Chapter 99: God's Dilemma (1) |
*
"I was a little surprised when you said you were coming so suddenly."
The Nihilrit Mansion in the capital.
I sat across from my father, tilting my teacup.
"It hasn't even been a week, and you were already missing home?"
"I was missing home's warm cooking."
"Don't you usually do the cooking at our house?"
"Ah, right."
I'd forgotten.
"That was a joke."
"Was it, now."
Sip.
My father's lips pulled away from his cup.
A faint wisp of steam lingered at the rim for a moment before fading.
"How has the Academy been?"
"The students are sharper than I expected, and they follow my lead quite well."
Setting aside the fact that they were a little afraid of me, I hadn't noticed anyone looking down on me or dismissing me.
After the Russell family incident, it seemed they'd come to recognize my abilities.
"Huu."
My father let out a long sigh.
"When I heard from a peer in the Judiciary that you'd shaken an entire count's household with nothing but two letters, my heart nearly stopped."
"I'm sorry to have caused you such worry."
"Don't apologize. Since when does a phoenix get caged in someone's pocket? I've watched your talent from close by, so there's no need to apologize for something like that. If anything, as your father, I'm proud."
"Thank you."
"However—not to me, but to your mother—give her at least a little warning beforehand. The moment she heard you'd been named a suspect, she made quite the scene."
"...I'm sorry."
"I told you not to apologize for things like that."
Sip.
As his cup came away, I caught a glimpse of my father's expression, slightly softer now.
"Right. From the look of things, if you've come all the way here leaving even Lady Perisia behind at the Academy, it means you have business as Director Schun. Is there an urgent patient?"
"It's not that, actually..."
I scratched my cheek and laid out the details.
The matter of receiving a Certificate of Commendation for this recent incident.
The matter of my biological parents' grave being relocated as part of the compensation.
And the fact that I'd come to visit the grave before the relocation—I told him all of it.
While I was at it, I mentioned that our family's title was also due to be elevated.
"...What was that last part? I think I must have misheard you—would you say it again?"
"I said the Nihilrit Baronial Family would be becoming a Viscount Family."
Hearing that, my father slowly stroked his jaw and murmured.
"Hmm... Bringing glory to the family is clearly the head's duty... perhaps it's about time I considered retirement..."
"I haven't mastered Arcane Magic, you know. Until Freya masters it completely, retirement is out of the question."
"There are ways to address that problem as well, but..."
My father kept glancing over at me.
Before long, he shook his head at whatever he'd been about to say.
"That's not what's important right now, so let's set it aside. Right. You came to see your parents."
"Yes."
The crow mask resting in the corner of the desk caught my eye.
My fingers slid down across the beak.
"I thought they'd prefer me visiting them looking like this."
Going back as far as I could remember, whenever I visited my parents, I never once forgot this mask.
Yulian—a black magic expert.
Doctor Schun—the Black Saint.
If my parents had been healers and priests, it seemed natural they'd be more proud of the latter.
And after I'd decided to keep Director Schun's identity separate from Yulian's—
I made a point of visiting the grave in Schun's guise whenever possible.
My adoptive father had always respected that choice.
"They'll be glad, I'm sure. Even before you were born, they were on endlessly about conception dreams and prenatal education and all sorts of things. I find myself wondering what expression they'd make, hearing their child had become a saint."
My adoptive father smiled—a smile that held a trace of longing.
"Right then. Rest a while, then head out to visit the grave. So that means it's Lady Presia standing in for Yulian at the Academy right now?"
"Yes. As long as there's no lecture, I never leave the laboratory anyway, so there's no risk of being found out."
"That's a relief, then, but..."
My father's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I'm a little puzzled, actually."
"About what?"
"You kept the identities separate to protect the family from those who might target Director Schun—wasn't that the reason?"
"...Yes. That's right."
"But does it still serve that purpose now?"
"..."
The gist of what my father was saying was this:
Either way, whether as Yulian or as Director Schun, I was now the sort of person that black sorcerers ground their teeth over.
So wouldn't it be better to simply go public?
I wanted to do exactly that, honestly.
But—
"The situation has changed since then. It seems the Imperial Court is looking to bestow a title of nobility upon me."
The way they kept emphasizing they'd grant a title if I performed well as professor made that much obvious.
The moment they had enough grounds, they seemed eager to hand over the title and slip a leash around my neck.
"As a saint, you mean?"
"Yes."
"If that's the reason, there's nothing to be done about it."
I still couldn't fathom the Imperial Court's true intentions.
Under normal circumstances, I'd have expected them to push me to decline the saint's position.
But accepting the saint's title first, then granting a title of nobility on top of that—what on earth were they after?
"What a situation. The trouble you go through. Now you're keeping the identities separate not because of fear of black sorcerers, but to hold two separate titles. Was this your plan all along as well?"
I hesitated for a moment before answering.
For the sake of maintaining my genius persona, it might have been better to smile meaningfully and claim everything was going according to plan.
But that went against my convictions.
On that day, I had resolved never to meet my family with lies and pretense.
And so I told the truth.
"Absolutely not."
Who could possibly design something like this?
