Chapter 41

“N-no, I don’t want to…”

“Anne?”

“Don’t… ugh, hng, hng… hnggg, don’t go.”

041

In This World (Part 2)

“He remained calm even while other heretics ran wild. If Vito François is to be believed, he should have been influenced, yet…”

The atmosphere had already shifted. François could feel it.

When a topic is raised, scholars and devotees alike tend to forget everything else and immerse themselves in the immediate issue. And everyone gathered here was both a scholar and a devotee.

“Moreover, we’re not irresponsibly advocating for his release. He will be filled with sacred texts, and though he cannot stay in the Inquisition Temple, he will reside in the nearby Inquisition territory. An Inquisition Judge will be stationed there to monitor him, ensuring he doesn’t run wild.”

Only two people in the room, aside from Anne, realized who that Inquisition Judge was.

To others, Anne was just a young, passionate Inquisition Judge. Still in her youth, she could raise the untainted banner of justice high.

“Isn’t it excessive to assign an Inquisition Judge to just one heretic?”

“It’s not just about managing one heretic!”

People can’t help but yearn for what they don’t have, for what they’ve lost.

“We are protecting the possibility of saving more sinners. Guiding the lost lambs back to the fold! So they can truly repent, atone, and after paying for their sins, return to the embrace of Ailim!”

That cry held something sweeter than wealth, power, or honor. Righteousness.

In a world where gods exist, earthly riches and bodily comforts are not the most important. Though some fools cling to such vain things, how could such idiots ever set foot in the Inquisition Temple, the center of all religions?

What matters is heavenly glory and the purity of the soul. It’s not just about avoiding sin. Every fanatic of Ailim carries a near-compulsive mission to lead the world in a better direction.

But can everyone in the world be a superhuman? In the end, they can only wait. For a shepherd to lead them.

If opening the path is the virtue of a shepherd, then following it is the virtue of the sheep.

“Sister Anne, you wish to take the heretic Louis Verger out of the reformatory.”

“That’s correct.”

Anne affirmed without hesitation.

Words that would have been condemned as heresy now received fervent support in the changed atmosphere.

Of course, there were as many skeptics as optimists. But even the skeptics felt the need for proof. Were they, under the guise of judging heretics, pushing those who could have been saved into the abyss? That would be a grave sin.

“…”

François remained silent for a moment. He maintained his perfect mask, but the smile on his lips had vanished.

He is a cardinal. Though Anne’s heroic spirit swayed the crowd momentarily, this was his office—and the people gathered here were his. Without even invoking the power of the Second Order, François could easily quell this momentum.

Just a few dozen people. No matter how much they argued, if François refused, Anne could do nothing more. Judging heretics is the domain of the Inquisition Judge, but what comes before or after is not their concern.

The reason the heretics remain calm is that they are half-sealed in the reformatory. There’s no need to invite unnecessary danger. Especially when the stakes are the lives of innocent others.

But.

“Please answer, Brother… François.”

Though he knew Anne’s slip was deliberate, François found it hard to suppress the thoughts sprouting within him.

If François refused here? Nothing much would happen. His political standing was too solid to be shaken by this. Rumors and whispers might spread underground, but they would remain unverified hypotheses, never surfacing.

And Anne.

The voice that cried out, turning its back on her brother’s grave, echoed in his ears.

‘From the beginning, I only had Louis!’

He remembered the fierce gaze, as if looking at a mortal enemy rather than family. The hands that gripped the mace without hesitation in his presence.

François was slightly more experienced than Verdo. So he had an inkling of the reason behind Anne’s abnormal strength, and what that reason might be. That inkling had turned into certainty after recent events.

If he refused, this matter would end here. But Anne? The girl who would have to watch the boy she loved from within a cage for the rest of her life?

A simple word felt unbearably heavy, and François remained silent for a long time.

