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[Translator - Tangrine ]
[Proofreader - Seeker ]
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Chapter - 30: All laws are without self
Nova did not fall into a deep sleep.
If she wanted to, she could sleep as peacefully as death itself on a bed made of soft goose feathers.
But in reality, all she ever got was short naps on her sickbed.
Too many people in this world suffer too much to fall asleep.
They are poor people. People she loves.
Nova lay on the creaking bed and closed her eyes.
The unsettling scent of medicine, the chill air seeping in through the vents, the smell of metal that is hard to distinguish from the smell of blood…
A hospital was a place where true rest was hard to come by.
And the most unsettling thing of all is the illness of the heart.
- "Stop overthinking, Noappy."
In the corner of her vision, A man with a perfect body and ideal muscles sat in midair.
Well-built muscles don’t always guarantee health, but—
Those hallucinated muscles looked like they could repel even invisible germs.
That’s how intense the heat radiating from him was.
- "Get some good sleep. For tomorrow's miraculous morning."
"Disease knows no day or night, and accidents strike in pitch-black darkness. If the doctor sleeps, the patient has no one to rely on."
- "You’re the only one you can rely on."
"I’m fine. My body can overcome a little sleepiness."
Nova blinked. She examined herself while conversing with this hallucination born from her mind.
This is a sickness of the heart.
If it’s an illness, I can overcome it. If I can overcome it, it can’t kill me.
If it can’t kill me, then I have no reason to suffer.
- "You fucking asshole. Cut the bullshit. You can’t overcome yourself."
"The tongue is a tireless evil, a poison that kills the soul. It’s best to avoid twisted words. They lower your dignity."
- "Fuck!"
"……."
Gigachad laughed and shouted. Nova remained silent.
What a vulgar hallucination.
The very fact that such a thing exists within me is disgraceful.
"Father, I have sinned much in thought."
- "I forgive you."
"I wasn’t apologizing to you."
- "Of course. No matter who you ask for forgiveness, in the end, only you can forgive yourself. Your suffering belongs solely to you. That’s why I forgave myself."
"…I understand. That’s not wrong."
-"Good job. Now get some proper sleep."
"I’m refusing of my own honest will── I don’t want to."
- "Ha. Now you’re finally starting to look a bit fucking Alpha? It’s important to say what you want out loud. Screw pussy-ass doctors and those Bible metaphors."
Nova began to understand how to deal with this vulgar hallucination.
This is a sickness of the heart.
A disease that values one's own heart above all else.
Then all she had to do was lead with her heart.
Even when you act according to your heart, you do not stray from the path.
The will of the heart does not differ from the will of the heavens.
If so, then there is no problem in speaking from the heart.
"I understand. I’ll refrain from using metaphors when speaking with you."
- "Good job."
…For some reason, it still felt like she had lost.
·
·
·
Twice a week, she made house calls outside the village.
The truly critical patients often didn’t even have the strength to seek out a doctor.
Adventurers lost in dungeons, elderly men dying beneath wooden planks, and those crippled souls who couldn’t walk toward salvation even if they wanted to.
If the patient cannot come to the doctor, then the doctor must go to the patient.
Saving people was the divine calling bestowed upon her by the heavens.
"Thank you so much, Saintess!"
"It’s a relief that your internal organs weren’t injured. Apply pressure to stop the bleeding and avoid any strenuous activity for the next week."
"Yes! I don’t know how I could ever repay this…"
"Your gratitude alone is more than enough. But if you truly want to repay me, please visit the hospital sometime. I’ll serve you a healing soup."
"Of course! I’ll definitely come!"
Today’s destination was a slum in the city, just called ‘the slums.’
Crime ran rampant, safety was a joke, and many got hurt—
A true den of criminals.
It was incredibly dangerous for a woman to walk alone in such a place, but…
- "Everyone seems to like you?"
"People here have no access to proper treatment. If I don’t come, many would die."
- "Good job. Followers naturally gather around an Alpha."
She was one of the few doctors who didn’t demand outrageous medical fees.
Trying anything against her…It was no different from making an enemy of every pauper in the slum.
In other words—
"So you’re the doctor they’ve been calling the ‘Saintess’ in the slums lately?"
If someone didn’t care about turning the whole slum against them, it meant they were capable of doing something foolish to her.
A nobleman in a pricey suit grabbed the Saintess’s wrist while she was tending to a poor man.
In that instant, a chilling silence fell over the slum.
A few of the locals moved, ready to protect her.
The soldiers, armed with armor and spears, blocked the way—no one could get close.
"…Please release my wrist."
"Hmm. You just look like a young girl. This is the so-called Saintess?"
The man scanned her from head to toe as if appraising her, then gave a nod and let go of Nova’s wrist.
He pulled out a sheet of paper from his inner coat and held it out before her.
It bore the seal of the lord who governed this city.
"It’s an order from Count Harts. His Lordship commanded me to bring a skilled physician. His daughter is ill, and no doctor in the city has been able to find a cure."
"…You’re requesting a consultation?"
“They say you deal in Divine Medicine—that there’s no illness you can’t cure, no wound you can’t heal.”
“......”
Divine Medicine—a name some patients have given to her blood.
When conventional medicine fails, or when death is too close and time too short, she treats people by feeding them her own blood.
"Take it as an honor that you’ve been invited to His Lordship’s manor."
"…I do not make house calls for patients who are capable of visiting the hospital on their own. The hospital is always open."
