Chapter 15 _ The Filth of the Cathedral, or the Tears of a Girl
I woke early and finished the meal the innkeeper had prepared for me.
Frey still seemed to be asleep.
…I should leave her. No—better to let her rest.
As I walked toward the black market,
a familiar blonde shimmered in the morning light.
Iris.
Her hair really was beautiful…
and today, just like always, she was cute.
I quickened my pace and caught up to her.
“Morning, Iris. Are you heading to the Adventurers’ Guild?
I’m going to the black market to look for work—mind if I walk with you?”
“Do whatever you want,” she replied flatly.
“But don’t come any closer. You’re creepy.”
The blue-eyed girl cut down my faint hope without mercy.
“…O-okay.”
“Oh—right. I heard something,” I added quickly.
“They say you’re a master-class mage. That’s amazing.”
I meant it as pure praise.
But Iris’s expression twisted—
into something close to despairing anger.
“…Is that sarcasm?” she snapped.
“If you have something to say, then say it!!!”
“W-what?”
Tears welled up in her large eyes.
Then she turned her trembling back to me and ran off.
(…Did I step on some kind of landmine?)
Asking myself that question again and again,
I headed alone toward the black market.
Upon arrival, I went straight to the desk of a man who handled job requests.
“Hm? You’re the one who finished that job for Lady Frey, right?”
He wasn’t the same man as before,
but apparently word had spread that I’d cleared a long-standing request.
“Excuse me. Do you have any work available?”
“Well… let’s see.”
He showed me several lists written on parchment.
Just like last time, most paid only 10 to 20 Fanann,
with the best barely reaching 30.
That made sense.
An inn cost 80 Fanann per night—
about the equivalent of an ¥8,000 daily wage back in Japan.
Any well-paying job here would mean getting your hands dirty—
in one way or another.
Still, I asked.
“Um… is there anything that pays better?
Ideally around 100 Fanann a day?”
“Impossible,” he replied bluntly.
“You’re still a beginner. There’s very little I can trust you with.”
He paused, thinking.
“…Wait. There might be something.
A job helping a night-soil collector.”
With that, he disappeared into the back.
About five minutes later, he returned with another parchment.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.
This is a job assisting a waste collector. 120 Fanann for one day.
You in?”
I nodded quietly.
After handling corpses, I thought I’d built up some resistance.
I believed I could handle anything.
“Go to Saint Merier Monastery.
A man named Arabes should be starting work there.”
“Show him this request form—he’ll know why you’re there.”
“The monastery is the red-roofed building next to the grand cathedral
of the Inanna Holy Church.”
He pointed toward a massive white church.
I headed out immediately.
After about thirty minutes of walking,
I spotted the red-roofed building beside the cathedral.
A thin man in his fifties stood there—
with a shovel, a large spade, a wooden bucket tied to a rope,
and a handcart carrying a massive tub
about two meters wide and one meter deep.
“Excuse me—are you Arabes?”
The moment I stepped closer,
a violent stench hit me.
There was no doubt. It came from him.
Brown stains clung to the shovel, the spade, the bucket,
and the tub on the handcart.
At that moment,
I finally understood what “waste collector” really meant.
I showed him the request form.
He glanced at it once and said only:
“Follow me.”
Inside the monastery,
Arabes efficiently tied a lifeline to a pillar.
He secured his shovel and spade to his body,
then vanished into a vertical pit—the latrine shaft.
His voice echoed up from below.
“Hold the rope and lower the bucket.”
I did as told.
“Faster! We’ll never finish like that!”
Panicking, I worked more quickly.
Soon, his voice came again.
“Pull it up. Dump it into the tub.”
The bucket was heavy—
close to twenty kilograms.
I hauled it up with all my strength.
As expected, it was filled to the brim with human waste.
The stench was overwhelming.
Gagging, I transferred the contents into the tub
and lowered the bucket again.
As the work continued,
a strange sensation took hold of me.
Back when I was a shut-in,
I’d lived in a clean world maintained by others.
But now,
I was removing this city’s filth with my own hands—
along with the ache in my muscles.
(So this is… what it means to work.)
Once I understood the depth of the pit,
the process sped up.
When the tub was finally full,
Arabes climbed back up.
Half his body was covered in filth.
Amid the overwhelming stench, he said calmly:
“Alright. Let’s haul it.”
We pushed the cart to the outskirts of town.
“Dump it here,” he said, handing me a shovel.
Together, we emptied the waste into the grass.
The ground was already soaked with it.
And yet—
surprisingly, the smell wasn’t that strong.
The microorganisms were probably breaking it down.
When everything was finished, Arabes said:
“This way.”
We walked a bit farther until we reached a small stream.
Without hesitation, he stepped in fully clothed
and began washing himself.
I followed suit.
I hadn’t been able to wash my clothes since arriving in this world.
This was perfect timing.
Borrowing detergent from Arabes,
I thoroughly scrubbed my clothes and underwear by hand.
When we were done, he signed the request form.
“Good work.
We clean the monastery and cathedral every two days.
You coming back the day after tomorrow?”
“I’ll pay 200 Fanann next time.
No need to go through the black market.”
With 200 Fanann every two days,
I wouldn’t go hungry.
I accepted immediately.
By the time I headed back to collect my pay,
evening had fallen.
As I passed the Adventurers’ Guild,
I saw Iris emerging from inside.
She was looking down.
Something shimmered on her cheek.
“Iris! What’s wrong?”
She wiped it away quickly
and ran off again—just like that morning.
“Iris… what’s going on with you?”
She had always seemed so strong.
So beautiful. So perfect.
Yet now—
even after doing the filthiest job in the city—
my back felt sturdier than hers.
As I stood there,
the faint scent of the stream clinging to my freshly washed clothes,
I kept staring into the darkness
where she had disappeared.
