#058. The Church Nun Is Too Kind (2)

#058. The Church Nun Is Too Kind (2)

*Mesugaki* Saint Cecilia roamed the refugee camp, turning it upside down.

“Don’t you even know that this medicinal herb, if mixed incorrectly, can cause stomachaches? Idiot. Scrub. Our Order will keep this separate from now on.”

“There’s poison in this soup. Are you all Poison Eaters, training by consuming toxins? These scrub refugees will die if they eat this, so everyone get a good dose of the Weakling-approved Detoxification Spell.”

“Is that a demon? Heh, for a scrub Saint who’s just made a name for himself, you’ve been busy. To think that impure types would be targeting a Saint so quickly. Still, don’t worry, because in front of me, you’re just a scrub demon!”

The suddenly appearing Saintess directed the priests who followed her, and began to resolve the problems in the refugee camp, one by one.

It was unfair to Ronove, who had been carefully laying his plans, but it was terrifying for the wicked mind manipulator.

Because the Saintess gained experience and grew stronger by performing good deeds, acquiring new powers or enhancing existing ones.

“Hm? I feel like I’ve gotten stronger somehow. If it’s now… that’s right. With this new power, I can vaguely sense sinister powers that sway people’s minds. *Sinister Power Detection* ability awakened! Heh. As expected, I’m amazing!”

Ian knew another name for that ability.

Vague Mind Control Detection.

That was why the Saintess was frightening.

And why she could become even more frightening in the future.

Because the more she grew, the more clearly she could detect mind control.

“Vague” was still a long way from being “strong.”

But what if it progressed to strong detection?

And what if the Saintess identified me as the mind manipulator?

The game is over from there.

It was crucial to impede the Saintess’s growth, at any cost.

Thus, Ian intervened even more forcefully.

“Please, Saintess, remain still. This is a refugee camp entrusted to Sodom Village. We mustn’t burden those who have traveled from afar.”

To preempt any action by the Saintess that would garner experience, to eliminate it all.

Ian would no longer stand idly by, watching the Saintess’s exploits.

What good would it do to stand by and let the Saintess grow stronger while he solved the conspiracy lurking within the refugee camp?

In his mind, it was a reasonable struggle.

Though the subject saw it quite differently.

“Greedy charity that she won’t concede to anyone, how intriguing♡”

Absolutely, he wouldn’t allow the Saintess to perform acts of kindness before his eyes.

To Cecilia, Ian’s desperation made him seem far more plausible as a Saint than those fools elevated to Saint candidates through parental influence.

She preferred him to those Saint candidates who flaunted their divine power, awakened more quickly and accumulated in greater quantities thanks to their parents holding high positions in the order.

Frankly, it was this man.

The only man worthy of being called a Saint.

A man who didn’t consider how he appeared to others, a man who insisted on acts of kindness so greedily as to seem almost rude.

A man who wouldn’t concede charity, who clung to the way he lived his life.

Cecilia, sick of the rubbish she had seen everywhere, was even moved.

“Very well. Then we shall manage the refugee camp simultaneously, and see who is the more remarkable rubbish! The loser shall be known as rubbish. Naturally, I shall win, so prepare yourself to be dubbed Rubbish Ian!”

Cecilia, relentlessly chanting ‘rubbish’ without tiring, declared her challenge so boldly that Gorgo and Nina were furious.

“What is her problem, anyway? That woman. Showing off because she’s a Saintess and looking down on people.”

“She’s got more spunk than Theresa ever did, that’s for sure. How does that flat-chested hag have the guts to act like that? Or maybe her aggression went up because her chest is flat?”

“Please, both of you, don’t say such things. We shouldn’t distort her good intentions just because her manner is peculiar.”

Gorgo and Nina shook their heads.

“Even if you like someone, there’s a limit, you know? What are you going to do to someone who calls you rubbish?”

“I won’t fight because you asked me not to, but I’m telling mom everything when she gets back. I wouldn’t tolerate anyone calling me rubbish, let alone you, Ian.”

This wasn’t exactly what ‘the curse of knowledge’ was meant to describe, but if the usage were to be expanded, it might be applied in such a case.

Had Ian not possessed the player knowledge of Cecilia, he might have joined in their criticism.

But he knew, through his player knowledge,

That Cecilia’s senses were extraordinary.

That she heard everything those who called her rubbish said behind her back.

Unable to badmouth her in a place where she was bound to hear him, Ian lectured the two.

But to Cecilia, it was simply a child protecting her from a bully, rebuking the adults for their wrongdoings and guiding them onto the righteous path.

“No man has ever treated me like this before…”

She exclaimed, inadvertently raising Ian’s favorability meter by a significant amount, just like a noble lady.

* * *

The Saintess is akin to an execution trigger for novice mind-control wizards and widespread mind-control offenders.

Did you try to make a big score with mind control?

Game over as the Saintess’s surveillance personnel catches you, leading to expanded investigations.

Have you been using mind control habitually?

The Saintess’s heightened senses almost led to a narrowed investigation and game over.

Ian, despite his misfortune, was saved by his good nature.

He fundamentally disliked brainwashing, and felt guilt at the very act of manipulating others.

