Chapter 8

“If you really don’t want to, I can’t force you, but I still hope we can all get along.”

“…Why?”

“Anne, you don’t have any friends in the village except me. What if I disappear one day…?”

008

Another Perspective (Part 2)

Anne was walking down the corridor of the Inquisition Temple. In this sacred place, all weapons were forbidden. So now, she was dressed only in priestly robes, without armor or a mace. The soft curves of her body peeked out slightly from the voluminous robes, making the girl carrying the golden cross look like nothing more than a devout clergywoman. Unless one knew her face, no one would guess her duties.

Her bare white feet, unadorned by anything, stepped lightly on the smooth marble floor, as smooth as her own skin. Though it was called a temple, it had grown larger than the Emperor’s palace, serving as the religious center and holy site. She navigated it as if she had lived there for a very long time, never once losing her way.

Her steps, which had been weaving through the maze-like corridors, stopped in front of a door. Without hesitation, Anne knocked on the door, which seemed too large for one person.

“Come in.”

The responding voice was as soft and cool as the Yefrinse River in early summer, soothing the heat.

When she opened the door and entered, an elderly man sat at a laurel wood table. His clear blue eyes, which hinted at his once-handsome youth, remained bright and untarnished by age.

“I came as summoned, Vito François.”

“I’m sorry to call you right after you must be tired.”

Without any formalities, they each crossed their hands and made the sign of the cross. In the embrace of the Lord, they were all brothers and sisters, so there was no need for excessive courtesy.

Yet, the hierarchy was clear. Regardless of age, complete equality among humans was impossible.

Cardinal François. This frail-looking old man was a pillar of power who could have—no, would have—aimed for the papacy if not for “one single flaw.”

“The reason I called Sister Anne today is…”

If not for God and Ailim, he would be one of the highest in the mortal world.

The fact that a private audience with him was allowed proved Anne’s status and uniqueness.

“Is it about the upcoming ‘judgment’?”

Those in power tend to become arrogant, but François showed no such trait. Perhaps because he knew there was a parent above him.

Even when interrupted, he didn’t show anger, only nodding gently with a faint smile.

However, this didn’t mean the old man was as weak and harmless as he appeared.

“Yes, of course, I’m not doubting you, Sister.”

But she was being doubted.

Thinking about it, it was natural. The religious order didn’t accept those with unclear pasts, and it was already known that Anne was from Yefrinse.

Yet, in this matter, she had volunteered to judge her own hometown. She had even pushed aside another brother who was originally assigned.

“However… there was room for flexibility. I just wanted to ask why you chose the thorny path of penance.”

His gentle voice carried dignity but none of the authority typical of a powerful figure.

To someone who didn’t know, Anne would seem like a delicate priestess, and François like a kind, weak old man.

Like an orphanage director or an elderly butler from a noble family. Of course, if François were only that, he couldn’t have overcome all the intrigue and trials to reach the most shining position.

“I…”

Their eyes met, one like a clear lake, the other like a cloudy sky, different yet similar.

“I thought it was precisely why I had to go. Even though I claimed to be the most devout, I couldn’t guide those closest to me to Ailim…”

Anne spoke as she had prepared.

“…If I can’t offer salvation anymore, then at least I can offer peace with my own hands.”

She paused, as if overwhelmed by emotion. It wasn’t just an act.

A monster with a frozen heart, knowing no pain or sorrow. The person before her might be such a monster, but Anne believed she wasn’t.

She simply endured, silently and resolutely, as she did every night filled with loneliness and isolation.

“I’m sorry, I touched on your wounds, Sister.”

“…It’s alright, Brother. This is… another trial I must overcome.”

For a moment, there was silence between them. Anne stared intently at the old man’s face, still beautiful despite the years.

It was hard to read his thoughts. Was he sympathizing with her sorrow? Or was he pondering new traps to set for her?

Breaking the silence, François clapped his hands as if to lighten the mood. The gesture was as innocent as a child’s.

“Ah, I’ve been too cold with such a welcome guest. Would you wait a moment? I’ll bring some tea.”

“I’m fine…”

“Don’t take away this old man’s joy. I just got some good tea leaves.”

His voice was soft but left no room for refusal. Anne had no choice but to bow her head in agreement.

“…Understood.”

With a gentle smile, François turned away and began brewing tea.

The aroma of the tea, as calming and soothing as the host’s temperament, filled the small room. As he brewed, the old man hummed a soft tune, pleasant like a lullaby from childhood.

Despite doing what a servant should do, his movements were smooth and practiced, without any clumsiness. Soon, François returned with a tray holding two cups of tea.

“Let’s drink.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Following ingrained etiquette, Anne elegantly lifted the teacup and lightly sipped the sky-blue tea. She almost spat it out immediately.

It was scalding hot! If even she, who bore the Holy Body, felt it this hot, it would be unbearable for an ordinary person. Yet, François, with his frail body, sipped the tea without a hint of discomfort.

“The tea’s aroma is good, isn’t it?”

Unable to speak with her tongue burning, Anne nodded awkwardly.

In fact, aside from being too hot, the tea was indeed precious. Once it cooled a bit, Anne could enjoy its fragrance.

