The Outer God Needs Warmth

The child is held in the air like a cat in someone’s hands.

It’s probably because the pain has drained all their strength.

“No, why are you asking that to Tory?”

Merryweather looks at me with a strange expression and asks. I glance around.

Fear, confusion, anger, and yet, a sense of frustration as if they can’t speak up, annoyance, boredom—many people are watching with expressions filled with various emotions.

“There’s only Victoria who would feel pity for the child here and be able to talk to me.”

The truth is, I’m forcing them to decide what to do with the child. I believe that if it were Victoria, who has a lot of sympathy, she wouldn’t leave the child’s arm severed like that.

The harvest must never be forced by my will. Of course, if I were famous, I’d ask if they had any wishes before pushing them into making the harvest choice, but there is no such pressure here.

So, when I made my first harvest in the Brightshin slums, it had to be forced.

“What if Tory tells you to leave it?”

Merryweather uses a mischievous tone. Still, they’re thinking of turning the child into a harvester, saying something like, "But the child wanted it."

But now, shouldn’t I be isolated?

They speak words that monsters would say.

“I won’t do anything.”@@novelbin@@

I don’t say that I won’t do it just because I don’t want to. If I want everything I say to be the truth, I have no choice but to speak carefully.

I turn my gaze from Merryweather, who’s looking at me with a curious expression, to Victoria. She’s not paying attention to the conversation but instead stopping the bleeding from the child’s hand using her abilities.