It's Not a Life Simulator, I Told You! Section 7

But every time this happened, Elysia would just grin and change the subject, slipping a small, star-shaped hard candy through the remaining gap. "Sorry for making you angry~ This is my apology~" she'd say, assuring you, "I'm really strong! I'll be fine~"

Hearing her say that, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything more to her. The sweetness of the candy soothed your mood, and you also knew she was indeed very strong. The Priest had been growing more and more agitated lately; it was clear he must have used some methods, but Elysia had blocked them all. Moreover, "they" were probably pressuring him too.

To the point where, in the end, you even suspected the Priest might resort to outright kidnapping. While this didn't fit the Priest's usual behavior, it certainly fit the demands from "above." However, you never found out if the Priest actually used this method, as Elysia still came by to chat with you every afternoon.

Ah... for some reason, just thinking about the Priest's agitated state made you feel so much better inside, to the point where the torment at night didn't even feel that painful.

You have this coming to you! you thought.

Before you knew it, your affection for Elysia had grown. As time passed, you increasingly recognized her strength. You even occasionally fantasized about her rescuing you—though you felt such a thought was too absurd.

You had become somewhat "cheerier" than before, even if this feeling was directed solely at Elysia. The time spent chatting with her each day was your most cherished time, though most of the time it was her talking and you listening.

Elysia also seemed to have an endless supply of things to talk about, and she would occasionally bring you small sweets, reasoning, "No one can refuse something sweet!" You cherished these small gifts, both for their practical and emotional significance.

Without even realizing it yourself, you had come to see Elysia as your pillar, your hope. A pillar that supported the thought, "I will definitely be saved," a hope for "regaining my freedom."

Like a drowning man grasping for a straw, you wanted to hold onto her tightly, hoping she could "save" you.

Today, you waited for Elysia's arrival as usual. Though you didn't show it, your heart was filled with anticipation. Even if you endured pain at night, even if you couldn't escape this prison, at least when you chatted with her, you were free. Through her descriptions, you could imagine the scenery from all over the world.

Before you knew it, you had already changed a lot because of her.

However, as the sky gradually darkened, as night fell, as the Priest pushed open the door, as the deep, dark night descended, as the morning light broke through, as the sunlight filtering through the window cracks dimmed once more, Elysia still hadn't come.

Your heart, filled with anticipation, anxiety, and irritation, finally turned to silence. Your eyes, which had held a glimmer of hope, gradually returned to their usual state of placid stillness, like dead water.

Perhaps she had left. If so, that would be the best outcome—leaving this terrible place.

Perhaps she had been caught. That would likely be the worst ending—another child trapped.

You prayed inwardly that she had left rather than been caught, and gradually let go of the expectation that you shouldn't have held in the first place.

Let it be, you thought. It was nothing more than returning to the way things were before. Besides, you had felt better because of her visits. After all, she always brought you small candies, and you had secretly saved quite a few.

At night, the Priest arrived as usual. He seemed to have encountered something good, as his movements became slower and more elegant—though the pain he inflicted upon you was also more prolonged.

You weren't interested in this; rather, you felt a bit more relaxed—your own perception of "pain" had dulled.

Another phase of torture concluded. The Priest sat aside, resting, and watched you, once again tortured until you were covered in blood. Your hands were bound and you were suspended in mid-air, with a rope also holding your neck. A slight tilt of your head made you feel the strange sensation of the rope pressing against your airway. You could only rely on the tips of your toes, standing on a missing-legged stool below, to support yourself and prevent the rope around your neck from strangling you to death. Fresh blood flowed down from your suspended hands, accumulating more and more along the way, flowing faster and faster, eventually pooling into the basin placed below.

This scene always brought to mind livestock being bled out in butcher shops.

"Quite surprising, you've managed to hold on for so long," he said, looking at you with admiration in his eyes.

"As expected, you're a wonderful child." What followed was a gaze full of aggression, but soon, his gaze softened. Perhaps thinking that continuing further would cause you to bleed to death, he took out his medical kit and began to stop the bleeding and bandage your wounds.

