Chapitre 41: The God-Worker
"Oh, wow, good for you! Neiti Hana is so smart! Do you want accolades? Perhaps a gold star?"
"It was pretty obvious from the start," said Hana, staring up at the ceiling. She didn't appreciate Mica's sarcastic tone. Or maybe she should call him Rirasiru? "How many people know about you?"
"You, Papa, and a pet scarlet macaw that used to sit on my head a long time ago."
"And?"
He sat on the edge of the bed, interrupting her field of view and smiling smugly down at her. "Silvio, too," he said at last. "You twins are wicked smart, honestly." He sighed. "Okie-dokie, you've had your time in the sun. Time to erase your memory!" Mica aligned his thumb and pointer finger to her forehead.
"Wait!"
"Don't worry; it doesn't hurt. I'll just make sure I do it properly this time…"
"Hold it!" Hana locked her legs around his hips and pulled him down, the front of her hospital robe coming undone as he landed in a compromising position on top of her.
"Hana?" Mica blushed, not even trying to be subtle about the fact he was checking her out. "Didn't think you to be so forward, but I'm into it. We've gotta wait a couple years, though. I'm no goody-goody gentleman like Zagiha. I'll follow the law to the letter, but my morals end the second you turn eighteen."
Hana scoffed at the assertion Zagiha was any sort of "gentleman." She pulled his face close to hers and whispered in his ear. "You're thinking with the wrong brain, Rirasiru-sa. You can enjoy the show for free, or you can try erasing my memory again and I scream. Then my parents will see you, a Worker who's twice my size on top of me like this, and it's game over for you."
Mica blinked.
"Not to mention you're clearly turned on right now. Maybe you shouldn't wear such tight pants if you wanted plausible deniability on your side."
He smirked. "Ah. Pretty girls. My only weakness. Okay, you worked hard. I'll let you off easy before we end up doing something we'll both regret. I mean, I know it's hard for you to hold back as well when you want me, too."
Hana squeaked and realized she wasn't wearing a bra or underwear, snapping her legs shut. Stupid teenage hormones making her horny when she didn't want to be. This guy… Mica was just humoring her. He was totally in control of the situation, toying with her for his own amusement.
He nibbled on her ear, and she shuddered. "Of course, what's to stop me from erasing your memory while you're asleep? You can't threaten me then, so you'd better get to bribin' me right now."
Hana froze. Shit. She hadn't thought of that. "You can do… whatever you want…" she mumbled lamely.
Mica's smirk deepened and he learned further into her, forehead pressing into hers. "That's no good," he whispered. "I won't enjoy it at all if it's purely transactional. I only want it if you want it. You know, I was willin' to drop the subject and pretend nothing happened, but if you're gonna get spicy with me, you shouldn't be surprised when things start to heat up. There's no way I'm letting you go now."
She gulped. So this was Rirasiru, the notorious womanizing God. Hana was almost willing to believe what he wrote in his diary was a lie, since her perception of him was totally different to how she perceived Mica… but nope. Every word was true, and she was way in over her head.
"Cheer me on as I work hard to win your heart, okay?"
"I-If you're a God," she stammered, "then it's impossible for you to actually be in love with me, right? And why are you bringing this up now? You never seemed interested before…"
"Hmm." Mica… Rirasiru… whatever his name was… nodded, thinking her statement over. "That's a good point. But tell me this: at what point does a mixture of sexual attraction and friendship become romantic love? Are my feelings any less valid because I can't define them concretely? Or… perhaps long ago a plucky Sorceress removed my love block like she did for my dear senior, Zagiha."
Hana was stunned speechless. If she could travel back in time, she'd like a few words with this Sorceress. But Mica was still being vague, so she didn't know if he was lying or not.
"Some God of Selflessness you are," she huffed.
"So I'm not allowed to want a partner?" He frowned. "Much like how Nimhr isn't always sad, and Zagiha isn't always honest with his feelings, sometimes I am selfish. We Gods all were human once, after all. I'm a big fan of hedonism. If I want something—or in this case, someone—I'll try to get them immediately. You've had so many brushes with death lately, I've been afraid of losin' you, so the incident with Silvio was the catalyst I needed to stop faffing around and come clean." Mica's reasoning was so cold and clinical she honestly couldn't believe his love block was removed. "And to be truthful, I don't actually respect your feelings for Zagiha at all. Normally, as I've had many lovers at once before, I don't care if they have many lovers as well, but the human side of me wants you all to myself... not that I consider that doofus 'competition.' But you knowin' my true identity ruins the fun. I want you to fall in love with me organically." Mica pinned her down and pressed his finger to her forehead once more. Hana panicked and squirmed, realizing the weight of her mistake (about 73 kilos). Mica was way stronger than her. He probably let her pull him down to give him an advantage. "You have ten seconds to bribe me before I do it. Get to talkin'. Ten, nine…"
"Why does it matter if I know or not?"
