#729 (Patreon)

Test (4)  

Kent, who had been confessing his sins, suddenly made a request to Oliver.  

He asked Oliver to share his own sins.  

At those words, Oliver instinctively leaned back slightly.  

The same Oliver who hadn't flinched before the fierce assaults of the Royal Army, the Guard Army, or even Puppet’s relentless attacks.  

Kent's request was something that provoked not just discomfort but could be described as outright fear.  

Oliver expressed his feelings without hesitation.  

"That's quite an unreasonable request to make all of a sudden."  

"I admit it. I know how tormenting it is."  

Kent, who had been drenched in cold sweat and breathing heavily every time he confessed, acknowledged this.  

He understood how unreasonable his demand was.  

Yet, he didn't back down.  

"Still, I'm asking."  

"Why are you suddenly trying to torment me?"  

"I can't tell you the reason just yet. But I promise, it's not to torment you. Trust me."  

Kent was sincere.  

However, regardless of his sincerity, Oliver declined.  

"I believe you. But I must refuse."  

"Not even if it's a dying wish from a friend?"  

Kent brought up an unexpected topic.  

However, Oliver wasn't particularly surprised. Though his face stiffened in discomfort, he didn’t look shocked.  

Seeing Oliver’s reaction, Kent laughed.  

"Hah, so you already knew."  

With those words, Kent revealed a dagger embedded in his side.  

A familiar dagger.  

It was the very one Jane, under Pan's control, had stabbed into Oliver's side when he first arrived at Neverland.  

Oliver had removed the dagger, so how it ended up embedded in Kent’s side was a mystery.  

"…Was it Puppet who did this?"  

Oliver, whose eyes could see through all sins, asked.  

Kent nodded.  

"When the zombie army invaded… truthfully, they invaded Landa just to stab me with this dagger. Quite an accomplishment, isn’t it? Invading an entire city just for me."  

Even with a dagger in his side, Kent joked nonchalantly.  

Although a bit late, Oliver asked,  

"Doesn’t it hurt?"  

"As you can see, not at all. My sense of pain is virtually gone."  

Kent poked at the dagger and the area around it.  

It wasn’t an act. The fact that Kent could carry on a normal conversation with a dagger embedded in his side was because his body no longer felt pain.  

To not feel pain… At first glance, it might seem like a blessing, but it was far from it.  

Because—  

"I'm practically a corpse at this point. A breathing corpse. You already figured that out, didn’t you?"  

Oliver slowly nodded.  

Kent was, as he said, essentially a living corpse.  

Oliver had already sensed this to some degree even before entering the room.  

Kent’s body was as good as dead.  

The only reason it hadn’t rotted away was due to the dagger in his side—or more precisely, the demonic power within the dagger, which was preventing decay and forcibly binding Kent’s soul to his body.  

That was why Oliver had remained silent while observing the dagger.  

It was an object that had both killed Kent and kept him alive.  

"Puppet called it a safeguard. To keep you in check."  

"In other words, if I cross the line, you’ll be killed through that dagger."  

"Seems that way. You must terrify them. Quite the burden, huh?"  

Kent cracked another joke. Oliver ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated.  

"…Why did you agree to this? Without your consent, the dagger wouldn’t have worked."  

Oliver, with his all-seeing eyes, pointed out the truth.  

The dagger in Kent’s side held immense power capable of sustaining a dead body, but that power wasn’t wielded by demonic force alone.  

In fact, because it was demonic in nature, it required even stricter conditions to operate.  

One of those conditions was "consent."  

The victim had to willingly surrender their life to another—a condition so absurd it was nearly impossible.  

Of course, Oliver hadn’t asked because he didn’t know.  

Oliver had already seen through the reason Kent had been stabbed with the dagger.  

It was because of Puppet's threat: if Kent didn’t agree, Puppet would kill half the population of Landa.  

Even knowing this, Oliver asked the question anyway, though it was meaningless.  

Because there was nothing else he could do.  

That dagger—it wasn’t something Oliver could deal with.  

Even though he had become nearly omniscient and omnipotent after his shell had broken, he still couldn’t handle an object imbued with demonic power like that.  

The realization left Oliver with a rare taste of powerlessness.  

"Let’s not dwell on such trivial matters."  

"Trivial, you say?"  

"Yes. Even if I hadn’t agreed, I’d still have ended up a corpse at Puppet’s hands. In that case, being a living corpse isn’t so bad. Thanks to this, I can sit here and talk to you, after all."  

