I Became a Foreign Worker Loved by Transcendents

“…I see.”

How much time had passed since the anguish burst forth?

Finally, breaking the silence, the Knight of Death spoke…

Boudoin Briton seemed to regain his composure as he gazed steadily at me and began to speak.

“I wondered why you had the same aura as the Red Knight… So you had inherited her persona even before you faced her.”

The Red Knight of War. Another persona of mine, with whom I had once fought a fierce battle.

Sensing the familiarity, he recognized my identity and then asked me a question.

“Then let me ask you one thing. Are you Woo Hyo-sung now, or are you Tacchia?”

“…What do you mean by that?”

“Are you claiming to be Tacchia, who has already left this world? Or are you just a living person who inherited her memories?”

“……”

“…I see, you are Woo Hyo-sung, not Tacchia.”

Boudoin took my silence as confirmation and bowed his head slightly.

His hollow eyes slowly turned to his bony hand.

“And so am I.”

His voice, empty and hollow, flowed out in that state.

“I, too, am nothing more than a replica, a body created out of someone’s longing, love, and reverence… A copy made to find something to cling to.”

Those were not words I expected to hear from the mouth of an undead.

The undead were resurrected by lingering regrets, wandering the world in their corpse-like bodies to fulfill their unfulfilled desires.

For an undead, who was solely driven by such a purpose, to express doubt about their own existence was an utterly alien concept.

“Boudoin, you…”

“Even for someone like me, if you want an explanation, follow me. I’ll tell you what happened in this land.”

But before I could comment on that strange feeling, he had already risen from the throne and was walking somewhere.

His back looked so forlorn, and there was no vitality in his steps.

It was as if he had become a completely different person from the wise king who had once ruled his people with passion.

---

Boudoin Briton.

The Boudoin Briton that Tacchia remembered was the only king known for striving for peace during a time when humans were at war with each other.

Of course, in times of war, he might have also been seen as an ally.

But regardless of that assessment, Tacchia had always considered him the only ruler who could have taken her in.

Even in the final moments before her death.

And even now, having inherited those memories, that sentiment remained unchanged.

‘…You, what is that appearance?’

‘My apologies, Your Majesty. I sensed an enemy attack before the audience and went to deal with it, forgetting to tidy myself before coming here.’

‘I apologize for presenting myself in such a state and causing you displeasure.’

Yes, from the very first meeting, he was different from other leaders.

All the employers she had met so far kept their distance, viewing mercenaries as dirty and barbaric, but he had even come down from his throne to wipe the blood from her face himself. ɌΆΝ∅ＢƐ𝒮

‘Your Majesty, you will get dirty.’

‘What does it matter if I get dirty when the hero who defended this land stands before me? Do not decline. I am only doing what I must to show my gratitude to you.’

‘I only did what was required of me as a mercenary, and your body is far too precious to concern itself with my humble form. Many eyes are watching, Your Majesty, please maintain your dignity.’

‘If maintaining dignity means refusing to embrace the dirt, I would sooner lay down my crown and accept the filth. If being a leader means turning my back on those who support me, I would gladly give up this position and stand beside someone like you.’

‘…Your Majesty.’

‘If you find me foolish for this, you are free to leave. I would respect that decision and would not try to hold you back.’

He was someone who cared for people above all else and spared no gratitude or love for those who supported him.

He might have been the least suited leader for a time of war, but it was precisely because of this that Tacchia felt a deep connection to him.

For someone like her, who had gone through countless massacres and longed to break free, what she needed was someone who would see her not as a weapon but as a human being.

‘It’s all because I’m lacking.’

That feeling grew stronger with each attitude he showed, all the way until their first encounter before heading out to hunt the dragon.

‘If only I were a bit more capable, someone like you wouldn’t have to stain your hands with blood. Please forgive me; forgive me for being able to do nothing more than wipe the blood from your body.’

To that poor leader who was guilty of nothing but being born in the wrong era, she found herself genuinely wanting to offer her strength.

‘And though it may be shameless, I must ask this favor of you. I will support you in every way I can… So please, use your strength for the sake of humanity.’

Even though he was in a position to use her and then discard her, he still saw her as a human being, even as she left for the battlefield…

‘Please, preserve your life and return, so you can be the hope for all of us, including myself.’

He truly wished for her safe return, and she felt regretful that she couldn’t offer him her full loyalty, body, and soul.

---

“That day, when the sky split open, unidentified objects rained down upon this land.”

Why a person like him was resurrected as an undead and became an enemy of humanity…

I learned about the event that triggered it when we left the castle and arrived at a church.

“I don’t know exactly what it was. Only this… I barely managed to understand through the words of a scholar who served me, that it was a substance that does not exist in this world.”

Upon arriving there, Baudouin’s gaze slowly shifted forward.

Reflected in the blue flickering light of his eyes was the massive altar at the center of the church.

Even after the disaster that destroyed this prosperous nation, leaving it abandoned, this altar was the only structure still maintained without a speck of dust.

I immediately realized that this was due to the undead, who were driven by lingering attachments, as I watched them praying before the altar.

“There was no time to celebrate the end of the dragon’s terror, nor to mourn the death of the hero who fought it. The disaster suddenly swept over this land and spread swiftly to all its inhabitants.”

The undead cleaned the altar and gathered materials to repair the crumbling parts.

After finishing their tasks, the undead gathered before the altar, kneeling and clasping their hands in prayer repeatedly.

As if to show that this was the most powerful attachment they had felt in life.

Having been resurrected through such memories, they were compelled to repeat only that.

