Wandering Priest (3)
After hearing the whole story, Seo Hayun stared with a dazed expression. “You… died and came back to life?”
I had thought it was obvious. It wasn’t the kind of tale anyone in their right mind could hear and simply accept. Even though she had promised to believe anything I said, this wasn’t something that could be explained with logic. If even I, who had lived through the phenomenon, couldn’t properly describe it, how could I expect her to believe me?
“Then… did your arm return to normal when you revived?”
“What? Ah, yeah. I suppose so.”
Yet even after listening to everything, Seo Hayun accepted it with surprising calm.
“I wonder how it healed…”
Instead of doubt, she seemed genuinely curious about the principles behind my inexplicable resurrection.
“…You believe me?”
“Of course. I told you I would, didn’t I?”
Her tone suggested I was asking something absurd, and I found myself at a loss for words.
Seo Hayun naturally reached out and took hold of my arm once more.
“It really is completely fine…”
She ran her fingers over mine, checking the joints and bones, examining every detail as if to confirm that the arm lost two years ago truly existed again. Seo Hayun showed not the slightest doubt about my claim that I had died and returned. The redness in her eyes slowly gave way to a spreading smile. Before long, she was in my arms again.
“I’m so relieved… truly, so relieved…”
She pressed her face against my chest, and I felt her body tremble with suppressed sobs.
“It doesn’t matter how you came back. Just… having you here in front of me like this is enough.”
I couldn’t bring myself to push Seo Hayun away as she clung to me.
This is a bit troublesome.
Reuniting with her filled me with indescribable joy. But the suddenness of it, catching me completely unprepared, made the moment unexpectedly difficult.
“Hayun. After I died, what happened to the special operations unit?”
“Ah, right. Of course.”
Seo Hayun, who had been basking in the happiness of our reunion, finally collected herself. To answer my question, she began recounting what had become of the unit after my death.
“All the soldiers were killed in action. The only survivors were myself, Mr. Dabon, and Ms. Rumia.”
Our unit had been small—a platoon of twenty. It consisted of the captain, the vice-captain, seventeen slave soldiers, and one priestess. Our primary duties had been subjugating minor low-grade demonic beasts or providing support for other units’ missions. In simpler terms, we were the cleanup crew.
Slave soldiers never received proper training at military academies or similar institutions. They were convicts shipped straight to their units, handed weapons, and thrown onto the front lines as disposable resources. Inside the allied army, they were commonly referred to as “meat shields”—troops whose only real purpose was to die.
Stories of slave soldiers dying were painfully common. Most had committed heinous crimes in society, received their sentences, and been sent to the front to bolster dwindling numbers. As a result, the allied forces used them without hesitation and discarded them just as easily. After all, who would feel guilt over the death of a criminal who had done terrible things? No one mourned them. No one pitied them. No one cared.
From the allied army’s perspective, the slave soldier system was ruthlessly efficient.
I took a moment to remind myself of that harsh reality.
Which means I need to understand my current position clearly.
Just because I had come back to life didn’t mean I could return to that existence. I had come to appreciate how good the 9th Defense Division truly was. Of course, stepping onto the battlefield and risking my life remained the same as before. Still, I had learned how much comfort good people and a decent environment could offer a person’s heart.
“Was I officially listed as killed in action?”
“Yes… During the retreat, Ms. Rumia filed the report. I… heard it myself.”
Her voice grew heavy as she recalled that day.
“She said you were trying to help her and got attacked by a minotaur. That it crushed your head and body under its foot, and we couldn’t even recover your remains…”
That was the story of my death as Seo Hayun knew it.
Since my consciousness had cut off, I had no memory of how I actually died. Learning I had perished so helplessly, so miserably, left a bitter taste that showed on my face.
And then there were the endless questions: how had I come back to life? What exactly was the Heavenly Fate dwelling inside me? Who had granted me this power, and how?
No matter how many times I turned it over in my mind, it felt like a hole had been punched through my memories. Only the recollection of that woman remained missing.
…Woman?
My thoughts froze.
What had I just remembered? A woman? Why? Who was she?
What am I forgetting…
“Urk…!?”
A violent headache flooded my skull. It was as if a voice, knowledge, emotion—or something beyond description—had invaded my mind. Whatever it was, it blocked me from pursuing the question any deeper into the abyss.
The presence felt kind and warm. At the same time, it was eerie and grotesque. The affection directed toward me was genuinely benevolent, yet its true nature was something human senses could never fully comprehend.
“Hah… ugh…”
I fought through the dizziness and regained my senses.
“J-Jungwoo!? What’s wrong!?”
Startled, Seo Hayun held me steady. Only after feeling her supporting touch did I realize I had staggered as my consciousness briefly fled.
“…I’m fine.”
“Really? Truly?”
“Yeah.”
My body stabilized, and my senses returned as though nothing had happened.
“……”
Yet Seo Hayun continued to gaze up at me while still supporting my weight. Her stare made it clear she didn’t believe a word.
“Are you really okay?”
“Why don’t you believe me? You said you’d believe everything I told you.”
It was contradictory. She had accepted my story of dying and returning without a hint of doubt, ready to hand over the deed to her house if I asked. Yet she always dug her heels in at the strangest moments.
“I can’t trust you when you say you’re fine. It’s always been a lie.”
“……”
“You just thought I was being stubborn again, didn’t you?”
And she read my thoughts with uncanny accuracy.
