I Became a Fortune Teller in the Game My Little Sister Made – Chapter 177

Inside the escort plane heading to the church.

Eileen, who had secretly boarded the rather cramped cargo area, gazed out the window.

“Wow….”

‘This is my first time too, but… I’m staring for a long time, huh?’

The view from the plane soaring above the clouds.

Fluffy white clouds spread out like an ocean, and I could catch glimpses of birds flying in the sky and a shimmering blue sea.

But this beautiful sight had already lasted for several hours.

As the saint who bore some memories from before, I was already quite bored.

However, for Eileen, who had to spend almost her whole life at home due to her job, everything felt new and exciting.

‘But didn’t I come here by plane when I arrived in the sky city?’

“Back then… I was lying in bed, so I couldn’t see this scenery, sister.”

‘Aaah…’

Though she was crammed into the cramped cargo hold due to sneaking on board, Eileen was completely absorbed in the view outside without any complaints.

As she chatted with Eileen, the saint who was resting internally suddenly lifted her head.

I wondered if she even had a ‘head’ existing as a spirit.

‘Something’s coming.’

“Huh? Got it.”

In an instant, Eileen and the saint’s spirits switched places.

Eileen’s gentle demeanor sharpened slightly, her posture straightened, and confidence and grace flowed from her every gesture.

While the saint was naturally looking out the window, someone’s presence drew closer.

“Um, Saint?”

“Unbeliever.”

“So, uh… Are you feeling alright? Since you’ve been there for a few hours, I was worried that you might be unwell….”

“I’m fine.”

The presence’s owner, Cloel Martina, found it incredibly difficult to address the saint’s high-handed and haughty demeanor.

It couldn’t be helped. Even if Raphael was her stepbrother, this saint was a different story.

By doctrine, she was even above the Pope and could directly hear the whispers of God.

All the faithful of the church believed in and followed the saint and saintess. Cloel, being just a mere sister, couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

Still.

“Um, Saint.”

“Why do you keep asking?”

“I wanted to ask you something….”

“… Please don’t tell me it’s about marrying Namgoong Min?”

“No, no!”

Cloel didn’t question why the saint was treating Namgoong Min with such respect, or why she was so concerned about him.

The meanings of saint and saintess are synonymous with the will of God. She had no courage to ask why the saint was planning to do so.

If she wasn’t careful, it could lead to a charge of blasphemy and a religious trial. Cloel, choosing her words carefully, nodded, determined.

“Do you know anything about Raphael?”

“… You mean the saint?”

“Yes, yes!”

“… Hmmm.”

‘Sister, please don’t even think about mentioning that.’

‘Don’t worry, Eileen.’

… I knew what Eileen was worried about.

The truth about the two souls, Raphael Martina and the saint.

Naturally, the saint had no intention of sharing that.

Raphael, her stepbrother, was already dead, and the saint’s job occupied that body and lived on.

‘How could I even say that…’

The original personality was dead, and the essence of the job itself was living in its place.

Even the saint, who had succeeded in coexisting with Eileen, couldn’t say anything to Charles Teddy Bear. With him shouting to get out of her daughter’s body… it was too terrifying.

But for the saint, who had already occupied the body…

She had no choice but to remain silent.

“Though we attended the Romance Academy together, I had almost no interactions with the saint. You could say I know nothing about him.”

“Is that so…?”

“… Let me give you one piece of advice: He’s a saint, and you’re just a sister. I know you’re step-siblings, but trying to get any closer will only cause you pain.”

Cloel and Raphael growing closer is a matter both the church’s higher-ups and Raphael himself would avoid.

That’s why the saint hoped Cloel would give up on her feelings.

After all, her efforts wouldn’t be rewarded. Better to tell her to give up and seek a new life.

But Cloel merely shook her head quietly.

“I appreciate your advice, Saint, but I cannot do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because Raphael is my brother. Is more reason needed?”

Cloel’s answer was… remarkably touching, pure sincerity.

But at the same time, it was far too lacking to overcome reality.

“… Still, think well about it.”

That was the extent of the saint’s consideration. She had initially not thought highly of Cloel due to the sudden proposal either.

An uneasy silence followed between them, and just when the saint, feeling burdened, was about to gesture for Cloel to leave…

“… Ah.”

“Huh?”

“We’re almost there!”

Cloel, who had been gazing out the window in silence, pointed somewhere with her finger.

At the tip of her finger—land was visible.

At the end of the endlessly stretching ocean of clouds, a city made of beautiful buildings and bright lights came into view.

And in the very center of that enormous city.

There stood a building that boasted a scale and beauty that could not even be compared to other structures.

“That’s the Vatican Cathedral!”

“… And that tower?”

“Oh, are you talking about that?”

However, what caught the saint’s eye was not the grandeur of the Vatican Cathedral, but the spire built atop the cathedral.

A tower covered in bricks, made round like a chimney.

Compared to the cathedral, it looked like a chopstick, stretching from the cathedral’s rooftop all the way to the sky.

Piercing through the clouds, higher than the plane.

At the tip of the spire, there was a round space that looked somewhat like a small room.

The bizarre shape made the saint stick out her tongue in awe.

“That’s the Tower of Proof.”

“Proof…? No way.”

“Yes, that’s right. At that tower’s peak, the Room of Proof handles matters that cannot be judged through typical religious trials.”

“….”

“It’s a place where no one may go for blasphemy, war crimes, or serial murders. It’s not a place for trials or judgments, but a place for proof.”

“Proof….”

“The only ones who can go there are… just four.”

“The saint.”

“The saintess.”

“The cardinal, and the pope.”

Only those four can receive ‘proof’ and ascend there.

