Necromancer Of The Black Bible (42)

The medicine seemed to have been prepared in the kitchen outside the annex.

The hearth was filled with half-burned birch charcoal, and a pot hung above it.

Inside, herbs suspected to be the hundred-year ginseng were simmering.

Sanchez had Mobin examine it, and Mobin confirmed it was genuine.

‘I’ve seen all I needed to.’

Sanchez dismissed Branch Master Damir and Father Eppendorf, then headed to a quiet place with Mobin.

Behind an empty building.

Once there, Mobin spoke up.

“What do you plan to do?”

“What do you think should be done?”

At Sanchez’s question, Mobin stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Then he spoke.

“The medicine is genuine. It’s my first time seeing hundred-year ginseng, but its features match everything I’ve read. Still, since the child showed no improvement—and even worsened—I believe the healer who prescribed it bears the fault.”

“Is that so?”

Sanchez smiled bitterly and looked back at Damir and Eppendorf standing in the courtyard.

The two stood awkwardly, looking in opposite directions.

Damir looked grim, but so did Eppendorf.

Though he had denied responsibility earlier, he surely felt otherwise.

For the child under his care had worsened.

Turning back to Mobin, Sanchez spoke.

“You make a fair point. The healer prescribed it. But think deeper—what if every healer was punished for every misdiagnosis?”

“What?”

“Think it through calmly, Mobin. What would happen if they were all punished?”

“Ah… yes.”

Mobin still looked uncertain.

Sanchez looked at Mobin and recalled his younger self.

Back when he was hot-blooded, he had thought just like Mobin.

In truth, cases of healers misprescribing or failing to heal were fairly common.

That was why he had thought deeply about it over time.

‘What you see isn’t always the whole truth.’

After giving Mobin time to reflect, Sanchez spoke.

“As you’ve seen during your apprenticeship, healers don’t have high success rates. Reports show an average healer heals four out of ten patients. Even High Priest Raiernov heals only seven out of ten. If we punished them for every failure, how many healers would remain in the Theocracy?”

“Ah…”

At last, Mobin’s gaze grew more thoughtful.

It seemed he finally grasped what needed to be considered in this case.

After a pause, Mobin nodded and spoke.

“I understand. A priest cannot be held accountable simply for failing to heal.”

“Correct. And why do you think that is?”

Once again, Mobin organized his thoughts before replying.

“Healer priests have chosen to care for the sick and sworn before God to do so. They work under harsh schedules daily. That alone deserves respect. Without their devotion, many patients would have nowhere to turn.”

“Exactly.”

Sanchez smiled in satisfaction.

He felt proud that his junior had quickly found the right direction with only a little guidance.

“Then how should we resolve this case, Mobin?”

Mobin sank into thought.

One step from the conclusion, Mobin made up his mind and spoke again.

“Though it’s tragic for the branch master’s daughter, Father Eppendorf is not responsible. The hundred-year ginseng is a rare elixir. He prescribed it only because the girl’s illness was dire. Even though her condition worsened after, he fulfilled his duty as a healer. We cannot punish a priest who did his duty. Our rules are clear on this.”

Sanchez smiled warmly.

Mobin was indeed clever—skilled in wielding authority and thoughtful in judgment.

‘This one will surpass me as an investigator.’

Thinking so, Sanchez nodded to him.

“Yes. I agree.”

Then Mobin tilted his head and asked,

“But if we decide this way, won’t Branch Master Damir be pitiful?”

He was right.

Damir must have clung to the faint hope of saving his daughter when he obtained that precious hundred-year ginseng.

And yet, instead of improving, her condition worsened—it must have made him want to die.

But what could he do?

A person’s life ultimately belongs to God.

Sanchez looked back at Damir, standing in the courtyard with arms folded, his eyes heavy.

Though he stood at a distance, his anguish, conflict, and sorrow were clear.

Seeing that, Sanchez thought he couldn’t just end things with the conclusion he had reached earlier.

‘Damir needs something as well.’

Sanchez turned back to Mobin and spoke.

“You’re right. Here’s what I plan to do about that.”

Sanchez explained his idea, and Mobin nodded.

A short while later.

Sanchez gathered everyone to announce the results of the investigation.

Normally the Bureau of Investigation could issue an official notice, but Sanchez disliked that method.

From the client’s perspective, it took too long and was frustrating.

So his way was to announce the results directly to those involved, without delay.

