The World Does Not Exist for ■■

Translator: FenrirTL
Editor: ford53
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< Chapter 41: Does the Saintess Dream of a Scapegoat? >

…Of course, we still live in a society where freedom of religion is guaranteed.

If you are an American, you can proudly call them ‘all-purpose unpaid servants available for full-time work’.

Calling them ‘high-dimensional energy life forms’ to sound more sophisticated is also not a problem.

However, a piece of advice: do not be an atheist.

They aren’t even a joke anymore.

Excerpt from 『God Is Not Great』

***

The training room that Rhodes Howe Academy prided itself on.

Seti stood in the middle of a white room, coated with mana metal on both the walls and the floor, with her eyes closed.

Because it was early morning, the training room was quiet. There was no one to disturb or interrupt her.

Seti liked this tranquility. She savored the long-awaited peace, then at some point, she opened her eyes and slowly lifted the war hammer.

The war hammer provided by the academy was just a crude lump of metal, but Seti didn’t care.

As long as it wasn’t made by dwarves, a war hammer was just a war hammer. With no expectations, there was no disappointment. As long as it didn’t break while swinging, it was enough.

In that sense, the academy’s equipment was neither good nor bad… Thinking such thoughts, she swung the war hammer slowly.

Swinging the hammer with precise form, without mana, strained all the muscles in her body.

From her heels to her trapezius muscles, all her muscles simultaneously endured the weight and recoil.

After just a few swings, sweat droplets formed on her forehead, but Seti gradually increased her speed.

Faster, heavier, stronger.

Finally, when her muscles screamed that they couldn’t move anymore, she invoked her mana.

Whoosh!

The war hammer, which had traced a slow trajectory, accelerated instantly. The air split wherever the hammerhead passed, creating gusts of wind.

Once, twice, three times… Each swing accelerated further. Violent like a storm, unpredictable like thunder, Seti’s movements unfolded.

In the midst of this raging storm, the door to the training room suddenly swung open.

“Sister?”

Peeking through the open door was a girl with red hair. The moment Seti saw the amber-like sparkling yellow eyes, she stopped the hammer.

Whoosh—the wind that had filled the training room vanished instantly. Seti looked at her sister while pushing back her sweat-soaked hair.

“Siri? What’s the matter?”

Although her training was abruptly interrupted, which could have been annoying, Seti greeted her sister with an indifferent expression.

Siri gazed at her with a peculiar expression, then took out a smartphone from her pocket and quickly approached Seti.

“Sister, look at this news!”

“What? What’s it about?”

“Cheon Yeomyeong, that oppa is on the news!”

“What? Really?”

Seti threw aside the war hammer and grabbed the smartphone that Siri handed over. The screen was filled with articles from well-known media outlets.

『Today’s North Manchuria – Casualties in the Hundreds.』

『North Manchuria Base Fallen. Cause: Unknown Terrorist Organization?』

『Another Incident in Manchuria? National Assembly Calls for Emergency Funds, Ministry of Finance Expresses Reluctance.』

『Massive Monsters Moving South… Manchurians in Panic.』

Among the list of articles scrolling down, a photo of Cheon Yeomyeong appeared. The article’s title read:

『Young Mercenary and Saintess in Miraculous Battle.』

‘What? The Saintess? Why is she in Manchuria?’

Seti reflexively clicked on the article.

After reading just a few lines, Seti’s face twisted in fury.

“Uh, sister?”

Seti quickly moved to the next article. As she read through each one, her grip on the smartphone tightened.

“Sister, that’s my phone…”

Siri looked at the smartphone and Seti’s face alternately, her eyes a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

But her voice no longer reached Seti.

Seti, with an expression fierce enough to shoot lasers, read and reread the news articles featuring Yeomyeong and the Saintess.

The news stories were all quite similar.

For some reason, the Saintess had personally ventured to save North Manchuria, aided by two mercenaries who fought alongside her against a dragon (?).

The details were unclear, possibly censored for military reasons, but the tabloid media were the real problem.

They had published articles as if the Saintess and the young mercenary had met for some ‘destined’ reason.

Among these was an article filled with provocative fantasies, shocking enough to alarm the religious community, prominently featured on the portal’s main page.

‘The face of the Saintess standing next to the young mercenary was blushing red…’

Seti knew immediately that this article was a lie.

