Evil Gods Don’t Save People

Sitting at the long bronze table, the Fool was facing a dilemma.

'What can I write…'

It would be easy to use a miracle to materialize a pen and real paper.

However, what should He write in that letter?

Since He had received that copper whistle from Salinger's son—divined name Azik Eggers—He had been trying to find words to say, but failed until now.

As it was now a Full Moon night, the Fool resolved Himself to ask for help from someone more knowledgeable about human interactions—putting aside the fact that the recipient in question was actually at the angel level.

Hearing the familiar prayer, He absentmindedly tapped the crimson star, facing the paper with a thoughtful expression.

Fors was thus greeted by this sight when she appeared above the gray fog, still affected by the pain from Mr. Door's ravings. As she returned to her senses, the Fool immediately questioned her, "Do you know how to write letters?"

Fors took a moment to register the question, not yet in her right mind, before fully recovering.

"…What?"

The Fool explained, "I'd like to write a letter but I don't know what to say. Could you help me?"

Fors blankly stared at the god of her faith before snapping out of her bewilderment and nodding.

Now that she thought about it, it wasn't such a strange request coming from Him. Moreover, she was indebted to Him for saving her life every Full Moon night—and the difference in Sequence would make Him able to kill her instantly if He wished to—and assisting her god in any way she could was her duty as a believer.

A story about a believer dedicating themselves to help their god and the two falling in love would be good for her next novel…

Nervous, Fors straightened her back and decided to take the task seriously.

"To whom do you want to address this letter?"

The Fool replied honestly.

"The Death Consul we saw last time."

Death Consul? Since Mr. Fool seemed to know him, he must be quite a high-ranking Beyonder, maybe at least an angel.

'Did I really have the qualifications to give advice on a letter addressed to an angel?'

Seeing the god in front of her with extremely low social skills, Fors resolved to use her knowledge as a writer to the best of her abilities. With how awkward her god usually acted, her helping might actually be better, even if the letter in question was addressed to a very high-ranking existence.

'…I won't have to take responsibility if the receiver doesn't like the letter, right? What do angels talk about?'

It would be better if the believer dedicating themselves to help their god and dying tragically remained just a story instead of coming true.

Fors began to feel the responsibility she carried and became even more nervous.

A few minutes later, Fors was sitting half-slumped on the table as she lazily gave advice to the Fool, having completely forgotten her previous worries.

"Try to give words of greetings. People usually explain what they did during the day…"

Actually, she didn't have much experience writing letters either. She was usually the recipient instead, but procrastinated her answers. Even her editor ended up coming to her house to pressure her herself.

'It'll be alright, right?' She irresponsibly thought.

Seeing the Fool focusing on her words, Fors guided Him, "For example, what did you do during the day?"

There was a moment of silence.

Seeing the nearly empty gray fog space, Fors realized she had asked the wrong question and cleared her throat.

"It-It doesn't necessarily have to be about what you did, um, you can also tell your feelings…"

The Fool simply stared at her.

'Is that why He didn't find anything to say…'

Using her imagination as a writer, Fors desperately searched for ideas.

"Or… your plans for the future? You could tell him your dreams."

'But is that really appropriate…'

Fors nervously gulped as the Fool watched her, worried she might have said something wrong again, but the Fool nodded and started to write.

Relieved, Fors curiously glanced at what He was writing and paused.

'Is this a report or a threat?'

She controlled her expression, trying to stay optimistic. At least, He had finally managed to write something…?

No, could she really leave it like that?

However, she was too lazy to go through the process of doing it all over again.

The Fool frowned, hesitating before voicing out a concern.

"Should I add my honorific name or not?"

A return address was needed. However, would the Death Consul be too intimidated if He learnt that He was a god? (Even more so since He was a Lord of Mysteries, even stronger than True Gods.)

The frozen Fors reacted, considering the question for a moment before making a proposal.

"If you want to remain anonymous, you can give my address and I'll sacrifice the letter to you."

She could at least do that for her god.

As long as she avoided Xio, it should be fine.

After a while, the god finished and turned toward Fors, a stern expression on His face as He showed her the paper.

"Is that alright?"

Fors mechanically raised a thumbs up.

"Yes, it's perfect."

The Fool was satisfied.

Heaving a sigh of relief when she saw that He had believed her white lie, Fors watched the Fool.

'Mr. Fool…'

She wanted to cover her face.

'Your social skills are irrecuperable.'

But at least He was a deity, He would survive.

Fors decided to stay optimistic and thought that He could always improve with time. However, she was too lazy to want to go through today's experience, so she didn't know how to feel about it.

Lazily staring into space, her thoughts wandered.

'Should He ask for Miss Justice's advice?'

Maybe it was a mental problem-

"Should we continue our tour of Backlund tonight then?"

"Huh?"

When she opened her eyes again, she was back to the real word.

After being in a daze, she recalled her god's last words and hurried to prepare a ritual.

Fortunately, she had found an excuse to send Xio away since it was a Full Moon night. She didn't want her roommate to see her suffering from the ravings.

When He appeared, the Fool immediately took out the copper whistle He had brought down with Him and blew into it.

Fors blankly watched an intimidating skeleton appearing and took a step back. Then, the 4-meters tall messenger suddenly knelt down, shrinking his body as much as possible as he faced the god in front of him.

Fors belatedly remembered that the young man next to her was indeed stronger than any messenger that could appear. Seeing Him hesitate about such a trivial thing as writing a letter had made her forget that fact for a moment.

The Fool then materialized His letter and gave it to the messenger.

Fors found the huge messenger pitiful as he carefully grabbed the letter, shaking before disappearing in a hurry.