This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

{“The Chosen of the Goddess will come with the purest of bodies.

Without any stigmata or signs, they will be pure and nothing but pure.

This signifies that grace is impartial and that the Chosen understands this.

You will recognize the Chosen not by stigmata but by other signs.

Laughter of children and the screams of villains will surround them—this is how you shall know.”}

—Lilia’s Scripture, Chapter 32, Verse 17—

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“Aaaah!! Aaah! ...Saint! Saint!!”

At the entrance of a filthy sewer.

The floor, covered in every kind of shit imaginable, is where priests and paladins in white robes are bowing before me.

I just blinked, still dumbfounded.

What the hell is this situation?

Didn’t they say there wouldn’t be any stigmata?

Then what the fuck is with this sudden reaction?

“Could someone get me something to wear?”

I needed to put something on. Honestly, it wasn’t until I stripped that I realized it…

The clothes I was wearing? They were absolutely disgusting.

At my words, the priests and paladins moved like their lives depended on it.

“Wear this!”

The bald old man they called the High Priest came forward, tears running down his face, and offered me a pristine white priestly robe of Lilia. Surrounded by all their piercing stares, I had no choice but to endure the humiliation of changing right there.

Even after I finished changing, their looks of reverence and awe didn’t stop.

Stop staring at me like that, for fuck’s sake!

I’m just some random loser; being looked at like this is fucking overwhelming!

“Please, care for the children. These pitiful, miserable children.”

“Of course! Of course, Saint! We will take care of them!”

After handing over fifteen little girls to the priests of the Lilia Church, an awkward silence settled between us.

“Ughhh!! Gahhh! Aaaahhhh!”

The only sound in the alley was the agonized screams of the thug who’d tried to mug me with a dagger just moments ago.

“The laughter of children and the screams of villains... It’s exactly as the Scripture foretold! Aaah! The prophecy is coming true!!”

“Saint! Saint! What should we do next? Guide us, your humble servants!!”

The paladins and priests, especially the bald High Priest with tears streaming down his face, were staring at me like lunatics.

I felt like I was suffocating under their fervor.

But at the same time, a small thought crossed my mind: at least I wasn’t getting burned alive. That’s something, right?

Yeah, all things considered, maybe pretending to be a saint and riding this out wouldn’t be the worst idea.

I could even charge for healings, make some fucking easy money… That’s not too bad. I’d be rolling in cash in no time.

While I indulged in these thoughts, inwardly smirking, the High Priest cautiously approached and grabbed my hand.

“Glory to the Goddess of Grace! Lilia watches over us! Saint, speak your will. We shall listen and obey.”

The Goddess of Grace, my ass.

I don’t even have any faith, alright?

While I was thinking that, a terrifying realization hit me.

A faithless bastard.

That’s what I was—a faithless bastard pretending to be a saint sent by the Goddess.

The people here might have been fooled and spared me from being burned alive, but...

What about Lilia, the actual Goddess of Grace?

In this world, gods aren’t just abstract ideas.

They are real, breathing beings who grant miracles and divine powers to their followers.

There’s no fucking way an all-knowing deity who can see my thoughts and my past would be tricked.

She must already know everything about me.

At that moment, I felt like all the blood drained from my body.

I’d completely fucked up.

This wasn’t the time to feel smug about pretending to be a saint and making some easy money.

I was going to be punished.

This wasn’t a joke—I could actually get struck by lightning and fried like a piece of meat.

I needed to run.

I had to shake these people off and get as far away as possible, live like I didn’t even exist.

That was the only way to avoid the Goddess’s wrath.

But didn’t they say something about a miracle of tracking or some shit?

Even if I ran, wouldn’t they just use that to hunt me down?

And then there was another problem I just realized.

Even if I used Time Stop to escape, I wouldn’t get far.

I could only walk, and the mental strain meant I could only use the skill for a limited time.

Even if I somehow managed to get far, judging by the fanatical devotion of these lunatics, they’d follow me to the ends of the fucking earth.

And as long as these crazies kept idolizing me, the Goddess’s wrath would stay on my heels.@@novelbin@@

So what’s the conclusion here?

I had to make the people of the Lilia Church give up on me.

I needed to drive them away, make them curse my name, and abandon me entirely!

But at the same time, I couldn’t do anything that’d get me accused of heresy and burned alive...

Was there no way?

An idea suddenly struck me.

You know the type.

The corrupt, incompetent priest you see in every novel or anime.

The one with a bloated belly who indulges in women and meat, accusing anyone he doesn’t like of being heretical with a cry of “Blasphemer!” and burning them at the stake, only to eventually get taken out by the protagonist—a third-rate villain.

That’s exactly the kind of person I’ll become!

I’ll play the role of a ridiculously greedy asshole, make them all disappointed in me, and ensure that even if I disappear, they won’t fucking chase me.

Of course, even as a corrupt priest, I can’t cross the line into being a complete piece of shit.

You know, the type of guy who’s kind of good-hearted but keeps fucking up so badly you want to kill him.

But when he’s gone, people can’t help but think, “Well, he wasn’t all bad,” and remember him.

That’s the balance I’ll aim for—a delicate line of trolling until everyone leaves, and then I’ll quietly disappear and quit this saint act!

Yes!

This is the only fucking way!!

“Take me to the temple.”

That’s what I said after a minute of frantic deliberation.

At the temple, I’d blow through every single coin stored there.

I’d spend the donations and live a life of complete corruption and debauchery!

Enough to make them curse my name and abandon me completely!!

“I am ashamed, Saint. The Lilia Church is centered around the southern regions, not the capital. We haven’t yet established a branch temple in the capital.”

Ah.

Right.

If there were a temple in the capital, it wouldn’t have taken them days to get here.

