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The following year.

Park Yoo-jin and Shin Mi-rae were able to enroll in university without any issues.

The name of the school they enrolled in was ‘Pantheon Empire Theological University.’

Named after the great saint Pantheon, who achieved remarkable feats as the representative of the Creator God, this theological university was one of the top five in the empire.

If someone aimed to become a clergy member and enrolled here, their path to graduation would be nearly guaranteed. In other words, for the two who aimed to become clergy to survive, this meant they had essentially achieved their goal.

However, that didn’t mean they slacked off or led a lazy life just because they got into college.

“Yoo-jin! Good morning! Are you on your way to class? What subject is it?”

“Yes, senior! It’s Professor Alte’s discussion class on the Logian School of Interpretation!”

“That’s a third-year subject, right? And you’re diving straight into a discussion class without taking other majors?”

“Yes! It sounded fun!”

Seeing Park Yoo-jin answer so cheerfully, the senior who asked the question couldn’t help but smirk, as if he expected this.

Even though Park Yoo-jin was just a freshman, her name was already well-known throughout the university. The reason was her incredibly impressive achievements over the past few months, which were hardly the standard of a first-year student.

The classes at Pantheon Empire Theological University (hereafter referred to as ‘Theological University’) operated just like modern universities, where students could choose the classes they wanted to take.

However, unlike modern universities, students had to pay the professors for tuition fees separately from the registration fees.

All appointed professors were highly esteemed theologians. Thus, even though the university provided funding to lower tuition fees, the professors’ fees were still quite costly.

Since the Theological University is the starting point of the highest elite course for clergy, many noble children enroll here, as the authority of religion is immense in this world. Nevertheless, every year, some students choose to drop out due to insufficient tuition fees. Hence, students would embody penny-pinching and carefully choose their classes.

However, there was one way to escape these financial constraints.

It was the scholarship system that exempted the top two students of each year from tuition fees. For freshmen, candidates were selected based on their scores from that year’s entrance exam.

At this point, you might guess why Park Yoo-jin’s name became so famous.

Park Yoo-jin was proudly ranked as the second-best applicant of that year, which saw an unprecedented number of applications.

And she utilized the tuition waiver granted by the university to take classes amounting to three times that of an average freshman.

There is no credit limit at Theological University. Unless one is quite wealthy, the tuition fees would limit the number of classes a student could take in a semester, regardless.

Yet even aside from financial issues, students couldn’t just throw themselves into classes recklessly. The quality of education was overwhelmingly high since the Theological University was the empire’s top theological institution.

An ordinary freshman would typically end up overwhelmed, needing to bury themselves in the library just to keep up with a few introductory courses.

However, Park Yoo-jin was different.

From her teenage years, she had shown remarkable talent in studying theology, and upon entering college, she finally blossomed that talent.

She had already mastered the basic doctrines, scriptures, and history before even enrolling.

Once in college, she continuously absorbed the knowledge of senior researchers, concentrating on scripture interpretation and discussion classes, like a sponge.

By the end of the semester, she was showcasing the dignity of a mature researcher; her learning pace was in a league of its own.

Thus, numerous professors were already reaching out to her with admiration. Since Park Yoo-jin desired a stable life rather than a clergyman’s path, pursuing a researcher’s career, which would allow her to continue her studies while maintaining a livelihood, wasn’t a bad option at all.

“Yoo-jin is really incredible. If someone says there’s a genius who appears once every ten years, they must be talking about her.”

“What’s ten years? Taking 60 credits in one semester is unprecedented. She should be referred to as a phenomena that appears once in a hundred years!”

“By the way, didn’t she have a sister or something? I’ve seen them together a few times.”

“Not a sister, a friend. They’re from the same orphanage and hometown. Her name was definitely… Miller? Mi-rae? Something like that.”

“Really? What’s she like? If she’s such a good friend of Yoo-jin, is she also the research type?”

“Her? She’s just…”

The upperclassman who was asked paused for a moment before chuckling softly.

“She’s not a researcher, but a very devout friend.”

Meanwhile, Park Yoo-jin headed to the cafeteria for lunch with Shin Mi-rae. However, she didn’t go through the main entrance where students enter but rather through the back door leading to the kitchen.

