Chapter 62

“But that’s not possible.”

“Why?”

“Because I am Ailim’s staff.”

062

Shining (Part 2)

The trial, called a hearing, takes place at noon, when the sun is at its highest. People gather in one of the eight grand plazas of the Inquisition Temple. Contrary to the preconception that trials are held in closed, solemn spaces, the open square is vast and noisy with the sounds of many people.

Of course, the area where the hearing is to take place is strictly cordoned off with barriers. No one can intrude, but everyone can witness the situation with their own eyes.

Above all, isn’t there the most reliable juror overhead? The sun is Ailim’s right eye, so a trial held on the clearest and sunniest day signifies that they stand before the Lord with unwavering integrity.

“Ah…”

As soon as I stepped out of the prisoner transport carriage, the sunlight made me shed a tear without realizing it. The sunlight at noon, though bright, was pale compared to the artificial, intense light of the reformatory.

No matter how dazzling, light dispersed among many and light concentrated on a few are bound to be different. Compared to the reformatory’s light that suppresses heretics and purifies filth, the sun’s light merely offers a bit of brightness and warmth to those it touches.

Perhaps that’s all one needs to live.

Thud. Thud.

There was no welcoming party or red carpet. I just staggered along the fenced path. The gazes of the people hurt more than the sunlight.

Overlapping sensations, like déjà vu, made me laugh involuntarily. Still, the people of the Inquisition Temple were dignified. They looked down with stern eyes but did not hurl insults or throw things at me.

How much did you suffer?

It was necessary, it was unavoidable. Even as I repeated that, I knew I had done something unforgivable to you. Perhaps now I must pay the price.

At the end of the path was a circular fence. Seeing it resemble an animal pen, I walked inside and pulled a chair placed in the open space to sit down. With the last actor seated, the hearing began with crisp, clear strikes.

“The hearing will now commence.”

A play with a predetermined ending begins.

The surroundings instantly fell silent. These dignified and courteous people did not break the silence. The sight of so many people making no noise was more than reverent; it was awe-inspiring.

Turning my head from the audience seats, I looked at those standing above me. Unlike the audience, unlike me, they stood without chairs. All clad in priestly robes, their chests adorned with various crosses. Though the patterns differed, they were not simple silver crosses but ornate golden ones.

Moreover, nearly two-thirds of them were familiar faces. Not that we were close, but I knew who they were. Knights of the Double Cross, Gospel Protectors, Cardinals, retired Inquisition Judges.

Each bore significant responsibilities, gathered here solely to judge me. The crimes I committed were that monumental.

“Everyone here is aware of the recent disgraceful events.”

This is not a formal trial. Though called a hearing, the atmosphere is light and gentle enough for others in the Inquisition Temple to observe.

Was a trial even necessary to judge a fallen Inquisition Judge? Summary execution would suffice. But since I, an Inquisition Judge who aided heretics, was not a heretic myself and had the political backing of François—

Whether through a formal trial or summary execution, there would be noise. This was the most conciliatory measure to resolve the situation. A public hearing. To read out my crimes before the people of the Inquisition Temple and gain their understanding.

‘Sigh.’

After being confirmed as an Inquisition Judge, before my active duty, I received political education from François. But by then, my heart had long been too desolate to rejoice with my family.

Should I thank him for honing my political insight? Instead of flipping through thick professional books, I wish he had read me a page from a fairy tale.

Ha. The bitter laugh dissipated unnoticed. It’s been too long to resent or hold onto regrets.

“If there was any possibility of saving them, it was right to try. I do not deny that noble claim. But! What consequences did it bring?”

Intentions can be excused. I heard of the horrific massacre Louis committed.

There were injured and dead. A collapsed city, and tears that flowed to form rivers.

Someone had to take responsibility.

“Were we merciless? No! We gave the heretics chance after chance!”

The elderly Gospel Protector shouted with a passion unbefitting his age. Since it was true, I said nothing.

“Who trampled those chances? Who stomped on that mercy!”

I can’t plead ignorance. This wasn’t the first attempt to reform heretics, and if an Inquisition Judge didn’t even know the basics about heretics, that itself is a crime.