"Don't worry, I won't do anything to you," his tone became gentle. "After all, we have plenty of time."

You knew he was expecting you to beg him, to proactively make that "terrible request," to submit to him.

He wasn't in a hurry; he had plenty of time. Like a cat playing with a mouse, he could toy with you slowly.

If it were the old you, you probably would have agreed. After all, you had had enough of all this.

But after spending some time with Elysia, you felt you could endure it, or rather, that you should continue to endure.

Just a little longer, just a little more... I'll be saved eventually.

Wait, and keep hope.

"Speaking of which, you seemed to be chatting quite happily with that girl earlier, didn't you?" the Priest suddenly said. "I'm glad you've made a new friend."

Noticing your body stiffen, the Priest smiled with satisfaction. After bandaging your bleeding wounds, he roughly pulled the rope, dragging you to a corner of the room, and then hung the rope on a hook high above.

"But unfortunately, you won't be seeing her again," he said, returning to his original spot. He looked at you, who could barely move from hunger and blood loss, and spoke softly, with unconcealed amusement in his voice.

"As you know, 'they' want her... Hmm, although that child is very smart and didn't give me a chance, she actually caused me quite a bit of trouble. Plus, 'they' are rushing me, which has been very bothersome." He sighed, then looked at you, meeting your gaze as you struggled to lift your head. "Of course, I can understand the greed of those 'people' above. They're always like that; they rush to get whatever they like. So they're always urging me... Of course, these aren't the reasons that bother me."

"What bothers me is that the child actually tried to take my things... That makes me dislike her a bit," he said slowly, leaning back and reaching into the tattered mattress to search. Soon, he pulled out a few candies from the dark red cotton stuffing.

"So I've become a little annoyed," he glanced at you as you began to struggle, watching the ripples in your pupils. He smiled with satisfaction and then, unhurriedly, began peeling the wrappers off the candies one by one, placing them in his palm.

His movements were slow, as if deliberately letting you see every action. In the end, he held all the unwrapped candies in his palm, then spread them out for you to see, as if displaying his achievement.

"So I decided to use a quicker method to resolve this... Of course, I prefer to call it efficiency." He smiled as he watched you try your best to approach him, watching the taut rope, watching you, who, even while being choked by the rope and suffocating, didn't give up on moving towards him.

"After all, it's much simpler to deal with one person than with a pile of issues caused by that person," he said, smiling. He popped all the candies in his hand into his mouth, chewed them with exaggerated movements, letting you hear the crisp "crunch," and then swallowed them directly. He then deliberately opened his mouth to show you that he had indeed finished them.

You didn't know what to do, you didn't know how to think. When you heard news of her, when the candies she left were crushed and eaten right in front of you, you felt something in your perception, something you had finally managed to pick up again, something you had decided to hold onto—shatter. Shattered along with those candies, crushed by him.

"Hahaha—you know what, child? It's you, right now, that I'm most satisfied with!" As if he had finally seen what he was looking for, he laughed excitedly. He approached again, pinched your face, and said in a gentle tone, "Alright, child~ Stop hoping someone will take you out, okay? Be a good child, a well-behaved child."

Looking at you, who had completely lost all reaction, as if dead, he narrowed his eyes, leaned closer, and told you in that gentle voice, "I hope you understand one thing: you belong here, you belong—to me."

"What's so bad about being here? You know, you could have avoided this torment. You could have played outside like other children. You could have avoided suffering from hunger. I could even provide you with slightly better food and treatment, after all, you are so well-behaved, so lovable."

His words were soft, and because he had just eaten candy, his words carried a hint of sweetness.

However, he didn't know that his actions were undoubtedly dancing on your nerves—or perhaps he did?

"...Alright, it seems the negotiation has failed. I was hoping to use a gentler method, but it seems punishment is better now," seeing that you hadn't moved, he seemed to give up on further persuasion. "After all, you're a bad child~"

"Bang!" Accompanied by a dull thud and a powerful impact, he was thrown into a corner in surprise and confusion, his back of the head hitting the wall. He could only fall into unconsciousness in a daze.

