It's Not a Life Simulator! Section 11

"Only one."

"I want to see someone."

Xi Wang thought for a moment before speaking.

"I want to see a priest named [Enrique]."

She must still be here too—Xi Wang thought.

"…No problem."

The young man agreed quickly without much hesitation, as if Xi Wang's request wasn't unexpected.

"But your injuries need to be treated… Don't worry, as my employee, basic medical care is provided~ As for the person you want to see… I'll arrange it for you."

The young man glanced at Xi Wang again, smiled with satisfaction, and then snapped his fingers, signaling for others to take Xi Wang to get treatment, stating that he had other matters to attend to.

"…………"

Xi Wang stared at him for a while, ultimately choosing to comply with his arrangements—he had no choice.

After resting for two days, the young man, as promised, brought Xi Wang out, ready to meet Father Enrique.

As for the location… it was a cemetery.

Chapter 10: The Sweet Scent and Floral Fragrance Permeating the Midnight Air

[In the cemetery, you stare blankly at Father Enrique's tombstone]

[Searching the news, you discover reports from a few days ago announcing Father Enrique's death from illness. According to the reports, Father Enrique died of a sudden heart attack, with no time for resuscitation, passing away so hastily]

[As a person of some renown in the world, Father Enrique's death naturally drew many mourners. Numerous dignitaries publicly expressed their regret and sorrow at his passing, and the news naturally dedicated significant space to recounting Father Enrique's life, praising his character while lamenting his departure]

[Even in his final moments, Father Enrique was still working tirelessly for a struggling church—when you read this sentence in the latter half of the article, a bad feeling washed over you]

[As expected, although the latter half of the article continued to detail Father Enrique's deeds, it constantly mentioned that church, as if Father Enrique had some deep connection to it… This practice of trying to profit from everything, whether it be reputation or money, no matter the circumstances, disgusted you]

[Furthermore, for someone like Father Enrique, his body should have been returned to the church and buried in the church's cemetery, or transported back to his hometown to rest in his ancestral land, unless he had made specific arrangements otherwise. Yet, he now lies in the public cemetery of the same small town as that church, implicitly and explicitly signaling to others that "Father Enrique has some connection to the church here." You feel that if they could, they would have buried Father Enrique directly in the cemetery behind that church]

[Even though Father Enrique was visiting this place for the first time, they described it as if it were his hometown]

[Truly sickening]

[Moreover, Father Enrique did not die of "illness" but was "murdered"—the young man who brought you here informed you of the priest's true cause of death]

[You asked how he knew, and he merely smiled without answering]

[You understood his unspoken meaning and fell silent]

[Seeing that you understood, the young man changed the subject and explained why Father Enrique was killed… It was nothing more than him stumbling upon something illicit, and the priest happened to possess the ability to expose it while also having the credibility for people to believe him]

[In order to keep their dark businesses operational, even a priest of Father Enrique's standing had to die]

[Of course, to save face for the church, his body was left intact, but that was all]

[The young man spoke of many things, including his own admiration for people like Father Enrique, some veiled advice for you, and the details of how you transitioned from a prisoner to their "consumable"]

[You didn't pay much attention to most of it, and you were already immune to the advice, able to discern it clearly]

[All you felt now was regret for ever seeking his help, which led to his current predicament. His reputation, built over a lifetime of good deeds, was being forcibly siphoned off by others, even being used as a tool for their enrichment]

[You desperately wanted to cry, to weep for Father Enrique's passing, to confess your mistakes to him, to apologize for causing his demise]

[But you couldn't. Your tears had long since dried up in that place called a warehouse, but which was truly a prison]

[You gently caressed the tombstone, as if you could somehow reach the priest who wanted to help you, as if you could convey your apologies to him]

[You let go of much—let go of the idea of being saved, let go of the intention to "ask for help." Your heart returned to its previous state of stagnant calm, smoothing out the ripples that had resurfaced with the girl's arrival]

[Ah, right… and her… that girl—Elysia, she's still around… she's all you have left to pray for]

[You no longer hoped for your own salvation, nor did you expect her to save you. You only hoped for her peace, you only prayed for her safety… You only prayed to protect that faint, hazy, almost imagined flicker of light, that small expectation]

[The young man beside you seemed to sense your thoughts and casually mentioned, informing you that "only the priest died."]

[You felt a slight relief in your heart—this was the best news for you]

[Then, the young man, having fulfilled his promise, took you back, and you officially began the rest of your life as a "blade."]

[Time passed quickly. You cycled through training, resting, and undertaking missions. In what felt like the blink of an eye, you went from a boy to a young man. And just as the young man who led you had predicted, you became the best "blade" in the organization]

[You kill swiftly and precisely. Not a single mission you've undertaken has failed, and you never ask who the target is, nor do you inquire "why," nor do you care about the mission details]

[As long as you are provided with the information of "where, when, and whom to kill," you can complete the mission without fail, even if the target is a national leader]

[The organization also expanded significantly due to your "stellar record," establishing connections with many special factions and acquiring clients with unique identities, gradually altering its original structure and becoming more formalized]

[It was during this continuous expansion that the organization acquired its own name—Poison Chrysalis, and you became its sharpest "blade," its "golden signboard."]

[In your daily life, you are taciturn. Other than occasionally wandering aimlessly during your rest periods, you have no other forms of entertainment or special hobbies, appearing like a machine that only knows how to kill]

[Well… perhaps that's not entirely accurate? After all, you really like eating candy, especially star-shaped ones. You are quite fond of candies of that shape; this is a consensus among others in Poison Chrysalis, and it's the only preference of yours that others understand]

[Of course, for your dedicated efforts to Poison Chrysalis, the organization naturally reciprocates. The most obvious forms are the "privileges" it grants you, such as longer vacations and more lenient expense reimbursement limits]

[However, in your opinion, the best reward Poison Chrysalis gives you is its willingness to provide you with information on "those people"—the ones behind the priests who tortured you back then]

[Only by truly delving into the complex interests behind them can you comprehend the intricate relationships and the sheer scale of the entire interest group]

(Some content has been omitted due to content policy conflicts)