When Ileil pushed open the church’s cast iron fence, the rusted iron gate let out a creak.
The rosemary in the courtyard was trimmed into geometric shapes, and a woman in a linen robe was pruning the rose bushes.
Upon hearing visitors at the church, she straightened up and turned to greet the arrivals.
“Oh, guests have arrived.” Sister Emilia’s smile carried a serenity beyond her years, with a few strands of black hair slipping from under her straw hat.
Emilia’s gaze swept over everyone’s faces in turn, as if she had anticipated their arrival.
“Good morning, everyone. May the dawn bless you.”
……
“Why are you looking at me? You said to come to the church yourself, so go ahead.”
Ileil whispered behind Prinshitt, noticing her inexplicably hesitant look.
Ileil unceremoniously pushed the princess forward.
“…You!”
Prinshitt was about to flare up but quickly suppressed her temper.
Without Dorias by her side, Prinshitt realized: now she was the leader of the team, even if it was just a hastily assembled temporary group.
It was just Ileil’s attitude of not taking her seriously that was annoying.
Prinshitt adjusted her mood and forced a smile:
“Good morning, Lady Emilia.”
“You must be Her Highness Prinshitt. Pleased to meet you.” Emilia slowly approached, stopped beside the princess, performed a standard court curtsy, then faced everyone:
“Please follow me, everyone. Let’s sit down and discuss business.”
The nun led them through the corridor.
The stained glass windows in the church filtered the sunlight into colorful patches, flowing like a moving painting on the stone brick floor.
On the way, Lily couldn’t help but reach out like a child to catch those light spots, only to have her hand swatted by Alyssa.
“Please have some tea.” Emilia set out bone china tea sets under the grape arbor, her movements elegant like a court lady.
She poured tea differently for each—Kaze’s cup was filled almost to overflowing, Ileil’s exactly seven-tenths full, and Prinshitt’s specially with mint leaves.
Very thoughtful and meticulous.
…
“Excuse us, Lady Emilia. We’re currently investigating matters related to the heretics, so let’s skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point.”
After Prinshitt took another light sip of the tea with its refreshing mint scent, her crimson eyes stared directly into the nun’s blue ones.
The female mage Alyssa originally had no good expression for Prinshitt, but seeing her handle things efficiently, her face softened a bit.
“I understand. Please wait a moment, Your Highness.”
Emilia took out an old-looking booklet.
The parchment pages were densely packed with names, three of which were circled in red:
“According to doctrine, secrets from the confessional should be sealed forever… but if it can help Your Highness’s investigation, I’m willing to face punishment for violating it.”
“Secrets?” Kaze gulped down half his tea but grimaced from the heat, “I don’t understand… Are you saying someone confessed to you about colluding with heretics?”
“It’s not as straightforward as you think, sir.” Emilia gently shook her head, “I just want to convey a message to everyone: three people who regularly came to me for confession haven’t come to the church in the last two months…”
“So based on these clues, you sent word to summon Her Highness the princess?” Ileil frowned, she said bluntly:
“Lady Emilia, I think not coming to church for confession is the norm. Pardon my frankness—people running to church every few days for such things is what’s strange, right?”
Prinshitt glanced at the silver-haired girl, stopping Ileil’s impatient speech.
“Let’s wait for Lady Emilia to finish speaking before judging, Ileil.”
“Hehe. I understand Miss Ileil’s concern, Your Highness.”
Emilia smiled, seeming not to mind Ileil’s contrarian personality:
“Miss Ileil, my initial thought was the same as yours, optimistically thinking they had walked out of their past shadows. But if I tell you—these three regular church visitors have all gone missing one after another in the last two months?”
The nun cast a gentle look at Ileil, politely and elegantly refuting her.
It made Ileil feel quite awkward.
“…That is indeed noteworthy.”
Ileil said softly.
“Then let’s start with the first person who lost contact.” She pointed to a faded text, “Blacksmith Henry, who came every week for eight consecutive months to confess the same thing.”
The slanted handwriting on the page read: [I stole copper ingots from the Kapen family again. By the dawn, I swear on the forge this is the last time, but whenever the addiction hits, I go crazy wanting to smoke those leaves… It feels like my whole life’s meaning is in there… I might never forget the feeling of soaring in the sky, those shiny metals like beckoning to me. Yesterday I even stole the buckle from lame Kapen’s prosthetic…]
The nun continued, then sighed softly: “Last month he suddenly said he found the secret to quitting. That day’s confession record was only one line: [The saint in the forge smiled at me], and he was originally a bachelor—after the smithy closed, I never saw Henry again.”
Kaze propped his chin, muttering: “Why do I feel like I’ve heard these two names somewhere?”
Unfortunately, no one paid attention to him.
Everyone’s gaze was focused on the nun.
The record under the second name was thicker.
When Emilia turned the pages, the leather cover made a dull sound:
“The second missing person is the item shop merchant: Lady Corushil. Sigh… Speaking of her, I feel regret for her matter… Let’s hear her confession record first.”