I had no ability to read the future.
I was simply doing whatever came to mind in the moment, acting on whatever was within my reach, throwing myself into it and seeing what stuck.
It only seemed like things were clicking into place neatly—thanks to the Misunderstanding Genre Correction (?).
"I was simply very lucky. May I ask why you thought otherwise?"
"The way you handled that black sorcerer before, and then the Russell family affair—everything seems to be moving in the palm of your hand, so I wondered."
"That couldn't be further from the truth. I'm always scrambling to deal with whatever is right in front of me. I don't have the luxury of seeing far ahead."
"Somehow, that's a relief."
The smile on my father's face deepened.
"That way you seem far more human."
"I believe I'm quite human enough already."
"That you are."
My father chuckled softly.
"Whatever anyone might say—you're my son."
*
After a brief visit with my father—
I boarded the car Otto drove and set out for the family's grave.
"We've arrived at the Necropolis."
"Wait here for me."
"Understood."
The Necropolis.
A city of deceased nobles and their attendants, situated beneath Sanctum Hill.
Naturally, it wasn't a place where the undead wandered.
It was simply a cemetery. One that happened to be as large, sprawling, and labyrinthine as a city.
"Good day, elder."
"Oh, if it isn't the Lord Saint."
At the entrance to the Necropolis.
A bearded old man holding a shovel greeted me warmly.
"Will you be using a map or a guide today?"
"A map again today, please."
The Necropolis was complex.
Complex enough that a handful of people went missing in it every year.
That was why the Necropolis had a profession known as human navigation—guides who led visitors through the maze.
Naturally, a guide was somewhat more expensive than a map but far more convenient.
Even so, there was one reason I chose the map.
'How many times have I come here by now.'
Yulian Schnabel—with the Confucian spirit flowing in his blood—had visited this grave more times than he could count on his fingers and toes.
By now he was confident he could navigate it without even a map.
The map was nothing more than a precaution against the unforeseen.
"One silver coin."
"Thank you, elder."
Map in hand, I stepped alone into the Necropolis.
The only holy knight I'd brought was Gregor.
"..."
When I said I'd come to visit the graves of people I knew, he'd read the atmosphere and pressed his lips shut, making himself as unobtrusive as possible.
'My parents' level—that was the 2nd Basement Floor.'
It was the level where servants who had been almost like family—head butlers, nannies and the like—were laid to rest.
On that level, I simply needed to find my parents' grave the way one might locate a specific spot in a columbarium.
'The Nihilrit family's section is... here.'
One hand holding an expensive bottle of wine, the other carrying fruit that was difficult to come by in this smog-choked city—
I was just about to step into the Necropolis when it happened.
On the public pathway of the 2nd level, I found myself locking eyes with a narrow-eyed man who'd been drifting about.
He was a giant who rivaled Gregor's nearly two-meter height.
"..."
"..."
"Pardon me, but might I ask you for directions?"
The narrow-eyed man spoke carefully.
The man held out a scrap of cloth.
"I'm looking for these people... I've recently heard they've been interred in the Nihilrit family's grave, but I simply cannot find it."
The moment I saw that scrap, I couldn't help but catch my breath.
A worn piece of cloth bearing the emblem of a crow.
It was the crest of the infirmary once run by the Schnabel healer couple.
'Who is this...?'
Who on earth was this man?
During the Southern War, my parents had reportedly given out these scraps of cloth to refugees.
It was meant as a symbol—an urging to pass on to others the goodwill that had been shown to them.
Something like a reverse chain letter.
Which meant this man, too, was likely someone who had received my parents' goodwill, directly or indirectly.
'He's come to pay his respects.'
In truth, over the many dozens of visits I'd made here, I'd occasionally encountered people like him.
Most of them had first searched the Necropolis of the Holy City before learning that the couple had been buried in the capital, and made the journey here.
'There's no way to know which noble's grave is where.'
They would wander aimlessly in the vicinity, never even thinking that they might be interred in the Nihilrit family's section—until they ran into me.
This man appeared to be one of those people.
"Ah—with the way the world is these days, it would be hard to answer so readily if someone just asks like this. I am a pilgrim. I have my proof of pilgrimage right here."
The narrow-eyed man drew a priest's certificate from within his worn priest's robes.
[Low-rank Healing Priest Simeon]
'Simeon? Where have I heard that before... ah.'
It came to me as I thought about it.
The name my father had murmured on the day they'd found my parents' remains.
—"We couldn't find that friend of theirs, Simeon."
My parents had been intermediate priests.
And among their disciples, there had been a low-rank priest named Simeon.
More precisely, someone who had been like a resident doctor to them.
—"Could he still be alive?"
—"I'd certainly hope so. But I worry—that fellow was so devoted to your parents, I imagine he would have stayed by their side to the very end."
At the time, my adoptive father hadn't searched for Simeon's remains.
After all, his friendship had been with the Schnabel couple, not their disciple.
He had neither the obligation nor the closeness to search for a resident doctor as well.
As it turned out, my father's choice at the time had been the right one.
'To think he was still alive.'
I responded without hesitation.
"Lord Simeon, my apologies for any trouble. Allow me to guide you."