I must’ve forgotten because I’m an idiot.

So, what do I do now...

No, wait.

I’ve got an idea.

“What do you mean there’s no temple? Follow me.”

If there’s no temple, we’ll just buy some land and build one.

I’ll buy a filthy, utterly useless piece of land at an absurdly high price!

Then I’ll establish a temple, live off the spoils, and slowly become corrupt and incompetent—just enough to avoid being burned alive or struck down by divine wrath. My ultimate goal is to make everyone abandon me.

Soon, all of you will spit at me and walk away!

With the followers of the Lilia Church and the paladins of the Sun Church in tow, I emerged from the stinking sewer.

“Saint! Saint!”

“Lead us, O Grace!”

The Lilia Church members followed behind me with hopeful expressions.

The more I thought about it, the more I broke into a cold sweat.

The Goddess of Grace, Lilia, must be watching this entire spectacle live from the heavens, right?

If I want to survive, I have to make these people abandon me.

That’s the only way to avoid divine wrath and my inevitable demise!

*****

When Erfa entered the Magic Tower again, accompanied by the White Order’s priests, the many wizards and witches inside flinched and avoided her gaze.

Some couldn’t even meet her eyes, while others offered awkward smiles.

But Erfa ignored all their stares and headed straight for the top floor of the Magic Tower—the Tower Master’s office.

“Er... Erfa?”

The Tower Master, Jorgen, rose from his seat in shock as she stepped into the room.

But Erfa didn’t seem to care about his reaction.

“Please, speak.”

At her words, the White Order’s priests cautiously stepped forward and bowed to Jorgen.

“Through the Saint of Healing’s miracle, she has been completely restored. She is no longer an abomination. She is living proof of a miracle.”

“The White Order will no longer pursue Erfa. We apologize for the chaos caused and ask for your forgiveness.”

Jorgen stared at them blankly before nodding.

“I’m relieved that the matter has been resolved.”

“Erfa mentioned she had something to discuss with you. We will take our leave now. If permitted, we hope to attend tomorrow’s regular academic conference.”

“Of course.”

Thus, the conflict between the White Order and the Magic Tower was amicably resolved. After expressing their gratitude repeatedly, the priests left the room, closing the door behind them.

Now, only Jorgen and Erfa remained.

“You’ve become beautiful,” Jorgen said cautiously after a long pause.

But Erfa didn’t smile at his words.

Nor did she cry or show anger.

Her expression was calm and serene, as if she had transcended everything.

“Tower Master.”

“Yes, Erfa. Speak.”

“Am I still a witch affiliated with this Magic Tower?”

Jorgen nodded.

“If that’s what you want.”

“Good. I want to continue my research here.”

“...Do you? If that’s your wish, so be it.”

“And one more thing. At tomorrow’s academic conference, I want you to officially name me as your successor to the Tower Master position.”

Jorgen was startled by her sudden declaration.

“You?”

“You never officially announced it, but weren’t you planning to name me as your successor anyway? Or are all the rumors baseless gossip?”

Jorgen shook his head.

“They’re not baseless. In truth, you were the only one. There’s no one else worthy of being my successor.”

“Then there’s no problem officially naming me as the next Tower Master, is there?”

“Fine. I can do that. But I’m worried. Many wizards and witches in this tower once abandoned you. As the next Tower Master, you’ll have to embrace them all. If you intend to use your position to settle personal grudges, I cannot name you my successor.”

“Tower Master.”

Erfa’s expression remained astonishingly composed.

“I intend to focus on my career. I will make the Mars branch of the Magic Tower the greatest of all the towers.”

Her gaze was resolute.

“I won’t throw away an opportunity to achieve greatness for something as trivial as personal grudges. I want to be a witch remembered throughout magical history. Revenge is too petty and insignificant to even consider.”

Her eyes were eerily calm.

It wasn’t just her eyes.

The flow of mana radiating from her body was equally calm and meticulously refined.

Jorgen felt an unfamiliar sensation.

It wasn’t just her appearance that had changed.

She seemed like a completely different person.

“Erfa. How did you change so much? What exactly did the Saint of Healing do to you?”

At Jorgen’s words, Erfa smiled brightly.

A smile so radiant it contained no trace of shadow, anger, or hatred.

“He healed my heart along with my body. He gave me a purpose in life—to live by his side and assist him. For that, I will love myself. I will dedicate myself wholeheartedly to my career. I won’t falter or break.”

Her brilliant smile was so contagious that Jorgen couldn’t help but smile along with her.

“Very well. I’ll do as you wish. Your Study of the Primary Colors was extraordinary. Naming you as the next Tower Master shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Thank you, Tower Master. Oh, and...”

Her robe had four armholes.

The two lower holes were empty.

But then, the empty armholes twitched, and two new arms began to grow.

As one of the foremost authorities on body modification magic, this was well within Erfa’s abilities.

“It was too inconvenient without them. Having extra arms helps with research and note-taking.”

Erfa calmly folded her four arms and spoke.

“Will you be okay? People might hurl insults at you again.”

At Jorgen’s words, Erfa shook her head.

“I don’t care what others say anymore. I’ve been acknowledged by him. I’m no longer ashamed of these four arms.”

“...”

“I’ll take my leave, Tower Master. See you tomorrow.”

Erfa bowed politely and left the room.

Jorgen sat quietly for a while, as if he’d been possessed, then smiled.

“The Saint of Healing...”

Jorgen had spent his life mocking religion and faith.

But for the first time, he thought perhaps faith had its place in this world.

“Lilia Church, was it? Maybe I’ll pay them a visit.”

Jorgen murmured softly.

As a researcher, he found it hard to suppress his curiosity.