MTO C3

Chapter 3

Whose name was supposed to be difficult to pronounce?

Irritation welled up in Jeong-oh, and he was about to fire back when Kaidan gave no opening.

“Seems your mind is thoroughly broken.”

Kaidan’s tone was heavy with resignation. For a man who looked like an angel, his expression of sorrow toward Jeong-oh made the latter shrink unconsciously. Judging by that reaction alone, it felt as if Jeong-oh had committed a grave sin.

So, this wasn’t heaven after all?

“Then… are we in England?”

“……”

“Italy?”

What other countries still had nobility around?

The more European nations Jeong-oh rattled off, the darker Kaidan’s face grew.

“Perhaps this turns out to be for the best.”

After a pause, Kaidan tilted his head as if settling on a decision.

“Then allow me to explain everything again, from the beginning.”

The explanation Kaidan gave was this:

The name of the body Jeong-oh had awakened in was Michel. Michel had been the director of the only orphanage in Valois. Valois itself was territory belonging to a country called the Kingdom of Formené. The name meant nothing to Jeong-oh—it was the first he had ever heard of it—but that seemed a minor point now.

The Celebration of Saint Pablo’s Birth, as the name suggested, was a holiday commemorating the day Saint Pablo was born. Saint Pablo was the first person to bring God’s Word to earth, and the one who founded the world’s very first orphanage across the Three Continents.

In his life, he had performed countless miracles, the most famous being that he was said to have died and resurrected seven separate times.

And so, on the very day celebrating this saint’s birth, the director Michel was struck by lightning, died, and then rose again. Truly, this could only be considered a miracle of God.

“With that much explained, even a blockhead should understand.”

And yet, was it truly proper to look at the man of such a miracle with eyes so full of disdain?

Jeong-oh suppressed his dissatisfaction and nodded. He still had no idea why he had awakened in Michel’s body, but…

“As I said, the clergy will soon arrive to investigate your miracle. It is the process of recognizing you as a saint. You don’t have much to do. The evidence of your miracle will be gathered from witnesses… you need only give them satisfactory answers to their questions. There is, however, one condition—your memory loss must remain a secret. You are not a victim of an accident, understand? You are the worker of a miracle.”

With that, Kaidan folded his arms, signaling he had said all he meant to. He claimed there was not much for Jeong-oh to do, but the thought of fabricating convincing lies before priests sounded like no small task at all.

Jeong-oh let out a low hum.

“So… Michel becoming a saint. That matters to you, doesn’t it, Kaidan?”

“……”

For once, there was no immediate reply. The cold sharpness that had lit his eyes since entering the chamber faltered into uneasy ripples.

What? Did he not understand me?

“I mean is Michel’s sainthood important to you, Kaidan?”

“…Yes.”

At length, Kaidan broke eye contact and gave a curt answer. Jeong-oh hoped he might elaborate, but once Kaidan’s lips closed, they did not part again.

Hmm. So it’s not only me who’s inconvenienced by awakening in this body. But can I really pretend I’m this stranger? I’ve never been good at lying.

After a brief wrestle, Jeong-oh came to a decision.

“All right. I’ll help you.”

It wasn’t his choice, but he had, after all, taken over another man’s body. He felt he had to shoulder some responsibility. Who knew how long this would last, but when Michel eventually reclaimed his form, Jeong-oh wanted to avoid creating trouble for him. From what he’d heard, sainthood seemed a boon to the man himself as well.

“But I’m really, really bad at lying. You’ll need to help me a lot, Kaidan.”

Kaidan parted his lips as if to say something, then only dragged a tired hand across his face. He looked unusually weary.

“I shall remain by your side as much as possible.”

Perhaps because it was the answer he had wanted to hear, Kaidan’s tone grew noticeably softer. Wanting to lighten the mood, Jeong-oh held up his palm for a high-five. Kaidan, however, looked at him as one might at a cow suddenly trying to speak, before rising to his feet.

“Meals will be brought to your chamber. Stay put.”

With a slam, the door shut.

So… no such thing as high-fives here?

Clenching and unclenching his empty hand, Jeong-oh let out a shallow sigh. Since the moment he had awoken, his confusion had not receded. It was too vivid for a dream, too alien for reality—even the air against his skin felt strange.

There wasn’t much he could do now. Step by step, he had to handle whatever came.

First, he would have to get used to this body.

He walked back to the mirror. Though the reflection still felt foreign, for now, this face was his own.

He bowed deeply to the man inside the glass—Michel.

Yet despite his vow to be Michel, the next three days amounted to little more than eating, sleeping, and light exercise shut up inside his chamber.

Kaidan seemed worried that interacting with others might reveal the gaps in his memory, and Jeong-oh avoided courting unnecessary risks anyway. Still, it was maddeningly dull, and claustrophobia gnawed at him.

