Chapter 15

Yeah.

The next day.

A man I’d seen just once before opened the door to where I was and came in.

“Are you the Apostle that the Master speaks of?”

His hair was neatly groomed, and his attire was spotless. Though he didn’t have the tonsure typical of monks, leaving the middle of his head bare, he had a bald patch—a bowl cut. He looked healthy, which made sense since he was one of the four people below when the summoning happened.

So, only one person left now?

Anyway, I greeted him.

“Hello.”

“Yes, hello. My name is Andrew. You’re not quite what I expected.”

Well, the title “Apostle of God” is supposed to be for someone extraordinary, so it doesn’t really fit me.

If anything, I’m far from God. If there’s a spectrum from beasts to humans to gods, with humans in the middle, I’d be on the opposite side.

I could see a faint disappointment cross Andrew’s face.

Not the person he was hoping for, huh?

Whatever his intentions are, Joanna wasn’t around either, and no one else was coming. He must’ve seized the opportunity while the coast was clear.

I didn’t ask any questions. Let him think things through. If he has something to ask, let him do so. Asking too many questions can quickly reveal your level of knowledge.

Eventually, it’ll come out anyway!

People high up in cults can probably read others well. At the very least, they’re not ordinary folks.

So…

While I just stared at him, Andrew gave me a half-glare back.

But wait—if Hieronymus has surveillance devices watching me, how did Andrew just waltz right in?

Does he not know about them?

Tisah came in when Joanna was around, carrying a cane and claiming to be a witch. Judging by that, this cult might just be her side gig.

Out of the four viewpoints we gathered on Future Hope Church, no one carried a staff like hers, let alone anything resembling one.

It’s estimated that Witga’s location is where Future Hope Church trains its armed group, but even there, while magic users exist, no one carries long staves.

There’s a high probability that Tisah’s role as a witch doesn’t align with Future Hope Church’s main activities—she might just be using them or vice versa.

Given her confidence, she seemed to have randomly thought of me and decided to visit.

But this guy is different.

He’s trying to figure me out. Picking this moment when no one else is around probably means he has other thoughts in mind.

Is there some question about Future Hope Church that shouldn’t be asked?

“Does this current situation please you, Rebecca?”

See? That’s how he talks. He’s gauging whether my current position is satisfactory. Most people would say no, so I’ll go with that.

“No.”

It really isn’t pleasing. The room is spacious but completely closed off with no windows.

That said, it’s not suffocating.

On the contrary, I feel wide open.

Everywhere is vast and boundless, yet utterly empty—and freezing cold.

I’d love to fire off some “Rebecca Beam” and harvest warmth, but I don’t seem to have an attack function. While pondering such nonsense, I kept staring at Andrew.

“Oh ho, so you harbor resentment towards Hieronymus for confining you here?”

Hmm.

How should I respond to that? When most people say their current position isn’t satisfying, the conversation usually goes a certain way—or maybe asking about places they’d prefer would be more appropriate?

Is he here to probe if I have grievances?

Some things can be said in front of others, and some cannot.

Especially when life and death are at stake, you can’t voice complaints even if you have them.

But here, answering with a simple yes or no wouldn’t be wise.

“Why should I harbor resentment?”

Actually, I don’t intend to hear the reasons. It’s just a line.

I’m doing exactly what he tells me to do. This place isn’t pleasant, but I haven’t given it much thought.

“You mean, Lady Rebecca, that you simply follow what Hieronymus says? Indeed. Even so, if this room displeases you, you could’ve requested a change. As the leader of Future Hope Church, he can do anything.”

Of course, I know he’s the leader.

And I also know that Future Hope Church itself seems rather indifferent. He might grant requests, but since this room is fine aside from the lack of windows, I hadn’t given it much thought.

Four ominous tools were embedded in the ceiling corners.

They’re likely for attack in case of emergency, and moving rooms would require a lot of preparation.

It’s not the time yet.

This place is deep underground. When Hieronymus took the children away, we walked a considerable distance upward before encountering anyone else.

Once he relaxes or sees potential for better use, we’ll move rooms.

I get it. Provoking words here would serve what purpose? Maybe it’s just to check if this guy is actually listening to me or just brushing everything off?

