Chapter 12

It didn’t seem like I had been unconscious for long.

When I came to, I was greeted by the sight of small children gathered around me.

“It’s the Saint !”

“It really is the Saint!”

About five young girls, their faces disfigured and grotesque, were staring at me with wide, hopeful eyes.

I blinked, glancing from their faces to the corpse of the mugger slumped in the corner.

Reality hit me like a brick.

I didn’t throw up, but sweat poured down my face as panic gripped me.

I couldn’t move—my body was frozen in place.

The children approached cautiously and held my hands.

Their small, warm touch brought me back to my senses, if only a little.

“What… what was that man to you?” I asked, my voice unsteady.

“He brings us matches.”

“We sell them to earn money.”

“He takes the money we make and gives us food and a place to sleep.”

“A place to sleep? Food?”

“Yes, Saint .”

I looked down at the children.

The oldest couldn’t have been more than eight. One of them looked as young as four.

All of them bore the marks of severe burns on their faces, their clothes little more than rags that looked fit for a trash heap.

None of them wore shoes.

The hands that held mine were so rough and calloused that even a construction foreman would’ve had to bow in respect.

My brows furrowed deeply.

They spoke of food and shelter, yet they looked like this?

“Can I see where you sleep?”

“Yes,” one of them replied, nodding.

The children led me through twisting, filthy alleys.

I should have run. I needed to run.

The Lilia Order was on their way, and they might already be looking for me.

But the state of these children was too horrific for me to leave them like this.

After navigating several winding alleyways, we arrived.

“This is where we sleep.”

I was speechless.

Before me was a long, grimy rope strung horizontally across a wall.

That was it.

Huddled against the wall, young girls—none older than ten—leaned on the rope, sleeping where they could.

The entrance to this nameless, reeking sewer was covered in mold and filled with the stench of decay.

“What about food? What do you eat?”

One of the girls pointed at the rotten vegetables and moldy bread scattered near the sewer entrance.

“If we bring in a lot of money, sometimes we get bread without mold.”

I was utterly speechless.

Fifteen girls, all with burned and disfigured faces and bodies, leaned against that rope.

They had no hope, no future.

The guilt of having killed someone began to fade.

What kind of monster does this?

What kind of trash allows this to happen?

“What about your faces?” I asked, trembling. “Why… why do they look like that?”

The girls’ eyes welled with tears as they explained.

“Mom and Dad died early.”

“A man from the factory took us in and made us work.”

“We were supposed to be careful, but we weren’t, and there was a fire.”

“It hurt so bad… so he threw us away. We had nowhere to go, so he picked us back up and gave us work and food.”

Some of the girls didn’t even have toes—they’d been lost to frostbite.

Others were missing fingers.

One girl’s face was so disfigured that her throat was visible through the burns.

Honestly, it was a miracle that any of them were still alive.

My fists clenched tightly.

I had to run.

The Lilia Order was coming, and they might already be looking for me.

I shouldn’t get involved.

My head screamed at me to leave, to run away before it was too late.

But…

How could I see this and just walk away?

I’d used Time Stop to escape without leaving witnesses or traces. Surely that would buy me some time. Enough time to help these kids.

“A-Are you really a saint?” one of the girls asked timidly.

I knelt down and looked into her eyes.

“No.”

I’m not a saint.

I’m just some idiot who got saddled with game-like skills and thrown into this world.

I’m a coward who freezes whenever things get serious, who cries at the slightest scare.

My hobbies in my past life were gore movies and anime. I wasn’t special—I was just a college student at a no-name school, suddenly reincarnated here.

But even so, I was someone who could heal these kids.

“I’m Just Here to Help the Lowly.”

I reached out my hand to the child in front of me.

“Come here. Let me heal you.”

So what if it’s just a game-like skill? So what if I’m just some idiot?

I should be grateful for the chance to make a difference.

Placing my hand on the child’s head, I activated my skill.

Skill: Body Modification activated.


I began to work.

I healed the burn scars that had melted her face, cured the illnesses that had plagued her body, and restored the fingers and toes she’d lost to frostbite.

Even as a nosebleed began to drip from my exhaustion—still not fully recovered after using Time Stop—I pressed on. I couldn’t stop.

Wouldn’t stop.

“Ah… ah…”

The child began to cry as she looked at her healed body.

I spoke softly. “Go get your friends. I’ll fix them all too.”

She ran to gather the others.

A limping child.

A girl with one milky, blind eye.

A child whose nose was so melted away she sniffled with a strange sound every time she spoke.

One by one, I placed my hand on each of them, carefully and deliberately healing them all.

At last, the final child was restored—adorable and healthy, their features no longer marred by burns or scars.

“Saint !”

“The Saint healed me!”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore! I can see!”

The sound of their laughter filled the alley, and for some reason, tears welled in my eyes.

I hugged each child tightly. “You won’t have to hurt anymore.”

“Thank you!”

“Thank you so much, Saint!”

“Now we can sell matches even better!”

At those words, I frowned.

“Sell matches?”

“Yes.”

“And… where will you sleep?”

“Here.”

“...”

“Why?”

I had just healed them, but if this continued, it wouldn’t be long before they fell ill again.

