The Dynamic Star Map silently flowed above the Main Altar, its soft yet cold white light evenly cast down, elongating the figures of Allen and Archbishop Lucien onto the smooth, mirror-like floor.
Amidst the immense pressure, Allen’s mood was remarkably calm.
He seemed to carry an invisible aura of his own, standing on equal footing against Archbishop Lucien’s overwhelming presence.
Lucien made a “clear” gesture, leading Allen slowly toward the Main Altar, where he stopped under the watchful expanse of the star map.
His gray-blue eyes calmly fixed on Allen, his voice steady and powerful:
“Lord Allen, I have heard of your public confession yesterday afternoon in The Market. Many monks of the Church wish to see you—to witness what kind of devout man could make such a heartfelt repentance.”
“Your Grace, Archbishop,” Allen replied with a voice tinged with just the right depth, “All of this was the natural course of events. I once committed the Sin of Pride, but it was that near-drowning that changed my perspective.”
He lifted his head, eyes cast toward the profound star map, speaking with a clarity born of seeing through worldly matters:
“No matter how great a person may be, death is inevitable. Life makes no distinctions. I, like the Lamb of the Lord, am but a lost child. If within this inescapable fate of mortality, I seek the meaning of life, then perhaps that is the Lord’s will in sparing my life—to give me purpose.”
A flicker of contemplation passed through Archbishop Lucien’s gray-blue eyes before it vanished. He nodded slightly and continued:
“Lord Allen, would you share with me how you spoke with the Lord? At that moment when you were reborn… what did the Lord look like to you?”
It had come! The first test!
Allen’s spirit instantly sharpened, inwardly thankful that he had thoroughly studied the entire Holy Scripture.
The Church forbids any figurative worship of the deity itself, and only saints may be depicted in icons.
If he described God as an old man or a glowing orb—anything concrete—he would be immediately exposed!
Allen lifted his head, eyes vacant as if trying to recall, his face bearing a complex expression of both confusion and reverence.
Calmly staring at the deep star map, he slowly spoke, his voice uncertain and elusive:
“Your Grace, to be honest… I’m not sure if I truly had a clear conversation with the Lord. The memory is shrouded in thick fog, fragmented and blurry. I only… vaguely seemed to hear a voice beyond mortal language…”
He paused, as if searching for the right words, then continued with a tone carrying a balanced mix of awe and humility:
“It was vast, serene, filled with an ineffable majesty and compassion. The voice echoed directly within my soul, so holy that I could not grasp its true meaning. All I faintly sensed was that it was guiding me—offering a chance to repent and redeem myself with the remainder of my life. Nothing more.”
“The language of God, for a sinner like me, is ultimately too distant and sacred.”
Archbishop Lucien listened silently, his face expressionless except for a slight nod.
Allen couldn’t tell if he was satisfied. His heart raced, but he could only grit his teeth and wait.
After a brief silence, the Archbishop spoke again, his voice still steady but the question struck like thunder:
“Then, Lord Allen, after you awakened… did you feel as if you had gained knowledge previously impossible to know? Or… did you ever clearly feel that within your body, there exists ‘another person’?”
So direct?!
This Archbishop clearly intends to force me to admit my identity!
But… the more you want to know who I am, the more I’ll play dumb!
Allen sneered inwardly but maintained the perfect actor’s composure as if hearing “Action!” from a director.
He suddenly raised a hand to his forehead, his body trembling slightly as if bearing an immense mental blow, his voice strained and trembling:
“I… I don’t know, Your Grace… After I awoke, besides the vague memories about God… there seemed to be… something else…”
He gasped painfully, brow furrowed as if resisting an invasion.
“I seemed to… see… a completely different world… where there was no famine, no war… peace… abundance… flying iron birds… lights that shone like day even in the darkest night… I seemed to have lived there a long time… witnessed many beautiful things never before seen…”
“I wonder… could that be the Paradise recorded in the Holy Scripture… created by God for mankind? But… if God showed me Paradise, then why… must I return here?”
Allen’s voice choked with helplessness, flawlessly portraying a soul tormented by “visions.”
Archbishop Lucien did not interrupt Allen’s “muttering” but quietly watched his performance, his expression still the compassionate pity of a kindly shepherd.
“And what else?” The Archbishop’s voice lowered, like guiding a lost child, “What else did you see?”
“The stars!” Allen’s eyes suddenly widened, his voice rising sharply, “I saw the eyes of the stars! Countless cold, inhuman eyes! They opened deep in the darkness… they… they were staring right here! At me! I… I felt fear… a cold, bone-chilling fear…”
He hugged himself tightly, eyes full of helpless terror. “Your Grace… am I… possessed by something strange? I’m so scared… I don’t dare tell my father… What should I do… Will I die…?”