"For self-preservation reasons. Four…"
"You want me but you won't take me. Could you be any vaguer? You're scaring me." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I want the old Mica back. I want the Mica who's friendly and helpful. I don't want a complete bastard like you."
"Hmm? I thought bastards were your type. I mean, I wouldn't have found out about your cute, submissive streak otherwise. One."
"I'll scream, and I'll tell everyone your identity. Then you can get sealed up in your Temple again for the rest of eternity. Your freedom is my offer."
Mica froze, and for the first time, Hana felt like she had the advantage. "You wouldn't…" he squeaked, easing up a bit.
"I would." Hana started to yell, but he clamped his hand over her mouth.
"Don't…" he cried. "I don't want to go back to that dark place. They'll hurt me again!" He backed up, holding his face in his hands. "I don't want to go back!"
"Mica…?"
Call it sympathy for the devil, but she felt bad now. At that moment he lost all bluster, and he looked very small and frail, like a young child.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I shouldn't have scared you like this. I just didn't want anyone else knowing in case they accidentally let it slip… but I shouldn't have done that… I'm sorry. Just don't make me go back!"
"Wait, that was what you were trying to do?" Hana didn't want Mica's first genuine show of emotion to be a trauma flashback. He struck the first blow, sure, but she didn't mean to sink beneath his level.
"I do like you, but I'm not this mean, I promise. I can't erase the memories of people who are expectin' it. They must consent to it if they know about my power. I just wanted to freak you out, so you'd agree to it." He rubbed his eyes. "I don't actually feel entitled to a relationship with you. I know I've been rejected fair an' square. I just don't wanna go back to that Temple!"
"Oh." Hana closed her robe and sat up, patting him on the back. "Mica, pull yourself together. You know I wouldn't do that to you! But for scaring me…" She drew her hand back and slapped him hard across the face.
"Ow!" Mica drew away and rubbed his cheek.
"That's what you get. Don't you pull a stunt like that on me ever again! I know you were just trying to protect yourself, but I must protect myself, too. If you're gonna threaten me, I'm gonna fight back!"
"Fine." The red spot where Hana's hand met his flesh faded away. "I deserved it. I'll give you that."
"Are you really that scared of the Temple?"
Mica nodded. Hana didn't even know why she phrased it as a question. Of course, he was scared. Every day of his existence for over a hundred years was torture. If she were in his position, she probably would've done the exact same thing.
"I'm sorry for deceivin' you all this time," Mica apologized. "Honestly, I knew I couldn't keep up this façade forever. I planned on revealing my identity and retaking my throne someday, but…" He shook his head. "I'm not strong enough yet. Even though I'm about the same age as Eleora, I'm not a genius like her. I barely have control over my powers, and I always end up usin' all my mana in one go. I'm not strong enough to defend myself against the Sealing System."
"I understand." Wait… Hana paused. If he used all his mana whenever he granted a wish, and a loss of mana presented as symptoms of illness, then… "Did you save Astrid?" she asked.
Mica nodded. "Please don't tell Zagiha. I don't want anyone else knowin' who I am."
"I wouldn't be able to tell him even if I wanted to. He blocked me." Hana let herself stew in anger for a bit before returning to the topic at hand. "Mica, I don't give you permission to erase my memories, but your secret's safe with me. You can tell the others when you want to. Do you have faith in me?"
"I don't have any choice, do I?"
"Consider it payback for saving Uncle Crowe. Thank you, by the way."
"Ah, I was waitin' for that." Mica smiled at her. "You're welcome, but don't go thinkin' this clears your karmic debt. You need to work hard to better yourself."
"When you grant a wish, you end up getting really hurt, don't you?" Hana pulled the covers up above her shoulders. "I appreciate what you did, but I don't want you getting hurt again, got it?"
Mica rubbed the nape of his neck. "I can't make any promises. But I chose to help you. When I was imprisoned by the Sealing System, I was forced to grant wishes. Now that I'm free, I can choose to help people by my own free will, and that makes all the difference to me."
"What do you want in return?"
Mica's smile cracked a little wider, showing the top row of pearly-white teeth. "Hana, I already have everything I could possibly want. But, if you insist… what I'd like is for you to keep callin' me 'Mica' and not 'Rirasiru.' The name Mica means a lot more to me 'cuz Papa's the one who gave it to me."
Hana agreed, but then it dawned on her: "Mica, why do you call him 'Papa' if you're the older one?"
He shrugged. "He's the one who taught me how to act like a human. That's what fathers do, right?"
"Well, I guess so…" Hana shook her head. "It's kind of amazing how you've stayed undercover for so many years. How did he even get you out in the first place?"
"It's a long story," said Mica. "I can tell you the how he rescued me, if you want. You must be tired still, so don't blame me if you fall asleep before I finish."
