Since childhood, adults taught me that running away from responsibilities wasn’t a good thing. People should always have a sense of responsibility, and fleeing from what needs to be done is considered irresponsible.
So, why shouldn’t one run away?
The truth is, the reasons varied depending on who you asked, and I often found those explanations to be pretty vague.
Some said it was a social norm, something that should be upheld as a duty of being human. Others claimed that if you were paid, it was only natural to work as much as you earned. And then there were those who said that if you didn’t, people around you would be disappointed, and your reputation would suffer.
But damn it, right now I had no choice but to think none of those reasons applied to me.
Let’s take an example.
First, the idea that it’s a social norm and a duty that must be observed is only correct under the assumption that that “society” operates normally, with a mutual agreement among everyone involved. So, to put it bluntly, if the other party doesn’t show me even a minimal level of courtesy, then I have no reason to uphold any courtesy myself.
After dropping a nuclear bomb that was much bigger than that, Father Nguyen disappeared from the Cathedral for several days. I had simply assumed he was on a business trip, but it turned out he had been incessantly visiting the Cathedral where Rina was staying.
The reason he wasn’t noticed by me was that, well, the times I was at the Cathedral coincided with Rina’s presence there too. He had gone simply to ask her various questions, so it was natural that Father Nguyen wouldn’t be spotted while I was around.
The problem was, what Father Nguyen was doing.
“Hey, do something about your priest. I can’t get any free time because of him. He keeps asking the same stuff over and over again… I’m sick of it, really sick!”
It was only on the third day of Father Nguyen starting to pursue Rina that I heard from Rina why Father Nguyen had vanished.
“But even if I tell him not to, he’s definitely going to keep at it.”
Right. It wasn’t just Father Nguyen; the church people also had a strangely stubborn side. Even if someone told them not to do something, if they considered it the right thing, they’d do it regardless.
…Of course, it would be different if I told them not to.
As someone who was the very symbol of the church, almost on the verge of becoming the patron saint for just breezing through the myriad challenges that the entire church had struggled with for the past 500 years, if I said “don’t,” it would make sense for them to comply.
The problem was, that would obviously lead to a flood of “Why?” questions.
Of course, I wouldn’t be asked those in a sulky tone. They’d wait for my answers with wide, curious eyes, eager to hear the spiritual teachings from the prophet personally sent by God.
The issue was that the only response I could give in that situation would be something like, “Because my friend dislikes it.”
Ah, I doubt the priest would resent me for such an answer.
However, he would likely feel extremely guilty about his unpleasant actions and thus I would find myself in the position of needing to comfort him. During that process, I’d probably make some verbal slip, and the priest might take my blunder as divine guidance, leading him to make an announcement or write to the Central Church about it. Surely the Central Church, which seemed to be compiling a biography on me, would jot it down verbatim.
And a passage with the number of verses from the Holy Scripture would eventually be passed down for a century or millennia.
And maybe a couple of hundred years later, a very rational and logical skeptic might show up, pointing out contradictions in my statements.
…Of course, I didn’t particularly want to stop such things from happening.
But the problem was, Rina was glaring at me as if she would choke me to death if I didn’t comply.
I let out a big sigh.
“…Alright. I’ll talk to him.”
Whether it’s a hundred or two hundred years from now, those people are not really related to me, are they? It was more unpleasant to lose the trust of those around me than to have those folks criticize me. Despite my appearance, I was somewhat of a social person.
Anyway, having made a promise, regardless of the outcome, I decided to proceed as Rina requested. After school, I approached Father Nguyen to ask, as politely as I could, whether constantly seeking Rina wouldn’t make her somewhat uncomfortable—
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that anymore. I’ve gathered all the testimonies I need.”
—What a relief! Turns out it was already resolved. I wouldn’t have to face Father Nguyen’s questions anymore, and Rina wouldn’t complain about feeling uncomfortable with me.
“However, the testimonies were already collected by the heresy inquisitors on behalf of the Miracle Investigators, right? Couldn’t I at least check those testimonies…?”
“Of course, I’ve already gone through those testimonies.”
Father Nguyen was grinning like a fool, quite pleased.
“But what I want to know is the story of Sister Hicks’ life. How she chose to live with humans instead of accumulating credit as a demon in the forces of the demonic realm, and how her faith developed, those are the stories I need.”
…Is he thinking of writing a biography about Rina or something?
While I was lost in serious thought, Father Nguyen spoke up.
“If a demon could hold a human heart, it would vastly expand our choices.”
“Hmm….”
Well, on the surface, it sounded like a valid point.
Among the forces of the demonic realm that invade humans, very few demons and monsters were capable of actual thought. Just like how humans struggle immensely when developing true AI that behave like them, the demons faced the same issues.
