Chapter 43

“Am I… going to die…?”

“What are you talking about! Anne, you’ll definitely be fine. Yes, I’m sure of it.”

“Re…ally?”

“Yes. Have I ever lied to you? The pain is only temporary. You’ll recover… you will.”

*

043

The Most Precious (Part 1)

*

The procession of atonement.

It was a unique punishment from a small kingdom incorporated into the Inquisition Temple decades ago. The king of that country was a fervent follower of Ailim and wanted to boast of his god-like benevolence.

Thus, he periodically gathered dozens of death row inmates, put iron collars on them, chained them together, and sent them into the city. Under the guidance of guards, they were dragged around the city like dogs forced on a walk, and if they could stand on two legs after completing the circuit, all their sins were forgiven.

Without even proper food, their bodies withered and weakened, becoming spectacles for the citizens, who threw trash and filth at them. The chains connecting them meant that if one fell, others around them would also fall, and the guards dragged them mercilessly.

The king would boast of his mercy while looking at the road paved with torn flesh and blood. Mercy, he said, was only for the worthy.

And then he was assassinated by one of the pardoned prisoners, and the small kingdom, without a proper successor, fell into chaos and was eventually subjugated by the Inquisition Temple. Perhaps he wasn’t worthy of mercy after all.

“……You’re saying I have to do that?”

“Yes.”

I learned all of this thanks to Anne, who kindly explained the final trial I had to face.

Of course, there were some differences. Joseph couldn’t participate, so I was the only prisoner in the procession, and instead of guards, an Inquisition Judge would supervise and manage me. Who that was, well, it goes without saying.

I knew it would be difficult. Even Anne often showed her disgust and contempt for heretics, and considering the resources poured into this prison, it was clear how exclusive and hostile the Religious Order was toward heretics.

Anne often said I could get out, but she never said the process would be easy or comfortable. Quite the opposite, actually.

But still.

“With these legs?”

I thought my heart had already dried up, but I don’t know where this anger is seeping from.

The world I saw was a wilderness dried up by an endless drought. The cool night of rest never came, and the hateful sun poured its cruel light without allowing even a small shadow. No matter how much I walked, in this cracked world, not a single drop of water could be found, let alone an oasis.

And now, I can’t even walk on my own, yet those who cut off my wings tell me to fly.

“Don’t worry. Here, take this.”

It was a funny joke, really. If it were a joke.

Anne pulled something out and handed it to me. I tried to grab it, but its weight surprised me, and the ‘cane’ fell from my hand, standing upright on the ground instead of rolling pathetically.

The cane, made of a silver material like a holy relic, was more like a rod or a pillar. It was simple, without any decorations, but the faint aura of divinity and blessing emanating from it made me uncomfortable.

“Grab it and stand up.”

At the contradictory soft command, I obediently followed her words like a tamed beast. The cane I grabbed felt as if an invisible someone was holding and supporting it, not budging even as I leaned my weight on it.

In that moment, I felt Ailim’s touch. But that spiritual experience was anything but welcome. I had already lived in a place surrounded by His breath. The weight of the iron still hung from the severed part of my leg, pulling me down unless I leaned on something.

“How is it? Can you walk?”

It was worse than not having a prosthetic leg. Not only could I not step on the ground, but every time I moved even slightly, my body tilted under the weight of the holy relic. It wasn’t a matter of balance; with only one leg, unless I could exert superhuman strength like Anne, my body structure was too twisted to maintain equilibrium.

Still, I walked. An irrationality surpassing irrationality. Relying on the miracle of the cane standing upright without any support, even as a grown man leaned his full weight on it.

The cane even maintained its vertical position while lifted in the air. How that was possible was beside the point, but I took a few steps with my full weight on the cane.

Yes, it wasn’t impossible. I could walk.

“Ugh.”

With a heavy iron weight on my body and an equally heavy cane in hand.

My vision went dark. Not metaphorically, but physically. The only physical activity I’d had recently was almost none, and my body, surviving on a bowl of porridge and locked in a solitary cell all day, was weaker than I thought.

Just walking around this small room was exhausting. My arms hurt, and the clanking iron weight hit my body with every move. More than the pain, the disgust made me short of breath and nauseous.

Taking even a single step was overwhelming, yet Anne demanded more from me.

“Good. Now, come here.”

Anne stepped back from me as she spoke. My pride, which might have been hurt by her beckoning like a dog, was long gone, but still, I couldn’t obey her. What bound my feet wasn’t some half-baked ego but terror.

Anne was outside the silver bars.

“……”

“Louis? You know. To get out, you have to pass through here.”

The silver bars were spaced widely enough that even in my state, passing through wouldn’t be hard. Except for one thing. My heightened senses felt the pain that burned my soul the first day I was imprisoned here. Like a fly caught in God’s palm, being squeezed. More painful than the Inquisition Judge’s torture, more excruciating than anything I’d ever felt, it left an indelible mark on my soul.

If I didn’t look, it was fine. If I didn’t think about it, it was okay. But just realizing its existence again made my body tremble.

“Louis.”

But before I knew it, I was taking a step. Unlike a moth drawn to a flame, I knew destruction awaited at the end.

