The Heretic of Cleric Academy-Chapter 138

When I went to the chapel, the first thing that greeted me was a mountain of offerings piled up. They were tributes that the executives had sent while I was in the hospital.

The next thing that greeted me was Kang Ji-ah. She approached me with quick steps and stared at me silently for quite a while.

"...Why?"

"It’s nothing."

She shook her head from side to side and tidily organized the offerings scattered on the floor.

"These are tributes sent by the executives. I made a list while they were piling up - shall I read it to you?"

"A list?"

"Yes, a list of who sent what tributes."

"Ah. Please read it."

Kang Ji-ah recited the list. Yoon Chang-su from the Gangwon congregation sent this and that, Yeom Man-geun from the Jeolla congregation sent this and that again... It was repetitive.

I listened without much thought until halfway through. I felt something was off when I heard the list of tributes sent by Ha Pan-seok from the Chungcheong congregation.

"He sent fewer tributes than other executives?"

It wasn’t a matter of quantity. Other executives had sent tributes about once a month, totaling twice. Meanwhile, Ha Pan-seok had only sent once.

Kang Ji-ah nodded slightly and opened her mouth.

"Yes, that’s correct."

"Is there a reason?"

"No, there was no word from the Chungcheong congregation. There were no letters or anything either."

"Hmm."

Ha Pan-seok had previously been caught plotting rebellion. I thought I had completely won him over during the last executive meeting. I guess the saying that people can’t be reformed is true.

I looked over the offerings spread on the floor and opened my mouth.

"Sister. The Chungcheong congregation was in Cheonan... that area, right?"

"Yes, that’s correct. There was no news of them moving their chapel recently."

"That’s good."

I was already thinking of going down to the Jeolla congregation to meet Yeom Man-geun about factory matters, so I should take a look at Ha Pan-seok’s face then too.

If he wasn’t offering tributes because he was plotting another rebellion, I couldn’t overlook it anymore. If he betrayed me again after I said all that, he was someone who would betray me even if I beat him to death.

If it became certain that it was rebellion, Oh Gun, who had served as a witness, would probably massacre him on the spot.

"Oh, sister. Could you give me a sheet of paper?"

While contemplating Ha Pan-seok’s punishment, I suddenly remembered about Moon Yo-seop.

I received paper from Kang Ji-ah and wrote down information about Moon Yo-seop with a pen. All the information written on his business card, as well as information I had gathered through conversation. Then I handed it to Kang Ji-ah.

"Could you investigate this person? He’s an inquisitor, and he keeps coming to the hospital bothering me."

Looking at what I had written, there wasn’t that much information, but I thought this much would be enough to get at least general information, if not detailed.

Kang Ji-ah looked at the information written on the paper and slowly nodded.

"If he’s an inquisitor, it won’t be easy to get information. The security system is a bit different..."

"I don’t want classified information or anything, just general information would be fine. I just want to know roughly what kind of person this guy is. Is that possible?"

"Yes, that much... I understand."

"Thank you."

I moved the offerings scattered on the floor to the warehouse where the altar was.

I offered the tributes through the altar, but I couldn’t hear the Loas’ voices. Legba was also silent.

* * *

For some time, I refrained from external activities out of concern for surveillance or tracking. After observing for several weeks, I concluded there was no surveillance, and immediately began my activities.

First, I made an appointment with Yeom Man-geun and called my uncle to drive to Damyang County.

Yeom Man-geun’s business had been flourishing recently and he was considering factory expansion. Before building the factory, he said there was a place in Damyang that was practically wasteland, so he bought the land there first.

Since it was land he couldn’t have bought without the headquarters’ funds in the first place, he said it would be fine to build buildings for Voodoo or expand the chapel.

Yeom Man-geun and I decided to meet at that wasteland. I wanted to see the land he said he bought, and above all, meeting in the middle of downtown would draw unwanted attention.

In the past I wouldn’t have needed to worry about it, but now I was under suspicion, so I needed to pay attention to even these small details.

"Are you tired?"

While I was sitting in the passenger seat looking at the world flowing by through the window, my uncle spoke to me.

"I’m not tired. Why?"

"Your eyes look vacant. If you’re not tired, at least make conversation."

"Now that you say that, I’m getting a bit tired."

"Really? Even if you’re tired, do it anyway. That’s the fate of whoever sits in the passenger seat."

My uncle smiled while gripping the steering wheel and continued.

"Is your hand still not healed?"

"Yeah. You can see for yourself."

"Really? What about your stomach?"

"That’s all healed. But there are still scars."

"Scars, well, you can just cover them..."

I opened the window briefly because it was stuffy. Wind blew in fiercely. The sensation of wind touching my face was dull.

There was just the feeling of contact, without specific sensations like cold or hot. I only knew it was summer wind because I could smell summer in the wind.

"But aren’t you going to the hospital too often these days? I think you’ve been there two or three times already since entering Florence."

"Yeah. I seem to get hurt often these days."

"Be more careful. Every time you go to the hospital, it becomes troublesome for me."

"I’m the one going to the hospital, why does it trouble you?"

