Brainwashed Then Woke Up To Find My Childhood Friend a Hero

43. There’s something off about the current situation, isn’t there…?

Right now, I find myself in an abnormal state.

The first issue is that I can’t leave this room.

The second is that I’m in a state of amnesia.

The third is that, despite feeling this dissonance, I’m at ease.

First, the fact that I can’t leave this room means that the moment I try to, my body thinks it can wait a little longer and moves accordingly.

Another thing is that just as I attempt to leave, the Saint appears.

I’m aware that it’s strange to be in this state where I can leave but choose not to. However, I instinctively understand that the Saint must not know this.

I also grasp that being in a state of amnesia is odd. I realize it’s bizarre to remain sane when I’ve woken up to find myself imprisoned and without memories.

Even if I try to use my magical power to escape, I find myself unable to muster any strength. I know I could have exerted more power in the past, yet now I can’t summon any at all. Rather, when I attempt to exert myself, something seems to push back, causing my efforts to dissipate. If this is the case for my internal magic, then external magic is out of the question.

A dead end… perhaps?

Yet, I can’t help but feel that the current environment, where I share three meals with the Saint and can sleep soundly at night, isn’t so bad after all.

I sense this feeling of strangeness beginning to fade.

But it’s comfortable, almost like melting away.

I find myself reluctant to let it go.

Just then, the Saint opens the door, bringing in lunch.

“Oh, you seem well! You appear to be in perfect health.”

Clink… clatter… clink, clink, clink.

The Saint sets down soup and bread, pouring milk.

“Now, shall we eat?”

Like a moth drawn to a flame, I take a seat at the table.

“Then let us give thanks to God.”

“To God… thanks.”

With my mind still hazy, I begin to chew.

◇◇◇

After finishing the meal, the Saint takes the dishes and returns to her room.

Once she places the dishes down, she steps into a milky-white space. There, I see a statue of a deity and a shimmering surface of water.

—

This is the innermost sanctum of the temple,

the place most deeply connected to the divine,

where only the Saint is permitted to tread.

The Saint spreads her arms wide.

“Ah, ah! Ah!!”

And then she embraces her own body with both hands.

From the gaps between her fingers, golden magic spills forth,

and the magic gradually overflows from her entire being.

“To the God! Thank you, God!”

She crouches down, offering her prayers to the divine,

the overflowing magic drifts through the air, reflecting on the water’s surface.

And it dances solemnly,

mirrored in the magic,

becoming a ritual.

“Ah, how happy I am,

how fulfilled I feel,

how many times have I wished for this?”

Her voice resonates like a song,

acting as a hymn,

wielding the power of her sanctity,

as a reward for handling the sacred artifact.

“With countless regrets, despairing each time,

I finally prayed to the God♪”

Her voice carries an inescapable sense of futility,

“He saves, leaves scars, wishes for peace,

despises friendship. Takes love, leaves sorrow♪”

Her voice is laced with sadness,

“Oh, God♪ my love (sorrow)…”

The ritual concludes, and silence envelops the space.

“Oh, Elg, my Elg,

the abominable Elg, the resentful Elg.”

From noble mtl dot com

In her eyes dwell obsession and hatred,

the golden gleam of her gaze darkens, harboring a curse.

“I will surely grant you salvation (death), you know.”

A face twisted by sorrow and joy,

what are these tears that flow?