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Bribery.

The Information Agency and bribery are inseparably linked. It’s a relationship that cannot be undone. Why is it that bribery and the Information Agency are like two peas in a pod? This stems from the unique nature of the agency’s work.

Essentially, the work of all Information and Counterintelligence Agencies inherently involves illegality. From the small-scale collection of intel to execute various operations like assassinations, kidnappings, sabotage, and even coups directed by presidential orders—it’s all secretive work.

Information agencies inevitably wade through the gray areas of legality, and therefore, every activity they conduct is rooted in national interest.

If it helps national interest, they won’t care whether it’s legal or illegal.

Bribery falls into this same category.

When a national citizen bribes a civil servant, it’s called solicitation, corruption, and all forms of wrongdoing that must be punished; but when a foreigner bribes a local official, it’s seen as friendly reciprocity.

Handing a few rubles slipped between passports to a power-tripping cop demanding to see identification, loading a trunk full of dollars into the local commander’s vehicle who insists on doing NGO work without permission, and pretending to shake hands with the cult police at a crime scene while discreetly passing them a wad of cash.

Thus, a polite, pleasant foreigner who’s suspiciously fluent in the local language is likely to be welcomed anywhere, especially if they’re carrying a hefty stack of cash.

This truism is common sense in this neck of the woods. Getting a healing from a priest here requires a “donation.” While it’s called a donation, in reality, it’s a bribe. Of course, if one were to voice it, a benevolent religious figure would be sought instead of a figure known for sending people to their doom, and no one would dare speak it aloud.

In any case, there’s no such thing as a free lunch; even divine grace doesn’t come without a cost. That’s the prevailing wisdom around here.

However…

“Just get treated first?”

“Yes, please lie down on the bed.”

Today feels different.

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Episode 9 – Old-fashioned

The Sacred Text of the Cult states that God created humans in His own image, yet unlike His omnipotence, He sculpted humans in an imperfect form.

Swayed by evil, tempted by desire.

In my view, this is solely a sign of God’s incompetence and silly mischief, but the clerics of the Cult argue that even within these flaws, one can read God’s providence.

It is freedom.

To escape from evil and embrace God, or to struggle with desire and be called forth by God to awaken and repent, all these are gifts from the divine. Such arrangements are beyond human comprehension.

As an atheist who lived through the 21st century, I believed there was one more type of freedom on top of all that.

That freedom is the freedom to collect donations.

Starting from every participant at mass, to bestowing baptismal names, offering prayers, or just giving someone a healing touch—all come at a price. Naturally, this extends to construction projects as well. Unlike regular donations, money earmarked for such special purposes is labeled as a special offering.

And one of the Cult’s biggest sources of income is indeed the donations received for performing healings.

While they claim donations are voluntary, the moment you utter you wish to receive treatment without paying, the atmosphere becomes increasingly hostile.

This has been a long-standing custom and law for centuries, one that even numerous distinguished figures in both political and business sectors cannot escape. Of course, being a higher-up doesn’t grant them discounts, meaning they still have to pay a hefty fee to summon a priest. Well-regarded healers tend to come with a premium.

The Prime Minister of Abas, the President of Patalia, the Chancellor of the Kien Empire, even the Emperor, for the sake of appearances, pin a label of “poverty relief” and donate vast sums of money just to call on a Cardinal—a little-known secret in diplomatic circles. It’s said that the only ones who can fleece the Emperor without repercussions are either a thief or the Pope.

But Lucia didn’t ask me for money.

In fact, I knew Lucia wasn’t one of those other religious figures (especially those starting with ‘B’) who are shamelessly greedy and stingy. However, encountering Lucia, who suggested treatment before demanding money, felt peculiar to me.

“Please lie down. Ideally, take off your coat.”

“Can’t I just sit?”

“You can, but it would be more comfortable to lie down for stability reasons. There are cases where people feel dizzy during treatment due to the magic power within their bodies.”

I complied with Lucia’s instruction and lay down on the bed, neatly folding my suit jacket.

Lucia lightly sanitized her hands, then draped a white towel over a silver basin filled with warm water.

“I’ve read the medical records sent from the hospital. It says there’s an issue with your nerves?”

