Ch.142Report on the Downfall of Diligence (7)

# Kain and Maria delved into the crowds day and night. They moved among nobles and wealthy merchants, those worried about tomorrow and nighttime drinkers, listening to their stories.

People said the shelter was needed and was still running well. Yet rumors persisted.

In truth, it had been troubled from the beginning. While a wealthy city might welcome a grand temple, magnificent tower, or art museum, many were displeased about a shelter for the poor and weak being established.

Though Hans “the Diligent” himself guaranteed the shelter would become a symbol of the city, from the townspeople’s perspective, Hans was just an outsider.

Thus, the barely-established shelter attracted those no one wanted to take responsibility for—hopeless cases rejected even by their fellow back-alley dwellers and severely ill patients requiring extensive care.

Hans the Diligent, Brother Theodore, Sister Grace, and volunteers of unknown origin cared for them wholeheartedly. Then something inexplicable began to happen. The once-rough vagrants became as docile as lambs.

“Did they put some obedience drug in the food?”

As such suspicions spread, Hans opened the shelter to the public. He accepted volunteers and more patients, as if inviting people to see for themselves.

And people saw how these individuals had become so well-behaved.

The shelter divided vagrants into several groups, then assigned points. Following instructions earned bonus points; disobedience resulted in deductions. Bonus points increased by two or three at a time, but deductions were always just one point.

When people received good scores simply for staying quiet, they saw no reason to rebel. If someone in a group couldn’t break their habits and tried to resist, others would subdue them personally.

In reality, penalty points didn’t cause significant losses. The consequences were trivial—not getting honey-sweetened snacks or being pushed back in the meal line.

Yet people couldn’t bear these measures. They felt they were losing out right before their eyes.

The shelter’s rewards were all things that could be shown off to others, displayed externally. Even decorated patient uniforms were a type of reward.

Groups that received penalty points due to someone’s minor rebellion had to watch the “winners” eat honey snacks right in front of them, look enviously at those who finished meals earlier and rested freely, and direct their anger at the laggards within their group.

Eventually, when everyone became compliant, it became difficult to stand above others.

That’s when the shelter made a proposal: “If you make a small donation, we’ll give you more points.”

Since they couldn’t use a coin or two anywhere else anyway, the vagrants brought everything they had to the shelter.

The shelter publicized this widely: “Those who have been inspired are now giving what they have to help those in greater need.”

Kind but naive philanthropists took interest and looked at the once merely obedient vagrants with admiration. Receiving praise they’d never experienced before, these people felt proud that they too could do something good, and brought out even more of what they had hidden away.

But if they had much to begin with, would they have lived on the streets? When they had nothing left, the shelter made another proposal:

“If you do simple tasks for us, we’ll give you more points.”

People rushed to join the labor. Each was given work according to their situation—tasks that could be done sitting down for those who had difficulty moving, slightly more demanding work for those who could walk. Soon, working hours at the shelter exceeded rest hours.

Everyone watched the transformation with amazement. The perception that “the shelter is helpful” spread.

The vagrants themselves thought something was strange. The intensity and hours of work were no less than those of dock workers, but all they received was a meager meal and a honey cookie smaller than their palm.

“You don’t have to do it if it’s difficult,” Sister Grace replied expressionlessly. But they couldn’t refuse. In a situation where everyone was receiving bonus points, doing nothing was equivalent to voluntarily accepting penalty points. Those who did received only thin gruel without any solid food and worn-out clothes.

Even those who were once in the same situation became stratified. Those who could do more acted like shelter staff. For them, the shelter was their entire world. But those who slipped once could never be equal again.

“I’m not good enough even here.”

When the first person to think this left through the door, others followed. The shelter didn’t try to stop them. They had failed, and those who remained had won. There were sufficient grounds for pride.

That’s what the phrase “long-term shelter recipients are now working as volunteers” meant.

As long as they had food and clothing, they worked happily without receiving a penny. Here, they became new people. Here, they became respected humans. But without the shelter, they would be nothing.

Strange occurrences began from there. Newcomers were greatly influenced by the enthusiastic volunteers’ words. Coming from “people like themselves” rather than “those who have more,” the impact was greater.

The dropout rate gradually decreased, and soon the city was filled with people praising the shelter. From then on, nobles and merchants began actively making donations.