“The people, consumed by a strange force, twisted and rotted, vomiting blood from every orifice. The clergy tried their best to heal the sick, but… in the end, they too suffered the same fate.”

When faced with a disaster whose cause was unknown, what else could mere humans do but pray to the gods?

When even the panaceas created by faith failed, all that remained was despair.

And yet, the reason the undead before us continued to pray without despair was that they had found hope in something other than a god.

“…All I could do was step down from the throne and comfort the sick.”

I immediately understood what that hope was.

From the moment he stepped into this church, the undead who were praying at the altar all focused their attention on him.

“Until my last breath, all I could do was hold the hands of the sick, comfort them, and be with them in their final moments.”

The king, just as he had done in life, firmly grasped the hands of the sick who reached out to him.

As if feeling their regrets easing, faint smiles began to appear on their decaying faces.

As if that alone was enough.

As if, in the most despairing moment of their lives, they found solace in his mere presence.

“…I.”

But as he recalled the final moments of his people, his voice was nothing short of desolate.

“The fourth ruler of this land, whose memories have been passed on to me, was someone who merely wished for the world to be beautiful.”

He was a king who considered even wars he hadn’t started to be his own sins.

For such a person, it was certain that he saw himself as powerless to overcome the natural disasters that were beyond anyone’s control.

“He believed that if the world was cruel, he had to use his power to make it even a little more beautiful… Pursuing only that ideal, instilling hope in those who followed him, and causing them to suffer for it, he was a foolish, foolish king.”

That self-deprecation was far too extreme to be mere self-criticism.

No matter how good a person he was, what had befallen this land was an unavoidable disaster.

Who could blame a leader for failing to properly handle the situation when a plague began with the sky itself tearing open, leading to the collapse of a nation?

“Great, noble king.”

The fact that these thoughts weren’t wrong was evidenced by the undead standing here now.

“Most noble king… Please, rest in peace here.”

The sight of the undead surrounding him, praying repeatedly, showed that there had been solace even in the final moments of despair as the nation fell.

“We shall preserve your legacy to the end. We shall continue to keep alive the memory that you existed, that you were the greatest of kings…”

“May the king be eternal…”

Despite the miserable end to his long life, the lingering attachment to keep his righteousness alive on this land remained before us even after his death.

Why, then, did the leader himself look so desolate as he faced the traces of these people at this very moment?

“…If not for that hope.”

The reason began to slip out from his parted lips.

“If I hadn’t offered them the painkiller of hope… Perhaps everyone who followed me, including her, would have accepted their deaths with dignity.”

The Corpse Lord.

The being who endlessly resurrected the dead, with the ambition to turn the world into one for the dead alone.

Toward the companion who had become the greatest calamity in this world, he now poured out genuine sorrow.

“If the calamity that befell us were to spread to the whole world, we should have at least preserved the traces of the world’s former beauty… But instead, they resurrected me with that ideal, forcing me to carry on hope, thereby desecrating the lives of the living.”

And such understanding became a dagger aimed at himself.

Because he was a king who had been more righteous than anyone, the calamities rooted in his influence weighed down on him as his responsibility.

“It’s all my fault. I was such a foolish leader that even in death, I’ve defiled those who followed me.”

“That’s not true.”

I firmly rejected such self-criticism.

Tacchia’s persona within me asserted as much.

And so did Woo Hyo-sung.

There was no way I could think of the one who had taught me the value of life, something even the living had failed to impart, as the root of all evil.

“This was too large of an event to blame on anyone. The problem lies with the world as it is, not with the circumstances. You don’t need to deny the hearts of those who followed you just because things didn’t go well.”

That was what I wanted to believe.

Even if I hadn’t been there, I wanted to believe that those who died in the end met their deaths with hope, despite the misery.

I hoped that the harshness of this world wouldn’t lead to even the life of the leader I truly wanted to serve being denied.

“…Then you.”

But it seemed that even my desperate cry didn’t reach him, as only emptiness filled his eyes as he turned to face me.

“Do you think that even the actions of those who inherited his righteous spirit, who committed those deeds, can be forgiven?”

In his voice, as he directed his empty gaze at me, there was only despair, so different from when he had once extolled the beauty of life.

“In this world that will continue to crumble beyond this land… Do you think that the act of taking lives in order to remember the beauty of life can ever be justified?”

Perhaps this was the best that could be done in such a world.

From that mindset, everything he had done until now, remembering his teachings and taking the throne, had completely collapsed after his companion, who had ascended as ruler, disappeared.

“…That.”

Sympathizing with him, what could I possibly say here?

To this foolish, noble king who had wished for the world to be beautiful even in times of war…

To this pitiful undead who had been crushed by continuous calamities, despite his noble desires… What words of comfort could I possibly offer to someone I had sincerely respected?

“H-Hero! Woo Hyo-sung, where are you?!”

Just as I was about to force myself to speak, a familiar voice burst in.

Realizing it was Sanson, who should be with the refugees in the ark, I quickly turned toward the direction of the voice.

The voice hadn’t come from the road but from the sky…

Sanson, who had flown here holding onto the leg of a Zoin tribe member, quickly landed in front of me and grabbed my hand.

“H-Hero, you must come quickly.”

“Wait, Sanson. What on earth is—”

“Ga-ram… Miss Ga-ram…!”

What spilled from the breathless Sanson’s lips was news so disturbing that I couldn’t remain calm.

“Miss Ga-ram… is not breathing right now!”

Despair struck in an unexpected moment.

It overwhelmed me in the worst possible way.