The Mad Priest of the Slums

When asked how to secure housing, a musket was pulled out instead of an answer.

It didn’t take much sense to understand what that meant.

She put the musket back in and continued.

“Of course, there’s an unspoken rule. If you kick out the previous tenant and destroy the place in the process, it’s meaningless.”

That made sense. There’s nothing more foolish than damaging the building while evicting the former residents.

“We generally collect protection fees.”

She explained further that a few recognized strong individuals managed the buildings like zones and charged rent.

Killing a resident who had paid protection fees didn’t mean you could take their place, so it had been quite a while since people killed each other for housing.

Incidentally, news of a landlord’s death in the slums was just seen as a change of ownership.

Just like tenants on Earth worry when landlords change suddenly.

Here, too, people were anxious about whether the new landlord would raise protection fees.

**

You went to District 12?”

As I was jotting down future plans at the desk in a private room, Benjamin burst in, returning from his morning errands.

“Yes. The secretary tried to stop me, but I insisted.”

“Insisted, huh.”

Looking at Benjamin’s ever-rotund figure as he approached, I thought again about how much heartbreak could change a person.

It was still hard to believe that this middle-aged man sitting across from me was the same dashing figure from the portrait.

“The job’s done.”

“Thanks to the secretary’s advice.”

“She’s a competent guy.”

I agreed and nodded in response.

“I don’t know if this information is what you wanted, but I’ve compiled everything I got from Deung Yoon into a book.”

“I heard. It’s well-organized by date, right?”

“Yes.”

For the record, all I did was praise Verdia’s beauty while organizing my thoughts.

Vishua loved money, while Verdia was obsessed with beauty, including her own.

According to Vivian, Verdia valued inner beauty over outward appearances, despite her obsession with aesthetic value.

Anyway.

“Please sign here.”

I handed Benjamin a third contract that I had prepared earlier.

“Can I sign it myself?”

“No problem.”

Vishua only cared about getting paid, leaving the rest to the priests. And since the god loved money, the priests were equally greedy, each with their own desires.

Scratch, scratch.

Without even reading the contract, Benjamin quickly scrawled his signature.

Despite his now large body, his decisive manner remained unchanged from his days as the handsome figure in the portrait.

As soon as he signed, the contract disappeared in a puff of colorful smoke, just like Deung Yoon’s had.

Verdia’s contracts vanished into smoke, Vishua’s into fire. It was convenient knowing which god presided over a deal.

“What now?”

“I’ll send you into my dream. Once you find what you want, just say, ‘I’m returning.’”

When I explained, Benjamin paused to ask, “I’m going alone?”

“No one to interrogate, so I don’t see why I should join.”

“True, but… What if I can’t find it? Also, how can I enter your dream if you’re awake?”

Good question.

“With Verdia’s power, it’s possible.”

I didn’t know exactly how it worked, but as someone dragged across dimensions, I’d accepted that anything could happen.

If beings beyond human understanding did something, it was natural for mere mortals to remain in the dark.

“Lie down on the bed?”

“No need. Let’s do it here.”

“Alright. Off you go, Benjamin.”

As I chanted Verdia’s praises, Benjamin slumped backward in his chair.

“Is that what happens when you gain weight?”

His head lolled against the backrest, but his neck was so thick with fat that it barely changed his position.

“His body’s gone to ruin, but his mustache remains from the portrait.”

Maybe he grew it because his late wife liked it. If so, it was good I saw the portrait on day one.

Otherwise, I might have asked for a chance to tug on that mustache as part of a contract reward.

“Time to finish my plan.”

**

“Mm…”

I hadn’t written much before Benjamin woke up. He must have found what he was looking for quickly.

“…”

He stayed silent for a while, and I closed my notebook and pocketed my pen.

“Did you not find what you wanted?”

“No. I found it. In great detail.”

“Then why that face? You’re confusing me.”

“Ah, sorry.”

He finally relaxed and gave his mustache a tug.

“How long was I out?”

“No clock, but it felt under thirty minutes.”

“Haha.”

He looked at me, or rather, my left hand, with a thoughtful gaze.

“My body was asleep, but my mind was awake. Yet somehow, I’m fully refreshed. Even my head feels clear.”

“Hmm.”

I stroked my chin.

I’d gone into a dream once in the underground but didn’t feel any drastic change.

“Why the look?”

“No reason.”

If the customer felt good, that was enough.

Other customers might complain later, but that wasn’t my problem.

“I’ll help you settle here as promised. Ask for anything you need.”

A straightforward man, despite his size.

“I’m thinking of settling in District 12.”

“As expected. I guessed when I heard you were checking it out. Really settling there?”

“Yes. I like it.”

“Haha.”

He shrugged, tugging his mustache again.

“No priest who willingly enters a dump like this is in their right mind.”

“People live everywhere.”

“Except for the drug-addled bugs. You’re right; District 12 isn’t much different.”

Having witnessed people casually getting brained by falling metal, I agreed.

Whether it was District 12 or another, there wasn’t much difference to me.

Just fewer crazies versus more crazies.

“Give me two days. I’ll set things up.”

“No need. I wouldn’t have chosen District 12 otherwise.”

The junkies were key. I planned to use them as bodyguards until the world’s end.

“…”

Benjamin gave me the same look as Vishua, Vivian, and the secretary.

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Two months, max. A bodyguard.”

“Easy enough.”

“And a suitable building in District 12.”

“A building, huh…”

He stroked his mustache in thought.

“How big?”

“Space for two to live and a room for guests. That’s all.”

“Does floor count matter?”

I pondered for a moment.

Not sure if my future bodyguard could cook, but even if they could, that was the past.

“Second floor’s better than the first.”

Easier to set up a restaurant below and handle meals that way.

“Got it. I’ll check. See you at dinner.”

“Understood.”

Benjamin left, and I returned to my notebook.

Halfway through, the secretary appeared to call me to dinner.

“Priest.”

“Yes?”

On the way, she spoke.

“When do you plan to leave for District 12?”

“When Benjamin finds me a place.”

“I’ll prepare for your departure while you eat.”

I glanced at her.

“By ‘prepare,’ you mean yourself?”

“Unfortunately, I have to assist the boss. I’ve chosen someone capable.”

“I see.”

Any temporary bodyguard would do if they did their job.

“The house?”

“The boss ordered a rush. It’s a three-story.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“It’s been a while since I worked in the field, but I’m not rusty.”

“I see.”

She must have dealt with someone in that short time.

No wonder the boss of a massive organization had such decisiveness.