There are times in every life when you find yourself at a crossroads, unsure if you are incredibly lucky or incredibly unlucky; moments when a series of extraordinary coincidences collide.

 

And that’s precisely the situation I found myself in.

 

“I apologize for barging in like this. Given the circumstances, we had no choice.”

 

“I-I see.”

 

“You see, Phantom is a man who can’t even be reached by the Princess, so we had to resort to… unconventional methods. I do hope you’ll understand.”

 

…Seriously? If the princess wanted to see me, I’d rush to her side in a heartbeat!

 

Maybe I’d get it if it were just some noble.

 

But going through such lengths for me when the princess herself could easily summon me…

 

Just how arrogant and impossible to deal with do they think Phantom is?

 

To think they believe I’d defy even the princess’s orders…

 

“Fufu, you’re staring so intently that it makes me shy. Despite how I look, I’m rather reserved and shy.”

 

“I-I apologize.”

 

“No need to apologize.”

 

Saint Beatrice smiled warmly as she stirred a generous amount of sugar cubes into her steaming cup of cocoa.

 

We sat together at a table, just the two of us. Apparently, she had something confidential to discuss, and it could only be discussed with Phantom, the divine playwright who caused a stir in the empire with every new work.

 

And so Isabella excused herself, the Paladin guards were dismissed, and I found myself alone with the Saintess, her eyes closed, a serene smile gracing her lips.

 

‘Ugh, Renoir…’

 

When I asked for more details, she told me that she had first stormed into Killgrewber, demanding my whereabouts. She had gone through both Killgrewber and Geloroushina just to get in touch with the elusive Phantom.

 

And it wasn’t like she was just an eager fan. She claimed it was a matter concerning the Holy See, so even Mr. Renoir had no choice but to comply.

 

He agreed to her terms: revealing I was at Geloroushina in exchange for not disclosing my true identity.

 

The information leak was annoying, but what could I, a mere actor, do against the Saintess? I suppose I had no choice but to forgive him.

 

“But how did you know I was looking at you? I heard that you’re…”

 

“Blind? Completely blind?”

 

Oof.

 

I hadn’t meant for it to sound so insensitive. Asking a blind person about their blindness was about as rude as it gets.

 

“It’s all right,” she chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “Everyone’s curious.”

 

She tucked a stray strand of silver hair behind her ear and smiled gently.

 

“When one light fades, another finds its way in. I may not see the world as others do, but in its place, I can see the currents of the soul.”

 

“Currents of the soul?”

 

“Hmm, perhaps that sounds a bit too grand. How about the flow of energy? It’s like seeing hazy smoke forming into the shape of a person.”

 

As she spoke, the saint slowly opened her tightly shut eyelids; revealed were her sightless, misty grey eyes.

 

“A person’s movements mirror the flow of their energy. Even the slightest twitch of a muscle requires the body’s energy to gather at a certain point. I simply observe where in the body this energy concentrates. Where the energy flows is where they are currently focused.”

 

…Was she some kind of blind martial arts master from a wuxia novel? Seeing with the mind’s eye instead of physical sight?

 

I’d seen the trope of a blind person developing heightened senses before, but actually meeting someone like that in person was a novel experience.

 

But I could marvel at the Saintess’ unique abilities later.

 

The important question was why she had sought out Phantom, the playwright.

 

Perhaps sensing my curiosity, she set down her cocoa cup and addressed the question.

 

“Let me be frank. I’d like to commission a play from you, Phantom, for the Holy Church.” 

 

“Excuse me?”

 

A play? For the Holy Church? Out of the blue? 

 

“Well… Forgive me, but that seems rather out of the blue. If you’re looking for a play for a religious holiday, wouldn’t it be easier to use the priests of the Holy Church? I believe there are plenty of established plays you could use.”

 

This was a world steeped in medieval tradition, where religion played a central role in everyday life. It was quite common to perform plays at churches during holidays like Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving.

 

It was seen as a way to convey the doctrines and moral lessons of the Bible in an easy-to-understand and engaging way. Before my debut as Phantom, religious plays were all I ever saw, to the point of tedium.