He was right. Hana was still tired, and she had a lot to process, but at least Mica was back to normal. Now that she called him out on his bluff, she felt better around him. Mica was foolish, but she forgave him if he kept his promise to not use his strength against her ever again. He understood where he violated her boundaries, which was a lot more than she could say of Nimhr. Besides, Gods she met usually tried to kill her, so she'd take a horny God over a murderous one anytime.
Mica sat down on the chair by her hospital bedside as he recounted his tale. "All right, so this happened nearly thirty years ago, on a dark night in the middle of a blizzard…"
--
When he finished his third glass of wine, Rirasiru didn't even feel a buzz.
The clergy at his Temple liked to keep him good and drunk, refilling his glass the second he swilled the last drop. The young God was a heavy drinker even before they locked him up, but nowadays he drank not because of the massive parties he used to hold, but to dull the pain.
The manacles around his wrists and ankles were too tight, forcing him to sit in the same upright position for hours on end. He had enough range of motion to eat and drink, but that was about it.
But that wasn't as bad as the Seal on him, seared right into his flesh.
Rirasiru was unique amongst the Gods because he gave up his enhanced strength in exchange for unparalleled healing. He was no stronger than any human his size, but he could regenerate from any wound in a matter of seconds.
When one's power required sustaining fatal injuries in order to grant wishes, it was more of a necessity of a perk. Other Gods needed weeks to make a new avatar when their old one was destroyed, but Rirasiru had backups of backups of backups, so the time lapse between destruction and rebirth was less than a minute. It didn't matter if the manacles chafed his wrists; the moment they cut through his flesh, his body instantly healed to begin the cycle anew.
That was miserable enough, but the burns from the Seal never healed because it was constantly hurting him. So he drank. Rirasiru never forgot the pain, but at least alcohol made it so that he no longer cared.
"Another one, Your Holiness?" asked one of his concubines.
He extended his glass.
Compared to most, Rirasiru lived in the lap of luxury. His worshipers gave him the best clothes, the most delicious food, and the prettiest girls threw themselves at him. He found that odd, since they never saw his face.
When he ate and drank, he covered the top half of his face with a veil and wore a mask at all other times. He realized this was probably to his detriment, because if at least one clergy member saw his visage he would be able to hijack their mind and have them free him, but he found it a horrifying and immoral ability.
Nothing is fun when you aren't free.
Whether it be freedom of movement or freedom of will, he could not understate its value to him. He knew doing the same to others what they did to him would offend him to the core. All Rirasiru could hope for was his people to come to their senses and let him go.
At least it was almost bedtime. Rirasiru had no need for sleep, but he welcomed any respite from granting wishes. Scarcely had he lifted his fourth glass to his lips, though, when a maid entered and bowed before him.
"Your Holiness," she said. "There is someone here to see you. I tried to tell him it was too late and to come back tomorrow, but he wouldn't listen! Should I get security to--?"
Rirasiru cut her off and sighed. "Let him in," he answered wearily. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of being tossed in the "hole" for the fifteenth time that day, but he wasn't in control of anything. Might as well give the guy what he wants and be done with it.
The maid did as she was told and opened the giant wooden door to let the visitor into his chambers. Sitting lordly on the steps of his teahouse, he watched the man navigate the gardens around him and awkwardly prostrate himself at his feet.
People always made a big show of it when they begged him for wishes. No matter how they dressed it in the veneer of humility, they only had their self-interest in mind. He'd rather be punched in the face than go through this song and dance again.
The fellow didn't even look like the type to mind his manners normally. He was a Worker teetering on the cusp of middle age, dressed in a thick fur parka drenched in water. Was it snowing out and the internal temperature melted the snow on his coat? He wouldn't know. He hadn't seen snow in over a hundred years.
"Raise your head, little one," he said, putting down his drink and folding his hands in his lap.
"Rirasiru-sa," he stammered as he looked at him. But soon his awe gave way to shock. "Those chains…!" he exclaimed.
Rirasiru paid his concern little mind. People always feigned concern for him, but they never did anything about it.
"I'm fine," said Rirasiru. "I know my appearance is shocking, but there's no need for worry. I am in these chains by my own free will."
The man crinkled his nose as if he didn't believe him, but he said nothing in the presence of the clergy.
"Is it snowing out?" Rirasiru asked.
"Erm, yes," replied the man. "There's a very harsh blizzard outside. I barely made it up the mountain alive!"
Well, he couldn't fault the guy for his dedication to his wish. And while he wasn't happy about this meeting, he didn't have the heart to throw him back into the cold.
"All right," said Rirasiru. He gestured to a table beside him, piled high with bread, fruit, and cheese. "Take off your coat and give it to the maid. She'll dry it out for you. Oh… you must be hungry. Fix yourself a plate and have a glass of wine with me."
The man was gob smacked. "But aren't these your offerings?" he asked.