After the powerful understood Hans’s position in the Committee of Seven—that he was essentially the final decision-maker—even more money poured in.

The volunteers began receiving compensation for their labor. However, those who came in earlier received more “because they suffered longer,” while later groups received less. In exchange, they would receive more money when the next group arrived.

Therefore, volunteers dedicated themselves to turning even a single vagrant into a “person.” Since those in the same group received the same amount of money, to earn more, they needed to bring in another group.

This was the moment when volunteers truly became servants in the genuine sense. They devoted their bodies, hearts, money, and time entirely to the shelter. They voluntarily formed groups and worked for improvements.

Even those whose hearts wavered forgot about leaving after attending various meetings. With so many people to meet and so much to do, the volunteers gradually cut ties with the outside world.

The shelter thus became like an isolated island within the city.

* * * * *

A few days later, contact came from Brother Theodore. The meeting place was the city hall office. It came with an explanation that since the matter was very important, they would hear it together with Representative Hans.

“That’s strange wording. He’s acting as if he’s Hans’s manager. Is a favored tutor usually this presumptuous?”

Maria tilted her head, clearly displeased. Even to Kain, the monk’s response seemed quite rude. This was also why opinions about Theodore himself were divided.

“Maybe he’s become somewhat rude from being the subject of so much gossip? I’ve heard quite a bit myself.”

Maria agreed with Kain’s retort. She too had heard various stories about Brother Theodore.

Due to his bold actions matching his rough speech, gossip about Brother Theodore never ceased. Some viewed him favorably, saying, “When you’re on the front lines, you hear both good and bad things,” while others, particularly women, complained, “What kind of monk meets so many women?”

Kain wondered if there was an issue with Theodore’s morality, but Maria had a slightly different opinion.

“What they really mean is, ‘Why do you keep meeting other women instead of just me?'”

“Are you saying they see the monk as a romantic prospect?”

At Kain’s question, Maria sighed deeply.

“No, that’s not it. If rumors spread that someone powerful like Brother Theodore ‘only meets with that one woman and no one else,’ how much would her status rise? But instead, he meets with everyone, which is frustrating. It’s that feeling of not wanting something yourself but not wanting others to have it either.”

“Power, then.” Kain understood immediately.

Meanwhile, there were also those who viewed Brother Theodore and his supporters unfavorably.

“Yes, they’re doing good work, but he’s not God or the Prophet of Life and Death himself. Yet his followers would die at his command. If you point out problems, they swarm like bees, making a huge fuss.”

That’s how the pot-bellied professor had complained at some ball or fundraiser Kain had attended in proper attire.

“Has the monk done anything wrong specifically?”

“Well. You’ve probably heard the lewd rumors. But those are just excuses to bring him down. The real reason is that he has Hans the Representative wrapped around his finger. In truth, it would be more accurate to say the Representative depends on him a lot, but to people, it looks like the monk is riding on Hans’s coattails.”

Kain poured another drink for the professor and probed subtly.

“Are you perhaps also interested in the role of tutor, Professor?”

“Oh, not me.” Though he said this, the professor’s face was full of amusement.

“It’s not me, but others who think that way. And both others and Brother Theodore should exercise self-restraint. The monk is certainly educated, but he doesn’t know everything in the world, right? Everyone has their own area of expertise, but he, well…”

It seemed the professor himself wanted to take on the role of tutor or become one of Hans’s advisors. He wasn’t the only one. But when they saw no opening, they changed their strategy.

Whether from the thought, “If I can’t do it, you shouldn’t either,” or truly from concern about the monk’s growing influence remained unclear.

“There are too many slanderous forces,” Theodore’s supporters would lament.

“If they were in his position, they’d commit all sorts of atrocities. It’s because someone like Brother Theodore is there that such vast sums of money and influence are used for good. What would happen if people with wealth, family, and greed took that position?”

To the noble ladies raising their voices, Maria quietly asked:

“I’ve heard he’s too demanding about donations?”

“He never said that. He said, ‘Send the money you would excessively eat, drink, and enjoy with to your neighbors. Loving your neighbor is loving yourself. Using what you have wisely is much harder than acquiring more of what you don’t have.’ That’s what he said.”

