Chapter 85: Mistaken for a Saint (3) |
Heresy Inquisition's Propaganda Division, Section 3.
Colloquially known as the Room of Liars.
Their main duty was to spread propaganda about Saints and Saintesses.
It wasn't a job they could be publicly proud of.
After all, it involved hiding in the cracks of society, using a few lies and a little magic to distort history.
They were calm in their acceptance of the fact that they were liars.
But if asked if they had pride, they could nod without hesitation.
Sometimes, a sweet lie is more necessary than a harsh truth.
Someone in this world dies every day.
A Knight Order fails to return from the Eastern Kingdom.
Wailing echoes through the Western Kingdom.
The reason people could still bake bread the next morning amidst all that news.
It was thanks to the belief that the gods had not abandoned them and were sending down their children's children.
That was why they took pride in their lies.
Even if history would record them as liars who distorted history.
As long as they could spread the hope to bake bread tomorrow, they were prepared to sweetly accept the criticism.
But today.
Something happened to put a small crack in their pride.
"...What in the world are we supposed to propagandize?"
The Department Head of Propaganda Division, Section 3, was lost in thought.
The canonization of the Saintess of the Lamp and the Black Saint had recently been decided.
Accordingly, before revealing them to the public,
the Propaganda Division began the work of embellishing the miracles they had performed.
However,
— "When I was placed under the Black Flag, I sensed my fate. The state of the people lying next to me was no joke, so how could I not know? But then, a priestess came and cast Divine Magic on me and prayed."
— "Whenever my eyes felt like closing, she'd come back, cast Divine Magic again, and again... At first, I was grateful. But as time passed, I grew to resent it. It hurt so much."
— "I wonder how much time passed. Suddenly, priests swarmed me and put me on a cart. I thought then that I'd be thrown into an incinerator while still conscious. I even resented the priestess who kept me alive."
— "I fell asleep in the cart, and when I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a bed in the Infirmary. When I later asked the healer who saved me, they said it was because that priestess kept pouring her Divine Power into me that I was able to hold on until it was my turn."
— "As for me... I have nothing to say but thank you. Truly. Hmm? You think it's a lie? Haha, my good man. If you don't believe me, just grab any knight in this Training Ground and ask. There are dozens of people here who are alive thanks to that priestess, dozens."
Even before they could roll out the full-scale propaganda.
People were already pouring out eyewitness accounts as if possessed.
At first, the people of the Propaganda Division saw it as a type of mass hallucination.
In a chaotic situation, when various eyewitness accounts get tangled up, the accomplishments of many people can sometimes be packaged as the great achievement of one.
The Saintess of Victory was a prime example.
A saintess said to have traversed five battlefields simultaneously two hundred years ago.
Her great performance was actually the work of five completely different female knights.
As rumors were embellished over time, the result was that she solidified into a single saintess clad in Golden Armor.
So, when they first heard the story from the north this time.
the people of the Propaganda Division held the same suspicion.
But after collecting and cross-verifying countless eyewitness accounts.
they reached the conclusion that while the accounts might contain slight exaggerations, they were true.
— "My younger brother told me that when I was hospitalized in the Infirmary, that priestess came to visit every night."
— "When I was wandering on the verge of death, there was an angel who saved me from that quagmire. This face? That's right! It was this face!"
— "I'm an adventurer, so I've been to the Infirmary quite a bit. You know how once you lie down on a bed there, you don't know when you'll open your eyes again, right? But I heard that in the infirmary where that priestess was, no one's eyes remained closed for more than three days."
In this world, a hospitalized patient has about a 50% chance of ending up in a coffin.
The turbid air reeking of sewage.
The yellowish bed sheet that had held a corpse just a few days ago.
A 20-person room shared with plague patients.
Death was always a companion in the Infirmary's hospital rooms.
But the hospital room in the memories of those who had met the priestess—Ayla—was completely different.
The scent of flowers placed at each patient's bedside.
White bed sheets, washed bright and changed daily.
There, what the patients witnessed just before closing their eyes and upon opening them again was always Ayla, holding a lamp.
— "This may sound impious, but I must say it. That person is surely a Saintess."
There was no need for the Propaganda Division to spread propaganda.
