It wasn't until at least ten years after possessing the body that I realized I'd transmigrated into my favorite game.
Five years of desperately clawing for survival after waking up as Leo, a ten-year-old boy in the orphanage attached to a rural church.
I took on every menial chore the orphanage had. Naturally, I memorized prayers and hymns, picking up the church's rituals from mere scraps of food.
"Leo, your faith is exemplary. Have you ever thought about devoting yourself to the priesthood?"
"...Well..."
'Hell yeah, sign me up.'
By some stroke of luck, I caught the Orphanage Director Priest's eye and got offered the fancy title of Parish Priest. For an orphan with no backing, it was a lifeline I couldn't refuse.
And so, I became a priest through the back door—and scraped by for another five years.
That's when I learned the lifeline I'd grabbed was actually a noose.
"Leo, you're being assigned to the Erebos Royal Academy."
"What?"
Erebos Royal Academy.
The name sent cold sweat trickling down my back.
Memories from my past life flashed through my mind.
The game I loved, Throne of the Academy.
The main stage where heroes fought to prevent the world's destruction—that very game.
That's when it hit me. I wasn't in some ordinary fantasy world. I'd been inside a game all along.
'Hold on, if it's the Erebos Royal Academy...'
I knew that peaceful academy would soon turn into a den of conspiracies and betrayals.
Especially in the finale, where high demons poured out and slaughtered every student except the key characters.
"They mentioned the academy's running a confessional, but they lack a priest to man it. I pulled some strings with the headmaster and got you the spot, Leo."
Being sent to the academy felt like a death sentence.
I didn't want to go, but I had no choice.
"Father, but... I've never performed a confession before."
"Doesn't matter. It's just for show anyway. The students heading to the academy these days aren't exactly overflowing with faith."
"Do I really have to go? Honestly, I don't want to..."
"Then I'll excommunicate you."
In the end, I was shipped off to a rundown chapel in the corner of the Erebos Academy.
Life was grueling.
I might've been an academy priest on paper, but I was the lowest of the low. I instantly understood why no one wanted the post.
The pay was a pittance, and without a proper bed, I crashed on a rickety cot for fitful naps.
'Well, could be worse.'
If anything, this suited me fine.
The confessional was even more dilapidated and remote than I'd hoped.
A natural haven.
I'd live like a mouse in the walls.
Hole up tight and bide my time.
Lay low until the main story kicked off and the academy went to hell—then slip away when the chaos hit.
That was the plan.
'Who'd come to a forgotten dump like this anyway?'
—Clack, clack.
But someone did.
The sharp echo of heels on stone halted right outside the creaky confessional door.
The door groaned open, and a faint lily scent wafted through the partition.
Followed by the rustle of expensive silk. Making the sign of the cross, maybe.
Moments later, a refined voice emerged.
"I have sinned."
The confessional's first visitor in its history.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
It had been a stifling day.
Elise Aurora de Lua had played the perfect saintess again today.
Morning mass: enduring the congregation's admiring gazes with a manufactured smile. Academy classes: sitting ramrod straight, absorbing the instructors' words. Lunch: reciting pre-meal prayers with the faithful, appetite be damned.
By afternoon, she felt ready to collapse.
"Lady Elise, you're incredible. How can you be so noble?"
"At this rate, you'll receive the chalice from His Holiness right after graduation!"
"Of course! You're the only saintess candidate of our time!"
It was true.
Elise was the sole saintess candidate of the era.
The pinnacle of holy bloodlines, destined to lead dioceses and millions of faithful under the Pope himself.
Yet Elise could only force a smile at the cluster of students around her.
"I'm still lacking in many ways."
For Elise, whose every facade was a lie, that much was true.
"Lacking? If even you say that, what hope is there for us?"
"So humble!"
That day, every compliment felt like a thorn.
Her throat tightened.
The admiring stares, the expectant eyes from her academy peers—they felt like shackles. An irreverent thought, but...
"..."
Elise knew full well she wasn't fit to be a saintess.
'Fake saintess.'
That's how she judged herself.
