Rise of the OtherGod Apostle: Not a Cult Leader, but a Serf?!

#155Reader Mode

#155

…What the hell?

These memories belong to someone who died. How could they possibly break through Oblivion?

And more importantly… why was Oblivion used on her at all?

[Hyung! No—Saint! Saint, I’m begging you. I was wrong, so terribly wrong. I swear on my life, I’ll never say your name again. I’ll pretend I never knew you—no, I’ve already forgotten you! Just… please, spare me from Oblivion. I promise I’ll never ask for your help again. Have mercy on me, I beg you… please…]

What the fuck? What am I seeing? What happened to her?

What kind of mistake would drive someone to plead so desperately?

[All who pledge themselves to Order must abandon their family, severing all bonds of blood and memory.

Anyone who speaks of the past or dares make an improper request shall be punished immediately.

The sentence is Oblivion. Every connection you once held dear will disappear like morning mist in sunlight. Forgotten, forever.]

…An improper request?

So she asked Pell, who had already sworn himself to Order, for something… and for that single transgression, she was forced to completely forget him?

But what request could possibly justify that level of punishment?

[…Mother had warned me repeatedly.

She told me that the moment you pledged yourself to Order, I would no longer be your family.

I believed her. And it broke something inside me.

But when it was just the two of us, you smiled the same as always. You pulled me into a hug with that familiar playful grin and said, “Pepa, my precious Pepa! Just keep calling me oppa like you’ve always done. Who gives a damn about all those rules? Can you imagine someone saying ‘the woman who gave birth to me’ instead of ‘Mom’? They’d be laughed out of the room.”

I remember whispering, “But… what if I get punished? I don’t want to go to hell…”

And you just laughed and laughed. “Oh no! Not hell! Don’t worry, I’ll tell the Lord that Pepa is completely innocent! She’s done absolutely nothing wrong!”]

…Uh.

How many years ago was this?

This sounds like it happened before Pell became the Saint.

Then… what was the improper request?

[Pell oppa is six years older than me. He spoils me. He always spoiled me. He never said no to anything I asked for. Even when I didn’t finish my food, he’d quietly eat the leftovers so I wouldn’t get scolded!]

I said, what was the improper request?

[I remember once telling him it was a shame his hair would turn white once he became an Apostle. Not long after, he came back with a small lock of his hair, carefully cut. “Keep it,” he whispered. “Just don’t tell anyone I gave it to you.”]

Okay… that’s just a sweet memory.

Were they really that close?

At least before Pell became the Saint, they seemed to have a pretty good relationship.

So what happened after that?

[After he became the ‘Saint,’ he all but disappeared from my life. Our only encounters were those rare, fleeting moments in crowded hallways. Always brief. Always formal. Always surrounded by others.

But one day, I slipped. Called him oppa without thinking.

He turned to me with that perfectly serene expression. “Don’t make that mistake again. You could face punishment.”

His tone wasn’t cruel. If anything, it sounded gentle. But underneath ran a current of steel that scared me. I bit my tongue hard, fighting back tears that threatened to spill…]

I frowned slightly.

This memory sync system is absolute garbage.

It just vomits random entries vaguely connected to whatever keyword I say? What a useless interface.

At minimum, it should display timestamps. How am I supposed to piece together any coherent timeline from this jumbled mess?

What keyword would even trigger that desperate plea from earlier? ‘Request’? ‘Begging’?

[There’s only one option left.

I have to go to Pell oppa. I need to ask him for help. I have to.

Please… I don’t want to die.]

…She actually begged him to save her life?

Was someone actively trying to kill her?

[I discovered a suicide note written in handwriting terrifyingly similar to mine. Except I never wrote a single word of it.

The promise of my ordination was nothing but a lie.

They’re planning to murder me. To stage it as suicide. To end everything in disgrace, to permanently stain my name.

Everyone was in on it. Even mother… there’s no one left I can trust.

I grabbed the letter and ran, barefoot, pounding my fists against the church doors until my knuckles bled.]

…Damn.

I sighed without meaning to.

I didn’t need to see the rest to know exactly how this played out.

The priest was probably part of the conspiracy too.

If things had actually been resolved there… she wouldn’t have ended up desperately begging the Saint for her life later.

[The bishop welcomed me with open arms, pulling me into his embrace.

His gaze dropped to my bare, chilled feet, and his brow furrowed. “You’ll catch your death dressed like this,” he said softly, already wrapping me in thick wool socks and a cloak that smelled of cedar.

His unexpected kindness was overwhelming, making my chest tighten painfully. Tears burned hot behind my eyes, but I blinked them away before they could fall.