As she waited near the back door, soon enough, Shin Mi-rae, wearing an apron, came outside. Park Yoo-jin greeted her with a bright smile and a wave.

“Oh, Mi-rae! Are you done with work?”

“Uh, yeah. Were you waiting for me again…? You really didn’t have to…”

“Waiting? No way! I just finished my class too! Let’s eat together! What’s on the menu today?”

“It’s always the same…”

Most noble children at Theological University utilize the student cafeteria. The few students from commoner backgrounds and some noble children who have taken a vow of poverty are the only ones who do so.

Thus, the diet is essentially austere. It’s just vegetable soup, brown bread, and a few pieces of bacon on the side.

“…I give thanks and praise to the goddess of daily bread.”

Once seated with her meal, Shin Mi-rae immediately began to pray. Unlike Park Yoo-jin, who simply recited a formal prayer, Shin Mi-rae’s prayer continued for about three minutes.

“You’re incredible, Mi-rae. How do you always pray for so long? People tend to keep meal prayers short unless it’s formal worship.”

While Park Yoo-jin was dedicated to her theological studies, that meant she was treating religion as ‘an academic field.’ Moreover, with her choosing religion as a means to survive, her faith was objectively below average.

In contrast, Shin Mi-rae was a genuine and devoted believer.

Shin Mi-rae visited the prayer room countless times a day, offering prayers to God. During worship times, she sang hymns with unmatched fervor, and during her personal time, she would split whatever free moments she had to volunteer at various places. In fact, she had just finished a voluntary service activity at the student cafeteria.

If others saw Park Yoo-jin as an outstanding researcher, then Shin Mi-rae was recognized as a devout enthusiast of faith. Thanks to that, while not as well-known as Yoo-jin, Shin Mi-rae’s name was also somewhat recognized within the university.

“There’s really nothing special about it. I simply speak the feelings in my heart. You’re the special one, Yoo-jin. You’re the one who’s truly amazing.”

However, Shin Mi-rae wasn’t interested in boasting about her efforts at all. With humility and modesty, she insisted that what she was doing was something anyone could do.

…And that was the perspective shared by several students looking at Shin Mi-rae.

The Theological University was the starting point of the empire’s top elite course.

Thus, even those aiming to become clergy members couldn’t help but have secular views.

While they might praise Shin Mi-rae’s selfless life outwardly, internally, they would mock it as foolishness.

If it’s a denomination that highly values service, that’s one thing, but believing in Dion, the God of War, while wasting time on service is foolish.

It would be much more advantageous to sharpen martial arts skills in that time, to receive the blessings of the god they serve.

“…Yeah, the things I’m doing are really just things anyone can do.”

Yet, it wasn’t that Shin Mi-rae didn’t train in martial arts in hopes of winning Dion’s favor.

It was just that she had no talent. She was so lacking that even if she trained her whole life, she wouldn’t be able to catch the eye of a god.

So, Shin Mi-rae was even more engrossed in visible religious practices like prayer and service.

For her, the best she could do to catch the deity’s eye was just that.

“…I wish I had a talent for studying like you, Yoo-jin.”

“If someone overheard, they’d think you can’t study at all, Mi-rae! Just by being accepted into Theological University, you’re already one of the elite in the empire. Have some confidence!”

Objectively, Park Yoo-jin was correct. However, Shin Mi-rae belittled her accomplishments, insisting she was just struggling foolishly.

That was always how Shin Mi-rae was. Her anxieties about the future and her fears of God’s existence translated directly into a lack of confidence.

And that was worsening moment by moment, even at this very moment.

“…Thank you, Yoo-jin, for putting up with someone like me.”

“Don’t say things like ‘someone like me’ or ‘putting up with me.’ You’re a precious family member to me that I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

“…Yeah. It’s the same for me. Thank you, Yoo-jin.”

Seeing Shin Mi-rae smile faintly, Park Yoo-jin felt a moment of anxiety but quickly returned a smile in response.

“Well then, I’ll get back to class. See you for dinner later, Mi-rae!”

“Okay, take care.”

The two parted ways on campus.

Park Yoo-jin headed to her next class.

And Shin Mi-rae sought out the prayer room set up within the university as part of her post-meal activities.

