Legacy of Faith and the Two-Headed Angel
67. In the past, Amon had sold the nation-equivalent Hickzen Group to the 3 Dollar cartel and received a promise of royalties in return. The phrasing felt off, but given the scale of Hickzen—which rivaled a country—it wasn't entirely wrong. The royalties generated from it were substantial. Just a tiny fraction could redevelop an entire district. Hospitals, schools—whatever Amon wanted, redeveloping the area around the orphanage was entirely feasible. But he didn't.
The world wasn't kind. In a harsh place where even common folk struggled to survive, where the poor and destitute couldn't even access proper schools or hospitals, what would happen if he built such facilities for the orphans? The answer was simple: more parents would abandon their children. Amon believed in human goodness, but he was acutely aware of human malice too. So he settled for merely repairing the orphanage. ...Completely forgetting that the one he was dealing with was the chairman of a megacorp.
"Uh... um..."
Amon stared vacantly up at the resplendent building. The first thought in his mind was worry. How many orphans had been created just by looking at this building? How many more parents had abandoned their kids upon seeing it, and how many children had been hurt?
That concern dominated at first. But it vanished the moment he met the Orphanage Director in her office on the tenth floor.
"Amon. Don't worry about what you're fretting over."
The office was as modest as ever, unchanged from before he left the orphanage. The only difference was the chair, and the Director smiled kindly as she spoke.
"Fewer kids are being abandoned in front of the orphanage now than before you left. Adoptions have actually increased a lot. It's all thanks to you."
The Director sipped the most expensive drink in her office—instant black tea—as she said this. She had considered Amon's worries, and so had the construction firm. But the budget Amon donated was far too generous to stop at just fixing the orphanage, and she knew a better solution.
"The daycare is only on the eighth and ninth floors. The rest are daytime childcare centers."
This massive structure wasn't entirely an orphanage. It was a Child Welfare Center. It cared for orphans until independence, but not just orphans—kids with parents too, during the day or evening. Parents could drop them off, and the center handled meals, baths, and education for the time, at a very low fee—not free, but affordable.
"This way, no one has to abandon their child at an orphanage for the kid's 'happiness,' right?"
Parents could leave their children while working and pick them up after. No need to endure the pain of separation or feel relative deprivation seeing orphans live better than their own kids. And there was another benefit.
"As kids with parents befriend the orphanage children, more parents end up adopting them."
Adoptions from the orphanage had been rare before. People were too busy with their own noses to the grindstone, and without contact, prejudice kept them away. But after the welfare center opened, things changed. Parents felt less burdened knowing they could still use the center post-adoption, and frequent interactions boosted adoptions.
Thanks to this, the current center had fewer residents than before Amon left—fewer abandonments, more adoptions. The orphanage was much brighter now. With hope of their own adoption, and kids who received love outside teaching it to others, the dark atmosphere of the past was gone.
"Thank you so much, Amon. You're truly the angel the Goddess sent me. Even though I've sinned..."
Tears welled in the smiling Director's eyes. It was miraculous. Only a year had passed, and she hadn't even changed her cosmetics, yet she seemed to have fewer wrinkles.
A warm feeling filled Amon's chest. He replied bashfully.
"Angel? Nah, nothing that grand. I just got lucky with an opportunity. Anyone in my shoes would've done the same."
He truly believed he'd merely grabbed a lucky break and shared it with the orphanage.
But at his words, the Director's face hardened.
"Amon. I can overlook a lot, but belittling your own achievements? No."
Why had no companies or gangs invested in the orphanage before? Because it didn't make money. It produced nothing on its own, relying purely on external donations. The government should support it in theory, but with corps owning the politicians, why fund unprofitable welfare?
Talent? Corps didn't expect talent from orphans. Even if it emerged, they'd come crawling anyway—no need for extra investment.
"We're enjoying this because you gave up what was rightfully yours."
"But..."
"Shh. Don't say it was just a tiny fraction."
If Amon hadn't invested here, he could've bought resorts and supercars, living luxuriously forever. Instead, he chose simplicity and donated. To her, he was plenty adult. And...
"Tall Uncle. This you?"
Amon's shoulder twitched. The Director's smile deepened.
"Anonymous donations have been coming for kids graduating the orphanage. Startup funds, independence aid, tuition... all under 'Tall Uncle.'"
Amon's eyes darted around. As good as a yes. Seeing it, she stroked his head gently, like the boy who'd warmed her heart since age ten.
"How could I not love you?"
She smiled with moist eyes. Amon just scratched his cheek, embarrassed.
*
After the meeting, Amon and Sonia didn't sleep at the orphanage for the first time in ages... because they couldn't. They wanted to, but it was a space for kids—no rooms for grown adults. Plus, Sonia would feel awkward. So they headed to a nearby motel.