A hand reached out from beyond the bars and grabbed me. But unlike the high-handedness before, the hand didn’t pull me forcefully. Instead of exerting strength, the fingers simply held me.

A lukewarm warmth spread through the priestly robes. Beyond the silver alignment, pale blue eyes quietly gazed at me.

“Louis.”

“Anne.”

We called each other’s names like a newborn baby babbling its first words.

I took another step. My wrist, clenched with forced strength, ached, and my leg felt as if it had been beaten. The relatively intact, unsevered leg also creaked under the excessive weight.

But I stopped right in front of the bars. My body was tired, but I still had some strength left. Just one more step, just one more.

“Don’t want to do it?”

When you’re right there beyond the bars.

Just once. Just endure once, and freedom would be granted. I had already given up everything, decided to do as you said.

But could I do it? With one leg, leaning on a cane, could I complete the city circuit? Even with a healthy body, walking such a distance on one leg, enduring the citizens’ filth?

I’m no romantic or idealist. I never was, but after entering the reformatory, I became even less so. Even holding a miracle in my hand, I couldn’t expect any divine intervention.

The outcome was obvious. Simple enough for a three-year-old to calculate. I would collapse after walking only a short distance. Halfway? Maybe a quarter? Anne, acting as the guard, would faithfully pull the leash if I fell and couldn’t move.

I would be dragged to death by the hands of the one I love. That would be the end of my suffering, my meaningless life.

“Ah, ugh……”

I thought I had let go of everything, that my emotions had dulled, but it was all a delusion. There’s no getting used to it. Only wearing down. Even with a heart already in ruins, I felt extreme terror.

Anne still stood quietly outside the bars. Not pulling me out, not coming in to hold me. Just reaching out to hold my hand.

Ah.

Before I knew it, both hands had let go of the cane. Yet I hadn’t fallen because of the hand holding me. A grip tight enough to hurt a little.

“If you don’t want to do it, it’s okay.”

“Huh……?”

For the first time since we met again, Anne said that.

Why say that now. Why. I’m already shattered. My choices, my free will, all trampled, leaving only a straw doll that nods.

You broke me, and now…

“Of course, if you don’t, you can’t leave. You’ll have to stay here forever, until you grow old and die……”

But you were the one who made me.

A child who was never properly loved, a boy who spent most of his time alone under his parents’ neglect, didn’t become twisted because there was someone who loved me more than my parents, more than anyone in the world.

And that hasn’t changed. The you I knew is gone, but you’ve grown in ways I couldn’t imagine, becoming violent, cruel, ruthless, an object of fear and awe to others.

But one thing hasn’t changed. What am I… just what am I.

“It’s still okay.”

Inside the shell of the silver-armored hero, there’s still a naive country girl.

The first love of my youth—no, the love of my life, who gave everything for you. Me.

“No matter what choice you make, the fact that I’ll be by your side won’t change.”

I was still afraid to take that step.

If I endured the pain of the silver bars, I would have to pilgrimage through the city in this state. Either way, it was an impossible ordeal for a soul and body as weak as mine.

Then maybe staying in this small cage isn’t so bad. I wouldn’t be able to cling to you every day like before, but you would visit me periodically, and I could endure this void and solitude, eagerly waiting for your visits.

“Anne, what do you want me to do?”

“I……”

“No, it was a cowardly question.”

But.

That’s not enough. Like a traveler wandering endlessly through a desert, separated by the world and fate, the sweetness of an oasis mirage isn’t enough. I want you. Even now, I am yours, but now I want you to be mine too.

I want our lives, our love, not to end at a white horizon. I want to fill our memories with all the colors of the world, not just a blank monochrome.

I want to fly again with you, who cut off my wings.

I took a step.

“Ah— Aaaaaah!”

It hurt. My soul burned, my mind flickered white. I grabbed whatever I could and held on. Whether it was Ailim’s hand holding the cane or Anne’s hand, I didn’t know, but like a traveler hanging from a cliff, I clawed at the stone wall, digging my nails in.

It was agonizing. Hot yet cold. Like a hundred Verdos torturing me at once. Without realizing it, I bit my tongue, my eyes bulged grotesquely, and blood tears streamed down.

Yet, I didn’t fall.

Even with only one leg left, I still had two arms. With one hand, I held your hand, and with the other, I gripped the holy relic. Even my damaged wrist, unable to pray, could still hold something.

Again, one more step.

With one leg severed, I couldn’t walk properly. I leaned my full weight on what I held with both hands and hopped. It was a pitiful leap, not even worthy of being called a jump, but after a moment that felt both eternal and fleeting.

Thud. When my foot touched the ground again, the poison that had trapped me in its maw was behind me.

The soul-burning pain slowly washed away. Like a white-filled vision being erased or filled, it returned to its original colors. The world I saw was still white, the horizon distant, the light blinding.

But in it, your hair was platinum. Your eyes were blue. Your pale skin regained a summer rose glow, and your slightly pale lips regained their color. Two or three colors bloomed into thousands, millions, more than my dullness could ever count.

Enough to fill my narrow world.