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I Seem to Be the Oracle of Blessings – But I'm Being Held Captive — Part 5


But here’s the catch: the wish that’s granted isn’t necessarily what the recipient hopes for—it’s what I say aloud that becomes reality.

I’ve blessed countless people. I’ve performed the ritual of blessings over and over.

That’s why I’m 100% certain about this hypothesis.

“Still…”

I arrived at this conclusion a while ago, but I haven’t made any progress since.

Even if my theory is correct, it doesn’t change anything.

I don’t know the names of the snake-man or anyone else in this mansion. I can barely remember the names of the people I’ve blessed before, and even if I did, I don’t know if my blessings would still reach them.

According to the snake-man, blessings can’t achieve the impossible or affect someone’s life directly. Even if I tried to bless myself out of this place, it likely wouldn’t work. Everyone here is indebted to the snake-man for their blessings, so it’s plausible he could use them against me if push came to shove.

I have no intention of spending the rest of my life in this place.

I won’t give up until I find true peace—the kind where I can lie around in whatever clothes I want, cuddle with a cat, snack on sweets, and relax without being watched by anyone.

I love putting effort into avoiding trouble. It makes the peace that follows even sweeter.

…But I have no idea how to even begin.

“Someone, please tell me their name.”

The name of someone who can help me.

…Preferably someone completely opposite to the snake-man. I’m tired of that unhealthy villainous face.

I’d rather meet someone healthy, tall, muscular, generous, and masculine. Someone like that could rescue me.

I think one of my friends once said something like, “When you’re transported to another world, a reverse harem of handsome men is the norm.” I would absolutely hate the hassle of a reverse harem, but handsome men? Not bad. I actually like them.

Imagining an ideal man who doesn’t exist, I headed for the only privilege I’m allowed: a walk in the enclosed garden.

* * *

“Hill Montaner Conbaro. I pray that your successor will be your second son—”

As always, silver light poured from my right hand onto another burly man.

I’ve grown tired of the same reaction: astonishment followed by rapture. And yes, the snake-man’s breath was uncomfortably warm again today.

I halfheartedly watched the excited man chatter with the snake-man, who responded with satisfaction. Before waiting for the maids, I stepped into the garden.

Lately, the frequency of blessings seems to have increased. Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling so drained.

I try to move around to avoid feeling like mold is growing on me from staying in my room too long, but I might end up unable to stand from my chair at this rate.

“Being kept idle would be better than this…”

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