Saint's Prison - Chapter 45

Choice of Two

After finishing a round of cleaning, I let out a breath.

The sheer size of the Pilgrim Building makes cleaning quite a task. For someone like me who naturally dislikes cleaning, it’s a bit tough.

“Feeling tired? As always, you’re so scrawny.”

“…From your point of view, almost everyone must look scrawny.”

I lightly nudged Francesco’s round belly that stood beside me.

“Hahaha, that’s not true!”

Francesco laughed, his belly quivering like pudding. No, perhaps that’s an insult to pudding.

I took a seat on a chair carelessly placed in front of the table. The chair was hard and by no means comfortable, but it was far better than standing all the time.

“Francesco, take a seat too. A little break won’t hurt, our merciful God will forgive us. Amen.”

“Then with thanks to the Lord, I shall take a short rest too.”

Both of us sat down and let out a deep sigh. We relaxed our bodies and closed our eyes. I found myself thinking about Sophia-san who was likely resting in the bedroom upstairs.

A moist atmosphere with her dark brown hair, almost golden. She was somewhat thin, but even with that, she was quite a beauty. For a woman like her to travel to holy places alone, it’s no trivial matter.

“Hey, Francesco. Are there many female pilgrims like Sophia-san?”

“Well, it’s not that there are none, but usually, they travel with husbands, families, or servants. It’s quite rare for a woman to travel alone. The road is fraught with dangers, you see.”

“…I figured as much.”

“Yes. Besides the threat of beasts and thieves, there are accidents, illnesses, and those who die en route from lack of food.”

I involuntarily furrowed my brow.

In this world, travel and safety were never synonymous.

Originally, it was only in modern times that the roads were maintained and the safety of travelers was ensured. Until then, travel was always a brush with death. Perhaps the danger of the journey is what made pilgrimages meaningful for the travelers.

Francesco continued to speak.

“Besides, not every village that offers lodging for the night can be trusted… It’s an unpleasant story, but there are tales everywhere of villagers who, aiming for the pilgrims’ valuables, strip them bare, assault, and kill them.”

“That’s… terrible.”

Well, there were similar stories in Japan too.

…If I remember correctly, it was called “Rokubu Killing.” (tln : https://gokurakuparadies.blogspot.com/2017/10/rokubu-goroshi-killing.html)

Rokubu refers to itinerant monks who went on pilgrimages to various sacred sites to offer sutras. And the Japanese folktale “Rokubu Killing” is related to that.

Here’s the story:

A farmer who had lent a room to a traveling Rokubu finds out that he possesses a significant amount of money and valuables.

Greedy for the wealth, the farmer kills the Rokubu, steals his belongings, and uses them to build his fortune.

However, later on, a child born into the farmer’s family said one night.

“It was a night like this when you killed me.”

…Shockingly, the child was the reincarnation of the killed Rokubu. The tale ends with a rather shocking twist.

This was something I learned from a friend who specialized in folklore.

In a closed village society, there was envy from those around, thinking,

“It’s strange that only his house is thriving. He must have done something foul to acquire that wealth.” It seems that the anecdote of Rokubu Killing heavily reflects this sentiment.

It’s something also seen in Western witch hunts.

…I’ve digressed.

In essence, such tales were not unique to Japan but existed in Europe from ancient times.

Maybe the essence of people doesn’t change, regardless of place or race.

“Well, anyway. It seems Sophia-san isn’t new to pilgrimages, so she’s probably okay when it comes to crisis management.”

“…What, did you ask her yourself?”

“No. But she introduced herself as Sophia Rome, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Rome, you see, is a nickname meaning ‘One who has made a pilgrimage to Rome.’ It appears Sophia-san is quite a devout believer.”

Francesco nodded thoughtfully with his hand on his chin, while I turned my head in disbelief.

“Wait, Rome isn’t her last name?”

“Sigh, you really are naïve about the ways of the world. A surname like that is for nobility, not something commoners have. Most people are known by the place they were born, their profession, or a nickname. My Poitiers refers to where I was born.”

Francesco made a face of exasperation.

Ah, like Leonardo da Vinci, I guess. Leonardo of Vinci village, something like that.

I scratched my head and gave an awkward smile. I’m not well-versed in the culture of this land, so it seems I often say nonsensical things.

But that can’t be helped. I’m different from them in country and race, and above all, I’m a person from a much later time. Or perhaps I might even be from a different world altogether.

I may not have time-slipped to the past, but wandered into a completely different dimension, a different world.

Not a fantasy otherworld like in novels, but a parallel world. Beyond the alternative, one of the many possible worlds. That is the world I find myself in now.

A worldline where supernatural events can occur. A world that seems similar but is fundamentally different. In that sense, an otherworld.

(Well, maybe I’m thinking too much…)

I shook off the thoughts as if clearing my mind, stood up from the chair, and stretched vigorously.

Author’s Note :
I’ve finally passed 100,000 characters.
I’m surprised that it’s come this far (^q^)
I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you all for your comments, bookmarks, and ratings. I’ll continue to do my best to make it enjoyable for you!