"What are you doing?"
My voice rung through the living room, causing Harley and the two other people to immediately raise their heads.
"O-our prayers were heard!"
The woman exclaimed, her eyes widening with excitement.
It took me a moment to recognize her, but I eventually remembered her face. Wasn’t she one of the people I’d rescued from the Neverending Staircase?
What was her name again?
Ah, right. Marilyn.
And the other man who had raised his head alongside her was David. He was also someone I’d helped escape from the staircase.
"L-Lord Moon! You heard our prayers?"
I stared at them without responding.
...What sort of absurd beliefs had these people developed about me?
"We didn’t know what kind of food my Lord would like, so we prepared all sorts of delicacies for you!"
Harley hurriedly explained, gesturing toward the elaborate arrangement behind him.
"Please, if there’s anything you like or dislike, just tell us! We’ll prepare it immediately, Lord Moon!"
I tried my best to keep the twitch in my eye from showing.
It seemed that spending years trapped in that place had done more than just wear these people down mentally.
Even after escaping, they’d apparently managed to find an entirely new way to torment themselves.
"How have you three been doing, Harley, Marilyn, and David?"
I forced myself to greet them as calmly and formally as possible.
"O-our Lord remembers us!"
"..."
I might have to do something about this.
After another round of excessively enthusiastic praise, the three finally began explaining what had happened to them over the past few days.
As it turned out, Harley had posted about his experiences online shortly after returning home.
He’d described the Neverending Staircase, recounted the circumstances of his rescue, and introduced the mysterious entity who had supposedly saved him from an eternity of imprisonment.
Naturally, he’d also mentioned my name.
More specifically, he’d referred to me as his Lord and Savior, Lord Moon, the Master of the Neverending Staircase.
...Why?
Why would you introduce me like that?
Don’t you realize how embarrassing that sounds?!
Unfortunately, the damage had already been done.
Marilyn and David had come across Harley’s post.
Having both experienced the same nightmare and been rescued by the same person, they had reached out to him and eventually decided to meet.
The three had gradually formed a connection through their shared experiences.
They understood the trauma of being trapped in that place in a way that ordinary people couldn’t, and they found comfort in knowing that someone else had endured the same suffering.
That part was understandable.
What wasn’t understandable was how their little support group had somehow turned into a religious gathering dedicated to me.
Apparently, they had started by simply sharing their experiences and expressing gratitude for their rescue. Then, as they continued discussing what had happened, their conversations gradually shifted toward praising the person who had freed them. New chapters come out on novelping(.)com first.
Before long, they had begun gathering at Harley’s home to offer prayers and sing praises in my name.
And judging by the elaborate altar in front of me, things had escalated considerably faster than I’d expected.
"..."
I really didn’t know what to say.
Still, the three of them seemed to have made some progress in adjusting to ordinary life.
According to their accounts, returning to society hadn’t been easy.
After spending so long inside the Neverending Staircase, they had grown accustomed to its strange rules and conditions. Even something as simple as eating had become an unfamiliar routine.
They’d spent so long without needing food that they would occasionally forget to eat altogether.
Their sleeping habits had also been disrupted, and the ordinary passage of time felt strangely unfamiliar to them.
Fortunately, they had gradually begun adjusting, and their shared experiences had given them something to hold on to during the process.
Unfortunately, it seemed that worshiping me had become another part of their recovery.
They’d been singing praises and offering prayers at Harley’s home for quite some time now.
Hold on.
I suddenly realized something.
’...Could this be why I’ve developed this strange desire to save everyone else in the staircase?’
A cold realization settled over me.
In the universe of [Arcana], worship wasn’t always a harmless expression of gratitude.
When directed toward an entity’s true name, it could produce actual supernatural effects.
One such effect was the gradual influence worshippers could exert over the entity’s personality.
The more their beliefs, emotions, and expectations became associated with a name, the greater the potential for those qualities to affect the being behind it.
