The Half-Puny Priest Hopes To Retire

27 – Lullaby

The hallway, darkened as if the light ink had been spread by the twilight, was terribly gloomy.

The nun suddenly leaned against the wall.

I feel like I’m about to fall No, it looks like it’s about to collapse.

The burning sensation, as if the blood vessels in her eyelids were boiling, made her feel grateful.

That piercing pain not only calmed down my consciousness, which was about to blur one after another due to mental fatigue, but also erased the guilt that had been driven into my lungs like a stake.

Was this really the best?

No, no.

In fact, a better way would have been to do a couple of looks.

If only the saintess’ mind was intact. If only they weren’t for the warrior party. If only the nun’s own insight was superior to theirs.

It was clear that there must have been plenty of ways to rectify the situation without paying the price or without enduring losses.

Priests are imprisoned in the audience room for the time being, and nuns whose impressions are specific seek refuge in a country outside of this system to gain time.

After confessing a series of circumstances to the hero’s party, through negotiations, ask for their understanding so that the priest’s personal affairs can be completely transferred.

Alternatively, asking the priest himself to persuade them to return them might have been enough to try.

But only one.

What if at least one such attempt fails?

Unlike the mysterious alternatives that seldom come to mind, the ominous assumption clearly blooms on the inside of the eyelid just by closing your eyes.

While the nun was away, if the party of warriors who were chasing the priest’s whereabouts found the priest through some trick, and in the pre-war situation, they would encounter a saint who could only be seen as the one responsible for arresting the new recruit.

If the negotiations fail, even if they strongly insist that the priest must be returned to the warrior party.

What if, in the process, the current saintess, whose mental state is unstable, even harbors ‘enmity’ towards the hero?

really the end. To put it bluntly, it was a catastrophe.

It was a well-known fact that, just as the demon king, who can be seen as the despair of mankind, inflates his power with each successive generation, the saintess, who can be seen as the hope of mankind, also acquires more powerful divine powers as the next generation approaches.

Unlike the demon king, who has no real body, the saintess has a living body.

The fact that side effects that occur during the process of putting divine power into human vessels have also intensified with each passing generation is the ugly bare face of mankind, which the Vatican strictly prohibited from professing.

A modern saintess who boasts an unparalleled level of divine power among all the saints recorded in the history of the system.

Wellna Angelas Ashes.

However, due to the aftermath of being endowed with that powerful divine power, her thinking ability has regressed to the level of an infant.

Even just a few generations ago, the royal family, which insisted that the warrior and the saint unite to defeat the demon king was the most correct form of a warrior party, but reversed the argument that it was more stable for the warrior to receive protection from the saint in advance and engage in battle. It was also to prepare for such a situation.

blessing ceremony.

If the people in the system knew that the secret behind the birth of a ceremony with only its name was so filthy, what kind of expression would they make?

You probably won’t be able to smile brightly. The nun thought so.

a saintess The day I became a saint.

a girl The day I became a saint. The nun never forgets.

How can we forget the ghastly sight of a person being obliterated, an existence being overwritten, and an individual completely disappearing?

Frustration, as if consciousness were being submerged in an endless swamp. A feeling of helplessness permeating through the bones. And that disgusting relief that slowly spreads like paint in water rises like a buoy whenever night arrives.

It was the nun’s remorse, curse, and stigma.

Compared to the bitterness of that heart, the pain of being cut through with a hot iron was just ridiculous.

If only she could make up for the mistake of the day, the nun was confident enough to readily comply with my request to gouge out her own eyes.

”The saintess… I will protect Well…”

must be kept

So, as much as that priest. I couldn’t give up as much as that man.

I couldn’t separate him from the current saintess even for an instant.

A bowl containing divine power. A doll dressed in envy’s clothes. What if she loses the person who restored the saintess to a human being after falling into a mere breathing corpse.

Because this time, the saintess would collapse.

He believes that the only way to atone for his sins is to defend the only being who deserves to hold onto that poor hand that has been submerged in the darkness because his past self missed it, and who has the power to pull it up to the sun. , It was a mission, the nun thought so from the bottom of her heart.

And for that, I was prepared to do anything.

yes. Whatever.

I vowed and resolved that I would not mind robbing a person who might have been someone’s support, or covering up a life of integrity and innocence with lies.

Fortunately, that determination to die did not fade into vain winds.

A series of plays written and starred by the nun must have completely dispelled any doubts about the monastery from the minds of the warrior party.

The vision of a person who has a debt in his heart is dark and narrow.

Even the nun had experienced that feeling of helplessness.

No matter how many realistic circumstances pointed to this place, as long as there was even the slightest bit of guilt toward the nuns in their hearts, it was clear that the guidelines would soon fade away.

It is a natural fact that even vagrants on the street know that the most excellent choice is to lie down and encourage sympathy for an opponent who cannot be matched by strength or wisdom.

”Wow!”

Could it be static electricity?

The nun furrowed her brow at the unknown sensation that jumped out of her palm.

”blood····?”

The nun brought her hand from the wall in front of her eyes.

The sharp cut across his palm, as if he had just smeared red paint on a pure white sketchbook, was evident from the wetness of the blood on the affected area, and it was clear that it was a fresh wound.

Did it rub against the fragments of the table that the hero broke?

At the time, just holding on to the strong spirit they exuded, it seemed that they were overwhelmed with strength and did not notice it.

‘Give me back!’

The nun shook her head resolutely.

should not be shaken

The ability to afford and composure to look into the hearts of others has long since turned to ashes and disappeared.

have to stay away could be left out

The self-righteous, selfish, and filthy self could do that enough.

All this for her. for the virgin.

Even if one’s mind and body are covered with petty filth, what is it?

That she could laugh, cry, get angry, and be sad, just like kids her age. That alone made the nun willing to get dirty.

”Well… I…”

Could it be because of the tension? Maybe it’s because I’ve shed too much blood.

The nun’s consciousness faded.

It was clear at a glance that the damp longing melted into the mournful resonant created by dry lips.

The cold night air caressed the nun’s cheek, and the moonlight projected through the clouds came to her side, busily showing off her brilliance.

The nun seemed to be busy chasing the memories behind her slowly closed eyelids, so she didn’t perceive the beautiful Soybean song played late at night.

‘Sister Beltane!’

yes. There were times like that.

The days when the title others called her was not ‘Nun’ but ‘Beltain’.

Beltane Angelas Ashes.

It’s such an unfamiliar title that it feels more awkward to be called that way now.

only one person As much as the person I love the most in the world, I still want to call myself that. The nun couldn’t completely cut off the futile attachment to that title.

Early on, the nun had a younger sister.

yes. there was.

”Hey Sister… If you sleep in a place like this, your mouth will go back…”

It was then.

Like a drop of dew on a lake, for instance, someone’s voice fell in the middle of my fading consciousness.

”No, how did this hand do that again…? I really want…”

What I felt right after that was a cozy feeling of floating.

Memories of childhood where only the outline is visible now. The moment her father carried her exhausted from playing to the bed, the warm warmth that seemed to sink her heart slowly came to her mind.

”My Lord. I’m your finger mere lamb. I will bring rest to all on earth under your power. I give all the glory to you.”

After the hushed voice that tickled her ears like a lullaby, the nun’s consciousness went ecstatically dark.

Today, somehow, the nun felt as if she wouldn’t have nightmares for the first time in a long time.

There was no confirmation. It just felt that way.