 

But the Saintess shook her head.

 

“I’m not talking about a play for the common folk. We have plenty of those already. I’m asking you to write a play… for the Paladins on the front lines.”

 

“A play for the Paladins?”

 

“Surely you’ve heard about the northern front. The heroic tales of those waging a holy war against the demonic beings there.”

 

Of course, I had. It was where senior Rosalyn’s father had been stationed until recently.

 

Even the staunchly traditional knights of House Arture were paying close attention to the matter.

 

‘Something about them holding back a demon army’s advance, wasn’t it?’

 

Located at the far edge of the Northern Sea was the stronghold of demons and undead.

 

It was a crucial bastion that performed defensive battles, fending off periodic invasions from the army stationed there.

 

The problem was that no matter how many enemies they killed, the enemy’s numbers never seemed to dwindle.

 

“War has a way of wearing down the human mind and body,” Saint Beatrice said, her voice low and steady. “Even the Paladins, armed with their devout faith, are not immune.”

 

“Years have passed, and the bloodshed against the demons shows no sign of ending,” she continued, her voice heavy with the weight of their mission. “Because of that, the knights who are fighting are beginning to lose hope. They’ve lost countless comrades in this endless battle, yet the Divine One simply continues to watch.”

 

For reasons unknown, the number of enemies didn’t dwindle.

 

The extreme conditions of the northern snowy plains further complicated any plans to attack their base.

 

No matter how just the holy war, it was the perfect recipe for the soldiers’ mental and physical exhaustion.

 

“For one who has devoted their life to the faith, to lose that faith is to lose their very life,” the Saint said. “What the Paladins need now is something… to bolster their waning faith.”

 

Through her closed eyelids, her gaze was more earnest and grave than that of any sighted person as she concluded her plea.

 

“And I believe that you can provide that, Phantom. With the power you wield so well — the power to move the human heart.”

 

“You flatter me. Do you truly believe in my abilities that much, enough to entrust me with such an important task?”

 

At my probing question, she gave a soft, knowing chuckle, her fingers delicately drumming on the table.

 

“‘Admiral Lee’ instilled courage in the soldiers of the Empire. ‘Julius Caesar’ shifted the values of the Empire’s politicians. And ‘Chaplin’s Comedy’ breathed new life into the weary hearts of the people. It seems rather obvious who the best choice is, don’t you think, Phantom?”

 

“…………”

 

To be honest, if I were still Ha Eun-seong back in my old life, I wouldn’t have been too keen on such a request. I’d never been a religious man, and I wasn’t particularly interested in writing propaganda for any religion.

 

But here, in this world, faith was not some abstract concept. It was a tangible force. The gods were real, and the priests performed actual miracles with Holy Power. And standing before me was proof: the Saint, chosen by the Divine One.

 

And the Paladins, the ones who chose to fight on the front lines to protect humanity…

 

It was a request that I, as a human being, couldn’t refuse — to help those men keep their faith and carry out their duty in the face of such adversity.

 

“Of course, I’m not asking you to do this for free,” the Saintess said matter-of-factly, as if reading my thoughts. “We’re prepared to compensate you handsomely.”

 

Perhaps mistaking my silence for apprehension, she quickly moved on to the topic of payment, a playful glint in her eyes.

 

“Performing and playwriting are as much labor as any other, and we wouldn’t dream of demanding your talents without fair compensation,” she said, her tone taking on a somewhat mischievous lilt. “Rest assured, the payment will come from my personal coffers, not from the Holy See’s, so don’t you worry bout a thing.”

 

“Hmm, you’re more thoughtful than I anticipated.”

 

“Well, I wasn’t always a Saintess,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of wistfulness. “I grew up poor, in a humble orphanage. That’s how I know how despicable it is to exploit others under the guise of duty and calling. Such people deserve to be burned at the stake, and the Divine One would surely forgive it.”

 

“Haha…”

 

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her unexpected fierceness.