“…”

The echoes of Anne’s cries faded, and those who had been debating fell silent one by one. They knew too. If the gentle old man shook his head, everything would be meaningless.

One by one, the gazes gathered. In front of the countless eyes urging an answer, François felt pressure for the first time in a long while.

Of course, the presence of others had no effect on him. Only one. Just one heart.

The icy, calm blue eyes urged him to answer.

It was a pressure and temptation greater than Laube’s whispers. If he accepted her request, François would lose everything. Of course, his position and power would remain, but would those called by heaven cling to earthly shackles?

No, what they hold sacred is but one thing. The pride, beliefs, and justice they’ve built over a lifetime.

If he refused, François could preserve those. What he would lose was just one thing—the heart of his daughter. Anne would never forgive the father who abandoned her twice.

“Please answer!”

The voices that now cried out in unison were the same.

They believed this was a noble act. If they simply branded and suppressed evil, there would be no need for anguish. But that is not the way of a shepherd. Not only healthy and beautiful sheep, but also the ugly, the starving, the old, the sick. Bringing even one more into the fold is their duty.

…Even if that sheep brings pestilence.

There was only one difference. François was a cardinal, and he had access to the secret archives of the Order. He knew what others did not. And Anne surely knew it too.

“To the unsaved, one more chance.”

Yet Anne answered thus. She had already made her choice.

The glory of the heavens and the desires of the earth. Now François too had to choose. To prevent the impending tragedy as a faithful devotee, or to endure another massacre for the sake of one person’s private plea. The blood spilled would rest on his soul.

Finally, François spoke. Even in this situation, his final mask remained intact.

“One more chance.”

Cardinal François.

One who should have become pope, but was bound to the earth by ‘a single flaw.’

“Judge Anne. I accept your proposal.”

A low sigh, like a hymn, echoed. Though the dozens gathered here could only create rumors, the moment the cardinal affirmed, it became another decree.

For now, it’s just one exception, but if this experiment succeeds, everything in the Order will change. Inquisition Judges will no longer kill every heretic they see, the reformatory with only two prisoners will be bustling with new arrivals, and those fallen into Laube’s embrace will find light once more.

…If it succeeds.

François closed his eyes. A stern rebuke seemed to fall upon him. If everything were so simple, why have Inquisition Judges remained symbols of blood and terror for so long? Why has the Order, preaching mercy and love, not learned other values?

“However, one thing must be added.”

Knowing all this, François ultimately chose to accept Anne’s proposal.

Trading hundreds of lives for the joy of one. A decision that might render a lifetime of good deeds meaningless, sending him to hell. Yet what tormented him was not his impending death, but the end awaiting the still young and vibrant girl.

Anne’s place would be far deeper and hotter than François’s.

“Is the sacred text not enough?”

“I’m not speaking of restrictions. Just one more proof. Everything the heretic has proven so far has been within the reformatory, hasn’t it?”

One who cannot abandon love for God or man can only struggle helplessly.

At least the seat of hell awaiting François would be lukewarm. Would that satisfy him? Originally, he was destined to sit beside Ailim, sharing the greatest favor and glory—

“Outside the reformatory, on earth where Ailim does not intervene.”

This was the best François’s aged mind could devise. Heretics are fearsome, but not invincible. In spaces like the reformatory, where Ailim’s power is strong, two Inquisition Judges can subdue a heretic, and even outside, with proper preparation, they can suppress the heretic before things escalate.

At least dozens will die.

But that’s better than hundreds.

“There, we will prove the heretic’s sincerity once more.”

Is the nobility of life determined by numbers? Is the value of existence merely a matter of quantity? An old question, piercing through decades, sprang up as if from his youth.

Uttering the contradictory phrase “the heretic’s sincerity,” François felt his palate grow rough. One more word, and the tongue that had praised God would become a blade, beheading its owner.

Though humanity will remember him as a noble, devoted cardinal, before God, he will die as a pitiful sinner who destroyed everything with his own hands.