“Yes.”

Right after the counter-terror unit entered the department store to manage the situation, I was evacuated to the military hospital. The first responders at the scene attempted emergency care, but my condition was too critical, so they went straight for the ambulance.

I heard multiple major surgeries were performed, and at one point I went into cardiac arrest and was administered strong stimulants. They even had to tear off my shirt to inject directly into my heart. Later, I discovered they had shoved a massive needle to do it.

I went through many potions and blood transfusions. After much effort from talented military doctors and priests, I narrowly survived on the brink of death. They mentioned I had many close calls, including several hours of unconsciousness.

While the Beastman terrorist got away with my thumb, Veronica managed to fix that somehow.

Of course, since the nerves weren’t quite attached properly, moving my thumb was a struggle. Bending it was challenging, and the sensation felt different from my other fingers.

But now that one of the continent’s top healers was personally treating my fingers, those worries would soon be a thing of the past.

With a gentle smile, Lucia wrapped a warm, damp towel around my hand.

“Before we begin treatment, may I ask you one thing? Have you ever received treatment from any other priest?”

“No. I haven’t.”

I shook my head as I felt the cozy warmth transferring through my palm and back of my hand.

Perhaps if I were a child, it could be different, but in the field, and even while working for the Military Intelligence Agency, I’d never been injured enough to need to seek out a priest for treatment. Essentially, the only two representatives of the clergy who had effectively treated me were Veronica and Lucia.

Upon my answer, Lucia cleared her throat and opened her mouth with a slightly awkward expression.

“Ahem, then if at any point during the treatment you feel anything odd or problematic, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“…Problematic?”

“Displeasure, discomfort, or anything like that.”

“……?”

What on earth is she talking about?

The thought crossed my mind that perhaps Lucia was planning to harass me like those priests occasionally appearing on the 9 o’clock news, but even I knew that was a misguided, farfetched idea.

“Ah, yes. Well… understood.”

Since the treatment was urgent, I replied affirmatively.

*

It’s not uncommon for priests to exploit believers in this world.

Power breeds authority, and authority leads to worship.

The more corrupt the authority, the more pronounced this phenomenon becomes, something easily observable in global society. North Korea, China, Russia, Iran,

Syria, and so on….

Power begets authority, and authority leads to worship. This world, when compared to all the countries in the global village, was overwhelmingly dominated by the might of religious power.

Of course, no matter how formidable religious power might be, it was ultimately the elected ruler, the bureaucratic society acting on the ruler’s orders, and the chaebols who eagerly delivered boxes of apologies while shaking their rattle that truly ruled the world. Thus, there was no way for religion to entirely engulf the world.

While individual faith and belief protect religion, the state is safeguarded by an armed military and police. Politicians are not the kind of breed that would easily sit by and watch a bunch of religious fanatics take over their country.

Yet, even the highest sun cannot illuminate the dark alleys, and a nation cannot maintain impenetrable administrative power across its entire territory. Especially in an era like today, where the world suffers from terrorism, conflicts, polarization, economic recession, war, and natural disasters.

As the nation becomes precarious, the economy crumbles. When the state concentrates its power to revitalize a shattered economy, it creates gaps in administrative power in other sectors. These gaps in administration lead to weaknesses in the social safety net.

Public safety becomes unstable. Generally, when public safety is in jeopardy, the political arena tends to get noisy, and borders tend to crumble; when national defense wavers, foreign investors pull out their capital and bolt, leading to a vicious cycle of economic downturn.

And such a market niche provides a perfect environment for wolves and vultures to thrive.

“I will make you one of the successful ones. What must you do to become a success? You must become a spiritual conduit. The Academy? University? Not necessary! For the future of our children! Break ties with the mundane and embrace the divinity….”

“Your most beloved and joyful moment has returned. It’s time to give donations. It’s time to donate.”

“Mother has given her command. You are my seed, so spread my seed like stars in the sky, even if it means taking a woman with a husband.”

“No, Priest. Why did you put your hand between the legs of the faithful? You touched both goddesses and gods with equal enthusiasm.”

“Of course, that was for spiritual dialogue and healing….”

“Are you nuts?”