[Today I dreamed of that snowy night eight years ago again. When Martha came holding her feverish daughter to borrow money, I had just bought new jewelry from the auction house… but I lied to her, saying business was bad. Actually, I just didn’t want to lend the money—until I saw that the little girl from Martha’s house never appeared again… That’s when I knew I had committed a grave sin.]
Emilia continued: “After that, Lady Corushil would always seek welfare for poor children. She started on the 15th of every month—the girl’s death anniversary, providing bandages and herbs for free to doctors treating the poor.”
[Confessor Corushil, last confession. Voice unusually calm, said finally found a way to atone. Handed the shop key to the apprentice, instructed him to continue the monthly herb donations. Before leaving, dropped a heavy purse into the offering box, requesting to light eternal lamps for “all children who died young from illness.”]
“How did she go missing? Can I ask in detail?” Prinshitt pursued.
“It’s not exactly missing… accurately speaking—she lost contact.” The nun explained: “A month and a half ago, she closed all her shops in Renn Town. I initially thought she was preparing to start anew elsewhere, but when inquiring, I found she had completely vanished.”
“…A bit scary.”
Lily, who hadn’t spoken, said timidly.
But Ileil’s expression was calm; she thought these matters were too mundane and had no connection to the Mor believers they were pursuing or the rumored ‘True God of Death’.
“Then let’s talk about the last one now.” Emilia’s voice was like a taut string,
“This confessor called himself Carl, starting regular visits two years ago.” The nun’s voice was calm and professional, “According to church rules, we don’t record confessors’ surnames.”
The handwriting on the page was neat and clear, obviously Emilia’s.
The latest record was dated two months ago:
[Today more agitated than usual, repeatedly mentioning details of that snowy night two years ago. He said the about 12-year-old girl was wearing a patched blue skirt, with herbs and a small bag of candies in her sack. When he broke into the barn with an axe, the girl was bandaging an injured wild rabbit’s front leg. The confessor emphasized he was wearing a mask, planning to rob and leave, but the girl suddenly pounced and pulled his mask…]
The record had some ink blots here, as if the pen tip paused while writing.
Continuing down:
[‘I could have pushed her away,’ the confessor said, ‘but in the end… I was like possessed and didn’t stop the knife in my hand.’ He described in detail when the girl fell, her lips moving as if counting, closing her eyes at seven. The confessor particularly mentioned the girl still tightly clutching the carrot she hadn’t fed to the rabbit.]
Flipping back a few pages, three months ago’s record:
[Today at the market saw a flower-selling girl, his emotions suddenly collapsed, somewhat delirious during confession. Said the girl’s braided pigtails reminded him of the victim. Vomited several times during confession, had to end early. Before leaving, put a silver coin in the offering box, saying he hoped this would rid him of that nightmare for one night.]
Half a year earlier’s record showed:
[He brought a hand-carved small wooden box today, containing twelve carrot candies. Said it was imitated from memory, requested to place on the church’s memorial table. In conversation mentioned that for these two years, every week he goes to that abandoned barn, placing a bouquet of wildflowers at the scene.]
Emilia flipped to the very beginning of the record book:
[Confessor Carl, first confession. Extremely nervous, speech stuttering. Claims to be a robber, but emphasizes he never kills, until that accident two months ago. Said he fled the area immediately after, but the victim’s face haunts him day and night. Particularly mentioned a small yellow flower embroidered on the girl’s blue skirt, this detail makes him unable to eat or sleep.]
The nun gently closed the record book: “That time two months ago was his last appearance. As per custom, we don’t actively seek confessors, but…”
She paused, “Last month a woodcutter said, in a deep mountain abandoned barn, he found a simple shrine, with dozens of neatly arranged dried wildflower bouquets in front.”
“Do you know what this Carl looks like? Maybe I’ve seen him?” Kaze asked thus.
“Sorry… that’s the line. According to doctrine, I can’t reveal more.”
Emilia shook her head, “However, I can give you a little detail. He has a scar above his left eyebrow, said it was from falling off an apple tree as a child.”
Ileil noticed Kaze’s right hand unconsciously touching the scar on his left eyebrow, but quickly putting it down.
“…Tsk, making it seem like I’m the criminal.” Kaze muttered.
“These records…” Prinshitt chose her words carefully, “It seems he was indeed deeply tormented by conscience.”
“It sounds like she was indeed making up for her sins.” Alyssa snorted coldly, “But whether what he did can offset the mistakes he committed is another matter.”
“If I may ask… Lady Emilia.”
Kaze interjected thoughtfully:
“Do you know the name of the murdered girl?”
“I didn’t record it on paper, after all, to protect the confessor’s privacy.”
“Ah—don’t know that either.” Kaze said disappointedly.
“Don’t rush, sir. For this name, I seem to have an impression. That girl… seemed to utter her name before dying. Called….” Emilia tilted her head thinking for a moment, then continued:
“Lilian?”