Chapter 30: Habitual Worship (1)

After leaving the safe house, we walked silently through the dark streets.

ST, keeping pace beside me, was the first to break the silence.

“First, let me share the information I’ve gathered.

The Sicarios have provided us with Ricardo’s hidden cash stashes, the list of businesses he ran, and the locations where the drugs were stored.”

“Good.”

I gave a brief response, lost in thought for a moment.

“First, let’s dispose of the drugs entirely. We can’t let them circulate on the streets again.”

“Understood.”

“And… the money…”

I paused, considering the enormous sum of dirty money amassed through criminal activity.

If I secretly kept it, no one would complain.

It could help me survive in this world or find a way back home.

But then, memories of the alley on 12th Street flashed through my mind—the drug-addicted souls who had lost everything, the abandoned child crying on the sidewalk.

That money was soaked in their blood and tears.

Taking it felt wrong.

If I found cash lying on the street back in the real world, I might pick it up without thinking.

But if I knew it came from a poor, elderly person who accidentally dropped it while worrying about their next meal, could I really keep it with a clear conscience?

‘That’s exactly how I feel now.’

After a long internal struggle, I made my decision.

“We’ll find a way to return Ricardo’s money to the people of this neighborhood.”

ST gave a slight nod, then reported calmly.

“We’ve also dealt with the remaining members of the Family. Based on the intercepted communications, it seems the higher cartel, Los Jaguares, has no intention of intervening in this matter.”

“That’s a relief.”

I let out a sigh. At least the most immediate threat had been neutralized.

Though there were still plenty of drug addicts on the streets, at least their numbers wouldn’t increase.

Cutting off the supply was a harsh but necessary solution.

Without more drugs coming in, the problem might gradually resolve itself.

Of course, the most direct solution would be to use my power to heal them.

But treating every addict in this sprawling slum was unrealistic and incredibly risky.

I couldn’t mistake myself for some kind of angel who could save everyone’s suffering.

I was just someone trying to survive and find a way home.

“……”

Even so, I couldn’t shake the sense of guilt gnawing at me.

I shook my head to dispel those thoughts.

‘Focus on what I can actually do.’

Most of the critical problems were resolved, but…

“There’s still one major issue left.”

ST looked at me directly.

“As you may have guessed, too many people now know about the ‘miracle’.”

She was right.

The number of people aware of my power had grown to dozens.

Even if none of them intended to betray me, it was no longer a matter of trust.

Sooner or later, the secret would inevitably come out.

ST shared the same conclusion.

“The existence of a miracle is bound to be revealed. It’s only a matter of time.”

I nodded solemnly. I had been prepared for this.

I knew the risks but acted anyway because I couldn’t ignore those in need.

Now, it was time to face the consequences of that choice.

“…We can’t continue as we have been.”

What had happened couldn’t be undone.

Now, I had to think about how to protect myself.

If powerful groups, like corporations, targeted me seriously, even with the help of the Sicarios I’d saved, it wouldn’t be enough.

Our strength couldn’t compare—like a local militia against a full military division.

Even if it was inevitable that the miracle would be exposed, delaying the news from reaching the major powers was crucial.

I needed to secure some means of protection during that grace period.

‘But how?’

As I pondered, ST spoke up.

“There is one way.”

“…?”

“Thanks to the Ricardo Family wiping out the surrounding gangs, this entire area is essentially a power vacuum. If we take control of this neighborhood, it would greatly aid in protecting you.”

“Take control of the area?”

“Most of the corporations we’re concerned about are based in the city center. This place, however, is the outskirts. Corporations, despite their overwhelming capital and force, pay little attention to slum areas. Their influence here is low.”

She gestured around at the decaying, shabby landscape, a stark contrast to the towering skyscrapers of the city center.

Just as she said, this was a poor, neglected neighborhood, largely untouched by corporate influence.

“Even if external forces are powerful, they can’t operate effectively without local cooperation. If the residents start supporting a local faction, it makes it much harder for outsiders to intervene. We might not be able to fight them directly, but we would at least have a warning and a chance to escape.”

Her logic was sound.

She didn’t explicitly mention it, but there were plenty of historical examples from my world—Vietnamese guerrillas against the U.S. military, Middle Eastern militias resisting superpowers, and even South American cartels overpowering local governments.

All these groups maintained control by securing the loyalty of local communities, making it hard for foreign forces to root them out.

That’s what ST aimed to replicate.

But I had one concern.

“To gain that kind of control, we would need to be local or at least spend years building a presence. Technically, we’re outsiders here, aren’t we?”

ST looked at me with a faint smile and answered confidently.

“To those in desperate need, a savior is never considered an outsider.”

=======================================

“Let’s set our objectives,”

ST said, raising her fingers one by one as she explained.

“First, we need to establish a trustworthy group that can safely keep the secret of your ability—your ‘miracle’—from external threats.
Second, we must secure actual control over the surrounding area, using that group as our base.
Third, we need to gain public support by contributing to the local community through public works and beneficial projects.
And finally…”

She clenched her hand into a tight fist after counting three fingers.

“We must gather members who act out of voluntary will rather than financial incentives. Since we might end up opposing corporate forces wielding overwhelming capital, we need loyalty driven by purpose rather than money.”

For a moment, I was speechless.

“That sounds… really difficult.”

It was an ambitious plan—maintaining secrecy, gaining territorial control, securing public favor, and acquiring devoted followers.

Listening to her list these goals made my head spin.

And after all, this was Omega Detroit—a city where everything was measured and exchanged with money.

But ST’s idea was to create a group that didn’t move according to the logic of capital—a stark contrast to the way the city operated.

“Is it even possible to build such a group in this city?” I asked skeptically.

ST gave me a subtle glance, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“You already know a prime example of such a group, Eve.”

“Huh?”

I could only respond with a puzzled look.

===================

A few days later, we found ourselves facing a young girl.

She was still sitting in her wheelchair, but her complexion was noticeably healthier than when we first met.

And her gaze—still so intensely focused that it was almost overwhelming.

“I always believed… this day would come. Eve.”

Yoanna spoke with a breathless excitement, her emerald eyes shining with fervor.

Her face was flushed, as if she were standing before a long-awaited miracle.

“…….”

To be honest, it was a bit overwhelming.

But I had to admit—there was no one more suited to this task than her.

According to Joseph, Yoanna had handled most of the cleanup after the One Heart Association incident.

Having grown up within the church, she knew better than anyone how religious organizations operated and their internal workings.

In fact, she was already preparing to establish a new church in her own way, and even had a small group of “prepared believers” ready to follow her.

In a sense, she was the best—if not the only—expert we could turn to.

Honestly, back in my original world, I was practically an atheist.

I didn’t know the first thing about running a religious group or managing believers.

ST, despite her combat prowess, was equally clueless about this domain.

So it was only natural that we sought Yoanna’s help.

‘But…’

I couldn’t shake off the unease.

Yoanna sat there quietly, smiling, but on closer inspection, I noticed subtle signs of tension.

Her fingers twitched restlessly, and despite her calm demeanor, her shoulders occasionally jerked as if suppressing excitement.

It was as if she were a child struggling to contain her excitement—or a puppy wagging its tail at the sight of a treat.

Or perhaps… a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

‘Is this really okay…?’

I swallowed hard.

I still wasn’t entirely convinced.

But since we had come this far, there wasn’t much choice left.

Now, I just had to… trust her.

‘It’ll be… fine, right…?’