Perhaps that’s why when he urged me to sit by the crackling fire and rest, I couldn’t find the strength to refuse. Just for one precious moment, I let myself believe I was finally safe.

I should have known better.

Then his voice shattered the peaceful silence. “Perpetua, your mother’s here for you.”

The look on his face is something that will haunt my nightmares forever. He explained that “slanderous accusations” made during “moments of emotional distress” weren’t sufficient grounds for punishment, but cautioned me to be more careful with my words in the future.

The suicide note I’d discovered… was now clutched in my mother’s perfectly maintained hands.

Just like that, the only evidence I wasn’t losing my mind was gone.]

…That’s rough.

Still, if she eventually met the Saint, she must have somehow made it to the Cathedral.

But how? House Ophea’s estate and the Cathedral are miles apart…

[To my surprise, the stable boy, Lorenzo, believed me without hesitation, even though I had no proof.

“Come on, let’s go find the Saint,” he said, wiping away my tears with a gentle hand.

“He’ll know the truth! Of course he will! He’s the Representative of Order! He’ll strike that wicked House down with a bolt from the heavens!”]

So they escaped, using a stolen horse to get there.

But… what happened to Lorenzo? Did he make it out okay?

Maybe it’s because I used to be a serf, but stories like this always make me worry about the side characters.

And judging by how things ended for Perpetua, I doubt Lorenzo had it easy either.

[Lorenzo’s hands pressed the pillow down over my face, suffocating me.

Each breath became more desperate than the last, my lungs burning as my body fought instinctively for survival.

In a surge of pure panic, I screamed and kicked him away. I scrambled to my feet and ran, heart hammering against my ribs, gasping for precious air.

Behind me, Lorenzo cried out, “Miss!”—his voice trembling—but I didn’t dare look back.

I didn’t want to die. And I couldn’t bear for Lorenzo to become a murderer.

The next morning, Lorenzo was found hanging.]

…What?

Lorenzo… actually died?

What the hell happened?

What went wrong between then and now?

Why was he trying to kill Pepa?

And what about the Saint?

Where was Pell oppa during all of this?

[“Pelagia! Pelagia! Oh, Pell oppa… I knew you’d come! I knew you wouldn’t abandon me!

Pell, my dearest oppa…

Even if every family bond between us has been severed, if there’s even a shred of affection left in your heart for me… please, I’m begging you. Don’t let them kill me. I can’t bear the thought of dying.

Pell oppa, please… save me.

I’ll do anything! Ordain me, take me into Order’s embrace. I’ll spend my life as a nun, locked away in silence and repentance, if only you’ll let me live. Please…”]

Her raw desperation made my stomach turn.

So?

How did the Saint respond?

[Pell, my oppa, parted his lips, his voice resolute.

“Perpetua, you have deliberately violated doctrine. A sin committed knowingly carries far greater consequences than one done in ignorance.”]

…What?

[I collapsed to my knees, staring up at him as confusion crashed through me.

I couldn’t make sense of what oppa was saying.

“Conspiring to commit murder is also a violation, but there’s no evidence for that. All that remains is the charge of making an improper request. Did you forget my warning? One more mistake, and punishment would be inevitable.”]

Hold on. His little sister is literally on her knees begging him to save her life, and that’s his response?

Lecturing her about making an improper request?

Is he out of his goddamn mind?

[That’s when I realized.

The Pell oppa I knew was gone forever.

The Saint wouldn’t save me.

No, he’d rather erase every trace of my beloved oppa from my memories.

A brilliant halo shimmered behind his snow-white hair.

And just as he raised his hand to act, I…]

I cursed under my breath.

Why in hell would the Saint want me to remember a memory like this?

It’s not just that my favorability toward him is tanking. At this point, he’s starting to feel like the final boss in disguise—pure malevolence draped in divine robes.

So what actually happened to Perpetua in the end?

[“My, my. Suicide violates our sacred doctrine, Perpetua. Have you forgotten your lessons? Those who take their own lives are forever barred from entering the Realm of Order.”

I screamed back at him.

Told him I couldn’t care less about his precious realm anyway.

Said I’d rather die than set foot in whatever heaven he and Mother were destined for.

I’d gladly plunge straight into the depths of hell instead.

At those words, the Saint’s pleasant smile vanished.

“That simply won’t do, Perpetua.”]

…Shit.

[A blinding light erupted from his hand, so intense it seemed to erase everything—even my ability to see.

“I bestow upon you this blessing. This is not punishment, Perpetua. From this moment forward, the memory of what drove you to this act will fade away. No matter what you attempt, you will never be able to take your own life. No matter how crushing your pain or how bottomless your despair, death will forever remain beyond your reach.”]

