IFLDMHF | Chapter 106

Episode 106

Even though it was a long time ago, it still remained vividly in his memory.

A shabby house built from planks, seemingly on the verge of collapse.

Trash and filth scattered everywhere.

A stench so unbearable that it was difficult to endure while sober.

This was the scene of the slums where Damien was born.

There, people lived, worn down by poverty and suffering.

Damien, too, spent his days staring blankly into space like a dead fish.

In that place, devoid of hope or a future, that person appeared.

Dressed in a black robe, their face tightly wrapped, they distributed food, clothes, blankets… ultimately becoming a savior to the children of the slums.

When Damien discovered he possessed divine power and entered the temple, he swore to repay that person’s kindness.

And he never forgot the response he received that day.

Because it was the first and last proper conversation he had with that person.

Years later, Damien happened to witness someone visiting this prayer room wearing the same black robe with the identical emblem.

He had a sharp eye. That’s why he remembered everything—the distinct way that person walked, the angle at which they tilted their head, their gestures, and even the characteristics of the servant they had brought along.

Though their physique had changed, he was certain it was the same person.

He was genuinely overjoyed.

After joining the temple, he had learned that the person no longer visited the slums. He had thought he would never see them again.

Filled with excitement and anticipation, Damien had stood before the prayer room—only to stop at the sound of heart-wrenching sobs.

This was a person who, despite spending vast sums to feed the poor, never once acted arrogantly, nor did they offer a single warm word.

A person who was compassionate yet cold.

Perhaps that was why he had never imagined that they would cry so desperately in prayer, no matter how earnestly they sought the temple.

Unlike his angelic, holy appearance, Damien, having been born and raised in the slums, was hardened and emotionally barren.

He was simply desperate to follow the will of the god who had given him divine power and a new life.

He woke at dawn and read the scriptures late into the night, prayed, served, and did his best to treat everyone with kindness.

Yet, truthfully, his heart had only ever burned with true emotion a few times.

But in that person—whom he had thought was as indifferent as himself—he discovered an unexpected wound.

His heart pounded wildly in shock.

It felt as if his own chest had been torn apart.

Unable to bring himself to speak, Damien had watched from afar as that person silently left the prayer room.

Strangely, that crying remained in his mind.

It haunted him during meals, prayers, and even when he closed his eyes to sleep.

Hoping to see that person again, Damien lingered around the prayer room every day.

Then, on the last day of the moon, when the goddess was said to grant prayers, the person appeared once more.

Again, they entered the prayer room and wept so sorrowfully that it could break the heart of anyone who heard.

He didn’t want others to know about the raw, exposed emotions of someone who had fallen to such depths of despair.

Perhaps he believed it was not right for someone who had once received kindness to repay it in such a way.

So he told no one—not even Antonio.

He also abandoned the thought of approaching them himself.

As a novice priest, he volunteered to manage the prayer room during their visits.

When he became High Priest, he ensured the prayer room remained open for them.

Though he knew it was unnecessary meddling, he still worried—what if they collapsed while praying?

As a small gesture of repayment for the bread and milk he had once received, he placed tea and simple temple-made refreshments inside the prayer room.

Of course, that person never touched them.

Then, after years of coming, they suddenly stopped—without warning.

“Could it be… was it today? Or even earlier than that?”

Damien murmured in confusion.

He had spent such a long time in a hellish place before returning.

The present felt so distant.

In truth, even now, he wasn’t sure whether this was a dream or reality.

He had finally come to his senses and resolved to speak to them for the first time—

“Of all times…”

Damien clenched his fists tightly, his expression grave.

At first, it had been difficult to accept that the person no longer visited the temple.

He had even wondered if it was because of his prayers and felt a sense of emptiness.

He had prayed every day:

That they would no longer cry.
That the goddess would answer their prayers.

But he hadn’t realized that if that prayer were answered, they might stop coming to the temple altogether…

Yet now, what troubled him more was that he had not been able to deliver the words he must say.

As Damien, uncharacteristically, bit his lips in anxiety, Antonio, watching him, widened his eyes.

At first, Antonio had jokingly asked whom he had come to meet, half out of disappointment and half in jest.

But then—

“High Priest, have you received a divine revelation?”

It was Damian, of all people.

Unless it was related to the will of the god, it made no sense for him to look so unsettled.

As expected, Damian hesitated at those words, his eyes trembling as he looked at Antonio.

“A revelation…?”

Yes, perhaps it was.

It was his own will that had brought him here to warn that person.

But the fact that he was standing in this very moment—surely, that was the will of the god.

Of course, even Damian himself knew that his reasoning was somewhat forced.

Nevertheless, instead of correcting Antonio’s misunderstanding, he asked:

“Priest Antonio, what brings you to me?”

By dodging the question and clearly shifting the topic, Antonio became convinced that Damien had indeed received a revelation.

Whether to disclose it or not was also the will of the god, and revelations were only given to the chosen.

As befitting a senior priest, Antonio suppressed his pounding heart and answered with feigned ignorance.

“I came to inform you of something. Around this time every year—well, actually, it’s a little late this year—there is a volunteer mission that you personally oversee, isn’t there?”

Though Damien was devoted to service and charity, his responsibilities at the temple were too great for him to engage in such activities regularly.

However, once a year, he traveled to another temple for volunteer work.

As the youngest High Priest in history, Damien’s popularity was overwhelming—so much so that countless people flocked just to brush the hem of his robe or even catch a glimpse of him from afar.

Even today, there were people looking for him, scanning the area.

Naturally, the number of people who followed him on his pilgrimage to serve was also enormous.

“There are so many inquiries about which temple you will be visiting this year. I told them the schedule hasn’t been finalized yet, but they insist on knowing soon… High Priest?”

Antonio, speaking with an exasperated expression from dealing with the persistent believers, suddenly froze.

Damian’s face had turned frighteningly grim.

“You don’t look well. What’s wrong?”

“No… it’s nothing.”

Damien denied it with a wave of his palm, but his voice was heavy.

He turned his head away, avoiding Antonio’s gaze, and bit his lips.

A memory abruptly surfaced—the reason he had postponed this year’s volunteer mission.

— I really like you…

A voice closer to that of a girl than a woman.

A face filled with pure emotions, as if she had spoken without realizing it, then panicked at her own mistake.

During a past life’s volunteer mission, Damien had received such a confession—

And, feeling both disappointment and anger, he had hardened his expression like stone and answered coldly:

— Lady Melissa—no, Lady Basilian. Are you mocking me? Just because you’ve become a noble, do you think you can toy with a priest like this?

— I-I didn’t mean it like that…

— I don’t wish to hear any more. I will pretend this never happened. Leave.