The Priest Wants to Retire

〈 Chapter 57 〉 Happy Birthday

*

Dark, vast.

That was literally the only expression that came to mind.

A black pillar. The scenery within was exceedingly simple and clear.

Dark, dark, and just dark.

Breathing was exhausting, as if I had entered a sauna while wearing a mask.

My body felt as if it were submerged in a muddy pit, and even a slight flick of my fingers brought absurd fatigue.

Suddenly, a faint sense of déjà vu hit me.

And that was the moment when my vague sense of dread turned into certainty, and certainty morphed into troublesome questions.

This place is just like…

“It’s similar to the Meeting Room····.”

How dare I compare a dungeon, the very source of evil, to the Sanctuary where the Saintess resides.

I was aware that this was blasphemy deserving of divine punishment.

But since there was no one to hear, it was okay to be honest with myself in this moment that might be the end of my life.

I decided to let my words flow freely today.

“Hero, where are you····?”

In this unsettling space where not a glimmer of light was permitted, there was nothing but darkness all around.

Is there anything more daunting than wandering around in a place where it’s unclear whether one is standing or lying down?

I thought it would be easier to find a needle in a haystack than this.

At least in a desert, there’s some light to guide the way.

“If only there was just a flame····.”

Just then.

As if resonating with my thoughts, the brilliant patterns etched on my arm gathered strength.

That pure awakening soon birthed light in a world without a sun.

“O-oh····.”

The brightness was enough to put any ordinary flashlight to shame.

As soon as I mentioned the need for light, it burst forth.

What is this pattern? Does it have some kind of voice recognition feature?

Though the principles and laws were unknown, one thing became clear—I could be certain that this power was decidedly favorable toward me.

As I began to feel a tiny bit of relief blossoming in my previously troubled heart.

“This is····!”

The light that stretched out to my feet resonated with something hidden in the dark ground.

Like in a mystery story, when detectives would use a fluorescent stick to pinpoint a bloodstain location.

Was it called a luminol reaction or something? Anyway, it was exactly that situation.

As I directed the shimmering light from my arm toward the ground, the traces of someone who had passed through there revealed themselves.

Footprints.

Pure white traces like someone had dropped white paint drop by drop onto a black-covered sketchbook.

The needle I was hopelessly searching for in the desert.

This place served as the guiding signpost, just like the breadcrumbs in the story of Hansel and Gretel, guiding me, the lost one.

“Wow····. Thanks to you, I’m saved. Saintess. I’ll pet you a lot later····!”

With that.

I expressed sincere gratitude to the supreme contributor who must be starving for breakfast by following the pure white traces laid out before me.

◈◈◈

Among the bestsellers on display at a nearby bookstore, any phrase could be found.

“Don’t chase the past. Don’t cling to it. Don’t be bound by it.

Look to the future.”

Whenever I came across such lines, I couldn’t help but think.

People who go around frowning all day at a single dog poop they step on are quite good at writing such things.

After all, the past is something one cannot turn away from just because they want to. That’s a lesson borne from my own experiences.

“That uncle must have come!”

The reason I stopped walking was simple.

The silhouette of familiar but strange siblings appeared before me, binding me with their presence, tugging at my heartstrings.

An illusion. A mirage. A daydream.

It was an odd vision that couldn’t be categorized with any hastily recalled concept.

It was like extracting a grayscale character from a black-and-white movie and shoving it into a colorful film.

Just like that time when a suspicious box that referred to itself as a god showed me the past of the Priest Ranobel as video footage.

The child Hero and Bigtim, surrounded by gray noise, were blocking my path while reenacting their past.

“Sister! Just like you said! Uncle really came and healed us!”

“N-no····. It can’t be····. I-it can’t be····.”

While young Bigtim bounced around excitedly as if Santa Claus had dropped by, the child Hero sat there blankly like a dangling puppet, mumbling discontentedly.

“It can’t be! Look at our bodies! We’re all better!”

“N-no····.”

“Sister said! It must have been a reward for us waiting so patiently! Uncle personally came to us!”

“N-no····.”

“I’m telling you it’s true! For sure, that uncle····.”

“I said it’s not─!!!”

It was like a bolt from the blue.

Could it be that I had never seen such a furious expression on my sister’s face until now?

Young Bigtim flinched, his face becoming pale as he glanced nervously at the Hero.

“I’m s-sorry····. Sister····.”

“Huff····. Hoo····.”

At that moment, as the child Hero gradually settled her breathing, which was disturbed by a mix of anger and grief.

A soft light began to fill the dim room, and Bigtim, noticing the red stains scattered across the Hero’s body, widened his eyes in horror.

“Sister··· are you hurt···?”

“Huff!”

The Hero, realizing that her hands were smeared in blood, trembled nervously, scrubbing frantically at her clothes.

“Eek! EEK!”

“S-sister···. Does it hurt··· a lot?”

The Hero was only splattered with a little blood that wasn’t even hers. She was in a clean state, free from curses and plagues.

But it was understandable why Bigtim would worry like that.

“N-no. It can’t be. That person can’t be uncle. He can’t be uncle. No, it’s not. It can’t be true. It can’t be real. It just can’t.”

It felt like watching someone hanging off a cliff.

The Hero’s desperate pleas, not even remembering what exactly she was denying, were the epitome of a human writhing in pain.

Just then.

As if the TV channel was turning, my vision in front of me took a twist.

Like a flash of a camera, my hazy sight gradually regained clarity.

There stood a now more composed Hero, pressing a knife against the Orphanage Director’s neck, demanding something from him.

“Here! Here! J-just give it to me! Here! It’s here! The paper with that guy’s photo and name on it! Hurry and bring it!”

After receiving the trembling documents from him, the Hero stared at the front page for quite a while.

“A-aa···. Aaaah···!”

Soon enough, the Hero displayed enough agitation to crumple the paper in her hands, lifting the knife she had pointed at the Director toward the ceiling.

“Eek!”

“S-sister!”

Bigtim was in shock as the Hero’s shocking movement made the Orphanage Director faint on the spot.

But her knife wasn’t aimed at him from the start.

“Why! Why did you do it! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why!”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

How many times did that menacing sound of a hard metal piercing soft flesh echo?

The Hero’s self-harm, treating her hands like the enemy, didn’t stop despite Bigtim’s desperate pleas, who had tightly wrapped around her waist.

“Sister! H-h-hey! Don’t! Please don’t do that!”

Tears and blood. Anger and wailing. It was about to fill the cramped little room.

Clang!

The blood-stained knife rolled uselessly on the floor.

A meager amount of droplets, insufficient to wash away that blood, quietly faltered from her eyes.

“H-huh····. What should I do····. What should I do, Bigtim····.”

Just after that, something white fell from her pocket, fluttering like a fallen leaf, landing on the floor.

It was an old, small note that seemed hastily patched back together, with the words [Happy Birthday] scrawled on it.

In response to her audacious demand for a birthday present.

The meaningless phrase I had included casually, without much thought, as part of some amusement or entertainment.

I couldn’t help but close my eyes at the sight of the Hero carefully picking it up, making sure it wouldn’t get stained with her own blood.

“O-oh, uncle····. Uncle····.”

Even in this urgent moment, I found myself collapsing there helplessly.

This horrific scene unfolding before me couldn’t possibly be real.

It couldn’t be reality.

Endlessly.

Continuously.

I had to repeat it to myself.

*