The Priest Wants to Retire

〈 Chapter 15 〉 Things Not to Do at a Funeral

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What is the most forbidden act at a funeral, you ask?

Without a doubt, I think it’s resurrection.

If someone were to pop up and blabber that they still had a life left to live in front of those who are all set to say goodbye, I’d say it’s perfectly fine to take them out on the spot.

Even Jesus took a few days to pull off his own resurrection, probably because he didn’t want his disciples to feel awkward! So, there’s no need to explain how inappropriate an unannounced resurrection can be.

“Robel! My Robel! Wake up! It’s me! Your lovely fiancée, Grenola!”

“Young master! Young master Robel! It’s me! Your personal servant, Carlija!”

“Master! Master Robel! Your baby cat, Natasha, has arrived!”

As I peered through the slightly opened door, my face muscles, which had relaxed, were again stiffening in disbelief.

For a moment, I thought I might have mistakenly wandered into the wrong indoor garden.

Colorful bouquets were beautifully arranged all around the room, wasted merely as decorations to honor the man laying solemnly in the middle.

The women in dresses, chirping like baby birds begging for food from their mother, seemed to be in an unexpected competition over who could call the man’s name the most.

“What on earth is this… I can’t even…”

“They’re the lovers of Priest Robel… It seems they got wind of his critical condition from their respective servants…”

“Lovers…?”

My dwindling will to save Ranobel completely combusted upon hearing the nun’s words.

Just by estimating, it must have been a dozen adorable women clustering around one man, whispering sorrowful love words – a truly absurd sight that ignited the primal urge to kill within me.

“Isn’t it strange…? As far as I know, our doctrine strictly prohibits premarital relations…”

“The only one in our congregation who actually follows that hollow doctrine seems to be Priest Regis.”

“…Really?”

Whether it was despair or betrayal, an indescribable thought washed over my heart, and I let out just a sigh.

“Hah…”

“I’m so sorry… I tried my best, but it seems one of the imperial family members is among the ladies…”

“No… There’s really no need for you to apologize, Sister…”

Seeing me seemingly lost in sorrow while holding my head with one hand, the nun spoke to me with a self-reproaching tone.

The ridiculous method the Saint had suggested to bring Ranobel back to life felt too reckless to attempt in front of so many witnesses.

My usual lack of vocabulary, combined with my overwhelming emotions, made it hard to fully interpret the Saint’s words, but given the time we’ve spent together, grasping the root of her message was in the realm of possibility for me.

Lifting my left hand, I examined the unfamiliar pattern engraved upon my palm.

This dazzling pattern that couldn’t be seen before entering the meeting room was a fragment of the power that the Saint had temporarily entrusted to me – a piece of authority.

The answer I extrapolated from the Saint’s explanation was that if I slapped Ranobel with this patterned hand, I could send back his soul that had taken a detour.

…Maybe.

Honestly, I managed to provide some plausible answers, but if someone asked whether I had unwavering confidence in that answer, or if I could take responsibility for my words, I’d have to say no.

It was a conclusion derived from the Saint’s words and actions alone.

‘Ice… pick… hit it hard… and he’ll come back…’

That was the exact phrase the Saint kept muttering while tearing up and engraving this indecipherable pattern on my palm.

Whether the answer I arrived at was indeed correct was a matter of urgent concern, but in reality, there was no red pen or teacher to grade my choices. Ultimately, the decision was solely mine to bear.

“Phew…”

It felt strange.

While my desire to save Ranobel was dwindling, the urge to punch him was fervently rising, filling my mind with irony.

Even if I let this impulse take over and boldly knocked him out in front of everyone, that would certainly create more problems.

Here was a young priest, praised as the best in the system, suddenly in critical condition for unknown reasons.

Despite deploying the highest-ranking clergy and the best holy water in the chapel to heal him, nothing improved his situation.

While everyone was in despair, a rumor spread that a previously deemed incompetent Guardian Priest had easily rescued that unfortunate saint wandering at the brink of death.

In that case, I could consider my retirement assuredly out of the question.

Caught between a rock and a hard place. It was a dire situation with no visible pathway forward or back.

Cold sweat trickled down my back, and the piercing pain in my stomach indicated that the pressure on my mind had reached its limit.

I couldn’t help but be sincerely amazed at the ability of Priest Ranobel to create a means to torment me even in a state of unconsciousness.

Is this what they call the afterlife?

“What will you do, Priest Regis?”

The nun glanced subtly at my left hand and inquired about my intentions.

The white pattern on my palm was shining as if coated with luminescent paint, but the intensity of the light and the noble holy power within it were gradually fading with time.

And that meant this borrowed miracle had a time limit.

A refill seemed impossible.

If I recalled the moment right after the Saint engraved this on me.

Just this once. I had to hurry.

She had repeatedly warned me along those lines.

It was clear the Saint wasn’t just planning to put Ranobel to sleep; she was serious about finishing it, but I pretended not to notice.

“Robel! Sob, sob! Elder Robel! Please! Please wake up!”

Amidst my deep thoughts, a heartbreaking wail once again seeped through the door.

That voice was coming from a scruffy maid girl who looked so young and inexperienced that you could tell she was a newbie just by glancing.

“If there is a God! There’s no way this happens! There’s no one as kind as Elder Robel in this whole world! He even took responsibility for the accident when I accidentally dropped a flowerpot on another priest’s head!”

That was you!

I barely managed to stifle a shout that almost escaped my lips.

It was quite surprising to discover that the supposedly non-existent maid who had dropped a flowerpot on my head was real, and it was interesting that such a seemingly intentional accident turned out to be genuine.

However, those points didn’t clear away the bad impression I had of Priest Ranobel.

Out of about 100 misdeeds, only one turned out to be a misunderstanding.

Even when I read manga or novels, I never forgive characters trying to worm their way to the good side while glossing over their past sins.

The core of a person’s character is formed early on, and that nature is not easily changed. Especially not for the better.

The Priest Ranobel was a terrible person who encouraged and perpetrated bullying against those he disdained, and even if he died, I wouldn’t feel a twinge of conscience about it. Let alone, I didn’t even kill him!

Honestly, if it weren’t for the circumstances, I would have disregarded it.

Ah, should I just let him die?

Just as such tempting options floated in my mind, the nun suddenly spoke to me.

“Just so you know, if you save Priest Robel’s life here, I will strongly recommend to the servant to give you ten outing permits along with ensuring you get separate meals during meal times from now on. Furthermore, I’ll make sure at least once every two days, there’s meat for you…”

Right after that, I burst through the slightly open door and entered the funeral home for Priest Ranobel, projecting my voice like never before in my entire life.

“I can revive him─!!!”

A few days later, the newspaper would publish the headline: [The Saint’s Personal Guardian Priest rescues Priest Robel, who fell under the curse of the cult! He also humbly added that he merely did what he was supposed to do.]

However, in that moment, blinded by selfish desires, I could hardly grasp the gravity of the situation.

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