Creating mere facades was possible in spades. While making something that could think and move like Rina was impossible, creating something that merely looked human wasn’t particularly hard. Of course, those beings turned out not to be very useful in battle. The high-ranking demons that would break down those demon-siblings to intimidate Rina were of that category.
Unlike humans, if they put sufficient effort, they could manufacture indistinguishable demons, but if you were to ask whether they could mass-produce those, the answer was obviously no. The demons and beasts spilling over from the magic points were not refined products of that complexity. If anything, they could be described as biological weapons.
Had such demons been pouring out of magic points, human society would’ve crumbled ages ago. Or, alternatively, demons betraying their own kin would be popping up endlessly.
Rina was one of those many identical demons that someone used to create and work with; the ones who could do that were witches of suspicion. The one who could craft them best was defined as a witch of suspicion, after all.
…Well, that, in turn, caused the witch to fail and lose her life.
Such settings were inserted after Rina’s death to ensure that the protagonists would ponder, “What if those demons were fighting against their will just like Rina? Are there demons who can communicate with us?”
If I could keep the readers contemplating such ideas and make it a great story, that would’ve been superb; however, I didn’t have that level of confidence, and besides, that wasn’t the kind of philosophical story I was writing.
Ultimately, I stopped writing after that and the story just froze instead.
“But, according to Sister Hicks, there are very few demons like her, so it’s better not to entertain such thoughts.”
Seeing the amused expression of Father Nguyen, I nodded. Thank goodness. If I had started thinking that way, it would’ve made me run all over the place to change their minds.
“The only demon who could meet a glorious saint like you was herself, and that’s why she could enlighten her faith,” Father Nguyen stated.
“Eh?”
Wait, what kind of nonsense is that? Just living in a convent was terrifying enough, and she fervently lunged at the saint every day without respect, and the moment religion came up, Rina would dramatically shiver and shrug her shoulders; did that woman really say such a thing?
“Yes, all of this is the saint’s feat, and she claimed to merely follow in her footsteps.”
I stared silently at the priest with a calm smile for some time before finally asking, “May I ask what you plan to do with that story?”
The priest answered with a broad smile on his face.
“I already revealed it to Sister Hicks, but I am going to record all of this for theological consideration. It may eventually end up as a paper. Aside from piecing together the tales and testimonies from before, I may need to compile projections about future events, so it could take a lifetime. But I consider it my duty to perform that work, due to the guidance of the goddess.”
Um, wasn’t it more just because he was the priest at the nearest cathedral to the academy?
Though I can’t say that directly to Father Nguyen.
“Is that so….”
I had a good grasp of what Rina might be thinking.
So, she was practically echoing her words from last time.
She had begun to execute the action of pushing all the important matters over to me while trying to escape any blame.
“Ha, hahahaha…”
So this was what she meant by it.
While she complained about Father Nguyen being a bother and asked me to tell him to back off.
She even took it a step further and directly asked the priest to stop it due to my words.
“Is there something funny?”
Noticing my sudden laughter, the priest asked, and I shook my head.
“No, I just thought Sister Rina, or rather, Sister Hicks, is being a bit too humble, don’t you think?”
Correct. I had no intention of spilling the beans to others. However, if the opponent came at me like that first, I couldn’t remain idle.
As stated, social norms and human etiquette hold meaning only when the other party upholds them too.
If the other party doesn’t act as I consider proper, then I won’t act as they think I should. Isn’t that natural?
“Does the saint also have stories to share?”
As I nodded toward the priest, who was sparkling with excitement, I opened my mouth.
“Yes, in fact, Sister Hicks has since the moment she first met me—”
*
Second.
The claim that if you are paid, you should work accordingly.
Considering that I had never experienced a monthly salary of 600 previously, nor received bonuses for accomplishing something, it made the 600 I was currently earning a significant amount. Moreover, since the bonus matched my salary, it only emphasized its awesomeness even more.
Fine. I did not think I needed to demand more pay here. No point in being greedy; I couldn’t even think of where I would spend it.
Right.
I had no use for more money.
I mean, where would a nun, who returns directly to the convent after class, spend a monthly salary of 6 million won? Sure, it would help immensely when I eventually escaped the church, but the issue was that I wasn’t likely to escape anytime soon.
So, earning 6 million monthly was practically pointless for me. Honestly, even earning 1 million would be sufficient for fun with friends and still allow me to save a bit.
Oh, of course, I didn’t mean I was asking to have my salary cut.
…In any case, what I wanted to say was that even when hearing about a pay rise or a bonus, I found it utterly uninteresting.
Even though I could check the details anytime, I didn’t feel compelled to. No one was going to pilfer anything. I wasn’t just any ordinary nun, but the saint’s account. If they took from it, that would obviously raise a fuss.
During summer break, trying to dodge various situations, I had deliberately created tasks for myself and fled, I learned one undeniable fact: Sometimes, doing nothing was, in fact, more comfortable.
If I was going to end up embroiled in incidents even after running away, it seemed easier to just stay still and let them happen to me.