And what had these three been doing?
They’d been worshiping me as their savior, praising my generosity and treating me as some kind of benevolent lord who would never abandon those in need.
No wonder I’d gradually developed this strange sense of guilt whenever I thought about leaving the other people in the Neverending Staircase behind.
Had their worship been influencing my personality all this time?
Fortunately, the feeling wasn’t particularly strong yet. I could still recognize it as something unusual and choose not to act on it.
Perhaps the influence was limited by the small number of worshippers, or perhaps it simply hadn’t had enough time to take root.
Regardless, the fact that it could happen at all was terrifying.
Seriously, what kind of twisted universe was this?
Even gratitude could become a supernatural mechanism capable of changing someone’s personality.
I needed to put a stop to this before it developed into something more serious.
But I couldn’t simply tell them to stop worshiping me altogether.
Apart from the fact that they’d probably refuse, I had a feeling that completely severing their worship might produce unpredictable consequences of its own.
More importantly, if there was a way to redirect their devotion into something harmless, I might even be able to benefit from it.
After all, if worship could influence my personality, then perhaps the way they worshiped me mattered just as much as the act itself.
With that in mind, I straightened my posture and adopted the composed expression I’d been using whenever I wanted to appear like a mysterious supernatural entity.
"When worshiping me, there are several rules and changes I would like to implement."
The three immediately nodded.
Marilyn even hurriedly retrieved a notebook, flipping to a fresh page with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for students taking notes during an important lecture.
"We will follow your teachings!"
"Every word of your wisdom will be recorded!"
...Please stop making this sound like the founding of a new religion.
I took a quiet breath before continuing.
"First, you are forbidden from offering prayers that describe me as a savior who must rescue everyone from suffering."
The three exchanged confused glances.
"Y-yes, Lord Moon. May I ask why?"
"Because I do not wish to be burdened by expectations that do not belong to me."
I answered without hesitation.
"Your gratitude is your own. Your beliefs are your own. You may acknowledge what I have done for you, but you must not turn that gratitude into an obligation for me to save everyone you encounter. I will decide my own actions, and you will not attempt to define my nature through your prayers."
The three nodded seriously as Marilyn began writing.
"Understood, Lord Moon!"
"Second, you are not to worship my true name directly."
This time, their expressions changed.
"Then... what should we call you, my Lord?"
Harley asked hesitantly.
"Use the title ’The Benefactor’ when conducting your gatherings. You may remember Moon as the name of the entity who rescued you, but your prayers and rituals must be directed toward the idea of gratitude itself, rather than my name."
I paused to make sure they were following.
"Do not invoke my name during your prayers. Do not attach your emotions to it, and do not attempt to define what I am through your beliefs."
Of course, I had no way of knowing whether these restrictions would completely prevent the influence of worship.
But if the effects depended on the connection between a true name and the beliefs attached to it, then weakening that connection seemed like a reasonable first step.
At the very least, it was worth trying.
"Third, your gatherings must focus on the lives you have regained. Instead of praising me, share your experiences, help one another adjust to society, and offer support to other people who have suffered similar circumstances."
I glanced at the altar.
"You may keep your offerings, but they should serve a practical purpose. Share the food among yourselves or donate it to people who need it. Flowers and other decorations are unnecessary."
I hesitated for a moment before adding one final instruction.
"And above all, never promise to obey my every command or sacrifice your own well-being for my sake. I have no desire for that sort of devotion."
That last part was particularly important.
If these people continued treating me as an absolute authority, then even without directly invoking my name, their beliefs might still shape the way they perceived me.
Worse, they could start making reckless decisions simply because they thought I wanted them to.
I had no intention of becoming responsible for a group of fanatics.
Harley, Marilyn, and David looked at one another before turning back toward me.
Then, almost simultaneously, they bowed their heads.
"We understand, Lord Moon!"
"..."
Well, at least they were cooperative.
"Now, there is something I would like you three to do for me..."