Chapter 49

“Hearing that doesn’t make me happy at all. But, you know…”

“If Louis can live happily without me, if you can be happy without me…”

“Yeah. I might feel a little jealous.”

“But I think that would make me the happiest.”

“So, you’ll promise me, right?”

049

The Message (Part 2)

“How is it?”

François looked anxious. Rarely, his mask had slipped, revealing his true face.

But Anne couldn’t simply rejoice at this fact, as her own expression was equally dark. Perhaps it was due to the exhaustion from undergoing various tests.

Even with superhuman stamina, it was unusual for her to be this tired. Her spirit seemed more drained than her body.

“Hmm…”

The old woman, holding Anne’s wrist, was pondering something.

The mark on her chest was a cross within a fence, symbolizing her affiliation with the Reformatory under the Inquisition Temple. The members there were excellent nurses, teachers, and midwives.

The Religious Order spread the doctrine of love and compassion through the Reformatory, while also training fanatical holy knights. Naturally, the Sitters of the Reformatory were highly valued.

“Perhaps, truly. Oh, Ailim…”

“Shh.”

Of course, it was nothing compared to the Cardinals and Inquisition Judges.

The old woman’s calm demeanor in the face of pressure was a result of her years of experience. Anne, with her wrist still held, waited anxiously for the diagnosis.

Her feelings were strange. Anne wanted to be purely happy. Even though it was sudden and she wasn’t mentally prepared, if it were true… it would surely be good news. Something she had truly wished for.

But the room, which should have been bright with the blessing of new life, was as gloomy as Anne’s heart.

“The father of the child…”

“…I don’t want to admit it, but there’s only one, right?”

The whispered conversation between the old Sitter and the Cardinal only deepened Anne’s gloom. No matter how softly they spoke, her superhuman senses could still hear.

Soon, the two elderly figures turned their backs to Anne, who was sitting with a sullen expression. François had put his mask back on, but even his inhumanly natural smile was now stiff and rigid.

Even the wrinkles on the old woman’s face seemed filled with worry. Disgusted by the sight, Anne deliberately sharpened her tone.

“So, what’s the result?”

Of course, judging by their reactions, even if she wanted to pretend not to know, it was impossible.

“An exact result will take time, but based on the signs so far, it’s about half certain…”

The old woman’s gloomy muttering made it sound like a terminal diagnosis. When the Sitter released her wrist, Anne couldn’t hold back any longer and abruptly stood up.

She still couldn’t feel any changes in herself. Her body felt light, her senses sharp. But the fact that her body, which could endure a week of drinking stagnant water and rainwater, now felt nauseous at the scent of tea was enough evidence.

Anne glared at the somber faces and clapped her hands sharply, like a petulant child.

Clap. Clap. Clap!

The hollow sound of applause echoed. The force of the Inquisition Judge’s clapping was almost like an explosion. The sound made everyone else wince.

Anne didn’t care. She glared at François and spat out,

“Congratulations, aren’t you going to say it?”

“…”

“I was taught that every birth is worth celebrating. Maybe I need to study the doctrine again.”

Even as sharp words flew, François didn’t respond. Instead, he gestured lightly to dismiss the Sitter.

When he turned back, Anne was still glaring at him with a petulant expression. François sighed and spoke.

“…The situation is special.”

The fact that he dropped the formal speech made his stance clear. He was speaking not as a Cardinal, but as a father.

The one who created the flaw would inevitably fall. Even knowing his actions were wrong, he couldn’t help but cling to trivial human emotions over a noble mission.

“Ailim, please have mercy on this wayward lamb…”

“You’re talking as if I did something wrong.”

In the end, even if it seemed like François was scolding Anne, he was no different in repeating mistakes. And in the realm of humans, not gods, parents could never truly overcome their children.

“Anne. I don’t want to say this, but you need to behave a bit more properly…”

“Wasn’t the teaching to love?”

François was silenced by the blunt truth. The first flaw of blunt truths is that they are correct, leaving no room for refutation.

The second is that, being correct, they cannot fully capture reality.

Is loving someone wrong? No, it’s not. Creating a child is considered sacred even in religious doctrine. Especially since it’s not adultery or a bastard child, if both parties love each other, it should be pursued, not avoided.

Reality. If only the reality wasn’t that the mother is an Inquisition Judge and the father is a potential heretic.

“You’re right. Ailim taught us to love. To love humanity.”

“Louis is human too!”

Neither was willing to listen to the other, and the conversation continued to run parallel. Seeing that his daughter’s heart was as firm as a fortress, François finally clicked his tongue and stepped back.

“…Fine, there are others, so a disaster won’t happen.”

“François!”

“Don’t shout, child. I’m saying I’ll accept your stubbornness.”

To be precise, François couldn’t retract his words now that things had come this far. It was a matter of justification, not authority. Even if Louis hadn’t completed the penance procession alone, they couldn’t just kick him out of the mansion or separate him from Anne.

“But we’ll have to take some measures. Don’t be angry, it’s for your sake.”

“For my sake? What are you planning to do now?”

“Surely you don’t plan to carry out judgments while pregnant?”

The sharp remark made Anne close her mouth. For now, she only felt nausea, but that wouldn’t last. As the child grew, her body would become heavier.

Of course, she was a superhuman who could move agilely even in armor heavier than her own weight, but the child inside her wasn’t. The Holy Body was a kind of blessing, and it wasn’t inherited through bloodline.

“Stay at the Inquisition Temple for a few days. I need to prepare a suitable excuse.”