And since I had no greed for money, I didn’t feel the need to create work for myself either.
Having made that judgment, I decided to just chill for the second semester—
“No, I distinctly received a notice saying that they’d suggest registering as a hero right after early graduation.”
Seo-A frowned while saying this, which seemed like I had reached a point where events sought me out without even having to move.
“…However, the notice has changed now.”
The notice that Seo-A showed me was filled with contents inviting me from a renowned national university. Each university even had sections introducing their departments, with checks next to those I might be interested in.
Of course, even if I brought that with me, I still had no intention of following through. Still, considering that someone intervened and switched it to a much more candid notice, it demonstrated a divergence between what the teachers found enticing and what I genuinely wished to pursue. It was evident that, from the government’s perspective, it would be better for me to join directly under them rather than attend university.
But did they need to be this obvious about it?
I couldn’t wrap my head around whether the government was accurately assessing me or not. Didn’t they just visit and hear a piece of my mind last time?
Did they honestly think swapping official documents so bluntly would go unnoticed?
“Didn’t you find it a bit suspicious before the notice was swapped?”
“I found it suspicious….”
Leaning back while slowly stretching and gazing at the ceiling, Seo-A thought for a moment and then shook her head.
“No, the notices usually favor the government. You’re not the first to receive something like this. Often, heroes who show up having graduated early came to us after getting such notices. So, to put it another way, I always think the vice principal is a bit suspicious, but I didn’t question this notice. It was just too straightforward to seem suspicious, wasn’t it?”
“When do you mean?”
When I asked back, Seo-A nodded.
“Yeah, at least the notices coming from the vice principal usually represent the government’s stance.”
“…”
The vice principal?
As in, that vice principal?
The one who, contrary to their appearance, genuinely considered students’ futures and had a very unfavorable view of the government?
“Regardless, this is definitely suspicious. That notice was altered by someone.”
Seo-A said seriously, making me pause.
“So, the notice you received wasn’t the standard vice principal’s one, right?”
“Correct. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”
Hmmm.
It feels suspicious.
A truly bizarre situation was unfolding.
“Can I take this notice with me?”
“Huh? Are you actually interested?”
Seo-A looked slightly concerned as I shook my head. Of course not. While I might consider heading back to university if I could, I had no desire to enter a government-sanctioned institution on purpose.
“No, I actually want to look into something.”
“Is that so?”
Seo-A thought for a moment then nodded and stood up.
“I can’t give it directly to you. This notice is literally a public document. I can’t just pass it on to anyone.”
I guessed that’s why this situation was so serious.
Whether it was an effort for evidence destruction or simply a minor tweak to mislead Seo-A, that remained unclear until we caught the perpetrator.
“In exchange, I’ll copy it for you. There’s nothing dangerous about it going outside.”
…If there exists such confidential documents within the academy, that’s already pretty scary.
Following Seo-A as she walked to the copier after retrieving the notice from me, I reflected on that.
*
Finally. No matter how I acted, people around me would inevitably notice it. And those who witnessed my actions would evaluate me in their own way, and if the evaluation fell too low, I would face considerable consequences moving forward.
The problem is that this narrative hardly fits my case.
I received the copy of the notice from Seo-A. After finishing my afternoon training session, I decided to call each of the universities listed. I could meet with the vice principal again, but honestly, I doubted I’d hear anything different from the last conversation.
Usually, it took an excruciatingly long time to get through to administrative staff at such large-scale universities, but surprisingly, the first university I called picked up right away.
[Hello, this is the Administrative Center of the 21st District National University. How may I assist you?]
Hearing the cheerful, high-pitched voice of the clerk gave me pause. How should I introduce myself? Calling myself a saint felt a bit over the top. Although I was indeed a saint, something about it felt a bit boastful. Moreover, I still felt awkward introducing myself as a saint.
When calling a place of learning, it probably makes more sense to approach as a student rather than the head of a religion.
“Uh, hello. I’m Sister Clara Anderson residing in the convent of the 21st District Cathedral….”
[Excuse me?]
Well, hearing the staff respond in such confusion was new to me.
“So I’m Clara Anderson—”
[H-Hold on. Are you the saint?]
“…Well, kind of.”
Before I could argue otherwise, the staff’s reaction took over, and since I was indeed the saint, I couldn’t deny it.
[Connecting you to the president right away!]
Before I could even respond, the call transitioned from the clerk’s voice into some unnamed soft classical music.
“…”
Checking the watch, the time showed it was past 5:50 PM.
Isn’t quitting time usually 6 PM? Wait, do university professors typically leave even earlier?
Is it okay to summon the president for a call at this hour?
Of course, I was already the one making the late call, but still.
…Well, regardless of that.
Ah, I want to run away.
…So it wasn’t too strange to think that way as the president rushed back, panting, to take the call just when I was pondering it.
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