MTO C67

Chapter 67

“Like drawing a parabola, throw as far and as high as possible.”

While receiving the knight’s advice, Michel stood with the children in the cloister connected to the inner courtyard, in the middle of playing “The Rose of Sharon Has Bloomed.” It was one of the games he had taught at the orphanage and one of their favorites. Since Michel was “it,” everyone held their breath, waiting for his chant.

Oliver and Charlotte looked the most unstable—Oliver balanced on one foot, wobbling, while Charlotte’s hair had already gone wild, tickling her face so she kept twitching her nose. Alice hadn’t advanced far from the starting line but held a steady attention stance. The twins were so cautious they hadn’t even stepped past the line.

Little Leon, already tagged, held Michel’s hem instead of his pinky because of his height, and Heart was close enough that one more turn would save Leon.

At the brink, when “it” might change hands, a sudden crowd surged into the cloister and shattered the breathless tension.

“P‑please, wait! What is everyone saying?”

Michel tried to calm the people charging like enraged bulls, but they wouldn’t listen. One servant even dropped to his knees, pleading for mercy.

“H‑hey, stand up, please!”

“We’ve heard all about the amazing miracle the Saint performed yesterday! You cast out the evil spirit possessing a maid and saved her life!”

“…What?”

Someone, flushed with emotion, explained, but Michel had no idea what they were talking about. He had never done anything so grand.

But the servants clamored on.

“I saw Anna, who couldn’t rise from her bed, stand and walk with my own eyes. Please, grant us the same grace!”

“Anna?”

“Yes! Margaret also said she witnessed the Saint perform a miracle!”

At this point, Michel could guess what had happened. He had only given a light massage, but the maids had taken it for an exorcism. As a “Saint” in a place with no concept of massage, the misunderstanding was almost inevitable. He should have suspected something when they had spoken of a “savior” and wept with gratitude. Even when he’d made tanghulu, the servants had rejoiced as if receiving Holy Communion; they loved to give special meaning to his actions.

“What’s an evil spirit?”

“A bad spirit. A demon.”

“Exorcise?”

“To drive it away far. Same as casting out.”

Having instantly lost their turn at the game, the children huddled and chattered. At Charlotte’s questions, Alice answered kindly.

“In other words, the Headmaster chased away a wicked demon.”

“Really?”

At that, as if on cue, the children all looked up at Michel. Their eyes brimmed with wonder and curiosity.

But Michel, hemmed in by servants, had no time for the children.

“You’re all mistaken. What I did yesterday wasn’t any sort of exorcism—”

“Oh, please, do not pretend you don’t know! We know we are much too lowly to merit your grace. But the pain is so great that death would be better than living like this. Every night a vile demon stomps my back with burning feet—I can’t recall when last I slept. Even walking is agony now…”

“Wait. Are you saying your back hurts so much it’s hard to walk?”

Flustered by the storm of words, Michel suddenly asked back. The servant brightened at his interest and bowed his head.

“Yes! To the eye I may seem fine, but I feel hell’s torment even now. The physician cannot find the cause—what else could it be but a demon? Please, by God’s providence, chastise it sternly!”

Michel quietly examined him. His back was hunched, his legs uneven in length, his standing posture tilted; he didn’t need an X‑ray to tell that the spine was badly torqued.

Should I try?

Along with a spark of challenge came worry. He wasn’t a doctor; was he overstepping? But if the body looked “normal” and even the physician found no cause, then imbalance was a likely culprit for the pain.

And regardless of can or can’t—how could he coldly turn away someone who believed with full faith he could help? Even if it didn’t solve everything, he wanted to try. With care, a massage wouldn’t make it worse.

After a brief struggle, Michel decided.

“Let’s move to another place and talk first. It’s hard to do massage here.”

“Oh, Lord above! Thank you!”

The servants rejoiced as if the cure had already been given. Michel found their view of him as God’s agent burdensome, but figured the misunderstanding would clear once they saw the massage.

He bent to the children, lowering his gaze.

“Sorry for the sudden change. The Headmaster has to go for a moment…”

“I’m coming too!”

“Me too!”

“May I come as well?”

“Eh?”

“We want to see you drive out demons!”

“Exorcise! Cast out!”

Their fervor caught him off guard. Not only the little ones, but Oliver, Alice—even Heart—watched hopefully. Even when Michel calmly explained he wasn’t driving any demon out, they thought he was lying to ditch them. Their disappointed faces left him cornered.

Well… once they see, they’ll think it’s boring, right?

Barbara had just gotten a moment of free time after watching them all morning; it felt wrong to dump them back on her.

“Alright, then. Let’s all go.”

“Yay! Headmaster, you’re the best!”

So everyone in the cloister moved together to the servants’ quarters.

“Please lie on your side…”

Michel laid the servant on the cot and palpated the areas he said hurt. Sure enough, the pelvic misalignment felt worse by hand than it had looked.

“The muscles are really knotted. It’ll hurt briefly.”

“Y‑yes!”

Even warned, the man looked thrilled just to be treated. But when Michel drove his fingertips deep into the inner side, the man’s face contorted miserably.

“Graaah!”

“Don’t tense! You have to endure it.”

His cry stirred the onlookers. Michel didn’t flinch, pressing steadily into the knots. The servant howled louder.

“G‑grrr! So you’re the one who has tormented me, fiend! Come out, demon! In the Holy Name I do not—grk!”

“Yes, it hurts a lot, doesn’t it? But bear with it. Now, stretch your leg, and… hoooo…”

Michel drew one leg back while pressing the trigger point; the servant started raging at the air. Michel paid it no mind—at the dojang, some adults cursed through painful massage; great pain made people swear without knowing it.

“Good heavens! Louis!”

“God above, have mercy on him!”

“V‑vile demon, be gone at once!”

But not knowing the context, the servants screamed and prayed, some dropping to their knees in tears of repentance.

“Master, kick the demon away!”

“Taekwon!”

“Taekwooon!”

The children, swept up, punched and kicked at the air, shouting. As the misunderstanding deepened, Michel focused on the massage, with no chance to explain.

After a solid bout of work, he wiped sweat from his brow.

“How is it now? Still very painful?”

“Hah… hah…”

The servant panted, drained. Michel helped him up; he staggered a few steps—then stopped, feeling his back. Hollow cheeks bloomed into stunned joy.

“N‑no more pain! My back feels light as if it could fly!”

“O, Saint Michel!”

The servants gasped and cheered. The children clapped and hugged each other, taking their cue from the adults. Michel exhaled in relief—the massage had helped.

“A massage only eases pain for a while. Your body is already quite twisted, so steady care matters more. I’ll teach you stretches—please do them often.”

“You mean the holy rites! The maids told us about them!”

“No, this isn’t—”

He began to correct them—and paused. He looked around at the faces lifting him up like a god. They were ready to heed and follow whatever he said.

…Is it necessary to correct them?

He recalled the elders at the nursing home: no matter how he urged exercise for health, they waved it off—too late for them. For those unused to exercise, even simple daily motions felt daunting.

If he told them the improvement was from “just a massage” and not an exorcism, would they really stick to the stretches? Or would they neglect them, thinking massage solved everything?

Perhaps letting them believe as they wished would better build a habit of regular movement. In a world where everyone believed in God, who would take lightly the words of a Saint who had cast out demons?

Having decided, Michel smiled with gentle warmth.

“Now then—where do the rest of you hurt?”

Footnotes for Readers

1. “The Rose of Sharon Has Bloomed” is a Korean stop‑and‑go children’s game; one player faces away and chants while others advance, freezing when the chant ends—akin to “Red Light, Green Light.”- the squid game one