The Cult Leader’s Second Chance

A vicious, pseudo-religious cult leader who calls himself a messenger of God, swindles innocent believers, and sucks them dry by demanding offerings with every breath they take. That was Mate Daylight.

"Thirty gold coins in a single day’s profit—hah! It’s sweet, so sweet!"

Tanned skin, stylish sunglasses, and a bald head without a single stray hair. A man in his mid-twenties who graduated from Lumeris Academy. That was Dishel Litbus.

If Mate’s role was to deceive the believers with flowery rhetoric, Dishel’s role was to drive the final nail into the coffin for those who were wavering. Despite his appearance, he was a capable man, talented in areas like accounting and report writing. Later on, his competence would be recognized, leading him to work as an arms dealer under Muse Fairfield.

Unlike his extra-like appearance, he was a character who held enough significance to garner quite a bit of attention from the fans. For instance, there were creative works—like BL fanfiction—featuring Mate Daylight and Dishel Litbus, though the attention he received was often of a rather... unfavorable nature.

I regained consciousness while sitting on the sofa. In my left hand, I held a report detailing the profits from the last month; in my right, a snack with chocolate cream smeared in the crevices. My entire body was wrapped in a flamboyant white priest’s robe, complete with a gold-trimmed hood.

In the end, I had returned to those nauseating days.

This was the cult leader’s office, one of the facilities within the Daylight Church. It was a space meant for the leader’s rest, and from its interior to its size, it was the definition of simple and adequate. The timing was identical. It was the exact same second I had first possessed this body.

I swept my blonde hair back and handed the report to Dishel, who was grinning from ear to ear, clearly excited.

"You check this. You can do at least that much, right?"

"I just finished the settlement, though."

"I’ll give you an extra 10 percent. I have something urgent I need to take care of."

"Heh-heh-heh, if that’s the case, I’m always welcome to it."

A white tank top and jeans—a light outfit that suited Dishel well. It’s nice that he looks so laid-back. Dishel pulled a pen from his jeans pocket and began drawing lines on the report with lightning speed. He was performing his own verification process to ensure there were no errors in his report.

I took deep breaths repeatedly in front of the office door. What I’ve done before, I’ll do again. I’d just repeat it from the start. If this were a situation where I didn’t need to intervene, I would have done so without a second’s hesitation. But if the story flowed according to the original work without my intervention, only the one person chosen by Yuren would overcome their trauma and be saved.

My role wouldn’t change from before; I just needed to avoid getting deeply entangled with the heroines. I would keep my distance from all of them as much as possible, resolve their traumas, and then hand over all the credit to Yuren. It wasn’t difficult at all! It was something I, who had led the scenario in the previous timeline, could easily pull off. As long as no variables occurred, it couldn’t be better.

The one I’m most concerned about is Shirai. Not only did I reverse the future where she was chosen by Yuren, but I also ended up making her blind again. Judith’s family issues and Muse’s revolution were problems too, but Shirai’s eyes had to come first. No, should I stop Sia from falling into depravity first? I have some time since Sia’s trauma can be resolved later, but if any unexpected variable arises, that would be a disaster.

Anyway, there’s about a month left until the entrance to Lumeris Academy. It’s time to lay the groundwork for the stage at the academy.

Creak—

The old door opened with a gloomy sound, revealing the entire expanse of the wide church from end to end. The office was located behind the church stage. My figure was bound to be visible to the believers who were sitting in their chairs, deep in prayer.

"It’s, it’s the Cult Leader! The Cult Leader has returned from communing with God!"

"The messenger of God is watching over us!"

"First, believe. If you believe, blessings will come."

Three believers jumped up from their prayers and started making a scene. They were the shills Mate had hired with money. They say that with just three people, you can make a fool out of anyone. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I think the scale of that isn’t limited to just one person.

"Please, grant us the heavenly fortune to live without worrying about money!"

"Please, heal my daughter’s illness!"

"Please, let us live for eternity!"

Just like right now. With just three people, you can incite dozens, even hundreds of others. If you dig into the weak points that every human being possesses. Among them were those pushed to the edge by debt, parents who had joined to cure their children’s incurable diseases, and mortals who desired eternal life without aging.

"Hoo..."

My head felt dizzy, and the sight before me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made my vision go dark. According to the schedule, Saintess Shirai of the Espera Denomination would visit the church in three days for an inspection. If Saintess Shirai discovered that the Daylight Church was a cult, it would all be over. I wouldn’t be able to enter the academy, and the entire scenario would unravel.

'I must prepare thoroughly. Starting now.'

