Chapter 96

EP.96 I Am Not a Saint

The saint was singing.

The saint was singing.

The heretic's voice, praising the Lord instead of the earth goddess she once believed in, echoed like shattered glass, breaking through the stained glass windows.

The false believer's voice, filled with a gloomy confession that recalled the past, was seeking forgiveness and advice from those who listened.

It was as if she was under a spotlight that shouldn't exist, and everyone around her was captivated, paying attention to her.

Her lewd body, which was completely out of place in this noble scene of atonement, drew the gaze.

The loose-fitting white cloth, which could be described more accurately as just a piece of white fabric draped over her, failed to conceal the curves of her body.

Tears began to flow from her eyes, which shimmered like lapis lazuli, drop by drop.

This stream of tears, like a wave of sorrow, stirred the hearts of those who watched.

If I had to define it in one word, it would be just that.

The saint was singing.

No, I can't sum it up in one word.

One more.

The singing saint was beautiful.

I had definitely seen this scene before.

Not just at some point in the past.

It was just a moment ago, during the game match.

Although the lyrics and melody were different, the saint had clearly sung in the same posture and with the same tone just a moment ago.

It was a song of courage for the allies on the battlefield.

But what I was witnessing now was not directed at anyone else.

This was a real event.

Therefore, this song felt as if it was for the saint herself.

The saint, who was shedding tears, soon dissolved like an illusion and disappeared.

Just before she finished her song, the screen turned black, not illuminating the saint, the people murmuring at her, or the interior of the church, or anything in the world.

“...”

The platform I was broadcasting on had a feature called video donations.

It was similar to how voice messages from donors are displayed during broadcasts.

Instead of voice messages, a pre-set video would play in a corner of my broadcast.

A video donation, or "vidon" for short, had just played and then disappeared.

...The saint, no, the video of me singing in the orphanage church had reappeared in my broadcast.

The situation unfolded like this.

No, when was it filmed...

I was a bit hesitant to look at the chat window.

Even though Rainbow Tales supports realistic graphics, there was a clear difference between the game and reality.

Therefore, no one would think that the background of the video that just appeared was from the game.

How would they react to seeing the saint in reality?

I could almost predict it.

It was something I couldn't ignore for the rest of my life.

With determination, I opened my tightly closed eyes.

[Wow, look at those!]

[Her chest is so big!]

[How can her chest and hips be so noticeable even in such loose clothing?]

[They're not just chests, they're breasts.]

[Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts!]

[What... the... hell... is... this...?]

[Actually, the real lowbrow ones are the comments, not the saint's breasts.]

[I love lowbrow sexual harassment, baby.]

“...”

Sigh.

Of course.

But this wasn't what I was truly hesitant about.

Sexual harassment, which I had already become accustomed to, was now part of my daily life.

What mattered was what came next.

I was as anxious as a child about to be punished, hugging my shoulders and tapping my skin with my index finger.

The chat window, which was quiet like the night before a storm,

erupted in a way that could only be described as an explosion.

[But it really is the saint, isn't it?]

[The real saint has appeared!]

[She's even prettier than in the game, especially her breasts.]

[What's so special about pretty breasts? Haha.]

[Just wanted to talk about her breasts...]

[Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts!]

[These guys are really into the合成视频啊。]

[If this is a合成, I'll cut my hand off.]

[There's no sense of unreality at all. What合成? Haha.]

[If it's a合成, who sang the song? Haha.]

[Ah, it's a合成 of someone singing with the saint's face. Haha.]

[Ah, anyway, it's a合成. Haha. There's no way such a woman exists in reality. Haha.]

[Stop crying and talk, baby.]

[Just thinking about such a beautiful person existing in reality makes me feel so deprived. I'm not saying this out of self-pity. Haha.]

[What the hell is this?]

[This is serious. Do you guys think this when you see celebrities?]

[That's why I haven't watched TV in a long time. Haha.]

[A bit too much, huh? Haha.]

『The moderator, who actually thinks the saint is real, has donated 10,000 won!

Next evidence.』

After the voice message, another video donation appeared.

It was a record from the past.

A video of my past broadcasts.

In the video, a donation message was echoing.

The question was about what the moderator thought of their own face.

In the past, I had manipulated the saint's face in the waiting screen to show it in detail,

"Just, this much...?"

That was my answer.

Everyone in the chat window of the video was shaking their heads in disbelief.

No one believed it.

But the chat window now had a different meaning.

After seeing the video of the saint singing in the church, the words sounded different.

The doubt that the saint's face was not just a face but the real saint's face was evident.

『The moderator, who actually thinks the saint is real, has donated 10,000 won!

I will conclude the moderator's saint theory here. Thank you for watching.』

[Good job.]

[Now that I think about it, you did say something like that before. Haha.]

[Even so, the leap is too big, isn't it? Haha.]

[The real-life saint is just a woman, and the moderator is the moderator, right?]

[Then it's just a really coincidental overlap, right? Haha. That doesn't make sense.]

[The term "real-life saint" is creepy, haha.]

[The moderator is a saint in real life, huh? Haha.]

[Who customizes their game character to look like themselves? Haha.]

[Really, haha.]

[Stop overreacting, haha.]

[※Info: The moderator customized the game character's voice with their own voice.]

[What?]

[What?]

[What?]

[Then the face too?]

[※Info: The original posting date of the first piece of evidence, the subway saint photo, exactly overlaps with the moderator's break.]

[How do you know that? Haha.]

[How would the person who posted it know if they took the photo and posted it the same day or a few days later?]

[But...]

["Circumstantial evidence."]

[The suspicion keeps piling up, haha.]

“...”

While preparing for the next game, people were enthusiastic about the person claiming the saint theory.

The preparation was thorough.

I had nothing to say.

After all, I hadn't denied having the same body as the saint just a moment ago.

I had no intention of changing my stance like turning over my hand.

Besides, there was no decisive evidence that the real-life me and the me broadcasting now were the same person.

Therefore, I denied being the saint again.

"That's not me."

I am not a saint.

Then the viewers started to react in various ways.

Some continued to question, while others seemed relieved.

[You're lying.]

[Sigh.]

[That person isn't the moderator?]

[If that's true, what can we do?]

[It didn't make sense from the start, haha.]

[Hmm.]

Those were the kinds of reactions.

The people who questioned seemed genuinely disappointed,

which made me feel a bit guilty.

Sorry. I'll tell you properly someday.

For now, let's just go with the lie.

Whether they understood my feelings or not, they were thoroughly annoyed,

and started typing furiously in the chat.

[Disappointed...]

[Why are you disappointed? Haha.]

[I'm so depressed, I want to touch the real-life saint's breasts.]

[What does "touch" mean? Haha.]

[Isn't it better that the moderator isn't the real-life saint?]

[Why?]

[You can sexually harass the real-life saint, right?]

[??]

[It's fine because you're not talking to the moderator! You can sexually harass!]

[What?]

[Breasts! I want to rub the real-life saint's breasts so much!]

[I want to touch her big, fatty breasts and make them jiggle!]

[I want to grab her jiggling breasts and make them even bigger!]

[Ah, baby.]

[Give me milk!]

[Squeeze! I want to squeeze her breasts so much!]

[The milk will flow out, baby!]

The chat window, filled with harassment, became increasingly intense,

making it impossible to continue the broadcast.

Unable