Chapter 32

“Originally, it’s a story that shouldn’t be told, but…”

“…You’ll need time to prepare for the farewell too.”

032

You Will Know (Part 2)

Anne said that heretics fall into the temptation of darkness because they have a wish they want to fulfill, but once they gain the power to do so, they forget what they wished for.

The man’s abilities seemed to far exceed the ordinary, so it was possible that his heresy had progressed just as much.

“A wish I want to fulfill… you say.”

Seeing his eyes sink, it seemed that fortunately, that wasn’t the case.

Even after hearing Anne’s words, the concept of heresy felt distant and unfamiliar to me. A wish? If I were truly a heretic, what wish would I have? It’s not like I’ve already reached the end of heresy and forgotten my desires.

If I were a heretic, I would still be human. Breathing, eating, bleeding when injured. Regeneration wasn’t my power but the function of this space.

“You’re mistaken about one thing.”

“What is it?”

“The reason I ended up like this is ironically because I was the crown prince.”

An incomprehensible statement. But since I couldn’t expect kindness from him, he continued without waiting for my understanding.

“What meaning is there in humans dividing themselves into nobility and commoners before the Lord? I wish I had been born on a different ship.”

It should have been incomprehensible, but somehow it made sense.

The barrier of birth strictly divided the upper and lower classes. Preventing those below from rising, and equally, preventing those above from descending.

“Then, do you remember your wish?”

“Didn’t I tell you the moment we first met?”

Joseph laughed aggressively, just like when I first met him, with a bloodthirsty grin.

“My wish has already been fulfilled. I’ve repaid it a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand times over.”

The man vividly described all sorts of creative and vicious deaths that flashed through my mind. Revenge? That was certainly a clear reason. With a body like his, he could survive being stabbed by dozens of spears.

But if he were the crown prince, couldn’t he command some soldiers? I didn’t know. And he didn’t seem eager to talk either.

Still, I had a reason for trying to pry something out of Joseph. Ultimately, I was ignorant about what it meant to be a heretic.

Anne had explained, but I needed more knowledge. About all these abnormal phenomena. And because I still believed I wasn’t a heretic.

To remain human, to not lose myself.

To not become a heretic.

“Hey, kid. Let me tell you an interesting story.”

If the condition for heresy is a desperate wish that can’t rely on vague faith, then I had no such thing in my heart.

The human heart is weak and easily corrupted. In this place, worn down and struggling just to survive, resentment towards the village or sorrow over the current situation had long faded.

If there’s one unchanging wish in my heart, it’s probably-

“Those who become heretics gradually lose their humanity. By the time they reach my level, there’s hardly any trace of humanity left except for their appearance. They no longer feel any sensation.”

Joseph’s grotesque display interrupted my train of thought. He drew his hand like a sword and plunged it into his chest.

Thud. The sound of penetration was dull. As if feeling no pain, he calmly felt around his chest. Then.

“…So, this is also possible.”

When he withdrew his hand, his chest was open like dug-up earth, revealing the inside.

It wasn’t as gruesome as I thought. Joseph’s body was already like a lump of clay, with no blood vessels or internal organs. But in the hole in his chest.

Something distinctly different was present. As black as ash, as hard as iron, as cold as ice. No longer pulsating, but clearly existing.

“My heart.”

“…Huh?”

“Or you could call it the last lump left in me. Either way, it’s the driving force that keeps this wretched life from ending.”

His words sounded like this to me: the unique weak point of an immortal heretic.

But then that contradicts Anne’s words. Didn’t she say the only way to kill a heretic is to keep cutting them until they stop regenerating?

“If you become a complete ‘heretic,’ this lump will disappear too. What determines being human isn’t the head but the heart.”

At his words, I unconsciously placed my hand on my chest. Is my heart beating?

…I don’t know.

In the silence, the sound of my pulse had been so loud and tormenting, but in reality, the heartbeat is so faint that it’s natural for it to be drowned out by small noises.

“This kind of thing doesn’t suit my temperament, but… since that heartless slaughterer went to such lengths to prepare this place, I’ll give you a piece of advice as a careless senior.”

“Don’t forget, kid. Who you were. What you were, and what you wished for.”

“Never lose it, boy.”

That day’s conversation ended there.

Anne might have thought I would vomit at the sight of me literally smashing Joseph to pieces.

Fortunately, I didn’t disgrace myself in front of her. The scene was so surreal, and my stomach had grown stronger.

…What I saw wasn’t someone else’s guts.

“Let’s eat.”

After restoring the space, Anne brought a tray, and the usual meal resumed.

A bowl of white milk porridge, a plate of holy water. A meal so simple it bordered on asceticism. Eating only this, even a muscular man would wither away, but my body remained unchanged.

The bland, tasteless porridge was something I couldn’t get used to, and the holy water was still unwelcome.

“Ugh, ugh…”

But I forced it down. Without anyone’s help. Not arrogantly swallowing it all at once like last time.

I took small sips, letting the pain pass my throat and waiting for the lingering taste to fade before taking another. Knowing the painful moments would only lengthen.

One thing was certain. My hand trembled but didn’t stop. Clearly, what Anne showed me this time was the most powerful motivation.

Humans are weak and cowardly, so the uncertain promise that I might leave here someday was less effective than the fear of becoming a monster like that. Like a donkey moving more diligently under the whip than the carrot.

But eventually, to prevent the donkey from collapsing midway, the carrot must also be given.

“Well done.”

The wise owner offered the carrot before it was even requested.

After finishing the porridge and holy water, the dishes were cleared. Anne, now back in her usual priestly attire after removing her silver armor, stepped up to the bars without hesitation, as if the previous distance had been an illusion.

Her gaze, meeting mine, was as warm as sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. Her attitude flipped as easily as the two sides of a coin.

There was no trace of falsehood or pretense, so the fog in my mind showed no sign of clearing.

The love for me and the hatred for heretics. How could such opposing emotions coexist in one heart?

“I told you, this is all for you.”

Should I say thank you?

My voice didn’t come out. Maybe because of what Joseph had said about Anne earlier. White Disaster, Heartless Slaughterer. Neither title suited a delicate girl.

No, originally, such titles were given to outstanding warriors or generals, not ordinary people… but an Inquisition Judge couldn’t be ordinary. Damn it.

“Is this… effective?”

In the end, I repeated a meaningless question. No matter the answer, I couldn’t believe it, and no matter the action, I couldn’t be reassured and could only tremble in anxiety.

Anne gently cupped my cheeks with both hands, met my eyes, and lightly pressed her forehead against mine. Her dark blue gaze wavered like a horizon.

“Of course. Don’t doubt it.”

I kept my mouth shut, but my question carried two doubts. Whether all this torture was truly effective.

-And even if it was, if I wasn’t a heretic, wouldn’t it just be meaningless suffering?

Lately, I wasn’t even sure about that. No matter how strongly I claimed not to be a heretic, with everyone around me shooting accusations, I wondered if I really was a heretic.

“…Anne, your hand.”

Anne obediently offered her hand. I carefully held her slender, delicate fingers, unbelievable for their strength, and placed them on my chest.

The sticky contact quickened my blood flow. Anne looked puzzled for a moment but soon understood and, with a soft laugh, gently caressed my chest.

Calming me, trembling like a child waking from a nightmare, her whisper fell like a breeze.

“Listen.”

Now I could hear it too.

“Louis, your heart is still beating.”