As much as I wanted to show how glad I was—
it wasn't easy to do that while wearing a mask.
Instead, I simply led him forward with quiet composure.
On the way to the Nihilrit family's section,
Simeon followed behind me and Gregor, asking carefully—
"...Are you not the Black Saint?"
"The world has seen fit to call me by that name, though it's more than I deserve."
"Then how is it that someone like you knows these people?"
As though I'd been waiting for him to ask, I drew the handkerchief from within my coat.
The last gift my parents had left me.
"I, too, received a great deal of grace from them. More than I could repay in a lifetime."
I couldn't remember their faces.
But there was no repaying the grace of having been brought into this world—not with anything.
Simeon, who had been silently gazing at the handkerchief, spoke.
"...Were you in the South, Lord Saint?"
"Do you know what the first medicine I ever made was? And do you know why I chose to contract it through the Merkur Trading Company, with the Nihilrit family as backers? If you know those answers, I think that should be answer enough."
"...I see."
The narrow-eyed priest gave a slow nod.
This was the backstory the Board of Inspection had prepared.
Doctor Schnabel had received an immense grace from the Schnabel couple.
Moved by that grace, he had created Quinine.
And as it happened, the head of the Nihilrit family had found the couple's remains and had them interred in the family's grave—and upon hearing this news,
wishing to repay the Nihilrit family, he had sold the patent rights to Quinine to the Merkur Trading Company, which was backed by that family.
That was the fabricated history the Board of Inspection had constructed.
Of course, since Perception Alteration was a delicate thing, it had been left as a history known only to those who needed to know.
"Perhaps the name Schnabel was also something you took on, to carry on their legacy..."
"No. That's simply a coincidence."
For the record, the Board of Inspection hadn't bothered to touch that part.
The surname Schnabel was surprisingly common among commoners.
By the standards of the Republic of Korea, not quite as common as Lee—
but roughly on par with Song, perhaps.
Not as ubiquitous as a name like Johnson, but common enough to turn up if you looked.
And so the decision had been made to leave the name alone rather than fabricate a change.
Simeon didn't seem to suspect anything, and let it pass.
"Please follow me. As it happens, I too came today to see them."
"Thank you."
Simeon clutched his scripture tightly to his chest as he followed.
At last, we arrived before the grave of the Schnabel couple.
[Elia Schnabel / Arian Schnabel]
'I've come to see you, Father, Mother.'
With eyes watching, I offered my prayer silently.
I set down the fruit and wine I'd brought.
This wasn't really a custom observed on this side of the world—but out of old habit from my previous life, this was how I visited graves.
"...These fruits."
"I was told by the head of the Nihilrit family that these were the fruits they enjoyed."
"Indeed, the two of them were fond of grapes."
"Did you know them?"
"...They are people for whom I cannot find enough words of admiration."
Simeon answered, his voice heavy.
It seemed my parents had been the kind of teachers who were dearly beloved by their disciples.
Simeon placed the Scripture of the Moon before the grave and spoke.
"I was originally a wizard—but late in life, I came to perceive divinity. I was so enraptured by that ecstasy that I threw myself into a faith that came late to me... yet through that, I came to meet such remarkable people."
He seemed to want to keep hidden the fact that he had been their disciple.
So I pretended not to know.
"It sounds as though you shared the same battlefield with them."
"Yes. It was the hardest time of my life... and yet the most worthwhile moment in it."
After that answer, the man was silent for a long while.
Simeon knelt before the grave and offered his prayer.
When he finished, he straightened his worn priest's robes and rose.
Then he turned to me and said—
"Lord Saint. There is something that has weighed on my mind for some time. I would hear your thoughts on it."
"If my meager understanding can be of any help, I am glad to offer it."
"Then let me ask."
He paused for a moment to collect himself.
"Is it God's will to punish the wicked who defy God's will?"
"It depends on the standard by which that wickedness is measured—but in most cases, it could be called righteous."
"Then is it also God's will to uphold the Doctrine?"
"That is a harder question. If we assume human interpretation remains uncorrupted, then yes."
"Indeed. It is difficult to be certain that humans uphold the Doctrine with perfect fidelity."
Interpretation can be distorted.
Even if God's words are perfect, it is imperfect humans who interpret them.
This was a question the Church often wrestled with.
Simeon seemed to agree.
"Then, conversely—can we be certain about what constitutes a clear and unambiguous violation of the Doctrine?"
Ironically, that part could be known with certainty.
Once something has crossed so far beyond the line, there is no need to know exactly where the line was.
"I believe there are things one can be certain of in that regard."
"Then..."
And then Simeon's voice began to tremble slightly.
As though he were purging emotions long held in check.
"Then... if the wicked who have clearly defied God's will are punished by means that clearly defy God's will—how would the gods regard that? Would they first commend the punishment of evil, or would they first condemn the act of blasphemy?"
"..."
"Answer me, please. Are the gods beings who cherish what is good—or beings who guard their own authority?"
His narrow eyes opened, just a fraction wider.
Only then could I see it.
The rage toward the world that had been hidden beneath those narrow eyes.