It had reached the point where a folk belief had formed, stating that if the saintess holding the lamp placed a flower and passed by, that patient would see the morning sun the next day.
"Department Head. Do we really need to touch up the accomplishments of the Saintess of the Lamp?"
"...Let's just leave it."
In the end, the Propaganda Division scrapped the scenario they had prepared for the Saintess of the Lamp.
Because needlessly touching her mystique and tainting it felt impious.
And the rumors about the Saintess of the Lamp were but a drop in the bucket compared to those about her master, the Black Saint.
— "Teacher Schnabel? Ah, he was famous in Limbus Pit. You see, there was this friend over there who was blind in one eye, right? I heard that a few days after that person gave him some medicine, his sight returned. What was that medicine called... Heparin?"
— "A long time ago, that alley over there, you see? That used to be an alley where the lame would beg. But you don't see them now, do you? Teacher Schnabel gave something to the lame who were there once. He gave them beans, too. Ever since that day, all the lame from there completely disappeared."
— "Teacher Schnabel? I know him well. See this scar on my back? I was stabbed with a knife in an alley here once. I couldn't walk after that day. But look at me now. I might stumble a bit, but I can walk somehow."
Before this incident.
Where Director Schun's hand touched, the blind regained their sight, and the lame rose and walked.
Those whose blood wouldn't stop, their bleeding stopped, and those possessed by ghosts stopped having seizures.
Even before this miracle, the miracles he performed in the slums were countless.
And at the Northern Gate this time, the eyewitness accounts of his miracles reached their peak.
— "Director Schun, you mean? Yes. He'd find me even if I was hiding my illness and treat me no matter what. He stuck some kind of needle in my chest, and there were a lot of guys like me under the Red Flag. I hear many of them called that needle a Holy Nail."
— "See this? This isn't my original jaw. It's a rib. Strange, isn't it? I think so too. Come to think of it, doesn't the Creation Myth say man was fashioned from a woman's rib?"
— "...That man is a god. He reattached my severed penis. After it was attached, there were no problems other than a scar. Is any more explanation needed?"
That last eyewitness account is a bit concerning, but.
In any case, there were many other miracles performed by the Black Saint.
There were even accounts from priests who had watched his great performance up close mixed in.
— "It's not an exaggeration. I'm telling you, it's true! He really opened up a head! I saw it myself while providing assistance with Divine Magic right next to him!"
There were numerous cross-verifications.
Wondering if this wasn't, by any chance, a mass hallucination.
But the more they verified.
the more they were forced to conclude that it was the truth, without any exaggeration or misunderstanding.
"...Could it be that drugs have been circulating in the Imperial Capital without my knowledge?"
"You know, sir. The drug cartel was smashed a while ago, so you can't get drugs in the Imperial Capital these days."
"Then am I supposed to believe this is real?"
The Department Head pressed his temples firmly.
The Propaganda Division had felt pride their entire lives in spreading hope through lies.
And yet,
"Oh, Main God. I'm afraid to even touch this."
"His Eminence the Cardinal also received the report and said not to force any propaganda needlessly."
This time, their lies weren't needed.
Rather, they were afraid that leaving any artificial traces might blemish their great achievements.
In the end, regarding these two saints, the Propaganda Division decided on a policy of minimizing additional intervention.
A little propaganda. And a bit of Perception Alteration to protect their identities.
Other than that, they decided not to touch the miracles they had performed.
After deciding on that policy.
the Propaganda Division's Department Head rose to his feet.
"...I feel like attending Evening Worship for the first time in a while. It seems the gods haven't abandoned us."
When your job is to bolster faith with lies, you're bound to become cynical about everything in the world.
This is because of the thought that the faith you believe in might just be a manipulation by your predecessors.
But this time was different.
A pure miracle, without any lies.
The more he cross-verified it, the more he felt the forgotten sense of awe from his faith reawakening.
The Department Head eventually couldn't bear the overwhelming feeling and headed to the chapel.
***
The Spring of Those Who Could Not Return.
The name given to this massive Subjugation failure incident.
About a month after that incident.
"You may be discharged now."
"Thank you so much, Teacher."
I was finally starting to get a chance to breathe.
Saving people with limited resources was all well and good.