The Saintess was a damn voyeur who wore an invisibility cloak and never exposed her face to reporters.

But knowing and enduring were entirely different matters.

The moment Seti read the paragraph about the ‘intimate way their hands were clasped together,’ she could no longer hold back.

Crack.

The smartphone in her hand crumpled like an aluminum can. Siri screamed as her worst fear came true.

“Sister!”

“Ah, that…”

Seti, belatedly coming to her senses, tried to come up with an excuse, but Siri was a kind sister.

She patted Seti’s shoulder, smiling mischievously.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re worried she’ll take him away again, right?”

“…Siri. What do you mean, take him away?”

Ignoring Seti’s question, Siri continued without dropping her smile.

“What else? You’re worried the Saintess will snatch him up again, aren’t you? Aww, were you that scared?”

“…Hey.”

“No need to deny it, your guilty face says it all. And come on, sister, let’s be rational. Do you really think he’d get involved with the Saintess?”

“Involved? How can you say such…!”

Feeling like she had been hit in a sore spot, Seti’s eyes flashed with anger. Siri, instead of being frightened, waved her hands dismissively.

“Stop it. That’s your problem, sis. You completely lose it the moment the Saintess is mentioned.”

“…Not really?”

“Oh, really?”

Siri raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, her yellow eyes filled with mischief.

“How about a bet? Let’s see if you can go a day without contacting him.”

“…”

“If you last just one day, I’ll admit you were right and forgive you for breaking my smartphone. How about that?”

Siri said this while slyly pulling out a phone, a burner phone Seti used to contact Yeomyeong.

“Hey! You, that…!”

Seti reflexively reached out, but Siri, with a smug expression, moved the phone out of her reach.

“So, what’s it gonna be?”

Judging by her sneaky expression, it was clear she had anticipated this outcome before even coming to the training room.

Seti looked at her sister, feeling like she had been outsmarted.

“Are you going to take the bet or not?”

Siri asked, but instead of answering, Seti snatched the phone.

“What bet!”

Leaving her giggling sister behind, Seti quickly began typing on the phone.

[Hello Yeomyeong? This is Seti. The reason I’m texting is…］

* * *

Yeomyeong awoke in a stark white recovery room.

His entire body ached. As he sat up from the hard hospital bed, the IV in his arm jostled.

“Yo, you’re awake.”

He turned his head towards the familiar voice and saw two floating hands. The Saintess, hidden behind her invisible cloak, was slicing an apple with a knife, but it looked more like she was butchering it rather than peeling it.

Yeomyeong turned his gaze away from the pitiful apple and asked,

“…Where are we?”

“Manchuria Base Military Hospital.”

“…”

“You passed out during an interview, so I brought you here.”

As soon as the Saintess explained, Yeomyeong recalled the events of the previous night.

Not long after Ka-Hal Magdu had left, they encountered an overwhelming number of reinforcement troops.

The reinforcements treated the Saintess and Yeomyeong not as survivors but as subjects of an interrogation, relentlessly questioning what had happened in North Manchuria.

They even threatened that if this was a false alarm, not even the Saintess would be spared.

But the collapse of North Manchuria was an undeniable reality. After confirming the bodies of the pig-headed monster and the soldiers, the command reluctantly let the Saintess and Yeomyeong go.

That should have been the end of it, but the real problem started afterward.

The journalists, whom the Saintess had warned about, swarmed them, and the real interrogation began.

These reporters were nothing like the respectable war correspondents Yeomyeong had known. Those proper correspondents seemed to have followed the reinforcements north.

The reporters surrounding the Saintess and Yeomyeong used the public’s right to know as an excuse to shove microphones and cameras in their faces.

­”Why did you come to North Manchuria instead of attending the entrance ceremony? Did you receive some kind of prophecy?”

­”What is your relationship with the young mercenary?”

­”What do the gods think about this incident?”

­”Is it true that you fought Ka-Hal Magdu together?”

From inappropriate questions to reasonable ones, the interrogation disguised as an interview continued until sunrise.

It was so grueling that Yeomyeong even contemplated punching one of the notorious reporters, but he didn’t get the chance to hit any of them. Exhausted, Yeomyeong had fainted.

And now, looking at the mutilated apple core, Yeomyeong spoke,

“…So, why is the Saintess here?”

“Concerned about my comrade?”

“Stop with the nonsense.”

“It’s true.”