Allen’s acting was perfect.
The fear, helplessness, and desperate plea for protection born deep within the soul were portrayed vividly.
Even Allen himself was momentarily infected by the emotion he was channeling.
Yet Archbishop Lucien was an equally unfathomable veteran actor.
Their drama grew ever more real.
“Child, do not be afraid.” At just the right moment, Lucien reached out, his warm, strong palm gently resting on Allen’s trembling shoulder.
His voice brimmed with soothing power, “Remember, this is a sacred place. The Holy Light of the Lord envelops this place, protecting His lamb. Those peering eyes from the depths of darkness cannot penetrate the Lord’s protection. As long as you maintain devout faith and pray steadfastly to the Lord, His power will always guard you from those evil forces.”
Allen clung to this lifeline, gripping the Archbishop’s hand in return, speaking humbly:
“But… but I am not a believer! I am Allen de Laval, a hopeless sinner! Someone like me… will the Lord really protect me? Will He truly… redeem me?”
“The Lord’s love shines like sunlight, illuminating all.” Lucien nodded with full conviction. “He loves every soul in this world, regardless of their past. The lost lamb, if sincerely repentant and devout, will find the Lord’s embrace forever open. His redeeming light will surely guide you.”
Allen’s emotions seemed to “calm” gradually under the Archbishop’s firm words.
“Thank you, Your Grace… thank you… I… I understand now. I will repent and live rightly, worthy of the Lord’s grace.”
Archbishop Lucien nodded with satisfaction, his kind smile deepening as he lightly patted Allen’s shoulder: “It pleases the Lord that you think this way.”
Yet within this seemingly warm “redemption” scene, both Archbishop Lucien and Allen felt a subtle shift—
No, this performance is just too flawless!
Not a single flaw shown, and yet the act continues?
As if to break the stalemate, the Archbishop seemed to recall some trivial matter. Stroking his neatly trimmed silver-white beard, he casually added in a tone as light as discussing a common cold:
“Lord Allen, you truly need not worry so much. What you described—feeling like another person, possessing memories not your own, even being able to describe scenes never seen—is not uncommon in the Church’s ancient records. Especially in uneducated, impoverished rural areas, occasionally farmers…”
His gray-blue eyes casually swept over Allen’s face, clearly uttering a cold, precise term completely out of place in this medieval setting:
“In those texts, this condition has a special name—‘Dissociative Disorders.’”
Dissociative Disorders?!
Allen’s pupils uncontrollably constricted ever so slightly upon hearing this familiar modern psychological term.
I pretend to be a mystic, and you talk science and psychology? The roles are reversed, Archbishop!
Dissociative disorders are a class of mental illnesses characterized by abnormal integration of identity, memory, consciousness, or perception functions, often triggered by psychological trauma or prolonged stress.
Symptoms may include amnesia, identity switching, loss of reality sense, but without organic lesions.
This diagnosis… fits this “amnesiac transmigrant” perfectly!
Could it be… my memories of Earth and my awareness of transmigration… are all just delusions born from Allen de Laval’s mental breakdown after drowning? Is this “past life” merely a fabricated personality split?
No! Absolutely impossible!
I know the difference between fantasy and reality!
Allen quickly regained composure.
He immediately adjusted his expression, trying to look like a medieval youth hearing a strange new word for the first time—brow slightly furrowed, eyes confused, lips parted, as if struggling to understand the tongue-twisting term.
But it was too late.
The kindly, gentle smile remained unchanged on Archbishop Lucien’s face, as if he had just mentioned a trivial obscure word.
Yet in the depths of his sunken gray-blue eyes flashed a chilling sharp light!
No longer the gaze of a lost lamb.
It was the alertness of a hunter sensing suspicious traces, the scrutiny of a judge locking onto heresy, the pure, cold hostility of a divine sword drawn in the instant before the strike!
“Dissociative Disorders” is a technical term known only to the Church’s innermost circle, passed down from a long-lost age.
Allen de Laval, son of an ordinary viscount, a notorious rake in the royal capital, theoretically barely literate… he could never have known this term!
Nor could he have revealed a reaction not of confusion but of instant shock—as if meeting an “old friend”—upon first hearing it!
The kind smile still graced Archbishop Lucien’s face, but his heart had completely sunk.
Allen de Laval… who exactly are you?
Peak chapter just a little too slow progress.