The Strange Saint
Everything was confusing. The moment I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar woman standing before me, the way she instantly recognized me as a grim reaper, even the dagger she pressed into my hand—none of it compared to what truly held me frozen in place.
“Please, kill me.”
It was the Saint’s eyes as she gazed at me. Hollow and cold, the look of someone who had given up on everything. That stare bound me completely, so tightly I couldn’t possibly break free.
—Clink.
A sound like shattering glass pierced my ears. It jolted me back to my senses. I hurriedly examined the Saint’s condition.
“A-are you all right?! …Wait a moment.”
Incredibly, her neck was completely unharmed, without so much as a scratch. It was impossible to believe. I pulled off my glove and carefully placed my fingers on the spot where I had slashed her throat.
“Eek—?!”
The Saint let out a strange noise and shivered violently. Startled, I jerked back at once.
With wide, round eyes, the Saint stared at me, a few tears spilling down her cheeks.
“…Huh?”
“Um, s-sorry about that?”
The Saint blinked. Then she slowly tilted her head back and murmured, “So… even in death, you can still feel sensations…”
“…Well, yes. I suppose you can.”
“You scared me. …Even though I was dead, I could feel something touching my neck.”
“No. You’re not dead.”
When I waved my hands in denial, her eyes grew even wider.
“……Huh?”
“You’re not dead, I said.”
“…Why not?”
“…Because you aren’t?”
Tears suddenly poured from the Saint’s dazed eyes like a waterfall. A moment later she began pounding the ground and sobbing.
“Hwaaaaaaaaang—!”
“E-excuse me?!”
“The villagers were right after all—! Someone like me, someone like meee—!”
“Hello? Saintess?!”
“There’s no place for me even in hell, so I can’t die—!”
No, the Underworld expands its facilities every week. It’s still packed from overpopulation, though.
…I nearly said it out loud but pressed my lips shut.
…I should be heading back soon.
Reading the flow of events, it was clear I hadn’t brought the soul I was supposed to guide. Without a reaper’s guidance, souls lose their way, wander the living world, and gradually forget themselves. If that were the end of it, things might still be all right. But once exposed to negative energy, they transform into evil spirits. And once corrupted, there is no returning to their original state. The only remaining option is the extreme measure known as exorcism.
Besides, this time it’s the soul of the hero destined to save the world…
Every soul is precious. This one, however, carried special weight. A single soul like that could save countless lives.
Whether I end up writing a report or not, I need to hurry back.
With that thought, I moved to open a portal—only for the Saint to grab the hem of my trousers.
“…Saintess?”
“Please kill meeee—!”
“…Pardon?”
“I’ll curl up neatly in a corner! I’ll stay perfectly still like a pill bug, all balled up!”
Hell is not that cramped, you know?!
Stunned, I stopped trying to open the portal and looked down at her. She promptly produced another dagger from somewhere and offered it to me. I recoiled in horror.
…Yet why wasn’t she moving at all? I was fairly confident in my strength back in the Underworld.
“If that doesn’t work, you can chop me into tiny pieces! Though honestly I doubt it’ll cut properly…”
“What kind of horrible thing are you saying?!”
The image of a person hacked to pieces flashed through my mind and sent a chill down my spine. I quickly seized the Saint’s shoulders.
“Do you really think it’s all right to speak about dying so casually?!”
“B-but…”
“Repeat after me. Value life!”
“…V-value life.”
I had to save this person first.
…Wait. But I’m a grim reaper. Is this really acceptable?
A brief wave of identity crisis washed over me, but I cleared my throat and continued.
“Life is incredibly precious and valuable. Besides, how meaningful it is. A young person like yourself still has so much life ahead—”
“…I’ve lived more than five hundred years.”
…She was far older than me? More than five times my age. She looked remarkably youthful.
“H-having lived that long… I mean, someone as knowledgeable as you shouldn’t act this way. You must have felt for yourself how precious and valuable life truly is.”
“…How?”
I’m not human, so I wouldn’t really know.
I swallowed the words before they could escape and thought desperately.
“For example, experiencing happy moments…”
“…It’s been too long. The memories are blurry.”
“E-eating delicious food…”
“…The potato peels I had today were slightly less bitter than usual.”
…Why are you eating potato peels?
Without realizing it, my hand rose to my forehead. I hadn’t expected the “food” option to be quite so miserable. Cold sweat trickled down my back. The scraps of knowledge I’d gathered from movies, dramas, and anime were running dry.