Before his vision plunged into darkness, he only saw your eyes, now filled with gold. Your pupils, once like water, like the night sky, were now occupied by rage and hatred. That frantic gaze confused him.

You knew nothing of all this. You didn't know your own state, why your body suddenly had strength, why you could suddenly snap the ropes. You didn't care about these abnormalities; you only wanted to reclaim what was yours, what had been taken, what had been crushed, what she had given you.

[You picked up the small knife that had cut into you countless times and thrust it into his throat, slitting it open vertically.]

[Perhaps it was the intense pain that woke him, or perhaps it was his body's survival instinct kicking in, but his body began to thrash uncontrollably. He tried to reach up and cover the gaping wound to stop the bleeding, tried to twist his body away from the danger, tried to kick away the weight pinning him down.]

[These attempts to interfere annoyed you, so you unhesitatingly pierced the joints of his limbs, causing them to hang limply—you knew very well how to make someone lose feeling in their limbs, after all, you had experienced it yourself.]

[You cut open his body, tearing out his organs and flesh, and casually tossed them onto the ground. You followed his throat down his esophagus, all the way to his stomach, which you extracted and cut open. Stomach acid and undigested food mixed with blood flowed out, carrying a pungent, nauseating odor.]

[But you didn't care. You carefully, meticulously searched through the mosaic of gore, and finally, from a pile of semi-digested matter, you found what you were looking for.]

[You carefully took out the candy, washed it with the blood gushing from his body, and then popped it into your mouth, as if afraid someone else would snatch it away.]

[You searched very thoroughly, even cutting open his esophagus to ensure you missed nothing. This made his corpse even more terrifying and gruesome—but you didn't care, not at all.]

[Popping the last candy fragment you found into your mouth, you finally breathed a sigh of relief. Leaning against the nearby wall, you peacefully closed your eyes. Various strange tastes and the smell of blood spread through your mouth, but the tiny, faint sweetness was not masked, piercing straight into your heart and causing a slight curve to lift the corners of your lips.]

[Tonight, there would be no more pain in your dreams, only that pervasive sweetness.]

Chapter 7: The Planned Judgment Cannot Be Changed

[The next day, you were awakened by a nun's scream. Clearly, your murder of the Priest had been discovered. You figured the police would be coming to arrest you soon.]

[You weren't planning to run. After all, in your memory, no matter the reason, "killing" was always a bad thing, something "wrong." You deserved to be punished. Furthermore, the way you had mutilated the Priest's body, with his organs almost entirely exposed, was an act of such severity that it would surely result in the harshest punishment. It might even make the news, especially since the Priest seemed to have a good reputation.]

[But you didn't care. In fact, you rather hoped more people would find out. That way, the darkness hidden and ignored here would also be seen by everyone.]

[Only in the end... you ultimately became a "bad child"—realizing this, you felt a bit dejected, a bit worried that Elysia might change her opinion of you because of it.]

[Soon, you heard the sirens. You saw those police officers again. Their eyes held a hint of surprise and understanding as they looked at you, but as they looked at the Priest's corpse, their eyes held a mixture of shock and schadenfreude.]

[They were surprised that a child like you could commit such a heinous act, but at the same time, they felt the Priest deserved his fate.]

[You were taken away, and the case was quickly concluded—naturally, with irrefutable evidence and witnesses, and even you yourself confessing to the crime.]

[Although there were many unusual details at the scene, such as the basin of blood that didn't belong to the Priest, or the obvious ligature marks and wounds on your body—it seemed no one cared about these things. From your arrest, to your detention, and finally to your trial, no one paid any attention.]

[You met with the police chief and told him about the problems at the church—you weren't asking him to defend you, only to help the other children.]

[But he merely glanced at you with surprise, and then, as if he hadn't heard, he asked perfunctory, by-the-book questions, his pen never stopping, as if he had already decided what to write, and your answers didn't matter.]

