This Isn't an E*otic Game?

Chapter 37

For about three weeks, I continued to visit Princess Iomene every day.

It might sound inappropriate, but it felt similar to taming a wild animal. I brought snacks and delicious treats, fed her, and even brought along picture books to read to her.

Every Tuesday at 2 p.m., like clockwork, she would grow irritable, attempting self-harm or violent outbursts. But each time, I held her tightly, soothing her.

I sang lullabies, pop songs, and even anime theme songs—anything I could muster—until she stopped trembling and crying and finally fell asleep.

Maybe all that effort paid off.

“Alright, I’ll leave now. I’ll come back tomorrow...”

Today, as I was about to leave, Iomene smiled at me.

“She smiled... Iomene smiled...”

When I shared this with the Emperor and Empress, they couldn’t hold back their tears.

Right.

Even though I’m doing this to avoid my trip to hell, seeing their joy wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Judging by the situation, it wouldn’t be long now.

The fragment of the Evil God inside Princess Iomene would soon transfer to me.

It felt bittersweet.

My time in this world had been full of bad memories, but the thought of never seeing these people again made me sad.

Especially... Erfa.

I’d finally found someone who seemed interested in me, and now I was leaving her behind.

But what choice did I have?

My survival comes first.

“Saint, please heal my son!”

“My mother’s eyes are failing her!”

I continued treating the sick and injured tirelessly.

These were people I would never see again.

I thought it best to treat as many as I could before leaving.

Rich and poor alike, noble and commoner—I ran myself ragged healing people over the past three weeks.

Thanks to that, donations and offerings from the nobles increased even more. The funds were used to further revitalize the slums, but now...

It didn’t matter anymore.

Being a saint, a role that never suited me.

The vulgar descriptions of my skills.

It was all goodbye forever.

I felt a strange sense of liberation.

The slums had been stabilized, so what else could possibly go wrong?

“Saint! Saint!”

“Saint Amayel! My daughter...”

“My wife has been burned! Please, Saint!”

Of course, something did.

One morning, as I was still groggy from sleep, a crowd suddenly knocked on my door.

Their voices were frantic. Rushing outside, I was greeted by a scene of chaos—countless people collapsed on the streets, faces melted, frothing at the mouth.

“Quickly! Bring potions! Hurry!”

The priests at the clinic were rushing back and forth, doing everything they could to treat the injured, but there were still far too many patients.

Most of them were women.

And young girls.

In that moment, I realized who they were.

They were the same as the fifteen matchstick girls I had rescued from the backstreets.

Identical in their plight.

“There’s been a fire at a nearby factory! Saint! Please save my wife!”

Hearing the desperate cries of the people snapped me back to my senses.

“Bring the critical patients to me! Right now!”

The well-trained priests of the Lilia Church quickly categorized the injured and brought the most severe cases to me.

I frantically treated the women who had collapsed in front of me.

Their appearances were horrifying.

Some were gasping for breath, their faces scorched beyond recognition.

One had her hair completely burned off, her head reduced to a grotesque lump of flesh.

Another was a young girl, her lower jaw and neck dissolved from exposure to phosphorus, leaving her bones exposed.

As I worked tirelessly to heal them, familiar faces began to surface.

“Saint, please help her!”

I remembered one of the matchstick girls I had treated before—a young girl whose face had melted from exposure to white phosphorus while making matches.

Now she was suffering in front of me again, for the same reason.

There was another woman, who had been forced to work at a grueling factory with meager pay, her bones deteriorating from the labor. I had treated her severed fingers before, and now she was lying in front of me, her body covered in burns.

As I restored the disfigured flesh of these people, memories of the faces I had seen flooded back.

Anger began to rise.

Why?

Why!

“Hold on tight to me.”

The girl clung to me as tightly as she could.

I focused.

One misstep might not hurt me, but she could die.

Using the same method, I carefully descended, stepping on the time-frozen air.

Before long, we were back outside the factory.

“...Saint! That’s too dangerous— Huh?”

The officer who had tried to stop me earlier gasped in shock when he saw the girl in my arms.

From his perspective, I must have appeared to suddenly reappear, holding the child.

I gently placed the now-healed girl on the ground.

“Take her to her mother...”

“Adele!!”

Before I could finish speaking, the girl’s mother rushed forward, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Lilia, thank you! Saint, thank you... thank you so much!”

Watching the mother cry and hold her daughter tightly, I found myself smiling without realizing it.

“Bring the remaining patients to me. I’ll treat them.”

I did everything I could to heal the injured.

I didn’t want to see anyone else end up as a charred corpse.

Eventually, firefighters and mages from the Mage Tower arrived, dousing the flames with water and magic, finally extinguishing the fire.

Only then could I take a moment to catch my breath.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

As I leaned against a wall, trying to regain my composure, a voice bellowed angrily.

“Who gave you the right to use the water from the warehouse?! Those are all Leota Company property!”

A fat, middle-aged man stormed onto the scene, shouting.

“If we hadn’t used the water, the fire would’ve spread even further!”

“I don’t care! I’ll be charging for every drop of water you used! There’s no law allowing you to touch company property!”

Even the firefighters’ protests didn’t faze him.

Hearing this, the injured workers began to rise, glaring at him with fury.

“You bastard! This is all your fault!”

“If you had just installed proper fire safety measures in the factory, none of this would’ve happened! My family wouldn’t have burned to death, you piece of shit!”

The grieving families screamed at the factory manager, but he didn’t seem to care.

Taking a drag on his cigarette, he spat yellow saliva onto the ground and sneered.

“Shut up, you lot. You’re just looking for an excuse to get compensation. Fine, I’ll give you something. How about one salade per dead family member? That should be more than enough—it’s three months’ wages for you lot, after all.”

He chuckled.

“Born poor? That’s your problem. You’ve been cursed by the gods. Why should we waste money on fire safety measures? It’s cheaper to pay you off. Upset? Then you’re all fired. Fired! Go ahead, lose your jobs along with your family!”

“You devil! You monster!”

“Your soul will rot in hell, you bastard!”

Despite their wails, no one dared to approach him.

Armed police officers and burly bodyguards with visible guns stood by his side, glaring at the crowd.

Yeah.

I get it.

They’re afraid.

Getting shot hurts, after all.

And even if they managed to overpower the guards and beat him up, the consequences would be worse.

Losing their jobs.

Sometimes losing your livelihood is scarier than taking a bullet.

I understand.

But me?

Cops and bodyguards, would you dare shoot me?

I’m the man treating the Emperor’s daughter.

A saint acknowledged by the Pantheon.

I promise you, you won’t pull that trigger.

And as for consequences?

I’m leaving this world soon anyway.

I’ll return to Korea, where there’s no curse, no shattered soul, no hell awaiting me.

So...

[Physical Modification: Strength ×20]

I can do this.

Enhancing my body, I grabbed the belt around my waist, wielding it like a weapon.

Then, with incredible speed, I charged at the factory manager.

My belt, powered by twenty times my normal strength, struck him like a whip.

CRACK!

With a sharp sound, the man’s teeth flew out like kernels of red corn, and he was sent flying into the door of his car.