The Mad Priest of the Slums

Thud.

A middle-aged woman with slightly sunken temples collapses to the floor.

It was the price she paid for bringing something she called “cooking”—expired milk poured over barely peeled oats—and demanding 500 Mora for it.

“What time is it?”

“It’s 8:17.”

Considering the time it would take to return, heading back now would match perfectly with her shift change.

Besides, I was starting to feel full.

And since I had some preparations to make for actual business, I decided it was time to leave.

“People seem more naive than I expected.”

“Naive, you say?”

“Yes. At first, they hesitated, but in the end, they laughed and ate something that barely even qualified as food. Then they shamelessly called out outrageous prices. They believed what they saw without question—if that’s not naive, then what is?”

“R-right…?”

Jamie’s response was a bit ambiguous, but it didn’t matter.

I hadn’t said it expecting agreement anyway.

“But I must say, it’s nice that the streets are empty.”

“In what way?”

“If there had been more people, rumors would have spread by the third shop, and no one would have sold food to us. But they didn’t know anything and just brought it out blindly.”

“Ah…”

She nodded once, seemingly agreeing with this point.

“But it’ll be difficult starting tonight, right?”

“Most likely.”

Even if the streets were empty, it wasn’t as if no one was watching.

Just this morning, I had cracked open the heads of five people.

Unless someone helped them out of kindness, those five wouldn’t make it through the night.

This wasn’t just my personal opinion—it was the assessment of Jamie, an expert in this field.

“Do you think the landlords will come to protest?”

“Not unless they’ve lost their minds.”

“I thought so too.”

Naturally, the five people whose heads I smashed this morning were all tenants who paid protection fees to their respective landlords.

And I was the one who had crushed those tenants.

Normally, this would be a situation where the landlords would come demanding answers. But in this slum, there was no need. Not to mention the special circumstance of me being a priest.

The slums were full of people willing to pay protection fees just to secure a place in a building. And when a tenant died, who did their belongings go to?

Of course, in this lawless place, ownership reverted to the landlord.

In other words, the landlords hadn’t lost tenants; they had gained extra income.

“Priest.”

“Yes, speak.”

Jamie, who was walking right beside me as my escort, spoke up cautiously.

“If you need a firearm, I can procure one for you by tonight.”

“A gun, huh? Not a bad idea.”

Of course, I had no intention of using it to put holes in those shameless bastards’ heads.

Guns lack the satisfaction of a good fight.

Still, carrying one for self-defense would be useful in case of an emergency, so I saw no reason to refuse.

“Something with a short range is fine, but make it a heavy one.”

Since I was talking about a handgun, I made a grasping motion with one hand, and Jamie, understanding my intent, nodded.

Personally, I was curious to try out the pistol musket that the secretary had shown me before, but my only experience with firearms was the outdated M-series relics I had handled in the military. If a gun was too complicated to use, it would be nothing more than a decoration in my hands.

“John arrived earlier than expected.”

“Ten minutes early is still within acceptable time.”

We glanced at the sedan parked on the roadside before stepping up the building’s stairs.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning, John.”

Waiting for me on the third floor, John greeted me cheerfully before picking up a large basket he had set beside him.

“A gift from the secretary!”

Since it was from none other than the secretary herself, I was curious. I lifted the lid slightly to check the contents inside.

“Food, huh?”

“Yes! She figured you’d appreciate this more than anything else!”

“There’s a reason Benjamin keeps her as his secretary, after all.”

It had been barely a day.

Yet in that short time, she had already figured out what kind of person I was.

“Tell her I’ll enjoy it.”

“Of course!”

As I closed the lid, Jamie took the basket and headed to the kitchen, swiftly organizing the contents into the refrigerator.

“Jamie, just finish putting that away and head home. No need to come back and say goodbye to me.”

“Understood.”

“Good work. See you in the evening.”

I smiled at her, and she, albeit a bit awkwardly, lifted the corners of her lips before quickening her pace to finish tidying up.

“John, this way.”

“Yes!”

“Lower your voice. I’m not deaf.”

“Ah, y-yes.”

I led John into the room where I had burned the photos yesterday—the one with the safes.

“Whoa?!”

As soon as we entered, John gasped in shock at the pile of posters beside the central safe. Then, realizing his outburst, he quickly covered his mouth.

“Judging by your reaction, these posters must be quite rare.”

“You don’t know what these are?!”

I was starting to get a clearer picture of what kind of person John was.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“O-oh, right. Yes, well… these are posters from the Miss Canyon competition, held every two years in Canyon City. They feature the woman selected as the ‘Most Beautiful Rose.’”

Canyon must be the name of the city.

And from the title “Miss Canyon,” it seemed comparable to something like Miss Korea.

“Is nudity a requirement to participate?”

“What?! No, of course not! If that were the case, these posters wouldn’t be so valuable! These are ultra-ultra-rare posters, only available to a select few who win a special lottery!”

“Hmm.”

John was practically vibrating with excitement, but honestly, I didn’t see the appeal.

The women in the posters were, of course, stunning beauties, with a variety of body types from glamorous to slender.

But at the end of the day, they were just suggestive concept photos—either wearing revealing outfits or posing nude.

“If it were a celebrity’s risqué photos being officially released as posters, I suppose I’d understand the appeal a bit more.”

Not that I was dismissing it—just that I didn’t relate to it.

“If you want, take a few.”

“R-really?!”

“Yeah.”

Gulp.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his eyes sparkled with desire as he gazed at the posters.

“T-then… just one… just one!”

“Go ahead.”

John squatted down in front of the posters and began flipping through them with the precision of an archaeologist unearthing a rare artifact.

Since I had given permission, I had no intention of stopping him.

“Ca… Carolina was supposed to be the prettiest…”

The fact that he even knew their names meant he was quite invested in this.

I observed him for a moment, then glanced toward the half-open door. And, as expected—

“…….”

Jamie, who hadn’t left yet, was standing there, glaring at John with a look far different from yesterday’s.

Sensing my gaze, she looked at me, slightly lowered her head, and quietly disappeared.

“Oh! I’ll take this one!”

John grinned as he held up a poster of a white-haired beauty sprawled across a desk, provocatively raising her hips in an obvious seduction pose.

“Suit yourself.”

“Thank you! Haha! Whatever you need, just say the word! I’ll do my best!!”

Instead of replying, I flashed him a businesslike smile and patted his shoulder.

I had a feeling this would be the last time I’d see him.

So I had to make full use of him while I still could.

“John.”

“Yes, Priest?”

“Keep your voice down.”

“A-ah, yes, sorry.”

I walked over to the window and gazed at the people slowly trickling onto the streets, then asked,

“Among the addicts, do you think there are any who want to quit?”

“If you look hard enough, there must be, right? Like a prostitute who was drugged against her will, or someone who unknowingly ate food laced with narcotics they found in the trash…”

“They even put drugs in food?”

“It’s a common trick. As long as the dealers get people addicted, the victims will come back with money on their own.”

“I see.”

The people starting to appear on the streets all had haggard faces. Each of them trembled or walked hunched over like a cripple.

“John.”

“Yes, priest”

I carefully observed a man trudging out of the alley and spoke.

“Go out and abduct two addicts. Make sure they’re capable of conversation.”