"Because I’m the one who forged your identity. Every time you go to the hospital, I have to add more fabrications to your identity. Hospital records are more thorough than other places."

"I don’t understand what you mean."

"You know how they identify unidentified corpses by checking dental records and such. It’s roughly like that. When you go to hospitals, various things get attached to your identity, and I have to clean that up."

Even after the explanation, I couldn’t understand what he meant. My uncle chuckled.

"You didn’t understand?"

"No."

"If you don’t know, you don’t need to. Just be careful from now on. If you go to hospitals too often, it might become unnecessarily troublesome. For both you and me."

"Hmm... okay."

I nodded roughly. The scenery outside changed. It seemed we had moved from plains to mountainous terrain. My uncle yawned and opened his mouth.

"Ah... I’m getting sleepy. I couldn’t sleep yesterday."

My uncle said this while widening his eyes as if to drive away drowsiness. Bloodshot veins stood out in the whites of his eyes. He seemed sleepy.

If Kang Ji-ah were here, she would have given him anti-drowsiness gum, but unfortunately Kang Ji-ah wasn’t here now. She was probably eating at the chapel right about now. The reason I didn’t travel with Kang Ji-ah today was simple. Since I would be traveling around the country meeting executives, I would inevitably be away from the chapel for at least a day or two. Someone needed to guard the chapel and take care of Jeong Yun-ah during that time.

Kang Ji-ah, who had initially insisted on coming along, quickly agreed once I explained the reason. Left alone at the chapel, she seemed a bit lonely.

When I said I’d tell her interesting stories if she called when bored, Kang Ji-ah said in a stiff tone:

"Please take care of your health, Cult Leader."

Her tone seemed a bit angry.

Meanwhile, the car was passing through a tunnel. My uncle kept shaking his head to fight off drowsiness while talking to me.

"Hey, but you’re pretty famous these days. Your name comes up when you search online."

"I suppose so."

"Watching your interview, you’re every bit a Romanica Church member. Aren’t you worried about being consumed by your role?"

My uncle asked with a playful laugh. I didn’t answer and just laughed along.

On the day of the incident, when taxidermy in the form of demons appeared everywhere, countless clergy were killed or injured.

Among them, 5 clergy who were practically dead miraculously came back to life. Some witnesses testified that ’angels descended from heaven and bestowed the light of blessing upon them.’

Renowned religious scholars and high-ranking clergy concluded that phenomenon was a ’miracle.’ There was no other way to explain it.

And I was one of the 5 who were revived by the ’miracle,’ and the only subdeacon.

Considering that the lowest-ranking among the other 4 revived clergy was a bishop, it was truly remarkable. It would have been strange not to become famous.

"Aren’t reporters bothering you these days?"

My uncle asked. I nodded.

While hospitalized, reporters had flocked to request interviews. I gave appropriate answers each time. No matter how poorly I spoke, reporters changed it into plausible words for their articles.

In some articles I became a hero, in others I became completely insane.

As time passed and public interest in the incident waned, the reporters disappeared on their own.

Above all, reporters were more interested in the other 4 clergy than in me.

They gave testimonies like ’I think I saw heaven when I briefly died’ and ’I heard Adonai’s voice,’ while I consistently said I saw nothing.

Whether the Vatican had suppressed information, no reporter knew that I had directly fought the Satan worshipper. Only Inquisitor Moon Yo-seop and his two subordinates knew that fact.

"Good, that’s fortunate. You need to be several times more careful than others. You know that, right?"

"I know. Anyway, reporters aren’t Vatican personnel... so it’s fine if I get caught."

"...What do you mean fine? Are you planning to erase their memories with sorcery if things go wrong?"

"If there’s no other way."

Reporters aren’t Vatican personnel. I could erase their memories with memory destruction, and if memory destruction doesn’t work, I could knock them unconscious with fainting sorcery and bury them in Mount Taebaek.

Then it would be processed as an accidental fall or mountain accident, and the Vatican wouldn’t bother looking for them either.

"It’s a joke."

Of course, I don’t really intend to do that. Reporters were no longer interested in me anyway, and the malicious reporters who tried to invade my privacy were all dealt with by the Florence Foundation and Moon Yo-seop.

Hearing my words, my uncle finally let out a sigh of relief.

"You scared me, kid. If you’re going to joke, at least smile while doing it."

"You have to say it seriously to fool people."

"This guy has made deceiving people a habit now."

When passing through the toll gate, my uncle briefly stayed quiet, then continued speaking after the road became less crowded.

"Isn’t it a bit dangerous to become too famous though?"

His tone seemed like he was asking himself rather than me.

The car was racing down the road, steadily heading toward our destination. The navigation showed we would arrive at our destination in 31 minutes.

"Why? Being famous is good. More opportunities for advancement."

"That’s true. But... well. Setting aside the danger, if you go to the Vatican’s underground prison and meet your mother, what will you do next?"

"Then..."

I was at a loss for words. It was a problem I hadn’t thought about.

"If you become this famous, it’ll be hard to just disappear and live quietly later, right? And while we’re on the topic, even if you somehow get into the Vatican’s underground prison, that’s when the real problem starts. There’s no way to get your mother out without using sorcery or divine powers."