What else am I supposed to say?
Oh, right. That.
“You said you’ve lived over five hundred years. Surely there are at least one or two people who cherish you?”
“…Most of them probably wish I were dead.”
…Right. She had said as much while crying earlier. That the villagers claimed there was no place for her even in hell. You can’t judge someone at first glance, but no matter how I looked at her, the Saint didn’t seem like a bad enough person to deserve such words.
…Though asking a grim reaper she had just met to kill her was certainly an issue.
Why on earth would the villagers say such things to her?
The question arose, but it wasn’t my place to get involved. Not interfering with the living was the most basic of all rules.
…Though I had already half-broken that rule.
I put on my customer-service smile once more.
“There’s no guarantee the villagers truly meant what they said, is there?”
“…They did. …I know better than anyone.”
“What do you…”
Head bowed, the Saint answered quietly.
“Because I know exactly what I am to them.”
“Pardon?”
“To them, I am not a ‘saint.’ I am something like an unfortunate curse.”
The deep resignation in her voice came through clearly.
“Everyone will want me dead. Only then will this hell finally end…”
“…Um.”
“It has already been over a hundred years. Since this terrible curse began…”
I had no idea what to say. I couldn’t find a single word to persuade her, let alone offer any comfort.
If this is true, just how painful have these years been for her?
As a grim reaper, I must not interfere in human lives. Yet I could not possibly ignore the despair radiating so clearly from her.
After long deliberation, I finally took out my smartphone—no, the Death Register.
“Then let’s do this. I cannot grant your immediate wish, but I can at least check when your life will come to an end. How does that sound?”
“…R-really?”
For an instant, the Saint’s eyes sparkled. A faint flicker of hope crossed her face, which had been filled with nothing but despair.
“Yes. I have some urgent business to attend to, so this is the best I can offer.”
“…All right.”
Please don’t look so dejected again. On my side, I’m already facing a written reprimand, cleaning duty, and twenty-four-hour shifts.
I switched on the device.
…Or rather, I pressed the power button. But the screen remained completely dark.
…Why?
I nearly dropped the phone in shock. Just before it slipped from my grasp, the Saint swiftly reached out and caught it.
“T-thank goodness.”
“…Ah.”
After letting out a sigh of relief, the Saint tilted her head at me.
“…What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing. Just a moment. I’ll try again.”
I gripped it firmly and pressed the button once more. Still, only a pitch-black screen greeted me.
“…This can’t be happening.”
Yes. It really was impossible.
This device was on an entirely different level from anything humans used. It was cutting-edge equipment created in the Underworld for reapers and grim reapers alike, a tool that condensed the pinnacle of technology and magic from every world. It required no charging and never malfunctioned. Moreover, the Underworld’s network was protected by powerful sorcery. In any world connected to the Underworld, it should have functioned without fail.
And the Underworld was required to maintain a connection to any realm where living beings existed.
…What is going on? There is clearly a living person right in front of me.
There was no way I, a grim reaper, could fail to distinguish the living from the dead.
…Perhaps all the overtime had dulled my senses for a moment?
I reached out once more and touched the Saint.
“H-nyang—! W-why?!”
“S-sorry. I was only trying to confirm whether you were truly dead or not…”
“D-dead? So I really am dead?!”
“…No. You appear to be perfectly alive.”
The Saint’s head drooped. At the same time, so did mine.
…What on earth is happening?
No matter how I considered it, this was not a problem I could solve alone. The best course was to return to the Underworld and report to the others.
I opened the gate to the Underworld.
Or tried to.
…But the gate did not appear at all.
“…Don’t tell me I’ve been fired?”
The Death Register wouldn’t turn on. The gate to the Underworld wouldn’t open. No matter how I looked at it, none of this could happen unless I had been stripped of my position as a grim reaper.
…But if I were stripped of my position, I would be annihilated immediately, wouldn’t I?
What in the world was going on?!
Hoping against hope, I tried again. The Saint, who had been watching me intently, finally spoke hesitantly.
“What are you doing?”
“Ah, it’s nothing…”
“Are you trying to go somewhere else?”
“How did you—”
I froze, staring at the Saint.
You too?
She murmured softly and gave a faint smile.
“No matter how much you try, it won’t work.”
“…Why not?”
“That’s because…”
The Saint slowly drew closer to my side and opened her mouth.