Even though it was an open secret that high-ranking officials of the Inquisition Temple had lovers outside, the repercussions when it became public were entirely different. So, for Anne’s sake and the Order’s reputation, François had to veil the situation appropriately.

He couldn’t stop rumors from spreading, but he needed a plausible excuse for Anne to be absent for a while and return without facing consequences. Even for François, this required considerable political maneuvering.

To make several people nod at what was clearly a forced explanation.

“…Louis will be waiting at home.”

“You know there’s no other way. If you insist, I’ll lend you a scribe to send a message.”

Anne nodded and began writing a letter. Since François was watching intently, she couldn’t write the sweet nothings or cringe-worthy confessions she wanted.

The words ended up being more straightforward than she initially thought. As Anne scribbled the news of her pregnancy, she quickly crossed it out.

“Why aren’t you writing it?”

Anne looked up. Naturally, the ceiling blocked her view of the sky.

Thinking of the person who would surely be happy to hear this news, a pure smile finally appeared on the girl’s lips.

“I want to tell him in person.”

*

Giving up once is hard.

But once you’ve given up, the second and third times are easy.

Having abandoned self-reliance and dignity in the Reformatory, I quickly adapted to life in the mansion. I couldn’t even change clothes without help, let alone leave the room. Even bathing and relieving myself required someone else’s assistance.

It was a shame hard to bear without letting go of my ego. No, even after letting go of my ego, the shame remained.

“It’s not allowed.”

Though they were called servants, those who took care of me were far from ordinary. No matter how they dressed for their roles, their sharp eyes and disciplined demeanor gave them away.

Their business-like attitude hid occasional glimpses of contempt. They didn’t even treat me like a patient, just ensuring I survived at a minimal level, worse than livestock.

“Ha, haha… It’s just a doll.”

“It’s not allowed.”

Repeating the same words, the maid snatched the half-finished doll from my hands. My only pastime, crafted over several days, was crushed under indifferent shoes.

I didn’t get angry watching this. Or perhaps I couldn’t. It would have been more productive to scream at the walls of my room.

At least the echo would have returned.

Watching the indifferent retreating figure, I dropped my head. Anne didn’t come.

I understand. It takes days just to travel between the city and the Inquisition Temple. But I felt pathetic, restless like a child with separation anxiety.

In the Reformatory, in the mansion.

In any prison, the light that shone on me was always the same.

“Sigh…”

Let’s stop these gloomy thoughts. If there’s one thing I learned in the Reformatory, it’s that dwelling on such thoughts only leads to a bottomless pit. I deliberately tried to think positively to console myself.

At least here was better than the Reformatory. Food was provided, someone took care of me, and though my actions were restricted, there were more things to read than the Scripture.

Yes, the people who tormented and ignored me in the Reformatory were welcome, but at least in the mansion, they were real people. How joyful… I buried my face in the floor.

Thud.

“What’s the matter?”

The noisy sound brought a servant in. Without asking, he briskly approached and forcibly sat me up, as if I were a fallen statue being righted.

He asked formally, but only to check if I, a heretic, was going berserk. Without waiting for an answer, the servant turned to leave. Before he closed the door, I hurriedly called out.

“Wait!”

“What is it?”

“Could you bring me some parchment? And a pen?”

Despite my polite request, the servant remained stiff.

“Writing seditious or heretical books is prohibited.”

I didn’t have the ability or knowledge to write such things. Stunned by the absurdity, I had to call him back as he tried to leave.

“It’s not that. I just want to write a letter to Anne. If you’re worried, just one sheet of parchment.”

“…Understood.”

Beneath his emotionless demeanor, a hint of annoyance showed, but the servant eventually granted my request.

Looking at the blank parchment I had almost begged for, I laughed bitterly at myself. As I dipped the pen in ink, the world seemed to blur, and I quickly set the writing tool aside, burying my face in the sandalwood.

Everything will be fine when Anne returns.

As Anne said, I’ll be happy.

At least I didn’t want to bury my sadness in the message to you. Even if it’s a fragile mask that could break any moment, I want you to only see me smiling—everything else has crumbled, and I’m left clinging to the only thing remaining.

After composing myself, I wrote the letter. Even though I could tell you in person when you return, for now, I wanted to soothe myself by thinking of you.

To my love at 6 Mirne Street. Hi, it’s been a while since I wrote a letter. There’s no adult to separate us when the sun sets now. Anne, how about we go on a trip together later? Like that summer when we leaned against the zelkova tree and played footsie. Let’s find our own special spot when the weather’s nice. We’ll have to wait a while for summer to come again, but by then, the scars will have healed.

As I absentmindedly wrote, my fingers grew heavier. By the time I tried to end the letter with ‘I’m fine,’ my body had completely frozen, and I only managed to leave a few black ink stains on the parchment instead of tear marks.

Will everything really be okay?

“Will everything really be okay?”

Can I forget it all?

They say God gifted humans free will, but I had neither freedom nor will.

I even wanted to make a wish. Please make me forget all this. Or just the bad memories, leaving only the good ones. It was a childish thought.

I’m a weak human. I can’t bear to carry all this. Even now, I feel like I’m on the verge of breaking, or maybe I’ve already broken and am too dull to notice. Maybe someone else is forcibly holding me together, piecing together the broken fragments. I don’t want to burden anyone.

So, just take it all away.

Naturally, no answer came. It shouldn’t have.

God is not a being who grants wishes,

And the being who grants wishes is not God.

=Do you want to make a wish?=

Then, who answered me?