The problem was that my work-life balance was thoroughly destroyed as a price.
It couldn't be helped.
It was the result of trying to substitute the miracle of Regeneration, a highest-grade healing magic, with Minor Heal.
'Regeneration would have been done in five minutes.'
I saw the Diocesan Head, who was a High-rank Healer, use it.
A noble on the verge of death was fixed up in just five minutes.
Honestly, I was jealous.
Because for me to perform the same miracle, I'd have to roll around with Minor Heal for a month.
'I'm definitely the protagonist, but...'
Since I was going to have a previous life (or be possessed), wouldn't it have been nice to get one more cheat?
Of course, I like that my memory is better than I thought and that I have an aptitude for black magic.
Still, I wish they'd added some Divine Power, too.
I could have done so much more if they had.
Well, whining about it won't change anything.
Doing my best with what little I had was something I'd been doing since my previous life.
Putting my complaints aside, I focused on my clinic work that day as well.
"You had surgery last time and have started eating, right? Are your bowel movements okay?"
"I have a bit of diarrhea, is that okay?"
"Yes. That much is fine. But if you're too uncomfortable, I'll give you a potion that's good for diarrhea."
On a day when I was hectically sending patients back to their daily lives like that.
A contact arrived for me.
It was a contact from Diocesan Head Raylick.
[Brother. If you have a moment, would it be alright for me to pay you a visit?]
"My consultations end at six, would that be alright with you?"
On the other side of the crystal orb, the Diocesan Head paused for a moment.
[Ah, by any chance, is Lady Ayla there with you?]
Lady Ayla?
It was strange for the Diocesan Head to use an honorific title for a mere aspiring healer girl.
But I answered without bothering to ask about it.
"Yes, the student is helping with consultations today as well. She will likely be with me after six."
[Excellent. In that case, I will see you at that time. I apologize for taking your time, Brother.]
"Not at all. I will see you later, Diocesan Head."
Beep. The magical power of the crystal orb cut off with a sound effect.
After that, it was back to hectic consultation time.
I checked on the rehabilitation of the patients I had treated,
educated other healers,
and had Ayla and her friend pre-study some knowledge from the Department of Healing.
By the time I came to my senses, it was the appointed time.
When I finished my consultations and went out to the waiting room, the Diocesan Head was there, wearing purple healer's robes with a purple cappa (Cappa) over his shoulders.
"Diocesan Head?"
"Ah, your consultations are finished."
The Diocesan Head stood up from his chair and gave a faint smile.
Next to him was a cup of cold tea.
How long had he been waiting?
"When did you arrive? If you had told someone, I would have wrapped up my consultations a bit faster."
"No, not at all."
The Diocesan Head waved his hands dismissively.
"I simply arrived a little earlier than the appointed time. I was worried it might seem like I was rushing your consultations, so I asked them not to tell you I was waiting in the lobby."
The Diocesan Head slowly rose.
I summoned Ayla, who was nursing patients in the hospital room, and guided the Diocesan Head to my office.
Inside the office.
Ayla and I sat side-by-side across from the Diocesan Head.
"Thank you for making time, Brother. You must want to be returning home to rest, I've lost face making you leave work late because of me."
"Not at all, I'm just glad I have the time to see you, Diocesan Head."
"Hearing you say that puts my mind at ease. How have you been these days, Brother?"
"Thanks to you helping with the patient transfers to other infirmaries, I finally have some leeway."
"I'm so glad I could be of help."
The Diocesan Head wrapped both hands around his teacup.
I also asked about the Diocesan Head's situation.
"May I ask how you are doing, Diocesan Head?"
"It is the time when people are slowly returning to their families, so it is the period of deepest mourning. I am not at ease myself."
Ironically, the Diocesan Head said this was his busiest time.
Because his work as the Public Health Center Director commanding all the capital's infirmaries was over, and his time as a priest, looking after the well-being of the believers, had begun.
Although it's said that the number of victims was historically low for the scale of the incident, it was still a hundred people.
By the standards of this era, that was by no means a small number.
As memorial ceremonies and funerals were also a priest's duties, the Diocesan Head was bound to be incredibly busy.
After exchanging recent news for a few minutes, we were finally able to get to the main point.