Instead, I’ll ask something else.

“Does Hieronymus want this thing called ‘blessing’?”

Yes. I’m letting him know I didn’t call it that.

Hieronymus decided on that term. I know nothing. I’m just following orders—that’s the appeal.

Something about the way he talks feels off.

Leader. Shouldn’t someone who truly serves a leader with utmost loyalty refer to him as “Lord Hieronymus” or something similar?

No matter how I think about it, I’m nowhere near higher than Hieronymus, so it’s not about showing respect.

At my words, Andrew fell silent.

“Aha, that’s something Hieronymus will decide. If speaking directly to Hieronymus makes you uncomfortable, I can personally convey a request for a room change. After all, it wouldn’t do for the Apostle of God to be uncomfortable, would it?”

Andrew skillfully avoided the topic.

Maybe he finds it too mysterious or fears using it on himself?

Even I don’t fully understand it. Something inside me shifted, and strange abilities emerged. Isla just gained enhanced physical capabilities, Wide obtained purple flames along with increased strength, and Tisah gained regeneration. However, Tisah’s physical abilities don’t seem particularly improved.

There are differences.

Wide has been heavily promoting it, so Hieronymus will surely send more people for harvesting through me.

Also, I’ve roughly figured out how much to input. With continued practice, even if I return to the bottom later, I might be able to give without exploding.

So, there’s only one thing to say here.

“Yes. Do what you want.”

I know nothing. I’m just an animal trapped within us. Whether you keep me locked up or put me in a glass display, as long as you provide warmth, I’ll be content.

Yes.

Thus, I’ll ignore any hints of malice flickering across Andrew’s face or the possibility of discord between him and Hieronymus.

Let the fire ignite.

Only then can I obtain warmth.

The harvesting system requires chaos to truly activate. Just like in *Romance of the Three Kingdoms*, peaceful times would’ve made those characters forgotten, but in turbulent times, they became heroes remembered in history.

And behind those heroes, countless lives were lost.

That’s how the harvester steals warmth from others.

Isla’s subdued opponents yielded no warmth. Thus, killing becomes necessary.

Wide demonstrated it. Killing sends warmth flowing into me.

“Yes. Understood. Lady Rebecca, look forward to good news.”

Andrew seemed to believe he’d gotten all the information he needed, bowed to me, and left the room.

Ah, what a waste.

I wish I could bury myself deeper within him.

But another seed remains.

Me—the one who contained me. Tisah.

He’s the young boy currently grappling with his newfound powers under the guidance of instructors, focused on learning combat. His heightened regeneration allows him to train without worrying about his body.

A revolutionary type who uncovers anomalies in the current logic and seeks proper solutions.

He’ll definitely make things interesting.

And it already is. Surprisingly, Wide is defending Tisah. He seems to view Tisah’s desperate training as stemming from not being chosen.

The more this happens, the clearer the difference between Wide and Tisah becomes. No matter how hard he tries, the gap keeps widening.

And that fuels Wide’s self-esteem immensely.

It even amplifies further because the people around him, including his peers and former instructors, admire him.

You hear comments like:

“I wish I’d received a blessing too.”

Impressive.

Still, Wide shines brightest.

More and more people are becoming eager to become harvesters themselves.

No, from now on, let’s simplify it. Instead of saying “contain me,” let’s just say “bless.”

That sounds better. It gives the impression of receiving something wonderful, though all it really means is putting me into that vessel.

That said, the me inside isn’t separable.

To explain it simply: imagine a large basin filled with water. That water is me.

Putting me into someone isn’t like scooping water into a cup.

It’s more like turning the cup upside down and submerging it in the water.

An air pocket forms, but oh my goodness.

If you consent to the contract, that air escapes.

It’s slightly different in reality, but that’s the general idea. The water that is me remains interconnected. We’ll leave the question of how many cups can be submerged for later homework.

Because I heard distant thumping footsteps.

The sound abruptly stopped in front of the door. Then Hieronymus entered, maintaining a stoic expression.

He looked at me with tense eyes, scanned the surroundings, and returned his gaze to me.

Did anything special happen? But he doesn’t seem to know what.

So, I’ll stick to my usual greeting.

“Hello, Hieronymus.”

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