Oliver remained silent. Kent wasn’t wrong; it was the truth.  

But that only made the guilt weigh heavier on Oliver’s shoulders.  

It felt as if all this chaos was his fault.  

"Well then."  

Kent suddenly stood up from his seat. He dragged his chair over and sat right beside Oliver instead of across from him.  

"Seems like you’re misunderstanding something."  

"…?"  

"Being stuck with this dagger was my choice in the end. It’s not because of you. So don’t make that face. Otherwise, I can’t be honest with you. Also…"  

Kent paused for a moment, looking directly at Oliver.  

"You don’t have to say something you don’t want to because of this dagger. But still, I’d really like to ask you to tell me about your sins. As a friend, I’m asking this favor."  

Kent’s gaze was sincere. He genuinely wanted Oliver to confess his sins of his own will.  

Oliver looked back at Kent.  

Kent was earnest, his eyes unwavering. He wanted Oliver to open up, not because of coercion, but as a choice.  

Faced with that gaze, Oliver hesitated. Should he talk about his sins or not?  

It wasn’t an easy decision. Ever since he’d gained these eyes, even looking into a mirror had become a struggle.  

Whenever he saw his reflection, his sins stared back at him.  

For Oliver, confronting his sins was deeply challenging.  

If seeing the ugliness in others was this painful, facing his own was exponentially worse.  

Oliver and Kent locked eyes. Between them, an eternity-like silence stretched. After what felt like a very, very long time, Oliver finally opened his mouth.  

"A long time ago, there was a time I didn’t share my potato soup."  

Oliver began a story from a long, long time ago.  

Back when his entire world was the orphanage and the mines.  

"In the mines, children who didn’t work properly weren’t given food. ‘If you don’t work, you don’t eat,’ they’d say."  

"I’m listening."  

"So if you got hurt, it was a death sentence. If you couldn’t work, you didn’t get soup, and without soup, you couldn’t heal. Getting injured in the mines was as good as being dead."  

"I’m listening."  

"Sometimes, the injured kids would beg others to share their soup. But most didn’t share. They didn’t have enough for themselves… I was the same."  

"I’m listening."  

"A kid sitting next to me once asked if I could share some of my soup. Just a little, they said."  

"I’m listening."  

"I didn’t share. Like I said, I didn’t have enough for myself."  

"Do you regret it?"  

Oliver shook his head.  

"No. Even if I went back, I wouldn’t have shared. At the time, all I cared about was surviving. But… sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I had. Looking back now, that kid might have been one of the few kind ones to me. Maybe because they sat beside me."  

Oliver spoke matter-of-factly, as he usually did. But Kent caught the faintest flicker in Oliver’s eyes.  

"…Is that all?"  

"…No."  

"Then tell me more. Anything."  

Oliver paused for a moment before speaking again.  

"…At the orphanage, I saw children bullying others but did nothing to stop them. I was afraid they might turn on me. Should I mention this as well?"  

"If it's something you want to share, say it."  

"…I once killed a boy named Tom by making him explode. Alive. It was during a duel. We were competing for the position of formal disciple. Looking back, I could have just subdued him instead."  

"Why didn’t you?"  

"I don’t know… I suppose I didn’t think much of it. Perhaps, I didn’t even see people as people. Just tools. That’s probably why, after relying on your gang of beggars, I chose the easy path of becoming a solver."  

"I was the one who suggested you become a solver."  

"Even if someone pushes you, it’s still your own choice to walk forward. Even if there had been another path, I would have chosen the same one. It was the easiest and most convenient. Because I…."  

Oliver trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. Seeing this, Kent pressed him further.  

"Is there anything else you want to say?"  

Oliver thought for a moment before continuing.  

"I…."  

"I’m listening."  

Oliver began to share more of his sins.  

Each time, Kent listened as if they were his own burdens, always assuring Oliver that he was listening.  

In the quiet of Room 444, the steady sound of Oliver’s confessions filled the air, echoing for a long time.  

"Is there more you wish to share?"  

"I don’t know. I’m not sure if I’ve committed more sins or not."  

"That’s understandable. Humans are beings who sin, often without realizing it."  

"I am not human, and sin is still sin, even if done unknowingly."  

"True. Sin is sin. It cannot be denied, nor erased."  

Squeeze…  

As Kent affirmed this, he suddenly tightened his grip on Oliver’s hand.  

Only then did Oliver realize that Kent was holding his hand.  