That’s not a blessing. That’s a fucking curse.

Being trapped in that state—unable to die but still broken enough to want to—is the literal definition of hell.

If he genuinely wanted to save his sister, shouldn’t he have addressed why she wanted to die in the first place?

What good is preventing the act if the suffering continues endlessly?

What is this, some kind of sick psychological horror story?

[Was I truly foolish enough to believe that fleeing to the Cathedral would somehow miraculously solve everything?

How heartbreakingly naïve.

I crumpled into Lorenzo’s arms, my body wracked with desperate sobs.

“At this point… death is my only escape.”

But even that final dignity was denied to me. I failed.

Failed. Failed. Failed. Failed…

“So there’s something you can’t do after all, Miss.”

In the end, I had to rely on Lorenzo’s hands to accomplish what mine couldn’t.]

Mmm.

Knowing how it all ends leaves such a bitter aftertaste.

Not that it was particularly shocking or anything.

That’s just classic Roklem-follower behavior.

Lawbook fanatics with no blood or tears.¹T/N: The Korean idiom “피도 눈물도 없다” — literally “to have no blood or tears” — is used to describe someone who is cold-hearted, cruel, or completely devoid of empathy or compassion.

The type who’d ticket an ambulance while someone bleeds out in the back. Who’d stab their own family—or their literal savior—just because the doctrine told them to.

What bothers me is how human Pell seemed before he became the Saint.

…Wait. Maybe I’ve been looking at this backward all along.

Perhaps it’s not that the devout become Apostles.

Maybe becoming an Apostle is what makes them devout.

So how does Roklem actually choose them?

…Is it their beautiful faces?

Honestly, not the worst conspiracy theory I’ve had.

If Roklem were truly selecting based on divine power or moral excellence, what are the odds that every single Saint throughout history would coincidentally be gorgeous? Statistically impossible. It makes infinitely more sense that Roklem shops for pretty faces first, then boosts their stats with blessings afterward.

Even if beauty isn’t the sole criteria, it clearly comes with a hefty advantage.

But there’s still something I don’t understand…

Why would the Saint just let House Ophea off the hook like that?

Perpetua wasn’t actually killed. After they staged her funeral, she was still alive, locked up somewhere as a prisoner for who knows how long.

There’s no way the Saint—the same guy who wouldn’t even let her kill herself—wouldn’t have at least considered that possibility.

…So why no divine judgment?

Faking your kid’s death has to break at least a dozen sacred laws, right?

He could’ve launched an investigation even without solid proof. The circumstances were suspicious enough. Hell, a single offhand comment from him probably would’ve been enough to get Perpetua rescued.

So… why didn’t he say anything?

“Fabio.”

Shit.

My heart started pounding like I’d just been caught red-handed.

How long has he been standing there?

“Have you finished collecting your thoughts?”

“…Yes, Saint.” I handed the scroll back, my fingers shaking a little. “I don’t think I’m ready for the truth yet.”

“I see.”

“And I—I didn’t actually read it. The scroll just unrolled when I dropped it, but I didn’t see what was inside…”

“Then you’re unaware that Perpetua and I are family, aren’t you?”

“…Pardon?”

Why the hell would he just blurt that out?

I literally just said I wasn’t ready.

That I didn’t want to know.

So seriously, what the actual fuck?

He used Oblivion on her. Even after she begged him not to.

“Did you already know?” he pressed.

“Ah, no! This is news to me. But… I thought followers of the Order weren’t supposed to care about family ties.”

“Excellent! Fabio, you’ve studied the doctrine well.”

Something lurked beneath his cheerful tone that gave me goosebumps. Like looking at something wearing human skin that wasn’t quite human underneath.

I felt nauseous.

“…I need to ask you something,” I managed.

“By all means.”

“When did you discover Perpetua wasn’t actually dead?”

“Discover? That’s an odd question. I sense where souls go when they depart. Naturally, I’ve always known she wasn’t dead.”

He knew the whole time.

“Then why…”

The words caught in my throat. It was too absurd. Too monstrous.

“…Why didn’t you save her?”

The Saint tilted his head like a confused bird, as if my question made no sense whatsoever.

“Because physical suffering isn’t a sin, is it?”

“…What did you just say?”

“If she’d been sinning, I would have passed judgment before she strayed further. But she was innocent. A victim. And when someone like her dies after enduring such suffering, their soul enters the Realm of Order. Isn’t that salvation enough?”

…You’re completely insane. Do you even hear yourself?

“That’s what makes it truly tragic,” he continued, voice eerily serene. “She stood right at the threshold of Order’s domain… yet in the end, she begged for salvation from something beyond the starry sky.”