Wasn’t This a Night Game

Rise to Your Feet

The roles had been reversed.

The police and the erstwhile wardens. And those who had lived in extravagance, swaggering as the rulers of this city, were now prisoners, confined within the facility.

And those who were once convict laborers now stood as guards, overseeing the newly arrived prisoners.

First day in the camp.

Mayor Byers, thankfully, wasn’t entirely alone.

The factory owners and police, they were all here, fellow inmates.

“You goddamn piece of shit!! If you hadn’t snitched!! If you hadn’t opened your mouth about that deal!!”

“You traitor b*stard, where do you get off running your mouth?!”

The moment arrived when upholding dignity offered no advantage, and the factory owners, the city’s elite, behaved no differently than the lower classes they so despised and looked down upon.

Shouting, hitting, grasping at collars in a vulgar frenzy, tumbling onto the ground.

It was hell.

A nightmare.

He felt as if he might wake at any moment, back in the snug, warm study of his mansion.

But that didn’t happen.

The first day at the camp was brutal.

“Me? Do *this* kind of work? *Me*? You think I’ll…!!”

“Frederick!! Seems this gentleman doesn’t *want* to work!!”

“Oh, really now? Is that so?”

After a truncheon beating, a day without food, no prisoner possessed the arrogance to act high and mighty.

At night, the sounds of weeping echoed.

Everyone seemed unable to fully process the shocking sentence – a lifetime spent in this place.

But Mayor Byers, alone, did not weep.

*There’s still a way out.*

He believed there must still be a way to escape.

Even a fallen rich man has three generations to draw on, as they say.

Perhaps his knowledge, his wealth, his know-how would be needed.

Any small chance would do.

The important thing was to get out of here.

If he could just get out, he could seize opportunity again, he believed.

“Number 982. You have a visitor!!”

One day, instead of guards barking orders to go to work, they announced he had a visitor. Byers knew then, at last, the opportunity he had been waiting for had arrived.

He knew it.

He was, after all, the one who ran this city.

Such a person couldn’t be useless.

It was clear he’d come to ask for help.

Bias went to the visitation room with a confident expression.

And the moment he stepped inside.

His face froze stiff.

“Ah… Dad.”

“Honey.”

His wife and children were waiting for him.

Unlike their well-dressed past, they appeared impoverished, almost unrecognizable.

And behind them, framed by his family, stood Jonathan Karma, watching him silently.

“Welcome, Mr. Bias.”

“…Why is my family here?”

“They said they wanted to come along. How could I possibly refuse a wife and children who wanted to see their father and husband?”

Bias’s hand trembled.

Jonathan calmly offered him a chair.

“Please, sit. The conversation won’t be that long.”

Jonathan grinned at Bias.

“Let’s get straight to the point. I’ll take care of your family. They won’t live as lavishly as before, but I’ll ensure they live comfortably as an average middle-class family.”

“…”

“Hand over the entire corporation to me.”

At those words, Bias felt his vision darken.

A spasm twisted his lips into a bitter smile.

“Is this a threat?”

“Does this strike you as a threat? I believe I’m offering you a rather generous arrangement. Just think of your family, tossed out into this cold world without a single penny. I could easily do that and no one would bat an eye.”

“…”

“Refusal is, of course, an option. However, considering your past actions, I doubt your family would enjoy a very pleasant rest of their lives. You do have quite a few enemies, you see.”

Behind Jonathan Karma, with his easy smile, Bias could have sworn he saw a devil lurking.

Bias couldn’t hold out for long.

“…I’ll sign. Bring me the documents.”

“A wise choice, Mister Byers.”

With trembling hands, Byers was forced to sign.

He had no other option.

And that was largely the case for the other factory owners trapped in this camp as well.

And so, on that day.

Every enterprise in the scrap yard became affiliated with Karma Company.

*

I’ve lost track of how many days have passed.

I treated and treated the sick, endlessly.

My experience back in the capital made it bearable.

There was no time to grasp how things had come to this.

Nor to reflect on what the thing within my soul had done to bring us here.

After frantically tending to injured children and the critically ill, I ate a quick meal, went to bed, and slept fitfully.

Having to leap up should a critical patient arise was just an added bonus.

Then, one chaotic day,

“Holy Man.”

Karl Lenaro and the Labor Theorists stood before me, resplendent in their new uniforms.

“Would you come with us for a moment? There is a place you must see.”

“What is this about?”

“His Imperial Majesty has provided a building that will become the Imperial Labor Bureau. Now that the city’s capitalists have received their due punishment, we will ascend to the capital to begin the work of investigating and managing the conditions of workers throughout the entire Empire.”

I felt a hollowness spread through me at those words.

“Is that so?”

Who would believe that things had escalated this far over a single loaf of black bread?

It was almost laughable, when I thought about it.

“Before beginning official work in the Bureau… we would be honored if you would deliver a congratulatory speech, Holy Man.”

“Yes. All of our comrades desire it.”

“Would you do us this honor?”

Faced with their earnest expressions, I hesitated for a moment before nodding.

Yes.

It’s probably best to tie up any loose ends before leaving.

It ended in failure, true, but still, the lives of the city folk will be better for it…

Well.

Can it be called a success?

“Peter. Anna. Jim. Amy.”

I called out the names of the four family members who had stayed by my side, helping me all this time.

“Holy One.”