[You realized that the chief in front of you was probably no longer the "stubborn chief who meddled in everything" the police officers had spoken of.]

[You also raised objections during your trial, but it was useless. No one listened to you; they just went on with what seemed like a predetermined course of action.]

[Of course, one thing you had hoped for did come to pass: the news of you killing the Priest was reported, causing quite a stir and attracting significant attention—though not in the way you had intended.]

[You learned the content of the report from the officers. It largely described you as an ungrateful child with a wicked nature, expressed regret and indignation at the Priest's demise, and called for the harshest punishment for a child of your depraved nature.]

[The report also briefly mentioned the church, stating that it was facing financial difficulties and would likely struggle even more after the Priest's departure, hoping kindhearted individuals would donate... something along those lines.]

[In summary, it described how good the Priest was during his life, and what an inherently wicked child you were, likely to never become a good person even when you grew up. Finally, it used this opportunity to call for donations to the church.]

[You didn't understand. You instinctively felt that children your age, even if they committed crimes, should be dealt with discreetly. At the very least, they shouldn't be so openly featured in reports... Perhaps it was due to the severity of the crime?]

[But you no longer cared about these things.]

[You gave up.]

[Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the rest of your life would be spent in a real prison.]

[So be it—you thought.]

[But at that moment, you saw her again.]

[That girl named Elysia. This was your first formal meeting—though the circumstances weren't ideal, you were both very happy.]

[She was indeed a very cute girl, just as she had said.]

[She told you that the Priest had indeed intended to harm her, but she was very capable and managed to escape. She hadn't come sooner partly because the Priest had people looking for her outside, and partly because she had found someone she could trust.]

[In fact, on the very night you killed the Priest, she had sensed something. She had once again detected the presence of a "kindred spirit," albeit very faint, similar to the illusion she had when she first saw you. So, she had vaguely guessed that something had happened to you and had rushed over as quickly as she could—but she didn't say any of this.]

[Because she was late. Whether due to an accident or interference from someone, it was all too late. Saying more would only sound like an excuse.]

[And she introduced you to the person who came with her (or rather, brought her in), someone she believed she could trust—a Priest.]

[Honestly, the moment you saw him, the resentment and madness that had just subsided almost surged back, making your entire body tense up as if you had PTSD. You looked at the Priest warily.]

[If he hadn't been brought by Elysia, if you hadn't known you shouldn't hurt someone based on baseless speculation... you probably would have pounced on him and tried to kill him.]

[But fortunately, you didn't. You clearly understood that this person in front of you was different from the Priest who was now dead... Even though you now harbored strong suspicion towards anyone with that title, you still held back.]

[This Priest introduced himself as "Enrique." He was renowned both within the church and in the world, a true and devout priest. He had been traveling and training across the globe, with the duty of inspecting churches in various regions. His visit here was merely to check on the state of this particular church, as it had been a long time since anyone from the church had visited, and the local Priest had reported that everything was fine.]

[However, he happened to encounter Elysia on the road and coincidentally heard her plea for help.]

[Initially, he didn't quite believe Elysia's words, as the Priest in question had a good reputation and was well-liked in the vicinity. Upon learning that he had died in such a gruesome manner, he felt heartbroken and regretful, and his initial judgment of your character was undoubtedly negative.]

[But upon seeing your almost instinctive defensive posture and the suppressed resentment in your eyes, his internal scales shifted slightly.]

[He decided to investigate the matter further and began to ask you about the true circumstances of what had happened. He promised that if there were indeed hidden circumstances, he would be willing to help you overturn the verdict.]

[You weren't particularly concerned about whether your case could be overturned. After witnessing the predetermined nature of the trial process, you didn't believe Father Enrique had the power to fight against it. You only hoped he could help other children escape that place.]

[With your excellent memory, you recounted everything you knew about the church to Father Enrique in detail, but you said nothing about yourself.]

[Although you vaguely mentioned a couple of things when Elysia pressed you, you kept it brief and ambiguous, not elaborating further.]