"Sure, they are, but in truth, us Gods have no need to eat. Go ahead. Nobody goes hungry in my Temple."
The man thanked him profusely and obeyed, crowding his plate with food. A hungry person couldn't hide it no matter how polite they tried to be; he wolfed it down, and the maid reappeared a minute later with another glass of wine.
"This wine is too good for me," he said when he tasted it. "I'm sorry. I brought you an offerin', but…" He pulled a bottle out from his bag. Rirasiru took it and looked it over. Moonshine. "I should've known you'd have better."
Rirasiru chuckled at the notion he was so snobby he wouldn't drink moonshine. "Well, I've had worse. Thank you for this. You lot," he addressed the Temple staff. "Go and get some rest. I'll handle this meeting by myself." He ushered them out of the garden and sunk into his cushion as the last person left. "Thank the Gods they're gone. It's always stuffy formalities with them! Now, child of man, take a seat, enjoy the drinks, and tell me your name."
"Tomí, Your Holiness," he answered, nervously swishing the wine in his hand. "My name is Tomí Rebane, but everybody just calls me Pops."
"Hmm? Why do they call you that?" Rirasiru took a drink.
Pops laughed and loosened up a bit. "Because I'm everyone's Pop," he said. "I work at the Minumna Mine and I'm always lookin' after the young men under me. They said I was actin' like a dad, so the nickname stuck. But someone's gotta look after 'em. You know how foolish young men can be."
"So, you're so wise that you risked your life climbing up a mountain in the middle of a blizzard?"
Pops frowned. "Normally I wouldn't do such a stupid thing," he said, "but the situation is desperate. You see, I've got a boy, myself. His name is Mikhail. He's nine." He got quiet and curled his fist around the stem of the wine glass. "A couple years ago, he got sick. Cancer. Not even the best Sorcerer doctors can cure him. My wife left the family shortly after he was diagnosed, so it's just been me takin' care of him." Pops didn't know what to say next. He knew that what he was about to ask of Rirasiru was audacious. "I'm in a lot of debt from payin' for treatments, so I don't have any money to give you. But I'll pay you back any other way I can."
Once more, he prostrated himself before the God, and shaking like a leaf, made his request. "Mikhail's really deteriorated the past few days. The village doctor says he won't last much longer. I know it's ostentatious for a lowly person like me to ask for something so huge from a God, but you're the only who has the power to help. Please, I beg you: save my child's life!"
Rirasiru immediately sobered up. "His name is Mikhail Rebane?" he asked. "One moment."
For him, it felt like hours, but only a fraction of a second passed while he left his physical form for a moment and consulted his power. He looked into the future, septillions (well, maybe more than that) of paths intertwining together like a big ball of string.
And he did not like what he saw.
"Tomí," he said solemnly when he came back to reality. "There's no gentle way to put this. I have seen your son's fate, and he will not survive no matter what I do."
"What?" Pops lost all composure and jumped up. "Why not? Aren't you the worker of miracles? Why can't you help?"
Rirasiru shook his head. "Little one, my power is misunderstood. I can't create a miracle from nowhere. Ah, how do I even explain this? I barely know how it works myself… Imagine that all things are interconnected by a string. If one thing moves, so does something else. Everything is changed forever. People have many fates awaiting them. Depending on the actions they take in life—karma—they can be more likely to end up with a certain fate over others, although it's not set in stone. What I do is exchange one fate for another possibility. But when people are stricken by things outside of their control, such as an uncurable disease, there's little—if anything—I can do. All living things must someday nobly greet death. Some are destined to do so sooner than others."
"What? You can't help if it's not within a human's control? Why would the Outer One allow that?"
"That's correct. Only human actions can determine their karma, which I am able to manipulate as its God. As for your other question… only the Outer One knows why." He hung his head. "I can at least tweak the timeline a bit to give him a few more years, but that's the best I can do. Ah, I'll probably get in trouble with the higher ups… not that I've ever cared what they think. I'm really sorry. I wish I could help your son more. I hate it when people are sick, especially children."
"I… see." That's not what Pops wanted to hear at all. He wanted to scream and cry and shake Rirasiru by the collar and demand he do more, but he knew it was useless. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. And he knew it was his best bet. He would do anything if it meant Mikhail could live even a day more. "Okay." He bowed once again. "Forgive me for my outburst. I appreciate everything, so if you can help even a little bit, I accept."
"Oh?" Rirasiru's eyes sparkled mischievously through his veil. "Who said I was offering?"
At that, Pops did act out. He grabbed at Rirasiru, but the other managed to dodge in the nick of time, spilling his wine in the fray. "Why the hell are you yankin' my chain?" he snarled. "Is my grief funny to you? It would've been nicer of you if you just said no!"