After meals, she would pray in the prayer room to soothe the anxiety and fear surging up in her heart.

It had already become a repeated routine each day. Shin Mi-rae, cooped up in the prayer room, continued to plead with the unseen deity.

Please let her return to her original world.

It was a wish she had long abandoned.

What she truly desired was quite simple.

She hoped that God would not punish her and would embrace her. And that He would do the same for her precious friend, Yoo-jin.

Many people visited the prayer room at Theological University, but Shin Mi-rae was likely the only one who repeatedly prayed for forgiveness despite having committed no sin. What others saw as obsession, her prayers stretched on for a full two hours.

-Screech.

Finally, after finishing her prayers, Shin Mi-rae exited the prayer room.

Then.

“Hello there.”

As if he had been waiting for her, a middle-aged man greeted her. Momentarily flustered, Shin Mi-rae found herself biting her tongue unknowingly and answered.

“Huh, oh, hello…!”

“Haha, no need to be tense. I merely heard the sound of prayers as I passed by and stopped for a moment to listen.”

“Ah…! Was it loud enough to be heard outside? I’m so sorry…!”

“No, not at all, not loud in the slightest. And besides, praying loudly isn’t something to apologize for! Who would dare criticize someone for that in a place like Theological University, where the best believers of the empire gather?”

“Is… that so? That’s a relief…”

As the man chuckled, Shin Mi-rae finally let out a sigh of relief. The man examined her thoughtfully.

“By the way, I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but I heard bits of your prayer. It seems like most of your prayers are about reflection and repentance. Did you perhaps do something wrong?”

“No? Um, no, not really…”

“Come on, if there’s nothing weighing on your conscience, you wouldn’t pray so desperately, would you? And I’m not here to interrogate you or punish you, just asking as a fellow believer to share our faith.”

“But, but…”

“…Surely, you wouldn’t think of lying in front of the prayer room where God is watching, would you?”

At those words, Shin Mi-rae flinched. The man waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh dear, I must’ve misspoken. If it sounded threatening, I apologize! If you don’t want to share, you don’t have to say anything. Prayer is a secret between God and oneself. God would certainly understand.”

“Y-yes, um, thank you for understanding…”

The fact that she was in another world. That she had doubted the existence of God. That she feared being punished.

There was no way she could share such circumstances with others. It was a worry she hadn’t even voiced to Kim Jae-hyuk or Park Yoo-jin, who were like family to her.

“This is something like a professional hazard for me. If I let my guard down just a little, I end up with this interrogative tone. You see, I have a daughter around your age, and every time I end up sounding a bit too aggressive, my wife tells me to dial it back. It’s really embarrassing to face my daughter! Hahaha!”

The man, looking apologetic towards the shy Shin Mi-rae, chatted away and laughed heartily. That loosened a bit of Shin Mi-rae’s tension, and she shyly asked him.

“You have a daughter? How old is she?”

“She’s nineteen this year. What about you?”

“I’m eighteen.”

“Oh, so you’re a freshman this year! Right at the age to be most earnest in faith!”

Shin Mi-rae’s words made the man pat her on the shoulders in encouragement as if she were his daughter.

“Just keep that mindset and continue working hard. Here at the university, it seems like the older students get, the more trouble they get into! I’m somewhat sensitive to such issues due to my job, always worrying if this place, the front line of imperial faith, is okay as it is!”

“I see… um, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your job?”

His concerns about student attitudes seemed to suggest something related to clergy. Since they met at a university, it was possible he could be a professor, Shin Mi-rae thought lightly as she asked.

“Oh right! I forgot to introduce myself! Speaking of which, you haven’t either, have you?”

“Ah, yes. My name is Mi-rae. I don’t have a surname. I’m a freshman at the Pantheon Empire Theological University…”

“Mi-rae… That’s a unique name. I’m Desmond. I don’t have a surname either. Just like you, I come from a common background. And my job….”

The man spoke with a kind smile throughout. His smile had considerably dissolved the tension and wariness Shin Mi-rae held.

However.

“… I’m an inquisitor.”

The moment he revealed his occupation.

“……………What?”

Shin Mi-rae’s heart sank.