Chapter 10

“It’s still okay.”

“Huh? What, you’ve already become friends with others?”

010

Identification of Friend or Foe (Mid)

The Reformatory was located deep underground in the Inquisition Temple to suppress the rising evil energy. This meant that no matter how fast Anne was, it would take her enough time to reach her destination. Even if she could match the speed of a horse barefoot, she couldn’t exactly sprint through the sacred hallways.

Whether it was for the minor moral reason of potentially fatally injuring someone passing by or the practical reason of the terrible delay if such a thing actually happened, it was the same. Therefore, Anne couldn’t help but be tormented by the thought that she was already too late.

“Louis!”

The Reformatory, appearing as a distant white horizon. However, to the eyes of those who hold sacredness, the path through the distorted space is visible. With no more reason or room to hold back, Anne began to sprint through the empty streets.

Since she was the one who had thrown Louis into the Reformatory, there was no way she wouldn’t know his location. Moreover, the thick stench polluting this pristine space guided her way.

The familiar, almost numbing scent of blood was particularly dizzying today.

“Louiiis!”

She saw him. A red-haired man laughing outside the iron bars. Now, not only his hair but his body and armor were also stained red.

Yet, Anne’s gaze remained fixed on one place. At his feet, lying inside the bars.

“Oh, Sister Anne. What brings you here?”

But between them, there was another wall besides the bars.

The red-haired man with a smirk on his lips. Inquisition Judge Verdo, despite his title, showed no trace of piety or holiness. He was the kind who found pleasure in blood and pain, no different from the heretics he had judged.

Whether it should be called self-loathing or not, it was precisely why Verdo was quite skilled at catching heretics. After all, he had been an Inquisition Judge longer than she had.

Under normal circumstances, even if she disliked someone, she would at least maintain the minimum courtesy and decorum as per the Religious Order’s laws.

“Move aside.”

“Whoa, why so impatient? My work is almost done, just wait a moment…”

The only courtesy she could afford now was restraining the urge to smash that shameless face.

“Move.”

Seniority and greater achievements only mattered within the Inquisition Temple.

This place, though underground in the Inquisition Temple, was distinctly separate from it. With very few people coming and going, whatever Anne did here wouldn’t be known until she left the Reformatory.

In this savage world where the laws of civilization didn’t apply, the law of violence ruled. Just as Verdo could torment Louis because he was stronger.

Anne was stronger than Verdo.

“Why are you so angry, Sister Anne? Just asking.”

But the other party wasn’t an easy pushover either. While he might be lacking in brute force, his experience in navigating life-and-death situations surpassed hers.

“Are you protecting this heretic?”

“Yes.”

Verdo had already heard her desperate cry as she leaped into the Reformatory. Anne took a step forward with a short affirmation.

The not-so-narrow space was filled with the tension between the two. But it was clear that Verdo was being pushed back. With each step Anne took, sweat beaded on Verdo’s stubborn face.

Still, he didn’t easily back down. Whether it was sheer stubbornness, wounded pride, or professional duty.

“Sister Anne, you’re quite fierce. Are you planning to harm me? Surely you haven’t truly fallen…”

“You’re misunderstanding.”

Whatever it was, Anne had no intention of respecting it.

“Brother Verdo. You’ve touched what’s mine. That heretic is my catch, my achievement.”

“I wasn’t trying to steal your credit. You’ve never been the type to care much about such things, have you?”

A clumsy smokescreen. The reason the usually cold Inquisition Judge was acting so emotionally was too flimsy to explain. But to some extent, it was also what Anne intended.

Even if it risked being accused of being bewitched by a heretic, it was to ensure no one else dared lay a hand on Louis.

“That doesn’t mean you can touch what’s mine.”

The low, threatening tone she had never used back in the village had now become second nature to her.

Instilling fear had become her specialty. She just never thought she’d use it on her fellow believers.

Anne didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward in one swift motion, pushed Verdo aside, and looked down at the iron box filled with his sadistic tools. The blood glistening on the dull blades of the torture devices, fresh as if just applied, only fueled her anger further.

Anne raised her foot and stomped on the iron box. The sturdy iron tools crumpled pathetically under the seemingly delicate girl’s stomp. Crushed, flattened, and finally shattered with a dull scream.

Crunch.

Whether it was the sound of metal breaking or teeth grinding, the destructive noise was indistinguishable. As much as she wanted to do the same to that face, Anne barely managed to suppress her inner rage.

If she did, it would truly be beyond repair. And while revenge was important, there was something she had to do first.

“Leave. While I still call you a brother.”

The icy blue eyes burning with primal fury overwhelmed the crimson eyes, a symbol of noble blood.

If Verdo’s madness was a flame, Anne’s was an iceberg. Unbreakably solid, impossibly cold, with only a fraction visible.

No matter how fiercely the flames burned, they couldn’t melt the entire iceberg. In the end, Verdo clicked his tongue and turned away.

If he uttered even a single word here, he would no longer be a ‘brother.’ Intuitively realizing this, he chose to retreat in silence.

Only after the crimson figure disappeared into the white horizon did Anne turn her steps toward the even redder figure.

“Are you okay?”

She stepped over the silver bars without hesitation. Even if the bars were loosely spaced, once inside, she would no longer be protected by the sacred barrier.

It was fine. He would never harm her.

“Did it hurt a lot?”

Louis was in a pitiful state. More like a lump of meat than a person. Anne gently stroked him.

She could see his wounds slowly healing. She couldn’t quite identify the emotion welling up inside her. Was it confusion, or the heretical relief that he was alive…

But in this moment, in the deepest solitude of the Reformatory, where no one’s gaze could reach.

Anne decided to simply be human Anne Aylard, not Inquisition Judge Anne, and purely feel relief.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

Louis, barely maintaining the shape of his features, was muttering something incessantly, even unconscious.

Though it wasn’t a response to her words, Anne quietly listened.

‘No…’

‘It’s not… my fault…’

‘I didn’t… do it…’

The plea and appeal to the world, reaching no one’s ears, was pitiful.

Not anymore. Anne carefully bent down and embraced Louis, who couldn’t even move properly.

“That’s right.”

‘No…’

“It’s not your fault.”

Love that transcends even faith. Even if the whole world cursed and pointed fingers, there would always be one person who would stay by your side, unchanging. If this isn’t a miracle, what is?

To Anne, Louis was that person. The village, strong in community spirit, was also closed-off and quick to reject anything different.

A pretty girl from a noble family, destined to live in a different world from theirs. Whether they thought she wouldn’t understand their crude words as a child or believed her noble upbringing made her deaf to their vulgarities.

The raw words hurled at the fragile, weak, and helpless young Anne. The whispers, the gestures, the distancing gazes.

When she wanted to close the door to the world to avoid being hurt, a single kind hand reached through the crack.

Now it was Anne’s turn to reach out.

Even if it was rough, violent, and disregarded the other’s will.

“It’s not your fault.”

A whisper, knowing it wouldn’t be heard, knowing it shouldn’t be said.

What’s truly bad is…