The Saintess giggled as she set the apple down. She paused for a moment, then picked another fruit from the basket—a rather expensive-looking pear this time.

Crunch, crunch.

As she started to slice the pear, the Saintess suddenly spoke,

“You, what’s your relationship with the Seonggeom?”

“…Seonggeom?”

“Freya Khan. The Great Usurper. The Disgrace of the Paladin Order.”

Yeomyeong narrowed his eyes and remained silent.

Did she recognize the Comet Blade? No, she must have, or she wouldn’t be asking.

He recalled the relationship between the Holy Sword and the Saintess. Although it seemed like both served the name of a holy god, in reality, they were practically enemies.

The Holy Kingdom beyond the Dimensional Gate could not accept that an unbeliever, particularly an Earthling, had been chosen by the Holy Sword.

Arguments questioning the divine selection were futile. They contended that it was the Holy Sword, not the god, that had chosen Freya Khan.

“Freya Khan, if you are truly confident, come to the Five Great Temples of the Holy Kingdom and undergo the trial.”

This was the demand the Holy Kingdom made of Freya Khan. Of course, the Australian government and Freya Khan paid no heed.

The Holy Sword itself was a decisive weapon comparable to a nuclear bomb.

In short, the Saintess recognized by the Holy Kingdom and Freya Khan with the Holy Sword were political enemies.

Therefore… the Saintess mentioning Freya Khan could not have been with good intentions.

Having organized his thoughts to this point, Yeomyeong spoke again.

“Why do you ask about my relationship with Freya Khan?”

“…Judging by how you’re dodging the question, there must be some kind of relationship.”

The Saintess sighed deeply. The knife slipped, cutting off a chunk of her meal. What a wasteful way to handle food.

Regardless of what happened to the poor meal, the Saintess continued speaking.

“Are you perhaps a disciple of Freya Khan?”

“No.”

“Then a lover?”

“…”

“Judging by your expression, that’s not it either… could you be her son?”

Yeomyeong frowned and looked in the Saintess’s direction. Embarrassed by her own question, she cleared her throat.

“Ahem, look at that expression. Can’t you take a joke?”

“…If you make one more joke like that, you’ll be thrown out of this room.”

“Oh my, how fierce. So, what is your real relationship with Freya Khan?”

The Saintess’s hand approached. Though hidden by the transparent cloak, she was probably leaning in.

Yeomyeong sighed and answered.

“Just a fleeting acquaintance.”

As soon as he gave this curt reply, the Saintess spun her knife. Despite her poor knife skills, it was a splendid trick.

“A fleeting acquaintance… well, then there shouldn’t be any problem.”

With a swift motion, the Saintess ended her trick and placed the knife down, adding,

“Sorry for the unpleasant question. I just thought the old folks might throw a fit if I worked with someone close to Freya Khan.”

“…Work? Throw a fit?”

“Yes, work. Handling the monsters migrating south for humanitarian reasons, and there’s something to find in Manchuria without the old folks knowing.”

Yeomyeong tilted his head, puzzled by what she meant. The Saintess continued in a frivolous tone.

“It might seem sudden, but after fighting Ka-Hal Magdu, I realized something. As a Saintess, shouldn’t I at least have a bodyguard? Something like that.”

Yeomyeong clicked his tongue internally as she finished speaking.

‘So that’s what she meant…’

“If you’re looking for a bodyguard, hire another mercenary. In any mercenary corps in Manchuria, you’ll find someone more skilled than me.”

“Rejecting without even hearing the conditions?”

“Of course I’m rejecting. We didn’t meet on good terms. I’m more suspicious of why the Saintess suddenly wants to make me her bodyguard.”

“…Hey, watch your words.”

“If you don’t want a mercenary, call a paladin. There’ll be a line of people wanting to be your bodyguard. Anyway, I refuse.”

The Saintess, perhaps surprised by Yeomyeong’s refusal, clenched her hands and pressed her lips tightly together.

After a moment, she took out a smartphone from under her transparent cloak.

“Hey, which mercenary corps did you say you belonged to?”

“…What?”

“Ah, found it. Seonjook Mercenary Corps, Team 3, Cheon Yeomyeong.”

Before Yeomyeong could respond, she stood up abruptly. The bowl containing the sliced apples and pears clattered.

“Fine, I’ll just hire a mercenary with money.”

Through the transparent cloak, he could almost see her smirking smile.