I headed to the podium, took a deep breath, and grabbed the microphone. I never thought I’d be standing here again. I could never get used to the sparkling eyes of the believers looking at me. It’s too burdensome. And it doesn’t feel very pleasant knowing I’m deceiving people. But when you have to do it, you do it. That’s the only way to survive.

This was the foundation for purifying the church in preparation for Saintess Shirai’s inspection.

"From now on, I will conduct one-on-one consultations."

I would have to fathom the grievances of these pitiful believers.

A one-on-one consultation with the Cult Leader they believe to be God’s messenger. If it were me, I’d want to cry and wail and appeal my grievances too.

"Sob, sob-sob!"

Mister... no, should I call him a young man? It’s hard to say this, but I really don’t want to see a man wearing a short-sleeved shirt, revealing bulging muscles, sobbing his eyes out.

"Please, calm down. The Heavenly God does not wish to hear the cries of his believers."

The Daylight Church is by no means a small religious group. As such, a confession room was installed as a standard. It was somewhere between medium and large-scale. That busy Saintess Shirai wasn’t coming for an inspection for no reason.

"I, I’m sorry! I couldn’t help myself!"

Short hair that showed his entire forehead, with a mustache and goatee perfectly connected, giving him a middle-aged look. But as far as I knew, this guy was around my age.

"Believer Marcus, you were a homosexual, right?"

"Th, that’s not it! You wouldn’t know, Cult Leader, since you’re so popular, but there exists another gender in this world—men who are like women..."

"That’s enough."

I didn’t want to hear any more. Even if this was a place to relieve the grievances of the believers, there were sometimes circumstances I could never understand. I just had to pretend to empathize and send them away. Just like before.

"I just came to ask if the merciful Creator God would understand my sexual orientation."

My gaze automatically shifted to Marcus’s hands as he wiped away his tears. His skeletal structure, where every knuckle seemed hardened, suggested that if I were hit in the solar plexus by that heavy fist, I’d be on my way to the afterlife immediately.

"Mr. Marcus, who do ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you think created you?"

"Eh? My parents, of course..."

"Wrong. Believer Marcus, you were created by the Heavenly God."

"Th, that’s...!"

Marcus opened his eyes wide and let out a sigh, as if he had realized something. He even covered his mouth while shedding tears.

"It’s alright. The merciful Creator God never hates His own creations."

I patted Marcus on the shoulder. His bulging muscles weren’t cool; they were just unpleasant. If he were a man who knew how to love normally like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠others, he would have been popular, which is just a pity.

"Believer Marcus, I am God’s messenger. I exist to convey the words of the great Heavenly God to desperate people like you."

"Ah, I know."

"Currently, Believer Marcus, you are trapped in the feeling of not being understood, and you cannot see the forest."

I stood up and walked toward Marcus, who was sitting down.

"Like a blind man."

"..."

"I repeat, it was the Heavenly God who created you, Believer Marcus."

My role was done. Marcus wasn’t a stupid guy. His sexual orientation was unique, that’s true.

"Why, why me of all people? There are so many people in the world."

"The Heavenly God does not share specialness with just anyone. In that sense, Believer Marcus, you could say you are a chosen being."

"Like Saintess Shirai?"

"..."

My conscience pricked, so I just nodded.

"How could He not understand the sexual orientation He bestowed upon you with His own will? I can hear it even now."

"Wh, what is He saying?"

"He says that since you dared to doubt the great Heavenly God, He doesn’t even want to look at you, so you should leave the confession room within five seconds."

"Eek...!"

Marcus hurriedly began rummaging through the pockets of his leather pants. A moment later, Marcus’s heavy hand handed over ten silver coins. His hands were so large that the silver coins looked tiny.

"Please, I hope the Heavenly God sees my sincerity and releases His anger..."

"Fortunately, He says His anger has subsided. You may return."

"Thank you! I will never forget today!"

Creak—

'I wish you would forget it a little...'

Marcus left the confession room, and the next believer entered. Ah, is she not a believer? As far as I remember, Marcus was the second to last in line.

"Are you ripping off the believers again? You disgusting cult leader."

This blonde-haired, red-eyed girl who would put an end to my schedule today.

"Yuri."

"Don’t call my name with that disgusting mouth."

Tomorrow, she would be found as a corpse in her own home. The cause of death: asphyxiation due to a fire. Anyway, if she knows I’m a cult leader, I don’t need to wear a mask anymore.

"It’s still winter, so it’s cold. Close the door and come in."

"Don’t order me around. I didn’t want to come, but my mom told me to go to the confession room, so I came against my will."

Persuading someone who hates and distrusts me within a few hours. Including the previous timeline, this was going to be the most difficult consultation yet.