I’d planned to leave after this—to say my goodbyes and disappear—but my feet wouldn’t move.
“Do you know where the Sun Order is?”

“Yes!”

“Go there. Tell them the Saint sent you. They’ll take care of you.”

The Sun Order wasn’t exactly overflowing with resources, but I figured I could anonymously send them money each month to cover the children’s needs.

“No! We won’t leave you, Saint!”

“Me neither!”

This was the best I could do for them.

I couldn’t go any further. The Lilia Order might already be looking for me.

If they found me, it’d be a literal trial by fire.

“Kids, I really need to—”

As I tried to gently push them away and plan my escape, a loud voice interrupted me.

“There he is!”

“It’s the Saint!”

The clanking of armor echoed through the alley.

Before I could react, knights from the Sun Order stormed into the narrow space.

“Saint! It really is the Saint!”

My face went pale.

I was screwed.

I needed to run. Now. But my mind was so drained that I wasn’t sure I could even use Time Stop to escape this alley.

In the end, all I could do was awkwardly stand there, surrounded by children.

“Saint, did you… heal these children?”

Sweat poured down my face as I forced a smile.

“At least it’s not the Lilia Order,” I muttered to myself.

“I only did what needed to be done,” I answered aloud.

“Oh, Saint… You truly are…”

I was just about to ask if they could take the children and care for them—because I needed to leave immediately—when another group arrived.

Trailing behind the knights was a half-conscious mugger, drooling and giggling while cuffed, being dragged along by guards.

Wait. That guy? He’s not dead?!

I thought he was dead!

Good. Serves him right. He can rot in prison for all I care.

But then, a second group followed: priests dressed in pristine white robes, their uniforms emblazoned with a symbol of a water droplet within a circle.

Ah. No.

Why are you here?

“The moment you disappeared, the Lilia Order heard rumors and came directly to our order. Using a miracle of tracking, I personally guided them here.”

A miracle of tracking?!

That’s a thing?!

Why Does This Even Exist? Why?!

“I see.”

I was still smiling.

My face had frozen that way.

This was it. The end.

The “burned at the stake” ending.

I’m such a goddamned idiot.

I should’ve just run. Forget the kids—healed them and bolted with Time Stop.

Why did I stick my nose where it didn’t belong? Why did I have to get involved and make everything worse?

No, wait.

Why is this my fault?

The Sun Order is worse! They had a tracking miracle and didn’t warn me!

Maybe I still had a chance. If I threw myself at their feet, sobbing and begging, “I treated so many people! Please, have mercy on me even if I’m a heretic!”… Would that work?

While I was spiraling in my head, the priests of the Lilia Order began cautiously approaching me.

Frozen in place, I stared at them like a deer caught in headlights.

At the forefront of the group was a bald old priest, his expression an unreadable mix of emotions.

“Goddess… Is it true? Are you truly the Saint sent by the goddess herself?”

I didn’t know how to respond.

No matter what I said, they’d find something to use against me.

Unable to move or speak, I just trembled.

When I didn’t answer, the bald old priest extended a trembling, liver-spotted hand toward me.

“The stigmata… If you are truly the apostle sent by the goddess, if you are her saint, show us the stigmata.”

I shut my eyes tightly.

Of course, they’d pull something like this.

The Lilia Order was bound to have their own obscure, nonsensical tests that only they understood.

Stigmata? Seriously? Like I’d have those.

It was over.

For the rest of my life, I’d be branded a heretic, a fraud pretending to be a saint.

When I remained frozen, unable to act, the old priest seemed to lose patience.

“Forgive me for my impudence, but I must confirm this myself,” he said urgently, gesturing to the knights of the Lilia Order.

The knights stepped forward and began carefully removing my clothes.

Layer by layer, my filthy, mud-and-garbage-stained clothing—the remnants of rolling through slums and healing witches—fell to the ground.

I just stared blankly at the sky, my face devoid of expression.

…Is this really how my life ends?

So anticlimactic?

So pathetically?

The knights didn’t care about my existential despair.

They meticulously examined every inch of my body, searching for the supposed stigmata.

I let them.

Arms outstretched, I stood there, fully exposed. At this point, I’d given up.

I was too scared to think straight, my brain frozen.

The only thought in my head was: Cry as pathetically as possible before they burn you.

Maybe they’ll feel bad and let you live.

“There’s no stigmata… None at all!”

“There isn’t a single mark!”

The knights shouted in alarm.

Yeah. No kidding.

It’d be weirder if I did have stigmata.

Should I start crying now?

Get on my knees, bawl my eyes out, and beg for mercy?

“...He shall come with the purest body! Ahhh! The prophecy of the scripture has been fulfilled!”

“Yes! High Priest! This is the saint sent by the goddess herself!”

…What?

“Lilia! Ahhh! Praise the Goddess of Grace!”

All at once, the knights fell to their knees before me.

The bald old priest and the other Lilia Order clergy also knelt, their faces awash with reverence.
The Sun Order’s knights, meanwhile, were crossing themselves, tears streaming down their faces.

Even the guards, who’d dragged in the mugger, looked at me with awe and respect.

“Saint of the Goddess! Lead us, your humble servants!”

The bald priest cried out in exultation, his voice trembling with emotion.

I just stood there, blinking slowly.

What the hell was going on?

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