“Yes! Did you call for us?”

I looked upon the family drawing closer, a warmth spreading through me.

The very people who had ruined my seclusion.

But seeing them smile like that, it didn’t feel so bad.

“I will now ascend to the capital.”

“Yes?”

“I cannot remain here forever. From now on, Karma Company and the Labor Bureau will manage this place well.”

I laid my hand on each of their heads.

“Never be sick again. May you always be healthy and happy… May you always live so. And never forget the heart with which you gave me that dark bread.”

My words seemed to strike a chord, their eyes reddening with emotion.

“We will remember forever, Holy One.”

“We will never take the life you gave us lightly, Holy One.”

I nodded in acknowledgment.

Then, turning away, I followed after the labor theorists.

“Holy One!!”

“Holy One! Are you leaving?”

“Yes. My work here is done.”

To the shouts of the many, I answered with a wave to each.

“Yodel.”

“Yes, Holy One.”

“Continue to care for the sick and the poor of this city. I ask this of you.”

“Yes. Of course.”

After making final requests to the Order of Grace, I departed for the capital with the labor theorists.

Taking the teleport installed by the mages of the Magic Tower, we instantly returned to the capital, and the familiar scenery of the city filled my eyes.

A large building, not far from the Mars Magic Tower, caught my eye.

It looked more like a temple than a government office, didn’t it?

“We received an old, dilapidated temple building from the Solar Cult as a grant. We will be conducting our business here from now on, Your Holiness.”

Only then, with Carl Lenaro’s explanation, did I understand the building’s peculiar appearance.

As I slowly walked towards the temple-like labor bureau, the words “Department Operarium,” ornately carved above the tall doors, came into view.

“Shall we go in?”

Inside, a multitude of people had gathered.

Some who appeared to be aristocrats from the Senate, others were mages from the Magic Tower.

Priests and paladins of the Pantheon, and judges from the Supreme Court.

And in the place of honor…

His Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty.

Almene and Iomene were there as well.

Truly, the core figures of the Empire, all gathered in one place.

“The Saint of Healing enters!”

The moment I stepped inside, they all erupted in thunderous applause.

With a reluctant expression, I was guided to the very center, where a small pair of scissors was handed to me.

A long red cloth was draped across the lobby, and it seemed the scissors I’d received were intended to cut it.

“Offer a congratulatory address, and then cut the cloth with the scissors.”

Carl Lenaro said so and then stepped back.

Everyone ceased their applause and began to gaze intently at me.

Reporters were snapping pictures incessantly, the noble and the common alike.

The devout and the faithless all watched, their eyes shining brightly.

A congratulatory address, huh.

What qualifications did a pathetic guy like me, still obsessed with soul destruction and returning to Korea, have to give such a grand speech?

I stared silently at the scissors, shrugged, and then opened my mouth.

Still, if there was anything I could say,

it was this and nothing more.

“I don’t believe I am a particularly great person.”

Striving to hide the awkward tremble in my voice, I stammered on.

“But if there is one thing I have done well since arriving in this world, I believe it is that I have tried to care for those weaker than myself.”

Even now, I often find myself wondering.

If I had used these abilities as literally befit a lewd game… what would I have become?

Perhaps it would have been amusing, at first, but considering that the origin of this power is that of a Demon Lord, in the end, I would have been corrupted.

I truly believe that the only thing I did right was to hold onto the compassion I feel for the weak. Only that.

“The future is not fixed. Depending on what kind of heart you carry, the same person can create either hell or heaven. That is what I believe. So, I must say this.”

I looked out at the labor theorists.

“May your compassion for the workers not turn into hatred toward the wealthy. Be wary that you do not succumb to the sweetness of the power now granted, lest you be consumed by a lust for it.”

This time, I turned my gaze to the nobles and the entrepreneurs.

“Share more, in proportion to what you have. Always remember that if there are none below, even those above will inevitably falter. As I have given, I hope you too will have a giving heart. That is what I desire. My only desire.”

It felt as if I had spoken something so obvious.

Embarrassed, I swallowed drily once, then quickly turned and raised the scissors.

With a snip, the cloth is cut and falls away.

At that sight, His Imperial Majesty rose and declared in a booming voice.

“From this moment forth! The Department Operariium! I hereby proclaim the establishment of the Imperial Labor Agency!!”

At that instant.

Everyone rose from their seats.

Along with a thunderous applause.

“Stand up!!”

“Everyone, stand up!!”

“For the Empire!!”

“For the workers!!”

The labor theorists and the capitalists, mingling together, laughing and applauding.

Gazing blankly at this unprecedented scene, the realization belatedly hit me.

What exactly am I doing right now?

Is this why I ran away?

Just thinking about the number of people I proselytized in the scrapyard, I can’t even fathom how much faith the Demon Lord within my soul has been sucking up.

I am freshly aware of how badly I have messed things up.

‘Next time, I really need to go somewhere with absolutely no one around. So that problems like this don’t even arise.’

While I was sighing inwardly and resolving myself,

My eyes fell on Erpa, Iomene, and Almene, rising and applauding.

The three women, as one, shaped and unshaped their mouths, uttering something.

“Today. We’ll come to see you.”

“We’re waiting.”

…Right.

I’d completely forgotten about these three.

Should I laugh? Cry?

I could only manage a wan, ambiguous smile.