"The reason I sought you out, Brother, is because the Order wishes to ask a favor of you."
At the Diocesan Head's serious voice, Ayla's shoulders tensed.
In contrast, I wasn't particularly nervous.
Because I had a rough idea of what the favor would be.
The Diocesan Head took a brief breath and spoke.
"As Diocesan Head of the Capital, on behalf of the Order's Holy See, I earnestly ask this of you, Brother, and you, Student Ayla. The Order dares to canonize you two as saints, so I beg that you please accept."
The Diocesan Head removed his zucchetto and bowed his head.
Ayla let out a gasp.
"...Hic."
And with a small hiccup, she froze on the spot.
In stark contrast, I was utterly composed.
It was only natural, as being a Director of a Major Trading Company means you're bound to hear rumors.
Especially since our company's main customers are healers, even before they are patients.
The atmosphere of them trying to make me a Saint was faintly palpable.
Of course, that's probably because the Order wasn't being particularly strict about keeping it under wraps either.
Thanks to that, I was able to mentally prepare myself even before the Diocesan Head delivered the news.
'As expected. I guess the main story of the original work is finally starting now.'
I fell into thought while looking at the crown of the Diocesan Head's head.
Quinine, Insulin, Viagra, etc...
To be honest, I don't know if the protagonist of the original work even made these drugs, or if they're supposed to appear at this point in time.
I just made them because it seemed like I could.
Therefore, I was always curious about when the main story of the original work would begin.
I thought it would probably start when I became an adult.
I never expected it to start like this.
'So in the end, they misunderstand me as a Saint like this.'
Of course, their misunderstanding is reasonable.
I am aware that the accomplishment I achieved this time was incredible.
If we assume the medical level of this era is that of the 19th century, then I've shown them surgery and a medical system that is a whopping 200 years ahead.
It's no wonder they're surprised, just like in a common isekai power fantasy.
However,
'I'm definitely not a Saint, though.'
Thinking about it coolly, I can't possibly be a Saint.
For one, I can't use Divine Magic.
Even though my biological parents were healers, I couldn't use Divine Magic.
I was often sick with minor illnesses when I was young, too.
So I don't perfectly meet the five conditions of a Saint.
And crucially, I'm not a good enough person to be called a Saint.
They say even hypocrisy is a form of good, but.
still, to call me a good person worthy of being called a Saint... I don't know.
Saints and Saintesses are people like the GOATs of human history that humanity should look up to as role models for ages to come.
In terms of the Republic of Korea, they're on the level of His Excellency King Sejong or Emperor Chungmugong.
You're putting me in a lineup with people like that?
'Oof. That's a bit...'
I'm just a guy who has lived his life trying to make money and freeload.
Comparing me to people like them is crossing a line.
Maybe that's why.
I've acted with intent until now, but.
now that it's right in front of me, it feels a bit burdensome.
'Just once.'
I should refuse just once.
That way, I think I'll feel less burdened.
Of course, I know it won't work at all.
Still, I felt like I had to leave a trace of me saying no to feel less burdened.
"Diocesan Head."
Archbishop Raylick raised his head.
"I am not a vessel fit to be a Saint. I am not a great person who could ever stand in their ranks, and I do not wish for the Order's tradition to be broken because of me alone."
But as expected.
the Archbishop wouldn't let me go, pleading desperately.
"Brother. In my entire life, I have witnessed countless miracles. I have seen the miracles performed by the Saints and Saintesses of this era. But, none of them shone as brightly as you, Brother."
A wrinkled hand gripped both of mine tightly.
"There have been those who regenerated limbs, and those who fought back plagues. But no one has ever saved this many people. If you do not accept canonization, Brother, then who in the future will have the qualification to be canonized?"
At those words, I gave a bitter smile behind my mask.
As expected.
When he pleaded like this, I couldn't refuse.
He would just persuade me somehow even if I refused again.
In the end, I pretended to be unable to resist his earnest plea and accepted the proposal.
"I understand. I am an unworthy vessel, but if my lies can give people hope, if they can have hope to bake bread tomorrow morning—"
I continued, quoting a passage from scripture that I remembered.
"I will dare to carry that yoke."
Hearing those words, the rims of the Diocesan Head's eyes turned red.