“You’re the one who’s always stubborn. You keep saying you’re okay, but… you’ve never actually been okay. It was the same back then. If it weren’t for me, you never would have become a slave soldier—”
“Stop.”
I cut her off firmly. Once she fell into that spiral, she would endlessly blame herself and drown in guilt. It was a terrible habit of hers.
“That habit hasn’t changed at all.”
This time Seo Hayun fell silent. She lowered her head deeply, as if trying to hide her face.
I placed a hand on her head to comfort her.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
I had repeated those words countless times.
And her reply was always the same.
“…Yeah.”
Seo Hayun gave a small nod.
I continued, explaining my current circumstances.
“I’m serving as a regular soldier in this unit now.”
“…A regular soldier?”
I told her how, at Garan’s suggestion, I had forged my identity to enlist as a regular soldier. Only Garan, the other members of the reconnaissance unit, and Arisha knew about my past as a slave soldier.
“Captain Arisha… accepted you even though she knew you were a former slave soldier?”
“She said she would look into my past record. If I turned out to be a truly heinous criminal, she would expel me.”
“Not by handing you over to central command…”
Seo Hayun’s thinking followed the normal logic. Under ordinary circumstances, there would be no reason to protect someone who had become a slave soldier through crime and identity forgery.
The way Arisha and Garan looked after me was their method of repaying the significant help I had given them.
Arisha wanted to use me as a capable soldier as long as I wasn’t the type who would bring discord to the unit. Garan wished to repay the debt for the aid I had provided him and his men. Perhaps he also sympathized with me for his own reasons.
In short, our interests aligned, so they had decided defending my position wasn’t a bad choice.
“…They sound like good people. Yes, Captain Arisha does seem like that kind of person.”
Seo Hayun nodded in understanding. It appeared she had her own impression of Arisha.
“I’m waiting for the results.”
I believed I had already proven my worth as a soldier here. Now came the time to be judged on whether I was truly a good person or a bad one—my value as a human being.
The outcome would likely arrive soon. Several months had passed since I joined the 9th Defense Division. That was more than enough time for Arisha or Garan to use their connections and information networks to inquire about me at central command.
They may have already confirmed everything but simply can’t reach a decision yet.
The fact that they were still contemplating the matter didn’t feel bad. It meant I wasn’t so worthless that I deserved to be driven out.
“That’s why I haven’t told anyone that I died and came back to life. I only said the report must have been mistaken and I was incorrectly listed as killed in action. You’re the only one I’ve told the truth.”
“O-only me…?”
Her face flashed with surprise, then brightened like sunlight breaking through clouds.
“I see… Yeah. Hehe.”
I couldn’t understand what pleased her so much, but I kept speaking.
“So the fact that I died once is a secret. The fact that I used to be a slave soldier is a secret too. The senior reconnaissance members know, but the other squads don’t.”
“Understood. I’ll keep it in mind.”
Her face, which had been clouded with self-reproach moments ago, now glowed with pure vitality.
“How long until the injured are fully treated?”
“It should take about three days. No matter how many there are, I’ve never seen it take longer than that.”
“I see.”
Three days. In three days, Seo Hayun would leave this unit. The fact that she was touring other units meant many of them were also suffering heavy casualties. I just needed to be careful for three days. I could endure it.
“…The priestess and Han Jungwoo?”
“Yes. The base became quite noisy because of it.”
Garan had come to the commander’s office to report the day’s events between Han Jungwoo and Seo Hayun to Arisha.
Lately, quite a few soldiers had taken an interest in Han Jungwoo. He hadn’t graduated from any military academy but had been personally scouted by Garan. Despite only recently reaching adulthood, rumors claimed he possessed incredible combat strength within the reconnaissance unit. On top of that, his good character had earned him the favor of the unit members. It was only natural that people would be curious.
The revelation that the wandering priestess who traveled between units healing soldiers had actually known Han Jungwoo only intensified the interest.
“They seemed rather close, from what I heard.”
There were even whispers that the two might have been lovers. It was understandable—after all, Seo Hayun had embraced Han Jungwoo in front of many soldiers. Rumors naturally swelled, and speculation ran wild.
“…Didn’t you say he used to be a slave soldier?”
“He admitted it himself.”
“And they were in a relationship?”
Most slave soldiers were heinous criminals rejected by society. In other words, many of them were trash with little humanity. However, there were rare exceptions—decent people who had been wrongly accused and sentenced to serve as slave soldiers.
Both Garan and Arisha had judged that the Han Jungwoo they observed likely fell into this latter category.
“There’s no way that priestess would fall for a criminal…”
Arisha held considerable confidence in her own judgment. The priestess named Seo Hayun that she had observed was a devoted woman who healed and helped countless people without seeking anything in return. Therefore, if she had given her heart to someone, Arisha believed that person must possess equally upright character.
If that person was Han Jungwoo, then…
“……”
Knock. Knock.
“Excuse me.”
It was a familiar voice. Sure enough, it belonged to one of the main figures responsible for the commotion at the outpost today.
“Come in.”
At Arisha’s polite permission, Seo Hayun opened the door and stepped inside. She offered a small, respectful bow before walking forward.
The atmosphere…
had changed.
This wasn’t the calm, graceful demeanor she had shown before. Her eyes now brimmed with vitality, overflowing with intense emotion. With a gaze that held some newfound, unshakable purpose, Seo Hayun spoke.
“I would like to request a transfer to this unit.”
The woman who had been healing soldiers without asking for anything in return had, for the first time, voiced her own desire.