He stood before Damir, the client, and Eppendorf, the healer priest under scrutiny, and delivered the findings.

“Branch Master, here are the results of our careful investigation. In conclusion, Father Eppendorf is not responsible for your daughter’s condition.”

“What? What did you say?”

As expected.

Branch Master Damir could not accept it.

His reddened eyes glared as he began to protest.

“This disaster happened because I gave my daughter the hundred-year ginseng on that priest’s orders—how can you say he bears no responsibility?!”

Damir stepped toward Sanchez, but Mobin blocked him.

Sanchez calmly met Damir’s sharp glare and continued.

“Healer priests often misdiagnose during treatment. If they were punished every time, most would be in prison, and no one would dare serve as a healer in this Theocracy.”

“But… this man…!”

Damir tried to argue further, but Sanchez gave him no chance.

He shot back with a pointed question.

“For this treatment, did you pay Father Eppendorf any money beyond the standard treatment fee?”

“Th-that…”

“I asked earlier, and you said you hadn’t paid him anything extra, didn’t you?”

“……”

Damir had no answer, and Sanchez continued.

“In this Theocracy, treatment fees are set high for the wealthy and low for the poor. Surely you’re not claiming injustice over that?”

“…N-no.”

“Then remember this: in no country on this continent is healing offered for so little. Instead of raging at failure, shouldn’t you be grateful that Father Eppendorf even attempted to treat an incurable illness? Wouldn’t that be what God Kallios deems proper?”

“……”

In the end, Damir pressed his lips shut.

His eyes still burned with bloodshot anger, but there was nothing he could do now.

This was the Theocracy, and defying priests here could cost him not only his business but his very life.

Damir exhaled slowly, restraining his anger.

Sanchez looked at him with pity before speaking.

“A person’s life is not in our hands but in God’s. I’ll provide you with a letter of recommendation—submit it for a prayer request at the monastery.”

Sanchez pulled out the prepared letter from his robes and held it out to Damir.

After hesitating, Damir spoke.

“Does prayer even work?”

“Every priest in this Theocracy gained their Powers through prayer. Do you not even believe that?”

“Th-that’s…”

When Damir failed to answer, Sanchez frowned and spoke.

“Perhaps your daughter’s condition is the result of your own lack of faith in Lord Kallios.”

Sanchez tucked the letter back into his robes and continued.

“God does not hear the prayers of the faithless. Come to me when you truly believe—then I will give you this letter.”

With that, Sanchez turned and left. Father Eppendorf and his attendants followed.

Watching them go, Damir bit his lip.

“Damn bastards…”

Just then, a voice came from right beside him.

“Watch your words. I haven’t left yet.”

It was Mobin.

Recognizing him, Damir jumped back in shock, and Mobin continued.

“Don’t take the investigator’s offer lightly. That recommendation letter is so valuable that ordinary people would pay a fortune to get one.”

Silent until now, Damir finally asked with determination.

“You’re saying just a prayer request recommendation is worth that much?”

“Perhaps not if it were just from ordinary priests. But that request is addressed to the First Monastery. Surely you know what that place is?”

The First Monastery.

It was a famous place here, where countless sick people longed to go and pray.

They prayed there for one reason only.

To catch the eye of the Theocracy’s greatest healer priest, Raiernov.

In fact, Damir had learned of Raiernov half a year ago and wanted to bring his daughter to him.

But he had no connections.

Later he barely secured a contact, only to hear that Raiernov was on a long journey.

So he gave up early and sought another priest.

Damir stared wide-eyed at Mobin.

“Don’t tell me… Father Raiernov has returned?”

Mobin looked him straight in the eye and replied.

“Branch Master of the Black Leaf Merchants, your information network is too slow. Haven’t you even heard the news from your younger brother?”

“What?”

At that moment, Damir recalled Ray and the words he had spoken before.

You were lucky. Or perhaps blessed by Kallios? Whatever it was, if not for those priests, neither the cargo nor you would have made it back here.

Yes.

Did you learn their names?

Yes. High Priest Mikel von Raiernov and Investigator Sanchez.

‘So the priest who helped Ray back then was Raiernov?’

Damir clutched his head in regret.

Mobin gave him one final reminder.

“Start by attending Church. I’ll keep track, and I’ll inform Investigator Sanchez too. If your attendance is consistent for about a month, he’ll summon you.”

Finishing, Mobin pulled a small envelope from his robes.

Inside was a chart for recording church attendance.