It’s easy to forget that priests pocket donations or shamans get involved in sexual crimes; such news emerges just often enough to be alarming. The state, of course, tries hard to crack down on this, but these types of crimes happen quite like clockwork.

The military is no exception.

Reports of priests or shamans from military service sexually assaulting patients or devotees are filed almost quarterly. I know some cases firsthand while serving as an advisor under Colonel Clevenz. There was even a time when the kids who were front-line squad leaders were shaken down by a priest during a religious event.

Honestly, when Lucia said, “If something uncomfortable happens during the healing, please tell me,” I couldn’t help but glance at her with suspicion.

I didn’t doubt her because I’d observed her closely during medical volunteering, but it was hard to avoid thinking along the lines of crime or illegality due to her profession. It was a kind of occupational hazard.

For a brief moment, I looked at Lucia with a questioning gaze, and while I reached out my hand, I couldn’t shake off the slightest hint of doubt. And so, in that bizarre atmosphere, the treatment began.

And nothing happened.

“It’s all done.”

“…….”

After more than 30 minutes of diligently kneading my hand and channeling divine energy, Lucia wiped the sweat from her brow with a benevolent smile. As I kept my senses heightened, worrying she might do something strange, I blinked at her announcement that the treatment was over.

Blink.

Blink. Blink.

“Could you try moving your fingers?”

“…Uh, um, yes.”

I applied pressure to my thumb as Lucia instructed. The finger seemed to bend slightly, but then it trembled and stiffened again.

“Hmm….”

Seeing that scene, Lucia stroked her chin thoughtfully.

“It seems like we haven’t made any progress with just one treatment. It would be better to approach healing more gradually over a longer term.”

“Then how…?”

“Receiving treatment daily would be the best option, but… if you have a tight schedule, then every other day or at least once a week would be necessary.”

“Once a week? Is that going to be enough?”

“It’s better than not doing it at all.”

Her suggestion was that, if time allowed, I should get treated daily or at least once a week.

Of course, to see meaningful results in a short time, I’d need to commit to longer treatments every single day, but she likely thought it impossible for me to clear such extended blocks of time.

“I will try to make time as best as I can, but if that proves too difficult, I guess I would have to carve out even a brief moment for healing during the weekend. You mentioned you were on leave, right?”

“Yes.”

“For the duration of your leave, it would be best to focus on recovery and rehabilitation. I’ll need to prepare for the healing starting tomorrow, so let’s call it a day for now.”

“Preparation?”

Nodding as she organized the basin, Lucia affirmed. She wrung out the moisture from a damp towel and wrapped it around my right hand. Even after all this time, the warmth lingered; it felt oddly comforting.

“We have sent items from the Cult that may aid in your recovery. Using them requires some preparation, which can take a bit of time.”

“Items?”

Now that I think about it, a dignitary from the Cult’s embassy once gave me a gift claiming it would benefit my health. I had left it untouched, feeling nervous about unwrapping it.

That nobleman was an Inquisition Information Officer. When I later contacted the Military Intelligence Agency, they mentioned he was a high-ranking Abas officer.

Wondering if that was it, I asked, and Lucia shook her head.

“It’s a different item. It may not be widely known, so it may seem unfamiliar to you.”

Lucia smiled softly, keeping the identity of the item under wraps. Though she bore an alluring smile, there was something suspicious in her demeanor.

“What kind of item is it? It’s not something strange, right?”

“It’s difficult to take out, but it’s not a bizarre item. Though it’s not something that can be carelessly disclosed to foreigners….”

“Ah….”

“I’m sorry, but it’s something I can’t disclose beforehand either.”

Seeing Lucia go to such lengths to avoid explaining, it must be something of great importance. It probably has a religious significance. Considering it’s from the Cult, it might for all I know be a holy relic carefully kept in a vault.

For such an important item, keeping quiet makes perfect sense. I nodded in agreement.

Anyway, I was getting free treatment from a priest, or even more so from the saint whose face one rarely sees even when offering billions. A good deal after all.

“I understand. That could be the case.”

“Thank you.”

“So, um, may I ask about the unpleasant matter you mentioned earlier?”

“…….”

“Saint?”

“It’s nothing. You can forget it.”

 

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