"Easy, little one," said Rirasiru, gazing woefully at the spilled wine. "Listen to my reasoning. Most people—99.9%, I'd say—come here to make wishes for themselves. Maybe they want to get out of debt, or have their aches and pains cured. It doesn't matter to me; I'll grant their wish all the same. But you see, when people make wishes for other people, that complicates things. The other person can't consent to the wish if they're not around. There have been times when I've bypassed that, but those had extenuating circumstances. You need a compelling argument if you want me to budge."
Pops had no reply. He sat helpless as the God verbally eviscerated him.
"I love beautiful things and beautiful things only," continued Rirasiru. "Is there nothing more beautiful than the stillness of death? This world is cruel beyond measure. While your son is here, he clearly suffers, so why prolong him his peace?" He placed his hand on his chest. "Child of man, dying is not a bad thing. In death there is no more sadness, pain, or strife. As the God of Good Karma, I take my job ferrying people through the cycle of death and rebirth very seriously. I will keep your Mikhail's spirit safe and happy until it's time for him to reincarnate. You have my word. Why would you as a father keep him from this? Are you doing it for your own benefit, perhaps?" His red eyes bore into his soul. "I have to say, that's very selfish."
Pops continued to be silent, pondering his words. Rirasiru hoped he at least caught on to his little game by now, but the man was apparently simpler than he thought.
"I'm not picking on you," said Rirasiru. "I ask this to everybody who wishes on behalf of others. I need to be convinced to intervene, so answer me this: are you not selfish?"
Pops understood now. He formulated his response slowly, making sure his point was clear. "You're right," he said. "I'm selfish. You saw right through me. But I ain't a strong man. I have weaknesses like anyone else. Right now, I couldn't handle my son's death. I just couldn't. If he dies now, then surely, I will too. That's why I come to you today with my tail between my legs–to save m'self as well. But you're wrong when you say Mikhail's existence is nothin' but sufferin'!"
Rirasiru leaned forward as far as his bonds allowed him, interested in what he had to say.
"If I can speak so candidly, your Lordship, I'm under the impression you pity us human beings. I bet some people like that, but not Mikhail, never Mikhail. He ain't a sick dog you put out of its misery. He's been so brave. He told me that no matter how sick he gets, I must never pity him! He wants to live as long as possible so we can have more fun times together. And there's been much sufferin', but also much joy. And that joy shines even brighter because we've suffered. More than anything else, what matters to him the most isn't his sickness, but the happy life he's had."
Pops shut up immediately upon realizing he just insulted a God. He recoiled, expecting to be enveloped in the flames of Divine Judgment any second, but Rirasiru did nothing.
"I don't agree with you," he said. "If anything, I find your perspective as a human very limited. But… what you said is interesting. As an immortal, I find it hard to understand why humans cling so desperately to survival, but if surviving a little longer will make both you and Mikhail happy, then that's good enough for me. Fine. You've made your case, so I'll do it. But you'd better not have lied to me, or else…"
"Or else you'll smite me?"
Rirasiru laughed. "Smite you? Why would I do that when I can do much worse? I've never smote anyone or took revenge or anything like that. I'm not that petty. What I was saying was 'or else it will weigh on your consciousness the rest of your days.'"
"Thank you!" Relieved tears rolled down Pops' cheeks. "Thank you so much! I don't think I could ever repay you…"
"I don't need money. You don't have to 'repay' me. But there is one thing you must do."
"Yes, anything. Just name it!"
"You must leave right now and not come back."
"What? Really?"
"Yes. That is my one and only condition. If it's still blizzarding, find a maid and have her prepare a bed for you. I know you're worried about your son, but he is stable now. There's no need to risk your life any further. Goodnight."
"Ah… um… okay." Pops didn't even get the chance to answer him as a priest entered and shuffled him out.
"So you're granting it?" asked the priest.
"I know what you'll do to me if I don't," Rirasiru answered. Burning alone in the "hole" for a few minutes was better than being locked down there for days.
He watched the priest walk past him up the steps to the tea house and open the hidden trap door. "Do you need another glass of wine before the sacrifice?" he asked.
Rirasiru was unable to die of alcohol poisoning. It wouldn't hurt. Mamoru the priest was kinder than most, showing at least an iota of sympathy before throwing him in the "hole."
"No," he said. He pointed to the moonshine. "I'll take a shot of that."
Mamoru grimaced and poured it for him. Rirasiru swallowed it in one gulp, wincing at the burning sensation snaking its way down his throat. Blech. No wonder it was illegal to sell this stuff. Mamoru undid his binds, but he didn't take the opportunity to run away. He simply let the man slide off his robe and handcuff him behind his back, supporting him as he stumbled to the trapdoor.
Rirasiru lost his ability to walk by himself a long time ago. He was like a newborn fawn, staggering and falling without someone to brace him.
"… I'll make this burden my own," he whispered under his breath as he inched toward the opening. "From henceforth, let our contract be established." As he activated his power, he leapt down, the ends of his hair bursting into flames.