As Maria still seemed doubtful, the noblewoman explained more seriously:

“And it’s not like the donations are going somewhere else entirely. They circulate within this city and nearby villages. In the end, doesn’t it all come back to benefit us?”

“I heard he even asked for money meant for taxes. What about that?”

“He never said that! He only said, ‘Don’t think about what you give to the earth, but what you give to heaven. Just as what you give to the earth is enjoyed on earth, what you give to heaven will be enjoyed in heaven.’ That’s all he said. Whether to pay taxes or not is obviously something one should decide for oneself, isn’t it?”

“So investing in the shelter is ‘giving to heaven,’ is that it?”

“Well, you could give to the church too, but…” At this point, the noblewoman lowered her voice dramatically and gestured for Maria to bring her ear closer.

“That would really be like pouring water into a wasteland. If this city weren’t trading with foreign countries, this land would belong to Elector Bohemond I.

But this is now an imperial direct city, isn’t it? If we pay taxes, they’ll go to the Emperor, and offerings will go to the church, which means the wealth of this Kingdom of Taranto is flowing elsewhere, doesn’t it?”

‘Of course the nobles here would side with the Elector rather than the Emperor.’ Maria nodded bitterly.

They shared the information they had collected and discussed it for a long time.

Generally, the “Imperialists” from the capital or elsewhere didn’t view the monk favorably. However, the “Elector” faction and the “Church” faction, who could be considered locals, seemed to embrace the monk while still keeping him in check.

“It’s the Eastern Kingdom way. There, each interest group elects a leader, and that leader participates in a grand council to take part in city governance.”

At Kain’s explanation, Maria frowned.

“Is it as messy there as it is here?”

“Here there are only two factions. There, it’s a complete masquerade. Each person belongs to two or three groups, so it’s really difficult to know where their true loyalty lies.”

Kain rubbed between his eyebrows. The more information they gathered, the harder it became to understand Theodore. People described him in extremely different ways depending on their own interests. Perhaps the only consistent description was that “Theodore himself doesn’t have many allies.”

In contrast, Hans the Diligent was truly beyond reproach. A caring husband and good father who exercised, worked, studied, and returned home regularly. A diligent person who attended services on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. In terms of presence, he was even less noticeable than Theodore.

It was a perplexing situation. According to the interrogation of the Black Phoenix priest at St. Georgios Monastery, Hans the Diligent had been preparing the Black Phoenix Faith since defeating the Demon King.

This meant he had been a heretic from before. And seeing that the Black Phoenix Faith was still thriving, Hans must have been nurturing them for a very long time or at least running a small community.

Yet from the current situation, it seemed Hans had no intention of making it big in this city. He was even selective about whom he met.

It was unclear whether this was because, as a former con artist, he wanted to show he had reformed due to the burden of his past, or whether he was clearing away potential obstacles to his suspicious activities.

“Hans is either much more capable than we think, or much stupider. One of the two,” Kain concluded.

“Theodore is drawing all the attention, so there’s practically no information about Hans himself. I don’t understand how such a person could be connected to outsiders, or rather, heretics. Maria, do you have any thoughts?”

After pondering deeply, Maria twirled her finger in the air.

“That shelter.”

“Yes?”

“It’s strange. It’s different from what you’d see in a typical zealously run facility.”

“How is it different?”

At Kain’s question, Maria hesitated to answer. She seemed to find it difficult to express.

“Well. Zeal and blind faith are similar but very different. There’s an invisible river, and once you cross it, you can’t come back. When people become blindly devoted, their vision becomes incredibly narrow. To the point where they can’t see anything else. And that’s what the shelter volunteers seem like now.

This isn’t the only shelter run by the church. There are definitely people more zealous than the volunteers here. But those people have other values they consider important in life. Family. Good deeds. Wealth. But the people here, the shelter itself seems like their life’s goal. If…”

Maria concluded with a worried tone.

“Such a blindly devoted group, if someone pushes them, they could roll into an unexpected, strange place.”

“Are you saying the shelter is heretical?”

“Not yet. There’s no sign of that. But from what I’ve seen, it looks quite dangerous. If pushed, the acceleration will become uncontrollable. Based on my experience with inquisitions and what I know, it’s not normal.”