 

“Aha… And one more thing.”

 

She raised her index finger playfully and added.

 

“If the final product is satisfactory, I can offer additional compensation beyond the financial. Anything within my capabilities as a saint.”

 

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

 

“Oh my! But don’t expect me to go on dates. I’m a woman of the cloth, you know.”

 

Well… obviously! As if I had a death wish to trifle with a Saint!

 

Dealing with Princess Diana von Clausewitz during the fan meeting was nerve-wracking enough and now this…

 

Even when you knew it was a joke, banter with these high-ranking figures always sent shivers down my spine.

 

✧❅✦❅✧

 

After the Saintess and her Paladin entourage had left…, 

 

“A religious play to boost the morale of the Paladins…”

 

Back in my dorm room, I paced back and forth in front of my desk, gripping my special fountain pen.

 

I was deep in thought, considering which historical figure to choose to effectively complete the given quest.

 

‘The first thing that comes to mind is the Passion play of Jesus, but…’

 

The Passion play, a religious drama depicting the suffering of Jesus Christ.

 

The play’s major themes included the trials under Pontius Pilate, the subsequent crucifixion, and the sacred resurrection that followed.

 

Given its profound religious significance, the Catholic Church has a tradition of performing the Passion play every Lent.

 

But I scrapped that idea faster than the speed of light.

 

Jesus might be the Son of God in the original world but in this world, Jesus was just another name.

 

A character adorned with Mary Sue-like traits wouldn’t garner any positive reception.

 

‘I’d be lucky if I didn’t get accused of blasphemy.’

 

Thus, the idea of centering the play around Jesus was entirely scrapped.

 

I also considered various forms like morality plays, liturgical dramas, mystery plays, and miracle plays.

 

The Bible, undoubtedly, was a treasure trove of creative material.

 

But none of it seemed to strike the right chord for this particular purpose.

 

The goal was to boost the morale of the Paladins, after all.

 

‘And that wouldn’t be possible with some run-of-the-mill, preachy narrative.’

 

What the war-torn Paladins needed wasn’t a dreary religious sermon. Force-feeding them religious dogma would only backfire, pushing them further into despair.

 

They needed something fresh, something invigorating, something to rekindle their extinguished fighting spirit and fortify their waning faith.

 

In short, they needed an emotional high.

 

Something that made them cry out ‘Hallelujah!’ with tears streaming down their faces,

 

Something that made them proud to be followers of this faith.

 

‘…But who could provide such a high?’

 

Adam and Eve, the Great Flood and Noah’s Ark, David and Goliath, the Judgment of Solomon, the Virgin Mary…

 

I ran through every biblical episode that came to mind; and each story, although memorable, lacked a crucial element of intensity. And drawing inspiration from outside the Bible felt sacrilegious, lacking the necessary gravitas to inspire faith.

 

“Sigh. This is tough.”

 

I set aside thoughts of the Bible for a moment, unable to come up with a sharp idea.

 

As I crossed my legs and let my thoughts wander in a different direction, it suddenly hit me.

 

“…Aha!”

 

As a former movie enthusiast, two titles suddenly flashed in my mind.

 

One was a critically acclaimed Hollywood masterpiece from 1956. The other, a musical animated film from 1998.

 

Both were considered masterpieces, each tackling a monumental episode from the Old Testament and the life of a legendary prophet, in their own unique way.

 

Not only were they entertaining enough for even an atheist to enjoy, but they were also profoundly moving for devout believers, moving enough to bring them to tears. 

 

Moreover, the animated film was even adapted into a musical stage play in 2017, making it a perfect fit.

 

“Yes, that’s it! You’ll be the main character this time!”

 

Having finally settled on the material, I plopped down on my chair.

 

Smiling to myself, I picked up my fountain pen and began writing fervently.

 

‘After all, it’s impossible to create a religious play without God’s miracles!’

 

And to truly capture that emotional high, what could be better than parting the sea?

 

With nothing but pure faith and a crude wooden staff, leaving out any relics or artifacts.

 

— End of Chapter —