This was something he did thousands upon thousands of times now; from the very moment he awakened as a God. Yet, he never got used to the pain. His body was engulfed into the sacrificial inferno, his bones smashing to bits the moment he hit the cold cave floor.
Just ride it out, he willed himself. Just burn until the universe has accepted you've paid the price. Soon enough you will lose consciousness and return to blissful zero. He closed his eyes, awaiting the death that would rapidly come.
"… Rirasiru-sa?"
Were people… talking about him?
Rirasiru mustered the strength to look up. His vision was rapidly fading, but he made out the faint outlines of two men hovering fifteen meters above him.
"My Gods, what's happened to him?" cried Tomí Rebane. "We have to save him…!"
"You mustn't interrupt the divine flames until they've gone out," replied Mamoru. "This is what must be done in order to grant your wish."
"This… this is what happens? Is this why he wanted me to leave? I didn't know… If I had known this would've happened to him, I never would've made that wish! I want Mikhail to live, but not at his expense! This is so cruel!"
"Tomí, what are you doing…?"
"I'm goin' to put it out!"
"Don't!"
Pops Rebane didn't think twice. He threw himself down the hole.
Ha. What an idiot. Even if he lived, he was bound to break something. Pops landed on top of him, yelling out in pain when his knee met the ground. But he wasn't concerned about himself.
"C'mon," he cried, splashing handfuls of cave water on him. "The fire won't go out. Why…?"
"The divine flames cannot burn human beings." Mamoru emerged from the secret passage and swung open the cell door, the key dangling from his hand. "Nor can they be put out until they've served their purpose." He shook his head. "Did you really think you could make your wish come true without paying a price? One must return to the universe no matter what. In exchange for one life, fate demands another. Do you know why Rirasiru-sa is also the God of Selflessness? Because he pays the price for you. You only have one body, while he can make as many as he pleases, so he bears what should be your burden. He truly is a kind and foolish God, isn't he?"
"Does he… does he feel any pain?"
"Of course he does. The sacrifice would be worthless if it were easy. But what about you? Do you feel any pain? You're lucky you're still talking to me, but at the very least you must've fractured your knee."
"I don't give a damn about my knee!" Pops snarled, forcing himself to stand. He grabbed Mamoru by the collar and yanked him up. "Why are you doin' this to him?"
"This is the path I have chosen for myself."
Pops recoiled. In front of him no longer lay a corpse, but Rirasiru, looking as healthy as anyone could ever hope to be.
And he was no longer wearing the veil, having cast it aside before he burned.
He was beautiful, more beautiful than anyone had any right to be. His long hair swept across his delicate features, shielding tear-streaked cheeks.
"Rirasiru-sa…?"
"Milord!" gasped the priest. "I'm so sorry to have gazed upon your face… I'll fetch your mask."
"It doesn't matter now, does it, Mamoru?" asked Rirasiru. He shuffled in his binds and offered a miserable smile.
Mamoru unlocked his handcuffs, but Rirasiru shook his head.
"Why did you disobey me?" he asked Pops.
"I… I smelled the smoke…"
"You are an insolent man, Tomí Rebane."
Rirasiru's tone grew harsh, a brutal contrast to his previous gentle demeanor.
"I asked you to do one thing only, and you betrayed my terms. You discovered my secret and saw my face. Do you know what the punishment for disobeying a God is?"
Pops clammed up. He just wanted to help…
"… But in the spirit of mercy, I'll spare you my Divine Judgment and the humiliation of living as an Unforgivable. You will be executed instead. Mamoru! My sword and a copy of the funerary rites."
The priest opened his cloak and unsheathed a short sword, handing it to Rirasiru.
"Get on your knees and bow your head," Rirasiru commanded. "So I can make it quick. I have no intention of making you suffer. Be glad, Tomí. It is an honor to have one's life taken by a God."
Pops did as he was told. He didn't understand why he was being punished for trying to do the right thing, but a God's word was absolute. And he was granting him a great kindness–better to be slain than be a heretic, but he regretted he wouldn't come home to his son. At least Mikhail would live for a while longer…
He braced himself.
And…
Nothing.
He looked up.
Rirasiru's sword hovered centimeters from his neck. The God was trembling.
"I… I can't do it," whispered Rirasiru, tears streaming down his face. The blade clattered to the floor. "I've never killed anyone before…"
"Shall I do it, Master?" asked Mamoru.
He shook his head. "You mustn't bloody your hands, Mamoru. As a God I have to follow the standards the pantheon has set for me. They require me to punish those who step out of line, but… I couldn't. I–this isn't a bad person. And if his son were to go to an orphanage while so ill… The others were right. I'm such a poor excuse for a God."
"No," said Pops, regaining his courage. "You are a true God. To show mercy against the will of the other Gods, and to be willin' to die over and over again… you must truly love mankind."
