For the next three weeks, I visited the princess every single day.

It might sound a bit crude to put it this way, but the whole process felt similar to taming a wild animal. I brought snacks and delicious food, feeding her little by little. I even brought a few picture books and read them to her.

As always, every Tuesday at precisely 2 PM, she would grow agitated, attempting self-harm and violent outbursts. But each time, I would hold her tightly, comforting her with everything I had.

I sang to her—nursery rhymes, pop songs, anime themes—anything I could remember. I stayed with her until her trembling, tear-filled eyes slowly closed, and she drifted off to sleep.

Maybe all that effort finally paid off?

“I’m leaving now. I’ll be back tomorrow…”

Just before I left today, Iomene smiled at me.

“She smiled… Iomene smiled…”

When I told the emperor and empress about it, they couldn’t hold back their tears.

Yeah.

Even if I was doing all this just to avoid my own damnation, seeing them so overjoyed wasn’t such a bad feeling.

It wouldn’t be long now.

I could tell—the fragment of the evil god residing inside Iomene was going to transfer into me soon.

A strange mix of relief and sorrow settled in.

This world had been nothing but a collection of bad memories for me, and yet… the thought of never seeing these people again made me feel a little sad.

Especially… Erfa.

I had finally met a woman I had something going on with, and now I had to leave.

But what choice did I have?

My survival came first.

—

“Saint! My son, please…!”

“My mother’s gone blind!”

I continued healing the sick, over and over again.

After all, I’d never see these people again.

Might as well do some final good before I leave.

For three weeks, I ran tirelessly, healing everyone regardless of their status—rich or poor, noble or commoner.

As a result, donations from nobles surged, and the funds were used to further develop the slums. But now?

I didn’t care anymore.

I was done playing the saint.

I was done seeing those sickening skill descriptions pop up in my vision.

This was my farewell.

A strange sense of liberation washed over me.

Well.

The slums were stabilized.

What else could possibly go wrong now?

—

“Saint! Saint!!”

“Saint Amael! My daughter…!”

“My wife suffered severe burns! Please, Saint!!”

…Something had gone wrong.

One morning, still half-asleep, I was jolted awake by urgent pounding on my door.

The voices outside were filled with desperation.

When I rushed out, I was met with a horrifying sight—countless people lying on the streets, their faces melted, foam bubbling from their mouths.

“Quick! Get the potions! Hurry!!”

The priests at the infirmary were scrambling in all directions, healing people as fast as they could.

But there were too many.

Most of them were women.

Young girls, especially.

In that instant, I realized who they were.

The fifteen matchstick girls I had saved from the back alleys.

And now, dozens more like them.

—

“A fire broke out at the factory! Saint, please! My wife is still inside!”

The cries of the people snapped me back to reality.

“Bring the critical patients to me! NOW!!”

As soon as I shouted, the well-trained priests of the Grace Order swiftly categorized the wounded and brought them before me.

I immediately began healing the collapsed women.

Their conditions were horrific.

Some gasped and choked, their bodies burned to a crisp.

Some had lost all their hair, their skulls exposed like charred meat.

Some—likely poisoned by phosphorus or white phosphorus—had their jaws melted away, their bones peeking through the flesh.

As I worked frantically, I started recognizing faces.

“Saint! Please, heal her!”

I remembered her.

A little girl whose face had once melted from exposure to the chemicals in phosphorus matches. I had healed her before.

Now, she lay before me once more, suffering from the same fate.

Another woman—whose fingers I had once reattached after they had been severed at the factory—was now burned all over, her body barely recognizable.

I pieced their broken bodies back together.

And as I did, my memories of them became clearer.

Then, rage began to boil inside me.

Why.

Why!

Why!!

Why did I heal them just for them to end up like this again?!

I already knew the answer.

“High-paying jobs like the ones in the factories of Slum District 3 are rare. We’re doing our best to bring in more businesses, but… the majority of laborers still work in the factories on the outskirts of the capital. Not all the poor in the city can survive on a daily wage of just one salle.”

Jonathan Karma had told me that once.

My fists clenched so hard I thought they’d shatter.

After treating the dozens of critical patients in front of me, I left the remaining treatment to the priests and stepped forward.

“Where is the factory that caught fire?”

“It’s still burning! It’s too dangerous, Saint!”

“Take me there. Right now!”

For once, I shouted.

The surrounding slum dwellers flinched before hastily leading the way.

As I followed them, the acrid stench of burning flesh and thick smoke stung my nostrils.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Using Body Modification, I reinforced my muscles and broke into a full sprint.

There had to be more people I could save.

If I got there even a second earlier…

I could save them.

That thought drove me forward like a madman.

I ran.

And ran.

And ran—

But…

“Aaaaaaah! My daughter! Aaaaagh!!”

“Mom! Mom!!”

“No! No! Please!”

By the time I reached the factory, all that was left were charred corpses.

Dozens of them.

Scattered across the ground, burnt so thoroughly that they were barely recognizable as human.

Their families clung to their blackened remains, wailing in anguish.

I stepped toward the corpses and tried using a skill.

—

—

Again.

And again.

No matter how many times I tried, the result was the same.

I couldn’t save them.

No matter what I did, the dead would not return.

F*.CK

What the hell was this suffocating feeling?

I clenched my teeth and stared down at the pitifully charred bodies in helpless silence.

Then—

“My daughter! She’s still up there!”

“You can’t go in!”

“My daughter!! My baby!! Please, save her! She’s still inside!”

