoken of wanting to die just a little while ago. She had let me pinch her cheek without complaint, yet she still refused to let go of the desire for death.
…I thought once she realized it wasn’t her fault, she’d feel better.
Did she not trust my words? Or was there a deeper reason?
Well… living alone, tending to people who could neither die nor truly live, surviving on rotten scraps. If she believed this suffering would never end—might even last forever—
Anyone would want to die.
I knew that pain all too well. The memory of thrashing against an agony that refused to end still burned clearly inside me.
“And here I am, telling someone to cherish life. How ridiculous.”
With a bitter smile, I took a biscuit from my subspace. Then I crouched and held it out to the mouse under the cupboard.
“Come out and eat this. It’ll taste better than rotten potatoes.”
Whether it understood or not, the mouse slowly emerged. The moment I saw it clearly, I froze.
I had thought its scrawny frame was from starvation, but most of its abdomen was simply… gone. The mouse didn’t seem to notice its missing organs. It frantically devoured the biscuit.
The grotesque sight was both horrifying and heartbreaking.
Is every living thing in this world like this?
Trapped between life and death, writhing in endless pain. It felt like this single mouse embodied the entire world.
I had seen countless broken, twisted, and corrupted realms, but a world without death was a first. Without question, this was the most horrific and cruel place I had ever witnessed.
The longer I watched the mouse nibbling the biscuit, the more complicated my emotions became. Because it reminded me of someone.
“…Saint.”
I suddenly remembered the first time I saw her. She had pressed a dagger into my hand and said, “Please, kill me.” Her face had looked so relieved.
…Were you also struggling, desperate to end your pain?
In a world that refused to grant death.
—Squeak.
The sound made me turn. The mouse had already finished the biscuit. Crumbs that should have gone into its stomach were scattered across the floor.
“Was it good?”
As if answering me, the mouse slowly lifted its head and stared. I quietly reached out, preparing to still its movements.
“…I’m sorry.”
I released just a fraction of the power of death I had been suppressing, afraid it might knock me out again. The air grew heavy. The aura of death that rose from my fingertips gently enveloped the tiny body.
The mouse offered no resistance. Instead, it seemed to sense that it could finally rest. Its eyes slowly closed.
It let out one last, thin breath, then lay down as peacefully as if falling into a long, deep sleep. The expression on its small face looked serene, freed from long suffering.
“I’m glad I could end your pain. Rest easy.”
A wave of bitterness washed over me at the realization that this was the only thing I could do for this world right now. I took a box from my subspace and placed the newly deceased mouse and the other corpses inside.
The mice were in similar stages of decay, as if they had died at the same time. They must have been affected by the power I unconsciously released when I first arrived here. Only now did I truly understand why I had collapsed.
The Saint had said death had been gone from this world for roughly a hundred years. All the living things nearby that had been denied death for so long had been hit by my authority at once. No wonder my strength had been drained so quickly.
Well, even if I’ve lost some power, there’s no way I’d pass out after dealing with only fifteen creatures.
Considering the scale of my power, it probably hadn’t reached the entire world. At most, it would have affected just this surrounding area…
It looked like I would have to keep suppressing my authority. Using it here might be fine, but using it in other regions could knock me out again. In the worst case, I might exhaust myself so completely that my divine power would run dry. If that happened, even my divinity would cease functioning, and I would no longer be able to generate divine power.
The absolute end that all gods feared—where memory, self, and essence were completely erased.
It would be the end of a god.
I slowly looked down at my hand. In the past I had longed for that end, but now I absolutely could not allow it. I was this world’s only death. The link connecting it to the Underworld. If I disappeared, this world would once again be trapped in endless suffering.
…I must find a way to reconnect the Underworld. No matter what.
That was the only path that could save everyone here—including the Saint.
“But where do I even start…?”
No matter how I racked my brain, no clear answer came. For now, I would bury these little ones and finish cleaning.
Not a single speck of dust remained in the kitchen.
“Ugh, I’m exhausted.”
I let out a long sigh and stretched my stiff body in every direction. It had been a long time since I’d used my whole body like this; every muscle was screaming in protest.
…Have I really been that inactive? This feels harder than when I was training seriously.
Still, the sense of accomplishment was as satisfying as clearing a high-difficulty game. The once-filthy kitchen now sparkled like new.
But that joy was short-lived. I remembered the room that was in far worse condition than the kitchen.
“…Maybe I should just camp out here.”
Living in the kitchen didn’t seem so bad. It was cleaner than the room, indoors, and sleeping here wouldn’t be a problem. I could hole up like some kind of house spirit, preparing breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the Saint every day.
…Not a bad life, actually.
While I was lost in that silly thought, I remembered I still needed to bring the Saint her lunch. Checking the time, I saw that lunchtime was nearly over.
“Oh no. Where is the Saint?”
I hurried off, following her presence. I had been worried she might be in that terrible room, but thankfully her presence was coming from somewhere nearby. I breathed a sigh of relief and quickened my steps.
The place where my feet finally stopped was the room I was supposed to stay in. Inside, covered head to toe in dust, was the Saint—cleaning with fierce determination.
She kept coughing as she wiped away spiderwebs. When she noticed me, she froze for a moment, then broke into a bright, sunny smile.
“Death!”
Her clear voice reached me. Questions flooded my mind—why she was cleaning alone, whether she was hungry, what she wanted for lunch. But strangely, my mouth refused to speak any of them.
Instead, my body moved first.
I stepped forward and pulled the smiling Saint into a tight embrace.
“H-hweh?!”
“…It must have been hard, right?”
“N-no, not at all… I-I mean… um… eugh…”
The flustered Saint eventually placed her hands carefully on my back. The cautious yet warm touch brought a strange sense of relief. At the same time, a sharp ache bloomed in my chest.
How had this fragile body carried such a heavy burden all alone for so long?
The thought made me unconsciously tighten my arms around her. Just for this moment, I wanted to share even a little of that weight. And someday—someday, I desperately hoped—I would be able to end her suffering for good.