“….”

That room, that tower, sent an inexplicable sense of dread and chill through the saint and Eileen.

As if someone far above that Tower of Proof… was watching them.

*

“Please, have some tea.”

An old man, dressed in a simple yet splendid robe decorated with pure white and gold, offered a cup of tea with a benevolent smile to the precious guest.

Before the guest, who clenched his teeth, could move, the pope, unwavering in his smile, set the cup directly in front of him.

The guest, the saint, stood before him.

“What is… this?”

“Ah, what could it be? This old man just wishes to enjoy some tea with the saint, you see. As you know, old age tends to lead to sentimental actions…”

“This letter.”

“… Hmm.”

“Are you trying to deceive me?”

The guest threw a letter onto the table with force. It bore a single elegantly written sentence in beautiful cursive.

<I know your lies.>

Yet even with the letter before him, the pope’s smile remained unshaken.

“What do you think? Is this old man’s handwriting still quite decent? It seems I’ve managed to keep my cursive relatively polished with some practice.”

“Pope.”

“Ah, my son of God, command me, this insignificant human.”

“What is your true intention?”

“Hmm, intention, is it? You speak of my sincerity.”

Thud.

With his robe billowing, the pope rose from his seat, grasping his staff.

Leaning on his staff, he walked behind the couch where the saint sat.

“What does sincerity mean?”

“… More nonsense.”

“The Almighty Creator of Heaven can do anything, and you, the Son of God, have the power to achieve anything as well. But a human like me lacks such capabilities.”

“….”

“My sincerity? I can let you know. But will you believe it? Will that truly solve everything?”

“Just say it.”

“Hahaha… From the very first day I met you, up to this very moment. What this insignificant old man desires has always remained the same.”

With a voice more benevolent than anyone else, the pope continued.

“To maximize the happiness of the greatest number of people.”

That’s what utilitarianism is all about.

To make as many people as happy as possible.

That was the pope’s belief, duty, and sincerity.

He had risen to the top of millions of faithful just for that.

“Saint, you know well that it was this old man who kept muttering about this.”

“… Of course, I know.”

“Then you also understand that for me, you are merely one person, right?”

“….”

The pope discriminates against no one.

Whether it’s a vagrant living on the street, the world’s richest tycoon, a vicious criminal, or even the saint himself—they’re all seen as individuals. He just wants to bring happiness to the greatest number of people.

The meaning behind those words made the saint’s expression twist.

“That’s why I’m conflicted. Whether to expose the fact that you’re faking your loss of power…”

“… How many people know?”

“Just me. As I’ve aged, I’ve become more observant, and I can see your true intentions.”

… <Eye for Reading Hearts>.

There’s no way the pope could use that skill, which is a job skill possessed by both the saint and saintess. Even the saint himself has it but uses it so infrequently that his skill level is low.

Yet for the pope to answer like that, it must have come from.

‘<Dunce>.’

The pope’s special skill, <Dunce>.

He can utilize the skills of all job classes, but doing so requires significantly more effort and time than usual.

It’s the same for the saint’s job skill.

‘But…’

I wonder how much effort that old man, over 80, had to put in to wield the <Eye for Reading Hearts>, which even the saint himself isn’t familiar with.

I can’t say I like the pope, but I cannot diminish his perseverance and tenacity.

After staring at the smiling pope for a moment, the saint hung his head.

“You mentioned a conflict.”

“That’s exactly it. If I expose your lies, the opposition will be happy. If I keep the secret, your faction will be happy. I don’t care who ends up happy, but factions are intertwined, making it challenging to accurately assess the exact number of people involved.”

“Then…?”

“Still, this old man has worked hard, and I’ve nearly narrowed it down. You said you would stay at the Vatican for about a week, right? I believe I’ll reach a conclusion by that time.”

Which side to support for the happiness of the largest number.

“Thus, your time is not abundant.”

“….”

“Remember, to ascend the Tower of Proof… you need the agreement of both the pope and the cardinal.”

Swipe, swish.

With the letter on the table, the pope elegantly inscribed his signature in beautiful cursive, then handed the letter to the saint.

The pope’s consent.

The pope was still smiling.

“All that’s left are the three cardinals. This old man may no longer assist the saint, so do your best.”

“… Understood.”

The saint knew it well.

While the pope is certainly an enigmatic figure whose profession is uncertain, his beliefs are genuine.

He doesn’t lie, treats everyone kindly.

That’s why he had been trying to avoid getting caught by the pope as much as possible.

But thanks to <Dunce>, it was only natural for the pope to detect the saint’s act.

‘Then…’

The consent of the three cardinals.

One is surely aligned with the saint, so that’s no issue, but the remaining two are trouble.

‘Cardinal McLaren, who pursues neutrality, is being supported by a rich tycoon.’

So if I find Namgoong Min, who must have already arrived, and team up with him, it’s bound to…

Boom!!!

“Huh?”

“… Huh?”

Suddenly, a loud explosion trembled in my ears.

After a brief ringing in my ears, the pope’s office shook once, and smoke began to rise outside the window.

After a moment of stunned silence,

“Hoh, what’s this?”

“What on earth is happening!?”

“Saint, please wait a moment. Allow this old man to check it out.”

Clang!

The pope flung open the office window and leaped out without delay.

From the top of the Vatican Cathedral, higher than most buildings, he leapt.

“Where…”

With one hand gripping his staff and the other clasped behind his back,

The pope floated in the air, his pure white robe fluttering, gazing at the place where the smoke was emanating with an ever-deepening smile.

And within that smoke, he even glimpsed a familiar figure.

“It seems I’ll meet a fortuneteller after a long time.”