Thanks to this, the number of potential targets who’d be detected was inherently low.

More than anything, Ian genuinely displayed a character that served diligently, and even looked like he was being targeted by Ronove’s lackeys.

Cecilia, looking at Ian, couldn’t help but think this:

‘He’s been thwarting the actions of evil groups, to the point that a faint hint of sinister power clings to him. With such a small, weak body. He’s a scrub, but not *just* a scrub. How admirable♡’

Even the slightest suspicion vanished completely regarding Ian.

Cecilia seriously coveted this Saint.

Women aren’t blind to a diamond in the rough.

Initially, she’d planned to throw a wrench into the sanctimonious selection process for the Saint candidates who were ‘higher-ups’ children or acquaintances within the Order, but Ian wasn’t such a candidate.

He was already practically a complete Saint himself.

“What kind of woman does the Saint like?”

Ian quickly put up his guard in response to Cecilia’s question, tinged with hidden affection.

“I like a woman I can respect. Someone who cherishes her children above all else, like a mother, and who inspires genuine admiration in many people.”

“Heehee. Is *that* so? For a scrub Saint, you have pretty good taste. I *am* a somewhat respected Saintess, I guess.”

“…”

Cecilia was 140cm tall.

A head shorter than Maria.

Her habit of calling everyone a “scrub” only added to her less-than-stellar reputation. The common saying was, “If she wasn’t the damn runt Saintess, I’d sock her one.”

“Scrub Saint! The refugees are finally starting to settle down, so wouldn’t you like to study the scriptures together today~?”

“I’m not a religious person, but I believe that the teachings of the saints are found not in scriptures, but in the hearts of people living their everyday lives.”

“Oh? Then we can go on a date! What are you doing? You said you wanted to learn from everyday life. Hehe. Why are you looking at me like that? Scrub Saint. Aren’t I someone living everyday life~?”

Overwhelmed by the existence of Cecilia, the terrifying Saintess and his natural enemy, Ian was half-dragged along by her.

But no matter how much affection Cecilia showed, Ian wouldn’t easily fall for it.

Though his body would follow her if she forced him, his heart, like a devout Saint, remained firmly defended.

‘Should I just pin him down?’

Even knowing it was unbefitting of a Saintess, Ian, a man who tormented women beyond bearing, drove her to the edge.

‘If I lose him now, that busty broad will try to claim him for herself, the nerve of that supposed Saintess!’

If another Saintess within the Order were to discover such a good man, she’d undoubtedly be dying to devour him.

If only some kind of opportunity would arise.

Annoyingly, Ian was skilled at directing adventurers and had a sharp eye for sensing danger.

“Please check the river upstream. Since the monster wave has passed, there may be bodies anywhere.”

“It’s true. There was a body up there!”

“The forest is dark today. The gloom spirits have left their habitats in search of food, so increase the number of torches and be careful on watch.”

“Did you see it last night? They say the gloom spirits really did come.”

Inside the refugee camp, Cecilia Saintess’s persistent interference makes things difficult, and Ronove’s underlings do their work outside the refugee camp.

Of course, Ian, as a player, understood the attack patterns, and Ian captured the signs of each external pattern and gave appropriate responses.

Ronove’s henchmen were helpless, every plan failed, and the signs of retreat were visible. Ian’s heart grew impatient.

“Now that the dangers inside and outside the camp have been resolved, we’ll go on patrol.”

“You an idiot or somethin’? Weakling. Loser. Don’t you know that patroling with a body as useless as yours is just asking to become the bridegroom of some monster girl?”

It was unlikely any ordinary words would work on a Saintess.

Ian abruptly recalled moments in time.

When was it that people believed and followed him, without the need for direct mind control?

It was always when he revealed his true feelings.

Suppressing the sinister mind manipulator within, Ian spoke words that felt utterly alien to him, words that were too earnest, too noble.

“If the carriage is to reach the village through the dense fog, someone must guide the horses. If danger lurks beyond the veil of darkness, then I shall gladly carry the torch that banishes the deep night. The refugees, having lost their homes and the light in their hearts, need a beacon of hope.”

*Just acknowledge my sincerity and let us go.*

Ian’s earnest plea sparked an immense admiration across Cecilia’s face.

“You’re… a genuine weakling saint who can’t even take care of himself! Hmph~ I can’t let such a kind weakling suffer in a place like this. I’ll be gracious enough to patrol with you, so you better consider this a great honor!”

“Wouldn’t you like to take a bath? If you come with us, you won’t even get to wash. We will give up the bath water, bed, and meals the refugees have provided for us, so you can rest comfortably.”

“So sincere! So noble! Showing off with a body like that makes you even more attractive.”

“…Saintess-nim, you are a high-ranking official from the main Order. Please, leave the task of dirtying ourselves to those of us who have lived here.”

“How dare you say that~? Weakling Saint. This is a contest of performance! We will compete to see who can eliminate more of the refugee camp’s potential threats!”

Ian’s desperate pleas for her to just stop helping and go back to the headquarters for a easy vacation, and Cecilia’s growing infatuation with this ever more noble saint, clashed like a lance and shield in an endless battle, much to the warmth of the onlookers.