Her divine power wasn't exceptional, nor did she possess a saintly heart. She was a candidate only thanks to her family's prestige and sheer luck.
So Elise crammed herself into the saintess mold by force.
Forced smiles.
Fragile gestures.
Pristine white vestments proclaiming her servitude to the divine.
From head to toe, nothing was truly hers.
It had to be that way.
"I-I should get going."
"Already?"
One classmate pouted, but another shook her head.
"The end-of-month evaluation's coming up. Even if first place is yours for the taking, you need time to prepare, Lady Elise."
"True. We'll be cheering for you!"
Elise returned their bright smiles with a strained one of her own.
To them, she wasn't a peer—she was like a painting in a gallery.
Dragging her weary body back to the dormitory, a maid handed her a letter.
"Lady Elise, a letter from home."
"..."
[To Elise. We await only news of your divine manifestation. Do not tarnish the family name or the Church's honor.]
The letter from her family was more ultimatum than missive.
"Hah."
Confirming no one was around, Elise let out a hollow laugh and slumped down.
She was cracking.
She understood that much—the mask she'd worn so long was fracturing.
Breathing felt impossible.
Elise bolted from the dormitory without direction. Anywhere without people.
She wandered aimlessly until she reached a secluded chapel. No deeper meaning—just the appeal of "sparsely visited."
Or maybe a sense of kinship with its isolation.
"Come to think of it... there was a place like this..."
She'd glimpsed the chapel in passing but never entered. Curiosity tugged her in.
—Creak.
Inside, the musty wood scent and thick dust felt oddly comforting.
Then, at the far end, shrouded in shadow: a small room.
"Confessional..."
For the sacrament of confession.
As if drawn by an invisible thread, Elise pulled open the door.
No signs of life within. Of course—abandoned for decades.
This was a space where no one would notice her.
And so.
Elise whispered cautiously.
"I... have sinned."
A wave of self-loathing hit her, and she shook her head.
'What am I even doing...'
Muttering to herself in an empty confessional.
Child's play seemed less childish.
As Elise turned to leave, something strange happened.
"...Sister... um, what sin have you committed?"
A reply came from beyond the partition.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
'Great, just what I needed.'
I sighed.
I'd planned to stay invisible, but barely days in, my first penitent shows up.
'How'd anyone even find this backwater spot?'
Still, as the assigned priest, I had to do the job.
Not that a fake priest like me knew the first thing about confessions.
Eh, like the Orphanage Director Priest said—probably just counseling.
Play along, nod sympathetically. Easy.
I cleared my throat and spoke carefully.
"Sister... um, what sin have you committed?"
The voice on the other side flinched at mine.
Silence hung.
Maybe she didn't hear? As I opened my mouth again, she cleared her throat and spoke.
"Sh-Should I just confess like this...?"
"Of course."
Odd question.
Didn't she come here to confess?
She hesitated, then began tentatively.
"I... um... I've deceived others."
"Deceived them?"
"Yes. There's... no light within me at all, yet I've fooled everyone into thinking I'm blessed with some great grace."
Her voice was textbook smooth, but it quivered faintly at the edges.
"Those with faith... pure souls seeking my blessing... I've thought they were a nuisance deep down..."
She went on confessing her sins.
Less a confession, more a lament.
"...So, to sum up, you feel like you're deceiving everyone by pretending to be perfect?"
"Yes..."
I tilted my head.
'Isn't that just normal?'
Basic human stuff.
Hardly a sin.
Especially since my modern life taught me exactly what to call this type.
'Severe burnout self-hater.'
Pressure to be perfect, guilt over betraying expectations—all gnawing at her.
"Sister, may I offer some advice?"
"Ad-Advice?"
I sensed her surprise beyond the screen.
I'm a sham priest.
No theology.
No confession rituals or forms.
But I knew what someone like her needed to hear.
"You seem too hard on yourself."
"Too hard...? But..."
"You don't need to be perfect. Try loving even your flaws."
If I'd known who she was...
"Obsessing over perfection can be unhealthy sometimes. What if you deliberately broke a rule now and then?"
...I never would've said crap like that.