The beautiful color of the tea, like holding a piece of the blue sky in the cup. The taste was almost bland, but the aroma was subtle yet rich, relaxing the mind the more one savored it.

The tension in Anne’s heart, prepared to meet François, unwittingly eased. The old man, as if asking about her well-being, casually tossed a question her way.

“By the way, I heard you left one survivor from that ‘judgment’…”

“Louis.”

As soon as the name left her lips, she realized her mistake, but unless she was Ailim herself, she couldn’t take back her words.

She was an Inquisition Judge. She shouldn’t refer to those she judged so familiarly by name.

“It’s alright. I knew Sister Anne had a past friendship with him during her time in the secular world.”

Though François maintained his gentle tone, Anne felt a pressure unlike before.

Inquisition Judges always fought on the front lines against heresy. The religious order thanked them for their devotion and sacrifice but also watched for their corruption and betrayal. Inquisition Judges were too close to heresy.

There was a story like that. A hunter who lived by hunting beasts one day pitied them and ended up covered in their blood, becoming a beast himself.

“No, I…”

If a hunting dog pities its prey and doesn’t bite, or if it’s too old to bite, its fate is sealed.

To take the place of the uncaught prey on the banquet table.

“No, it’s not that…”

The blue eyes were still smiling kindly.

Just like on the day hundreds of innocent people were burned alive, accused of being the source of a plague.

“The reason I spared that heretic wasn’t out of misplaced mercy.”

At that moment, her turbulent heart calmed.

Anne was no longer swayed. Her affection was reserved for only one person, but her coldness was as renowned in the order as the Cardinal’s composure.

The girl who watched countless people burn alive without flinching, called a “ruthless one,” was now praised as an unshakable punisher, unmoved by deceit or cruelty.

“Ah, of course, the faithful Sister Anne wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“It’s true that the heretic was a childhood friend of mine… but there was another reason I had to spare him.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Anne’s feelings had grown too large to be called mere friendship.

“Oh? What reason?”

“Before the extermination, when I conducted a solo reconnaissance, I saw the heretic’s ‘fiancée.’ You know I lived in that area during my youth. She was someone I had never seen before.”

“Do you suspect the fiancée to be the mastermind behind this incident?”

“Yes. Personally, I’m certain of it.”

Once she started, the rest came easily. What she had prepared, what she thought up on the spot. Evidence and logic interlocked seamlessly, forming a shield to justify her actions.

“Why? Couldn’t she just be an ordinary person who settled in the village while you were away?”

Just as her love for him was steadfast and unchanging, so was his love for her. Unless some heretical, mystical force intervened.

But unfortunately, one person’s belief couldn’t serve as evidence. Instead of saying what she truly wanted, Anne played another card.

“During the ‘judgment,’ she couldn’t be found. It wasn’t just her absence at that moment; no trace of her was found in subsequent searches.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. The commander of the Holy Army shared the same opinion.”

Of course, the Holy Army was only grand in name, no different from ordinary people except for a bit of divine blessing. It was natural for them, ignorant of evil and darkness, to agree with the Inquisition Judge’s words.

“That heretic, Louis Berge, is the key to finding the ‘fiancée.'”

That was the justification she would use this time.

To eradicate the true evil, the pawn and clue must be left alive.

After hearing Anne’s argument, François pondered for a while, then sharply struck at her weak point.

“Was there anyone else who witnessed this ‘fiancée’?”

“…No.”

Of course, there was a flaw in her claim.

That she was the only one who had seen this significant figure.

This near-farce of an argument gained any persuasive power only because the speaker was an Inquisition Judge.

To deny an Inquisition Judge’s words was to disregard their authority and suspect their corruption. As betrayal was easy, Inquisition Judges who remained faithful were objects of special respect.

Of course, Cardinal François was a figure who could even suppress the authority of an Inquisition Judge, but faced with Anne’s firm stance, he chose to step back this time.

“If the Sister saw it clearly, then it must be closer to the truth than what dozens have seen.”

To hastily agree would only reveal shallow depths. Anne simply nodded briefly, her attitude almost disrespectful.

Yet, François’s face remained serene. His composure, built over decades, seemed unshakable by any rudeness or provocation.

In contrast, Anne’s coldness hadn’t yet reached that level.

“If it’s as the Sister says, that fiancée is indeed no ordinary being. Perhaps we should have sent two Inquisition Judges.”

“That wasn’t necessary…”

“Even the smallest seed of evil can grow into a towering tree. I was worried we might miss signs of dark clouds, but fortunately, Brother Verdo heeded this old man’s words.”

“…What?”

Having endured harsh storms, it wasn’t that he was worn down but that he had turned his back on the world. Thus, when faced with an unavoidable situation, the mask would inevitably fall.

“Originally, Brother Verdo was to handle the judgment. Though it’s not as holy and significant as the mission Sister Anne undertook…”

As he spoke, François’s expression remained gentle and kind.

There was no malice, hatred, or delight to be found anywhere. This old clergyman truly believed everything he did was for God, for the world.

And for Anne.

“He accepted my proposal and, even for such a trivial and base task as torturing a sinner, Brother Verdo willingly stained his hands. To show such responsibility even outside his jurisdiction… truly a model Inquisition Judge, don’t you think?”