"How can you be so humble..."
It seems I've caused another absurd misunderstanding.
I didn't correct the misunderstanding, so as not to ruin the mood.
*
The rest of the conversation wasn't a big deal.
When the canonization ceremony would be held,
and a list of benefits given to Saints and Saintesses.
"The Saint and Saintess will be assigned a Holy Knight of at least Rank 4 for close-quarters protection."
Since they're the Order's mascots.
it was status that was only to be expected.
In addition, the family's personal safety would be placed under the Order's highest-grade security.
And if necessary, Perception Alteration was also possible for the sake of their personal safety.
Their residence would be moved to Sanctum Hill.
And they'd be given a carriage, an allowance, and basically be treated at least like a Marquis wherever they went, blah, blah, blah...
There was a lot of stuff, like the special clauses in an insurance policy.
In short, it meant I had achieved success.
"Hic."
Ayla started hiccupping again and froze on the spot as soon as she heard the benefits.
Anyway, after finishing the talk about canonization.
"Ah, and Brother. I am truly sorry to say this, but."
The Diocesan Head put down his teacup on the table and continued, mixing in a faint sigh.
"I have a worry I'd like to privately confide in you, would that be alright?"
"If I can be of help, I will gladly assist you, Diocesan Head."
"Haha. After delivering such big news, to immediately seek the Director's wisdom again, I truly have no sense of shame."
The Diocesan Head let out a short laugh.
Soon, that smile turned into a bitter one.
"Recently, healers have been submitting resignation letters one after another at the capital's infirmaries."
"..."
"The reason is..."
The Diocesan Head glanced at me, trying to read my expression.
I knew what he meant.
The healers who recently joined our clinic were saying.
that a 'resignation relay' among healers all over the capital is in fad.
The reason, of course, was me.
That day. I don't know how the healers who observed the surgery I performed spread tales of my heroism when they returned to their infirmaries, but,
healers started throwing in their resignation letters and applying to our clinic to learn those techniques from me.
Thanks to that, we already had many applicants.
But now, it was far beyond what our company could handle.
"O-Of course, I am not trying to say it is your fault, Saint. And I am not without responsibility in this situation either."
The Diocesan Head gave an awkward smile.
"Because of this, the resentment from the infirmary directors is rampant. But I cannot blame our brothers who are burning with a passion for learning... So I wondered if I might be able to borrow your wisdom, Saint."
I thought for a moment at his words.
I tried to think of a way to resolve the situation.
First, instead of having them come to me, I could periodically visit other infirmaries.
'...Doesn't seem very effective.'
That infirmary and its related sect would probably monopolize the techniques.
That's how this world works.
This method would mean I'd have to go around to each of the four Major Sects and repeat the same content over and over.
Naturally, that was not only realistically impossible but also inefficient.
In the end, the problem was more fundamental.
'I knew it, the failure of medical education seems to be the cause.'
The Department of Healing in this world has no concept of clinical practice or training.
All they learn in the Academy's Department of Healing is theory and the principles of magic.
A healer only meets a patient directly after graduation.
To gain experience, you have to get a job as a low-rank healer at an infirmary, and to get a proper teacher, you need personal connections.
And on top of that, each sect has its own secret treatment methods.
To me, a medical scholar who received a 21st-century Humboldtian model of education, this structure seemed far too inefficient.
'I knew it, I have to overhaul this part first.'
I'd been thinking about it for a long time.
Building a university hospital in my name if I made a lot of money.
However, I still lacked the funds to build a proper hospital, so I hadn't been able to put it into practice.
A university-hospital-level facility was out of reach even with Viagra money, it seemed.
Other large infirmaries were at a level that could only barely be built by several nobles gathering their funds.
But I judged that if I sold my name as a Saint a little, I might be able to build one with the Order's backing.
If I played my cards right, I could probably get the Imperial Court to sponsor it as well.
Having finished my calculation, I carefully broached the subject with the Diocesan Head.
"Diocesan Head."
"Yes?"
"How about we build a new infirmary, one unbound by sect, where any student of the Academy can learn on equal footing?"
And to be honest.
back when I was a medical student, it was my dream to receive training at Johns Hopkins.
Though I couldn't because my English wasn't good enough.
