[BL] Accidentally Becoming the Healer of the Deranged Archduke Chapter 415: Father Michael’s POV

Michael rembered very little about his childhood. Though he did recall staring at the floating clouds out of the window as his father preached about the goddess and her faithful servants.

A holy servant. Him.

Why didn’t he like his parents? He wasn’t sure.

In the family portrait of three, the others’ faces had been burned away — only his own remained intact.

This was one of his favorites, actually.

Even now, whenever he passed through the halls, he always paused to glance at those charred faces.

They died when he was quite young, or rather, it was the orders from the royal that forced the couple onto the battlefield.

His father was one of the best mana users, and his mother was a guild master.

But the thing was, when he saw their corpses wrapped in the coffins, there was no grief or hatred in his heart.

Even when Darius Rael Dakhelm marched at the front wearing a crown of victory, Michael didn’t feel happiness.

He simply couldn’t understand why these people were shouting and crying with joy.

Was it not their own king who started the war? Was the war not the monster that took all those innocent people away?

So, why? Why were these people not getting angry at his majesty and instead saying ’Long live the king’?

He had watched the entire march with no confusion in his silver grey eyes.

People would co to him to offer condolences, but he could only blink at them.

Since then, he had regarded life as the beginning of the end.

It was sothing epheral, so fleeting, so weak, and yet full of miracles.

Life was a wonderful tragedy.

And the more he grew up, the better he understood just how tragic these humans truly were.

"Father Michael, please help ."

"Father, save from the path of damnation! I beg you."

People looked at him with spellbound eyes, with endless wonder. They saw him as a God.

In a sense, it was the truth.

Because being God ant one would have to look at everyone with the sa eyes. There was no one bigger than the other, no richer than the other.

He, Michael, saw them in the sa light.

Sinners. Wretched, horrid sinners. That was what they were, and that was what they would always be.

The world was dirty, and it needed a savior.

But that saviour wasn’t him.

He despised humankind. They were made of rotten flesh and brittle bones. Truly, utterly worthless

He could only see them as vessels of filth in need of salvation.

That was his mission. To bring salvation to the ones who truly wanted it, who would beg for it. He would continue to do so until a real saviour would appear.

Michael was glad that he had a purpose. After all, he didn’t want to drift into a world like so feather without any anchor.

That would be lonely.

"Oh, mother," he would call softly to the grave of his mother. "You are dead, and I am still here. I am alive and I..."

The paladins would always leave him alone when he was talking to his mother, thinking that he was still mourning.

Only if they could see the tilt of his lips, the gleam in his eyes.

"You are a monster! Why don’t you even flinch!"

His mother would yell at him. Not that he could fault her.

Anyone would be terrified when they looked at their kid standing in the midst of a butchered corpse.

Michael had rely smiled back then. "I was learning how the insides of humans work, Mother. I have learned many things."

His smile was very similar to the one he had on his face right now as he gazed at the portrait of Xion.

It had started a year ago, when the snippets of mories started coming back to him.

Of him, of war, of the little angel who ventured too deep into the human world.

That angel was the one he had been looking for all his life.

Xion was the change this world needed. He was the light that would illuminate this filthy world.

Xion was his oracle.

At first, he thought these were just his imagination.

Yet he had gone to Marquis Roberto Vaelis’s estate. There was nothing wrong with checking it, right? And if all of his thoughts were true, would it not be wonderful to directly kill the Archduke?

He had easily slipped the little poison into Darius’ cup without getting noticed, but the little angel was nowhere in sight.

Michael laughed at himself.

No one as perfect as Xion could exist until he really saw him, burying sothing in the broken graveyard.

"Minato Sensei..." The boy had muttered with a silent sob.

Ethereal, Michael thought, just like how he had seen in his dreams.

Suddenly, a new mory crashed into his mind. The one where he had taken Xion under his shelter in his past life.

At that ti, the sweet angel had knelt in front of the altar.

"Dear mother," Xion had said, "I confess that I did not obey what you asked to. But..."

Michael had stepped in front of Xion, tilting his face so those shimring eyes were locked onto him.

"You are struggling, Xion. You just have to be honest when you beg or when you confess."

"Ah? Do I have to say everything?"

The angel looked baffled, confused as those words slipped past his lips.

Xion was beautiful. So achingly lovely that Michael found those wide eyes more enchanting with every passing second."

This was the one he had been waiting for all his life. He had been yearning for Xion fervently, impatiently.

"You don’t seem to be used to this," Michael sighed as he guided Xion to kneel on the ground properly. "Is there sothing particularly troubling you?"

"I... I don’t know." Xion replied, his long lashes lowered.

Michael could read human beings exceptionally well. From the way their eyes narrowed, the way their lips parted, or how their eyes flicked to the side.

Xion was trembling, or rather, the little angel was trying to co up with sothing to cover up his real intentions. His will to find that one silver-haired elf.

An adorable fool.

The mory ended there, and when Michael looked around, the adorable fool was no longer in the graveyard.

Only darkness crept closer as his numb legs carried him on.