"Whether it’s sorcery or divine powers, I’ll use them if I can. Why would I save them?"

"So you mean you’ll reveal your identity then? Sounds like a second Holy War will break out."

"I can reveal my identity and then disappear. No need for it to go as far as war."

"If that happens, Voodoo persecution will become several times worse than now. Large-scale massacres like the Starless Night might happen. Are you going to just watch that?"

"..."

"Most importantly, if persecution intensifies, believers won’t be able to make a living. Then there won’t be enough funds to operate Voodoo. Ultimately, Voodoo will collapse anyway. It’s just a matter of time."

"Then I’ll just start a second Holy War and win. Even if not a complete victory, occupying some regions should be possible, right? Believers can operate from there."

"Just win... that’s what you say."

My uncle repeated my words with a rigidly hardened face.

"Do you know why Voodoo lost the Holy War?"

"Because the cult leader and prophet were separated, causing internal factional division."

"That’s part of it, but the Romanica Church is just too big. How many countries have Romanica as their state religion? Even if we occupy a few regions, it’s nothing to them."

"So what?"

"We have to risk our lives and struggle desperately just to barely scrape by, but they can starve us to death just by sitting still."

My uncle sighed deeply around that point and paused, then moistened his dry lips with his tongue and continued.

"I’ve never been a prophet so I don’t know well. But aren’t the Loas’ powers almost omnipotent? That’s how it looks to me."

"Not quite omnipotent... at least not based on my standards."

Based on mother’s standards, it might have been omnipotent.

"Then let’s say it’s close to omnipotent. Same with sorcery. I’ve never used sorcery so I don’t know, but drawing lines with your finger makes people faint and go crazy. What a convenient and powerful ability."

"You could say that."

"But Voodoo still lost. Not just lost. It was a crushing defeat. The prophet was captured, the cult leader was publicly executed by burning. The few remaining believers are all in hiding. With two abilities close to omnipotent, why did they lose the Holy War?"

"Because executives betrayed us, so we lacked combat personnel."

"Combat doesn’t matter. Voodoo won most battles. Aerial combat with lightning, naval combat with waves, ground combat with plants. Using natural disasters, it would be stranger to lose. But ultimately Voodoo lost. Your father surrendered. Why? Because prolonged attrition warfare would definitely be unfavorable for Voodoo."

"Ah, shit... So what are you trying to say? You want to fight, right?"

"Not fight, you idiot."

My uncle waved his hands dismissively and smiled bitterly.

"...Let’s give up on rescuing your mother. Say you somehow get into the Vatican’s underground prison. You meet your mother, but if she’s dead, just leave the body there. If she’s alive, have a little conversation and just come out."

"That’s the most fucked up thing you’ve ever said to me."

"And let’s just live like this. That clergy thing, you get a pension if you do well, right? Let’s live quietly in hiding like now, surviving on that. Voodoo just needs to maintain its lineage."

"Leave my living mother in prison and come out to live? I can’t live like that. I’d rather commit suicide."

"Why? You could just live meeting Ji-ah, me, and a few executives occasionally. You probably have some friends at Florence too, right? Meet them sometimes too. What’s there that you can’t live with?"

"I’d rather start a Holy War and die gloriously."

"That’s not glorious at all, you bastard. If a Holy War breaks out, you’ll definitely die first. And countless innocent believers will die again."

"..."

"I don’t want to see that sight again. Even if we live like dead mice, this way is comfortable and good. Safe."

"Then uncle, you live like that. I’ll handle my own affairs. Whether a Holy War breaks out or not, I have to get my mother out. If she’s dead, I’ll bring out her corpse at least. By any means necessary."

"In case you forgot, your mother is my older sister. Your business is also my business. Do you think I don’t want to see my sister? But in the long run, my way is right."

"There must be a way to safely get mother out in the long run too. No, there is."

"Really? If that’s possible, that would be best. But if there’s no way, then do as I say. Anyway, no Holy War. We’ll definitely lose, and the process of losing will be tragic too. You know that best."

Holy War. Gunshots echoing endlessly outside the window, screams never ceasing, unable to escape darkness, days trembling in fear every day.

The Holy War took everything from me. I lost everything and gained nothing.

A second Holy War wouldn’t be different. No, with me as both cult leader and prophet now, lacking and insufficient in every way, a second Holy War would end in even more tragic defeat.

It’s a fact I don’t want to admit but have no choice but to admit.

"I’ll keep it in mind."

"You’re going to do whatever you want anyway, aren’t you?"

"Yeah, that’s right."

"Well, a kid who wouldn’t listen to his mother wouldn’t listen to me either. I understand."

The car arrived at the meeting place with Yeom Man-geun. The land Yeom Man-geun bought was indeed practically wasteland as he said. No houses, roads almost unpaved, literally wasteland.

I got out of the car and looked around the area. In the center of the wasteland, Yeom Man-geun was waddling around examining the ground.

"What’s that doing there?"

Then my uncle frowned and muttered. Looking closely, there was another person beside Yeom Man-geun. It was a familiar face, and an unexpected face.