"Not only are you insolent, you're also an idiot," said Rirasiru, choking on his tears. "This is my power, the fate chosen for me by the Outer One. This is all I am. I have no choice but to endure this eternal suffering. But even doing all this, I can't even make a dent to help humanity. All I can do is grant petty wishes."
"But they mean everything to the people you do help!"
"If they do, that's news to me. You're too optimistic about human nature. If I could terminate this pathetic existence, I would, but I'm stuck like this, so living like this is my only option."
"Rirasiru-sa," said Pops, "I don't understand. If people have been ungrateful, why do you continue grantin' wishes? Gods ain't obligated to help people. Why don't you just get up an' leave?" His gaze trailed up to the magical seal on him. "Wait a minute…"
Mamoru clammed up.
"You bastard!" yelled Pops, grabbing Mamoru by the throat as he connected the dots. "So you ARE holding him against his will! I knew it! I bet he didn't use his Divine Judgment because he can't!"
"You're… right…" Mamoru gasped for air. "A hundred years ago… he… did try to leave… so we… sealed his powers away… except… this… one…"
"You're horrible!" Pops thrust him aside and spat on his face. "To treat a God–no, anybody–like livestock! Abusing him freely an' makin' him suffer! And not to mention lyin' to people and makin' it seem like he's fine… all for your selfish wishes! You've taken and taken, but what have you given back to him? It's deplorable! You're lower than Unforgivables! You ain't priests! You're torturers! I could kill you all right now and burn this prison to the ground! Damn you all!"
His fist connected with Mamoru's jaw.
"You're right," said Mamoru, lying sprawled across the ground. "We are scum."
Pops lowered his hand.
"I knew he's been miserable. But still, I continued to allow this to happen. It's not like we haven't felt guilt. We tried to make up for it; give him every lovely, fanciful thing he could have desired and some things he didn't. But I saw the misery in his eyes. Nothing can make up for how deeply we've violated him. He was strong for us every day. He never complained. Rirasiru-sa…" He got up and took the God's hands in his own. "The depths of my love for you are immeasurable, yet I've hurt you deeply. To think I couldn't even give you a bit of happiness, and you've been wishing for death this whole time… How could I reconcile that love with keeping you as you are? Milord, I may not be able to end your existence, but I can give you a new one. My God, your suffering ends now."
Mamoru let him go and latched onto the Seal, ripping it off. There was a great pillar of light and the seal evaporated into it.
Rirasiru sat there in shock, bringing a hand to his throat.
"I… I haven't felt so light in a hundred years… Do you know what you've just done?"
Mamoru nodded.
"I could destroy you all."
"I know, and you should."
"If I were to go free, the others would kill you."
"I'll deal with the fallout."
"Mamoru, I can't let that happen."
"Rirasiru-sa." He placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you insist on granting wishes, then here is mine: for you to find happiness."
"But I'm nothing without this suffering…"
"Rirasiru-sa, you are a God, but also a person. You're more than your powers. Find a purpose that'll make you want to live."
Rirasiru nodded. "But what about the rest of you? My wives? My birds? Who will care for them?"
"We will never let them come to harm. I know you love them, but it's time for you to love yourself."
"I understand. But where will I go? What will I do?"
"Come with me," blurted out Pops. "I ain't got much, but at least you'll be free. You can do whatever you want from now on, and you won't have to grant wishes ever again if you don't want to."
Rirasiru gave him an inquisitive look. He stood up and took a few steps, struggling to maintain his balance. "I've waited for this day a long time now. But… I can scarcely walk and you're injured. How will we escape?"
Mamoru hesitated.
"You can do it," he said. "I can at least get you out of the Temple unnoticed, but it's up to you to get down the mountain in one piece. The snowstorm should cover your footprints."
Rirasiru nodded. "Fine. I have no choice but to trust you then. Just get us out of here."
Mamoru ushered them out the cell and down the deep, dark corridors. After a while, Rirasiru started getting the hang of walking again, so he helped support Pops as well. They went lower and lower, and Mamoru pressed a button. The cave around them rumbled, and a door opened in front of them.
"This is the Temple's emergency exit," he said. "It sets off an alarm, so get going right now, before they catch you." He forced a smile and waved, pushing them through before the exit sealed back up.
"Mamoru!" Rirasiru cried. "I'll come back someday as a worthier God! I promise! So you'd better live until then…!"
"Don't let his sacrifice be in vain," said Pops. "C'mon." They staggered down the mountain, legs sinking into the snow as the blizzard whipped around them. Rirasiru shivered. He didn't have any winter clothing to protect him from the harsh cold. And while Pops knew he couldn't die from exposure, he hated seeing him like that. "My homestead is nice an' cozy," he said, trying to distract Rirasiru. "How about I make my world-famous grilled salmon for you when we get to my house? There's a loft that hasn't been used since Mikhail got sick, so we'll put you up there. You can rest as long as you want. You'll never come to harm as long as I'm still around."