“The vile, despicable servants of Laube!”

Bang! The Gospel Protector, overwhelmed by passion, slammed his fist down. Among the dignified audience, murmurs of agreement began to ripple like waves on a sandy beach.

A consensus was spreading. I remained silent.

“Prisoner Anne, I ask you.”

Until I was given the right to speak.

A voice, unlike the passionate one before, cold and detached. I raised my bowed head. Among the gathered Inquisition Temple members, Cardinal François was absent.

Perhaps he realized he couldn’t stop this and didn’t want to witness my end. Or perhaps he was pressured not to come, or maybe he was elsewhere, hiding his own plans… Either way.

I no longer expect anything from him.

“Did you incite the members of the Inquisition Temple to release the heretic—Louis Laube?”

“Yes.”

“And did you take responsibility for managing the released heretic, yet ultimately fail to stop him?”

“Yes.”

Every word was the undeniable truth. Knowing it was a trap leading to my ruin, I willingly affirmed.

Under the watchful eye of the sun, Ailim, I could not lie. Already a sinner, I could not commit the same sin again.

“Did you, as an Inquisition Judge, show mercy to a heretic?”

“…Yes.”

And I could not die here.

Even if I must pay for my sins, it cannot be now. I still have things to do. I must save Louis, repay the trust you placed in me until the end.

I know. This is just childish stubbornness. Maybe I’ve always been a child. My body grew into an adult, but my heart never experienced what it means to be a ‘child.’

Death doesn’t scare me. It’s just returning to Ailim’s side.

But the thought of not seeing you again terrifies me.

“Are you a heretic? Or have you forsaken God and allied with demons?”

“No.”

Even if I am sentenced to death here to atone for those who died because of me, I cannot do that to one person. The price you desire is not for me to die so meaninglessly.

The sin of not being there for you. The sin of not trusting you more. The sin of loving, but only loving.

“Then why did you sow the seeds of evil in the world!”

Backlit, I couldn’t see the face of the one shouting at me. As if Ailim favored them over me, the sunlight poured on me, stinging like a slap.

I know. The Lord does not act by the petty logic of mortals, favoring one over another. He embraces all equally.

But I am not a god. I cannot love everyone, embrace everyone, meet everyone’s expectations.

Only one.

“Because I loved.”

At my clear voice, the hearing room fell silent again.

Yes, in the end, all my actions were absurdly simple. Because I loved, because I loved you.

I wanted to die but lived. I became an Inquisition Judge, not a country girl. I wanted to see you but couldn’t. I had to kill but didn’t. I reformed souls I was supposed to judge. I gave freedom to you, who should have been caged forever.

Driven by endlessly childish and naive emotions, I stand here. It’s all my fault. The karma of all my clumsy, immature actions comes back to strike me.

Call me selfish. Call me a witch, a heretic, shameless, a sinner. Say whatever. No matter what, my actions won’t change.

“Prisoner Anne, now placing human emotions before the will of God…”

“It’s not just human emotions.”

It’s everything I am.

Though I know this is just my personal feeling, and I won’t force its weight on anyone else.

“And what I said was not a lie. He was undoubtedly human.”

“Prisoner Anne! It would be wise to hold your tongue! If you continue to defend the heretic until the end…”

The love that always cornered me will save me this time.

“I am not defending a heretic. Didn’t I say? He was a person.”

I take a step forward. Without much effort, the iron fences on my shoulders creak and tear away.

People are startled by the sudden action, some scream. Knights draw their swords, the sound of steel. A monster that could kill me instantly stands before me, yet the judge, wide-eyed, does not retreat.

I have committed sins deserving of death, and those judging me are not evil. As just and fair as they are, they weigh my sins on a scale.

I merely add one more weight to it.

“I am carrying a child.”

Thus, finally tipping the scale to the other side.

“A child of the one you call a heretic, but to me, was always a beloved person.”

One basic rule, as fundamental as the fact that heretics cannot be reformed.

Heretics cannot conceive.

“His child.”