A young mother’s desperate screams rang through the chaos.

I turned my head.

Beyond the factory’s third-floor balcony, amid the raging flames, a small girl stood frozen in terror.

She was still alive.

Before I even realized it, my body moved on its own.

“You can’t go in, Saint—!”

Before the guards could finish their warning, I activated Time Stop.

I had no idea how much longer the girl could hold on.

I needed to hurry.

Just like before, I selectively unfroze time—but only in a narrow path leading from where I stood to the burning balcony.

Within that unstopped space, I stepped forward.

The air trapped in frozen time became a solid foothold beneath my feet.

It was instinctual. A fleeting thought—Could I use it like this?—and it worked.

Leaping effortlessly through the air, I reached the balcony in seconds.

I smashed the window and jumped inside.

There—

The little girl lay collapsed on the floor, her body already badly burned.

She foamed at the mouth, struggling to breathe through the thick smoke.

I released her from the time stop and gathered her into my arms.

Then, I activated Body Modification.

Instantly, her burns vanished.

The pain disappeared.

Her breathing steadied.

Eyes wide with shock, she looked up at me.

“Saint?”

I had no strength to answer.

F*.CK

It was just a short distance, but my mental energy was nearly drained.

This goddamn skill system!

But I could still hold on.

“Hold on tight to me.”

She obeyed without hesitation, clinging tightly to my body.

I focused.

A single mistake wouldn’t hurt me—but it would kill her.

Using the same method as before, I carefully stepped down, walking through frozen air as if descending an invisible staircase.

Before long—

I landed safely outside the factory, the girl still in my arms.

“…Saint! It’s dangerous—huh?”

The officer who had been trying to stop me suddenly shouted as time resumed. He had been rushing toward me, but the sight of the child in my arms made him freeze in shock.

To him, it must have looked as though I had been standing still one moment, and then, out of nowhere, appeared with the girl in my arms.

I gently set the fully healed child down.

“Take her to her mother—”

“Adele!!”

Before I could finish my sentence, the child’s mother ran forward, throwing her arms around her daughter.

“Aaah! Thank you! Thank you, Lilia! Thank you, Saint! Thank you… thank you so much!”

She sobbed uncontrollably, clutching her daughter to her chest.

Watching them, I found myself smiling without even realizing it.

“Bring me the injured. I will heal them.”

I did everything I could—treating one person after another, doing my utmost to ensure that no more people would end up like those charred corpses.

As I fought desperately, the capital’s fire brigade and the mages from the Tower finally arrived. They unleashed torrents of water and spells to extinguish the flames.

Only then could I take a moment to breathe.

But that moment was short-lived.

—

“What the hell is this?!”

Just as I leaned against a wall, exhaustion settling in, an angry voice cut through the air.

“Who gave you permission to use the water from our warehouse?! That water belongs to Leota Company !”

A fat, middle-aged man was screaming at the top of his lungs.

“If we hadn’t used it, the fire would have spread even further!” a firefighter argued.

“I don’t care! I’ll be charging you for every single drop you took! What, you think you can just use company property without permission?!”

Even as the firefighters tried to reason with him, the man remained unmoved.

That was when it happened.

The injured workers—the ones who had been lying motionless just moments ago—slowly began to rise, eyes burning with rage.

“You…! This is all your fault!!”

“Factory Manager! If you had just told Baron Hanson, the owner of Leota Company, to install proper fire safety measures, my family wouldn’t have burned to death! You filthy bastard!!”

The families of the victims screamed in fury.

But the so-called Factory Manager didn’t even flinch.

He spat a yellow wad of phlegm onto the ground and smirked.

“Tch. Shut up. You’re all just whining for compensation money.”

Then, sneering, he said, “Fine. I’ll give you something. One salle per dead body. That’s good enough, isn’t it? That’s more than three months’ wages for you rats, after all.”

He chuckled.

“As if it’s my fault you lot were born poor. It’s the gods’ curse on you miserable bastards. Fire safety measures? Why the hell would we waste money on that when it’s cheaper to just pay you off after you die? Feeling wronged? Well, too bad. If you complain—you’re fired. All of you. No job, no income. You want to lose that too?”

“You devil!!”

“Your soul will burn in hell, you son of a bitch!!”

Sobs and curses filled the air.

But none of the workers dared to charge at him.

Because behind him, a group of armed guards stood, hands casually resting on their exposed pistols.

Because beside them, the police—the ones who had come to “secure the scene”—were standing guard, watching.

Of course.

They were scared.

Getting shot hurts.

And even if they somehow managed to beat the guards and police, the consequences afterward would be even worse.

Getting fired.

Losing their jobs.

Sometimes, that was more terrifying than taking a bullet.

I understood.

But as for me?

The police? The guards?

Did they really think they had the guts to shoot me?

I was the man healing the emperor’s daughter.

I was a Saint recognized by the Pantheon.

I could guarantee it.

They wouldn’t dare.

And consequences?

I was leaving soon anyway.

In a little while, I’d be back in Korea.

No damnation. No soul getting torn to shreds.

Just a normal life back home.

So…

—

—

I was free to do as I pleased.

I activated my skill, scanning the area for a weapon.

Then, I reached for my belt.

Gripping it tightly, I moved.

With explosive speed, I charged at the factory manager.

The belt whipped through the air.

CRACK!!

A sickening snap rang out as the belt lashed across his face.

His teeth—stained yellow from years of smoking—flew into the air like shattered corn kernels.

His body soared backward, slamming into the door of the car he had arrived in.