In their double room, showered and ready for bed, Sonia called out before sleep.
"No wonder you wouldn't tell me the contract details. This is why."
Amon averted his gaze for the umpteenth time. Interpreting his reaction, Sonia smiled and hugged him from behind—his nape too cute.
She whispered in his ear.
"Don't apologize. I'm not upset. I'm the kind of girl who'd be thrilled with 180,000 dollars a year too, like you?"
She planted a smacking kiss on his cheek. Amon felt her lie down behind him. He turned.
Seeing her with an eyemask, ready to sleep, he smiled and kissed her cheek back.
"We're soulmates, after all."
Sonia beamed in response. Soon, Amon turned off the mood light and lay down. As consciousness faded, he murmured inwardly to no one.
'Sorry. The orphanage donation was just part of it too.'
*
The next day, they headed to the dungeon: White Dawn Dungeon. Amon's handiwork.
The former massive distribution hub's exterior was overgrown with moss and vines. Countless explorers prepared at the entrance. The huge crowd already tired him.
They lined up to enter. No need for a party from the guild—they were enough. Not arrogance. With Kashi's help upgrading gear, both were security-chief level. Plus, they knew this dungeon well. Adding strangers would just hinder.
> "You two can clear it easily anyway."
Though Kashi's foresight only showed future Amon clearing it leisurely—meaning the duo could handle it effortlessly. They entered without hesitation.
The monsters were all angelic in form. At the entrance, small angels flapped pigeon-like wings, preaching to explorers—including Amon and Sonia.
Amon's response was singular.
"Holy—mockery!!"
He severed wings, limbs, heads. Explorers distanced themselves from the heretic-slaying Amon. Nothing else eventful.
They cleared steadily, handling the mid-boss easily. Then Sonia wondered.
"This dungeon isn't cleared often, but no monster overflow?"
Post-mid-boss, people thinned sharply. With much of Hickzen's tech to 3 Dollar, no merit scavenging corners. Most cared for essences, so traces faded deeper. Normally, density rose, but not here.
And weirder:
"Come to think, never heard of overflow here."
Dungeons were managed by explorers or state commissions. Popular ones self-cleaned; unpopular risked outbreaks if ignored. But here, no cleaning traces, yet no issues. Her doubt grew.
Luckily, the answer-man was beside her. Amon shrugged.
"Makes sense. Divine power overload dungeons have unknowns."
Divine power info was scarce. If heavenly punishment was known, the chairman wouldn't have self-destructed.
Amon tapped the wall.
"This is heavenly punishment's prison. Monsters are humans stripped of death."
Unlike normal dungeons, science didn't apply. Walls reformed, monsters revived. The Goddess imprisoned them here—bodies shattered, souls torn, existence bound.
"They can't leave set areas."
Like chained prisoners, no escape. No overflow, ever.
Sonia asked post-explanation.
"Your divine power sense?"
Can't mention past life. Playfully tapping her lips:
"Don't tell anyone."
She accepted. Deeper they went, angels grew: bigger, child to adult. Duo dispatched steadily.
They stayed on task.
"Anything special?"
"Nope."
Cross-checked records—no changes. Giant baby angels wailed, male swung cold weapons, females shot arrows or magic. As reported.
No differences till boss room.
"Made it."
Amon eyed the door nostalgically. The fake saint room beyond. Memories brief—not fond.
He opened without pause.
Inside: pale-skinned, red-eyed human. Matched fake saint so far. But...
Fewer wings.
Fake saint had more, larger. And...
Pottery's different.
Saint was beauty (post-phase 2). This face: old man. Familiar.
Where's the chairman? Here.
Ex-Hickzen chairman's head. Amon knew: different boss.
Only he saw fake saint, few told—so unknown change. He drew sword quietly. Sonia loaded calmly.
Boss stared blankly, unaware.
Amon's foot brushed the entry barrier. As it rippled, foot half-through, boss creaked neck toward them. Grinned grotesquely.
Question mark over Amon's head—chairman head shuddered, crack! spun 180°.
From back: another familiar face.
Victor N.N.!
Chairman's partner grinned yellow gold teeth.
Sonia recoiled in disgust, backing up. Amon too—still outside, no attack.
Out, boss blankly stared again. Sonia sighed relief. Then noticed Amon's silence.
Not raging?
She worriedly looked. But calm—no anger.
Why?
He asked her.
"Sonia. Sorry, but can I handle that boss solo?"
She almost refused instinctively, but his eyes—glowing. Reading determination, she replied with a question.
"Something to check?"
"Yeah. A few things."
Curious gleam with joy—she couldn't refuse.
"Don't get hurt?"
"Got it!"
Permission granted, Amon bounded in gleefully. Eyes locked on boss. In his vision, it shattered like glass in a dreamlike haze.