When he voiced the complaint, Kaidan ordered that he study until the Church’s investigation, providing him with several thick volumes. Though written in an entirely unfamiliar language, Jeong-oh was startled to find he could read them as easily as he spoke. Apparently, his ability to use the language applied to written words as well.

The books appeared to be this world’s equivalent of scripture. Yet comprehension was quite another matter. Over and over, Jeong-oh tried to read; each attempt, he only made it a couple of pages before sleep claimed him.

By the third unbidden nap, he abandoned his study, using the weighty book as a dumbbell instead. Michel’s body was so frail that even such small resistance training was a challenge.

Just as Jeong-oh was finally growing accustomed to Michel’s frail flesh, the day arrived: the priests came.

“We greet our brother in faith. I am Gary, servant of God.”

“I greet you as well, Your Excellency. I am… ahem… Michel, servant of God.”

Remembering Kaidan’s instructions, Jeong-oh greeted the elder priest respectfully. He stole a glance toward Kaidan, who smoothly drew the clergy’s attention away with practiced ease.

“Saint Michel is still recovering from the miracle. Please, both of you, be seated so he may converse at ease.”

Helping Jeong-oh to the table, Kaidan practically shoved him into the chair, ensuring he looked convincingly fragile.

Once situated, the old priest smiled kindly.

“Michel, there were many witnesses to your miracle. What I ask now is merely a formality, so do not be nervous.”

Jeong-oh nodded stiffly. Having to lie to such a gracious elder already pricked his conscience. And wasn’t he a priest? This really did feel like lying to one of the nuns from back then. They always caught him without fail.

The priest folded his hands on the table.

“Michel, did you hear the voice of God?”

“Yes… probably…”

“Did you behold His form?”

“Possibly… I might have… or maybe not…”

Flustered, Jeong-oh’s words trailed. The priest’s face betrayed confusion. Behind him, Kaidan’s hand went to the hilt of his longsword.

“Yes, certainly! I heard Him clearly, and I absolutely saw!”

Jeong-oh forced a grin so hard his lips quivered, but the priest’s expression lightened immediately. Fortunate indeed, for Kaidan slid the inch of steel he had drawn back into its sheath. Whatever he had intended with that flash of intent, his glare had been sharp enough to slice the air in two.

“I behold your faith. From this day forth, wherever you go across the Three Continents, you shall be honored as a Saint.”

The priest handed him a palm-sized token of wood, carved with an intricate design—golden gates etched upon its surface.

“This will serve you until the autumn Founding Festival, when the final Blessing will confirm your sainthood.”

Utterly clueless about its purpose, Jeong-oh gave thanks anyway. Just then, Kaidan slipped smoothly into the exchange.

“Permit me to escort you to the dining hall, Bishop. A meal has already been prepared.”

“How delightful! I am grateful for your generosity, Your Grace.”

That’s it? Already?

Watching the priest rise, Jeong-oh rose as well. He was ready to tag along—only to be blocked at the threshold. Kaidan glowered down frostily.

“Saint Michel will take his meal in his chamber. His health remains delicate—rest is best.”

“Indeed. Then I shall take my leave here.”

But I want to see the dining hall too.

Jeong-oh squirmed, eager to prove his robust condition. Yet under Kaidan’s glare—a stare so sharp it threatened to unsheathe the sword again—he dared not insist.

That sword… was it real steel? Part of him itched to find out.

“Well then, at least bring me plenty of meat. Yesterday’s roasted chicken was delicious.”

“…Very well.”

“And Gary, make sure to try the chicken and bread before you go! The bread here is excellent—the texture, you can taste each strand. Back home, I usually avoid bread, too many carbs, but—”

“Let’s be on our way, Bishop.”

Bang!

The door slammed. Once again, silence swallowed him.

So much for conversation.

Jeong-oh’s thin shoulders sagged. For three days, he hadn’t spoken to anyone but Kaidan—his lips practically cobwebbed from disuse. Kaidan showed himself only once a day, saying only what was strictly necessary before vanishing again.

Today, at least, Jeong-oh had anticipated the visit of the priest, both anxious and hopeful. But the whole “investigation into sainthood” had ended quicker than beans roasting on fire.

“I wonder how the kids are doing.”

The memory of noisy, boisterous children made the solitude sting all the more. He tried sitting quiet, obedient out of respect for Michel’s body, but his patience was fraying.

Would it really hurt to take a little look around?

Jeong-oh pressed his ear to the door. Silence. Now was his chance. If he slipped out quickly, no one would even know. Kaidan would still be occupied entertaining the bishop.

Just ten minutes of wandering, then back.

He opened the door—quietly, and stepped out.

Footnotes:

1. Three Continents (삼대륙, Samdaeryuk) – In this setting, it refers to the known world within the story’s geography, divided into three continents united in faith.

2. Founding Festival (건국제) – A national holiday commemorating the founding of the Kingdom of Formené, apparently held in the autumn, during which official religious rites such as sainthood confirmation take place.