"Her Ladyship is in critical condition and cannot walk."
"Then I’m sure Count Hart has the wealth and power to summon servants. If the illness isn’t so urgent that she’ll die immediately, they can carry her here."
She never leaves the hospital on unscheduled days.
She only makes house calls where they are truly needed.
Those were her two principles.
But when someone tramples over another’s principles, it is called privilege.
And Count Hart was certainly a man of privilege.
"You insolent wench… Are you saying you would dare defy the orders of His Lordship the Count?"
"If one starts weighing life against power or money, corruption is sure to follow. I want to save lives, not to sell my talents."
"A mere doctor dares—!"
Count Hart’s emissary was furious.
Though not a lord himself, he was still a high-ranking noble—
A man who bore a divine title. To be dismissed like this was a humiliation.
"Hoo… wait. According to the rumors, this woman’s blood is the divine medicine itself—A power of life wrapped in flesh. I thought it was absurd but…it’s worth verifying. Soldiers."
"Yes, sir!"
"Seize her and draw her blood."
"Sir? Her blood… how should we…?"
"Is that canteen on your belt just for decoration?!"
"Ah…yes, sir!"
Several soldiers grabbed the Saintess by the arms.
The hesitant one trembled as he raised his sword.
With shaking hands, he slashed her arm.
Nova did not resist.
She only lowered her head and began to pray.
"Father, forgive them. They do not know what they are doing."
- "You fucking idiot! Stop that stupid praying and fight back. That 'Father in Heaven' of yours doesn't even tell his daughter to protect herself?"
"……."
- "Protect yourself. My daughter."
The Saintess’s blood flowed endlessly without drying.
It was almost unsettling—how could a human bleed this much?
A trembling soldier, having filled the canteen with blood, handed it to the nobleman.
"Hmm. It’s just blood. Strange that it doesn’t smell bad…Well, let’s test it."
"Sir?"
In the next moment, the noble raised his sword and stabbed the shoulder of the very soldier who’d handed him the canteen.
The stunned soldier blinked at the sudden blow, then screamed belatedly.
"Gyahhh—!!!"
"Drink it. Let’s see if it works."
The nobleman pried the soldier’s mouth open and poured the blood down his throat.
Soon, the soldier’s wound began to heal.
"Huh? It doesn’t hurt…?"
"Ho. So the rumors were true. Soldiers, take this woman."
The noble smiled like a child who had found an amusing toy and gave the order—
But just then, a halo shimmered above the head of the soldier who drank the Saintess’s blood.
He stepped forward, blocking the others.
"You mustn’t! She is—"
"What?"
And as if in resonance with that glowing halo, the slum’s residents began stepping out one by one, wielding their weapons.
As though they meant to defy the noble.
The noble stepped back.
Something about the atmosphere had shifted.
"You think filthy peasants can point weapons at me and live to tell of it—?"
"You should leave now. You got what you came for."
Even amid the grim tension, the Saintess spoke calmly.
The noble glanced once at the blood-filled canteen in his hand.
He swallowed dryly and fled.
His soldiers followed in a rush, guarding him as he fled.
Meanwhile, the slum’s people gathered around the Saintess.
The soldier who drank her blood remained by her side.
"Saintess! Are you alright?!"
"I’m alright. Everyone, calm down. There’s nothing to worry about."
"…Yes, ma’am."
Moments later, the gathered crowd dispersed back into the slums.
Even the remaining soldier returned in the direction the noble had fled.
Soon, all was quiet again—
As if nothing had happened at all.
===================
"This is strange."
"What is?"
"The slum folk and the soldier who were so worried about her… didn’t they retreat too easily?"
"Nova herself said, ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ didn’t she?"
"Sorry?"
"Most people in the slums have drunk Nova’s blood at least once. If she says something, they have to believe her."
Nova’s blood isn’t some kind of panacea.
To take on someone’s suffering doesn’t just mean curing an illness or relieving pain.
"Nova—she owns the lives of those who drink her blood."
Life is suffering.
To be born, to die, to age, to fall ill, to love or hate, to choose or to flee—all of it is suffering.
And Nova can shoulder all of it on their behalf.
In other words, Nova can live other people’s lives for them.
"If she wills it, they could become imbeciles, or lose the ability to walk. What they see, what they believe, what they think, what they choose…Nova decides it all."
"… isn’t that brainwashing?"
"Do we say the hand is brainwashed just because it follows the brain’s commands? They’re simply subordinate to Nova now."
There is no unchanging ‘self.’
There is no separation between self and others.
"That’s why Nova doesn’t consider her suffering a big deal. She is others, and others are her."
Hive mind. A shared consciousness that corrodes the boundaries of self.
That is the truth behind the Saintess Nova.
She was no longer a singular self. She was the Hive.
"…Is there any way to stop someone like that?"
"Well, the simplest method would be to kill everyone who’s drunk her blood and then lock her in a dungeon. But that’s not the best idea. And besides—having a hero rescue the Saintess trapped in a tower is kind of fate, isn’t it?"
In the end, there’s only one path.
To make Nova voluntarily give up her powers.
To make her doubt herself again and again until she believes she has no right to decide the suffering of others.
Since Nova’s absolute benevolence is a divine gift from the gods.
"Let’s make the Saintess into an apostate."
"…That sounds fun."
In Nietzsche’s words—
God is dead.
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[Translator - Tangrine ]
[Proofreader - Seeker ]
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