The forest at night was especially tranquil.
Deep within the woods, an abandoned chapel stood quietly in silence.
Something seemed to have happened here.
Outside the chapel was utter desolation; even the flowers that once symbolized the faith in the gods had already withered.
Vines grew unchecked, climbing the stone pillars, spreading across the once white walls, shrouding the finely-carved idols, and twining around the clock atop the chapel, freezing time at the moment of the church’s complete decay.
It seemed as if they were trampling on people’s faith, challenging the dignity of the gods, burying the former glory and sanctity of the chapel beneath these lush branches and leaves.
Inside, the chapel was even more dilapidated. The stained glass windows were completely shattered, fragments of glass on the floor hidden beneath a thick layer of dust, and the pews were blanketed in grime. Upon the altar, a dust-covered book lay quietly. The moonlight streamed through the broken windows, falling directly on the book. It seemed as though it had never been moved, nor ever opened, and yet it still bore the fingerprints of worshipers. What should have been the most sincere prayers of the faithful were now buried by time in endless gray.
No one had visited this chapel for a long time.
Occasionally, birds and beasts would pass through. They might have witnessed the church’s most glorious days, or perhaps they were the last living creatures in the world who still knew what had once happened in this grand chapel. When they perched on the eaves, chattering stories to the wind about what had occurred here, maybe, just for a moment, the world would remember that in the depths of a certain forest, there was once such a tranquil chapel.
Suddenly, a melodious singing voice echoed from within the church.
The singing was ethereal and holy, without a single lyric or unnecessary change in tune. When it resonated within the ruined chapel, it was as if one could glimpse its most splendid moments once more.
The whole song was just a girl quietly humming with her voice, but perhaps that was how the song was meant to be: pure and beautiful.
Following the direction of the song, one could see a girl standing at the very center of the church.
Her eyes were tightly shut, lips pressing a pure white snowflower. She prayed to the moonlight while humming the nameless melody.
Pale blue moonlight draped over her, tranquil and gentle.
But at this moment, her face looked somewhat grim. Her closed eyes trembled as if caught in a nightmare, and even the tune she hummed became slightly disordered.
The singing suddenly stopped. She abruptly coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood, clutching her stomach and falling to her knees in agony, her cries echoing in pain.
The snowflower at her lips fell to the ground, instantly stained a glaring crimson with her blood.
“Hey, are you alright!”
Matsue, who had been waiting outside the chapel for a long time, came in to check after hearing the commotion. Thankfully, the witch had brought her that Lolita dress, or else she would have nothing to wear now.
When they saw the still-vomiting-blood Syltuya, the two of them hurriedly rushed over to support her.
Matsue looked over at Windsor, who was lying flat on the ground. Her cheeks were still deathly pale, with no sign of life at all.
“Teacher, I’m sorry, it was just a little accident… Please let me try again!” As she spoke, Syltuya forced herself to stand up, pressing the bloodstained snowflower to her lips once more.
Just as she was about to start humming again, Matsue’s voice cut her off.
“You can’t keep singing like this in your condition, or something bad will definitely happen!”
Syltuya grew anxious at once. “I can still go on! Please, let me try again—I’m sure I can bring her back!”
Seeing the frail look on the girl’s face, Matsue felt even worse inside.
She wanted Windsor to wake up quickly too, but this girl before her had been singing to her for almost four hours straight, and Windsor showed no sign of waking up. Instead, Syltuya had vomited a lot of blood and looked like she’d soon sing herself to death.
She couldn’t let her own impatience cost a girl her life. She couldn’t be that selfish.
Matsue was just about to speak when she felt a warm, soft sensation on her wrist.
Syltuya clung tightly to Matsue’s arm, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded, “I really can save her, please believe me! I’ve grown up now—a hundred times, a thousand times better than before! So please, don’t leave me behind again…”
The last line sounded aggrieved, as pitiful as a puppy abandoned by its owner. Such an image seemed completely at odds with her claim of having “grown up.”
From their very first meeting, Syltuya had always been tearful before Matsue, and even called her ‘Teacher’.
Matsue was sure she’d never met her before, yet Syltuya didn’t seem to be lying. It even made Matsue wonder if her own memories had become confused, so much so that she had forgotten the girl before her.
â—Ž
But right now, she had no mind for such things—she just wanted to calm the girl down and quickly save Windsor.
“Teacher, I won’t let you down again, just let me try once more, okay? Just one more time!” In truth, this ‘one more time’ had already happened many times.
Matsue sighed helplessly. If she raised her voice even a little, the girl would cry so much it could drown her, and all the weeping made her ears ache, so she had to deliberately soften her tone and speak gently: “I believe you, you really are our only hope now. But only a fool would act tough, so take a break first—rest up, and then continue once you’re better. Understand?”
“…I understand…”
The reply was barely above a whisper, her face full of self-blame.
“Things always went fine before, so why is it only now that… But, why?” she muttered softly, gaze drifting to Windsor’s corpse, as if searching for something unusual.
Thump.
Suddenly, her heart gave a violent tremor.
Fear and unease spread within her. She recognized this feeling, one she’d sensed before in the castle: the aura of an evil spirit.
But that evil spirit should have been locked away in the dungeon—why was it here now, and why did it seem to be targeting her alone?
Thump, thump, thump…
Saintess.
Her heartbeat grew faster. This evil spirit seemed even more persistent than she’d thought, daring even to target her, the Saintess, inside the chapel.
She had to drag it out, no matter what.
“Hey, how long are you planning to cling to my arm?”
Matsue’s voice suddenly snapped her back. Syltuya puffed her cheeks and, reluctantly, let go. But at that moment, the evil aura abruptly weakened—Syltuya seemed to have noticed something.
She first poked Matsue’s shoulder carefully with her finger, then placed her palm there, inching closer bit by bit until she was pressed right up against Matsue.
Matsue stared at Syltuya as if she were crazy, not understanding what she was doing.
“Are you…brain damaged or something?”
Syltuya was still muttering to herself. Suddenly, she shouted at Matsue, “Teacher, there’s something filthy on you!!”