The Saint Wants to Rest - Chapter 1.2
“Crazy.”
That was the day Ian broke his promise to his brother for the first time. He had sworn that no matter how much his friends swore, he never would. But the situation left him no choice. The priests who served Regnasia, the Goddess of War and Love, explained the entire situation to him.
Kill the Demon King and save the world. They told him that if he just did that, he could go back. Ian trembled with rage at the sheer audacity of dragging an innocent person here to beg them to save the world, but he had no other choice.
Instead of denying reality, Ian chose to adapt quickly.
That was when he met that lunatic, Vermouth.
A tall man clad in silver-shining full-plate armor looked down at Ian, who was significantly shorter than him. Then, he removed his helmet, which was still stained with blood.
The face revealed beneath the helmet was spectacular. Strangely shimmering blonde hair, deep violet eyes, a perfectly shaped nose, and red lips. He looked like the physical personification of the word “beauty.”
“Greetings, Saint.”
Because he offered his greeting in such a gentle voice, Ian thought he was a sane man at first.
“I am Vermouth, the Captain of the Holy Knights serving the Goddess Regnasia.”
Vermouth’s violet eyes sparkled strangely as he looked at him. Ian hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but Vermouth later told him that it was the exact moment he fell in love for the first time in his life.
“Is it even possible to fall in love the moment you meet someone?”
When Ian asked in disbelief, Vermouth replied:
“Nothing in this world is impossible.”
A systematically insane bastard. From then on, Ian became the center of Vermouth’s world. What about the Goddess? That might have been a natural question to ask. But Vermouth was a rather unique case.
He was born into a world where gods existed and could use divine power, so he believed in the gods. However, his top priority wasn’t a god—it was the first person he ever loved. Namely, Choi Ian.
“Is that allowed?”
“The Goddess is merciful.”
To be precise, it looked less like she was “merciful” and more like she was scraping together every talented genius she could find and working them to the bone. Regardless, using that as an excuse, Vermouth stuck to Ian like glue and interfered in every single thing he did. His meddling grew even worse once he discovered that Ian’s ability involved restoring power through physical contact.
“You must not have even the slightest contact with any other bastards.”
“Why? That’s my ability.”
“If you touch someone else, I’ll have to kill that bastard. Wouldn’t that reduce the military force available to deal with the Demon King’s army?”
You could just NOT kill them! It was truly novel logic. Thanks to that, Ian didn’t have to push his body to the limit everywhere, but it didn’t mean he got to live a life of easy luxury.
“Please bestow your blessings only upon me.”
Because this guy had made himself the sole exception to the “no contact” rule.
“Would you like to start by locking lips?”
“Shut up, you crazy bastard.”
By this point, Ian was swearing freely. Sometimes he even gave Vermouth the middle finger. It would have been a cause for grief if his brother back in the original world had seen it, but he couldn’t endure it otherwise.
That was how broken the world of Regnasia was. Monsters attacked people constantly, and demons destroyed entire cities.
“If you dislike the lips, how about the cheek?”
Ian made a face like he was about to vomit and then kissed Vermouth on the cheek. Vermouth was a great beauty, and he did help Ian avoid overusing his abilities. But the reason Ian hated him so much was simple:
It was because Vermouth had torn apart another noble right in front of his eyes just for trying to harass Ian. Not metaphorically—he literally tore the man apart.
“Ueeeugh.”
Back then, Ian had vomited along with his tears. Of course, 90% of the people present at the time went through the same process as Ian. Only after that situation did Ian realize the cruelty of this other world and Vermouth’s extraordinary mental state.
“F*ck!”
“Swearing is not good, Ian.”
“From now on, if you’re going to tear people apart, do it where I can’t see!”
As he said that, Ian vigorously flipped him off.
“Hahaha.”
Vermouth laughed out loud, sounding refreshed.
“I notice you didn’t tell me not to do it.”
Even if he told him not to, it wasn’t like Vermouth would listen. That guy was so firm in his own convictions that he didn’t listen to a word anyone else said. Knowing that, Ian simply glared at him.
“I am willing to bend even my convictions for your sake, Ian.”
I don’t need it, you son of a bitch. Someone else might have fallen for Vermouth’s face and words, but not Ian. He was going back to his original world as soon as the Demon King was dead anyway. What did it matter how Vermouth acted?
Ian had no intention of reforming Vermouth.
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