There was a distinct resolve in Kent’s touch. Just as Oliver was about to ask what was going on, Kent spoke.  

"One last thing. I have one more favor to ask of you. Could you pull this dagger out for me?"  

Kent placed his hand on the dagger embedded in his side as he made his request.  

"What?"  

"I’m asking you to pull this dagger out. I’ve tried myself, but I can’t do it."  

The sudden request left Oliver flustered.  

"Kent—"  

"I was already as good as dead. Ever since my greed led to the death of my family."  

"…"  

"I was given a second chance at life through the help of a nameless priest, but I’ve always seen this second life as a gift—a life I could relinquish if there was a good enough reason."  

"And you think now is that reason? If this is because of me—"  

"It’s not because of you. It’s because I want to. Do you really think my current state is right?"  

Kent looked at Oliver. Oliver couldn’t answer right away.  

Kent’s current existence was undeniably wrong.  

A dying person could be saved, but the dead should not be revived. To do so was to tread in the domain of gods, to disrupt the balance of life itself.  

Knowing this, Kent smiled at Oliver the same way he had the first time they met.  

He guided Oliver’s hand to the hilt of the dagger embedded in his side.  

For some reason, Oliver couldn’t refuse the frail old man’s grip.  

"I am neither dead nor alive. It’s an abominable state, a defiance of the natural order. And above all, it’s not what I wanted. The only reason I am like this is to minimize the damage to the city and because I couldn’t pull it out myself…. But I want to face my end as a human. With dignity."  

Kent rested Oliver’s hand on the dagger’s handle.  

"To reach that end, I need your help."  

As Oliver’s hand rested on the dagger, Kent placed his own hand over it.  

"You’re serious."  

"I am."  

Kent’s voice was firm.  

Oliver, now holding both Kent’s hand and the dagger embedded in his side, hesitated.  

What was the best course of action he could take now?  

Kent was, in essence, already dead. His continued existence was merely the result of demonic power.  

Oliver couldn’t help Kent.  

Kent was already dead, and Oliver couldn’t bring the dead back to life.  

He couldn’t directly oppose the power of the demon, either.  

All Oliver could do was grant Kent’s wish—to pull out the dagger and let him die as a human.  

After all, if Kent continued to live in this state, he would remain nothing more than a walking corpse, bound by either Puppet or the demon.  

After a long moment of deliberation, Oliver made his decision.  

"Is there anything else you’d like to ask of me?"  

"Actually, there is. Would you hear my confession?"  

"A… confession?"  

"Yes."  

Oliver instinctively shook his head.  

Hearing a confession wasn’t something just anyone could do, and Oliver especially felt he was unfit for such a task.  

"I heard you’ve done it once before."  

"That was a situation where I had no other choice."  

"This feels like one of those situations."  

"Even if I listen, it won’t matter."  

"It doesn’t matter to me. I want to confess to you. This is my final request."  

Kent persisted.  

But unlike the previous requests, Oliver couldn’t bring himself to accept this one.  

This wasn’t something he could do. Even if the whole world could hear confessions, Oliver couldn’t.  

Because he was a prince of hell.  

At the same time, memories of a past confession came flooding back.  

It was Colin’s confession. A young boy who had approached Oliver once.  

Back then, Oliver hadn’t been able to save the swollen boy; he had only listened to his confession as a form of pain relief, a placebo to ease his fear.  

At the time, Oliver believed it was the best he could do. He thought it was acceptable to lie if it could lessen the boy’s fear.  

But when Colin’s confession ended, and Oliver saw his fear lift, a pang of guilt had struck him for lying.  

Now, that guilt returned, sharper and clearer than ever.  

"Oliver… please."  

Kent’s plea broke through his thoughts, sincere and desperate.  

Oliver opened his mouth.  

"Kent, confess your sins."  

"Our Father, who art in heaven, I have committed countless sins for my greed."  

"Father, forgive us our trespasses."  

"I have harmed so many to fill my own pockets—men, women, children, the elderly. I stole from them and hurt them without remorse."  

"Father, forgive us our trespasses."  

"And now, at this moment, I am about to commit yet another sin."  

"…?"  

Oliver faltered in his words, momentarily pausing in the confession.  

He looked up at Kent, who was smiling at him—a sad, bittersweet smile full of love and regret.  

It was the kind of smile parents wore while watching their children play at the park.  

"Daring to be presumptuous, I pray to God," Kent continued, his voice filled with humility. "Please allow me to take upon myself the sins of the boy holding my hand."