Rirasiru didn't respond.
"Although, the doctor will probably put me on rest while my knee heals, so I might need some help with chores." He chuckled. "No worries. I'll teach you how to do 'em. They ain't hard."
Rirasiru still didn't respond.
"Rirasiru-sa…?" Pops turned to look at him. He stood still, tears freezing on his cheeks. "Are you okay?"
"… Did you really not know?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
Rirasiru wiped a tear away. "Did you not know I was being held against my will?"
"I didn't. Nobody in Minumna did either, I reckon."
"Then…" He rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"What? What's there to be sorry for?"
"Over the years, I grew bitter. I assumed all humans were bad, that they just wanted to use me as a means to an end." His voice hitched in his throat. "Instead of just a few humans, I judged all of you as one. I shouldn't have done that."
"Hey!" Pops patted him on the back. "Who could blame you? Don't be too hard on yourself."
"Maybe… maybe if someone else discovered my secret… maybe they would've tried to rescue me, too."
"I'm sure they would." Pops smiled at him. "There's no need to cry anymore. You're safe now. Now, onto more practical matters." In the deafening storm, a small light ebbed into view. They were almost to the cabin. "What should I call you?"
"What?"
Pops chuckled. "Well, if I called you 'Rirasiru' and let it slip at the mine, you'd be discovered. It's best if you get a new name if you're gonna get a new life."
"Like a human name?" Rirasiru scrunched up his brows. "Since you're taking me in, I'll be something like a brother to Mikhail. Maybe I should choose a name that sounds similar. How about something like… Micaiah?"
"Micaiah?" Pops snorted. "You really are over a hundred years old! That's so old-fashioned!"
"Excuse me?"
"Haha, no need to be indignant. It's a great name. I think it suits you. But it's a bit of a mouthful, ain't it? Let's shorten it to… Mica. How does that sound?" Pops jiggled the cabin's doorknob and opened it, stepping inside. A young boy sat up on a cot, staring at them. "Hey, kiddo, how are ya feelin'?"
"I'm a lot better now, Papa," said Mikhail. "I'm super hungry. I bet I could eat two… no, five… salmons!" His gaze trailed to the redhead. "Who's this?" he asked.
"This is…"
"Someone who's trying to find a purpose." The former God of Selflessness and Good Karma stepped forward and smiled, extending his hand. "I'm Mica."
--
"Mikhail passed away a few years after that," said Mica as he finished his story. "But Papa never resented me for not bein' able to do more. He always treated me like his own."
"You're lucky to have him," said Hana. She yawned.
Mica nodded. "After a while, I got lonely, though. While I stayed with Papa, I lost my fear of humans, so I wanted to meet them again. Papa introduced me to the village as an amnesiac boy he took in, and they accepted me right away. To be honest, I was worried someone might recognize me, but they never did."
"You seem a lot happier now than you did in your story," Hana agreed with him. "I promise I'll keep your secret. You know I wouldn't let you go back."
"I know." He sighed. "Man, that Zagiha is an idiot for rejectin' you. You're the best girl in the whole world."
"You can say that again." Hana rolled her eyes.
"I like humans now," Mica continued, staring down at his feet. "So before I go back to bein' the God, I want to have as many human experiences as I can. The one thing I have left on my bucket list is to fall in love like one."
"I get that." Hana nodded. "Even though Lilja fell in love with you, you didn't have your love block removed back then. I bet you wished you could've felt the same thing as her."
"Exactly." Mica sighed. "Only now do I realize what I lost. You know, you're a lot like her." He offered her a faint smile. "I can't help but feel happy when I'm around you. So, for now, just let me have my fun as Micaiah Rebane, and then, when I'm stronger, I'll help you fight the False One. I can't promise you I'll contribute much, but I'm willin' to try." He chuckled, but a second later he paused. "Wait a minute…" he said. "How did you know about Lilja?"
"Eh?" Hana sucked in her lip. Crap, she slipped up! "What do you mean?"
"I never mentioned Lilja O'Jala in my story. She died in 1857. Where in the world did you learn about her?"
Welp. Now it was time to face the music. Hana shifted about, avoiding eye-contact. "I, uh… I read your diary?"
"Oh, that makes sense." Mica nodded. Then he stopped again. "... You did what now?"
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Cosmic_Cockatoo
Cosmic_Cockatoo 8000 words for a stupid punchline. Happy New Year, everybody! What better way to kick off 2023 than with a new chapter? I needed to do a lot of editing. The first section was a lot more... uh... horny originally, so I needed to tone things down for the rating. Maybe there will be more spicy reverse harem antics in the future, who knows? Anyway, I wish you all the best, and may your 2023 wishes come true!
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
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