"What did you say?! Marcos, he's dead?!"

The old man straightened up from the chair, his arm hanging limply at his sides. He shakily took the broken weapon, his sorrowful face looking as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

Who is it...?

Master Myris's reaction caused the pale-faced man's lips to curve into a smile: "Third Inquisition, Inquisitor... Alfonso de Carver."

Clutching the broken sword to his chest, the old man, his eyes unfocused, slumped back into his chair, unconsciously muttering the name: "Afonso de Carver, Alfonso... de Carver..."

He walked around the room, first dusting the steps with his sleeve, then sat down at the top of the stairs leading to the second floor. The man frowned, glanced at the candle on the handrail, exhaled, and gray smoke drifted through the air, extinguishing the candle flame into a wisp of white smoke that floated into the air.

He took out a finely crafted silver file from his pocket and carefully filed his nails, occasionally glancing up at the monk beside the desk, who was immersed in grief.

A breeze descended from the damp, cold fireplace, swirling through the stagnant air. Master Myris felt a chill on his forehead, his mind slowly calming. He placed the broken sword on the desk beside him, his voice like a broken bellows: "Throat Bone, speak... what does the Relief Society want us to do this time?"

The man known as Throat Bone placed his manicured nails to his lips, gently exhaled to blow away the nail clippings, and examined his fingers thoroughly. He said leisurely, "It's about Sutherland's relics. The guild master received a letter from you a few days ago, expressing his displeasure at the loss and return of the relics..."

The old man sat up straight and said calmly, "Just as I said in my letter, my men were unable to reach the handover point on time due to the heavy snow blocking the roads. By the time he found the bodies of the relief members, their belongings had already been taken away."

Throat Bone flicked the dust off his fingernails, looked at Master Myris, and said with a smile, "You are the Father's spokesperson on earth, and your words are the will of God. I believe you would naturally disdain such despicable tricks as falsehood and deception."

The flickering candlelight, the pitch-black steps obscuring everything, the old man sitting in the light, and the man hidden in the shadows—they met each other's gaze.

Master Myris looked at the cross on the wall and slowly read: "The Lord will always protect the fearful, and his justice will extend to their children. I keep the Father's covenant and faithfully fulfill his commandments."

“Very good.” Hougu stood up from the steps, clapped his hands gently, his face full of emotion and sincerity, and walked to the monk’s side.

The next second, the man's expression suddenly became playful.

Using the old man's shadow to shield himself from the candlelight, he leaned down and whispered in his ear, "However, there is still one thing I don't understand. Why did the church commit such cruel and inhuman acts against Mr. Byrne, piercing his body, cutting off his head, and leaving his corpse in the wilderness, when they were both believers of the Father and messengers of God?"

Seated in his chair, Master Myris trembled uncontrollably, his fingernails digging into his flesh without his awareness. Through clenched teeth, he uttered the words: "To harm the innocent without cause, to unjustly hate those who uphold chastity—this is a sin..."

Wet your fingers with your mouth, then gently pinch your throat with your thumb and forefinger, and the candlelight on the desk will instantly disappear.

The man, who had been walking slowly to the main entrance in the dim light, pushed open the door, looked at the silent old man with his head down, rubbed his chin for a while, tilted his head and asked in a puzzled tone, "I seem to have heard a rumor that you had a son when you were young, and for various reasons, you gave him to a family to be adopted. The family's surname... I think it was called Bourne?"

Silence.

After a long silence, low sounds came from the room.

"That's not true."

He shrugged and nodded, replying, "I guess that's impossible. You are the one who made the oath to God the Father, so naturally you wouldn't lie to me."

As the man spoke, he raised his hand and swept it, extinguishing the last candle beside the door.

“I have always been an honest and upright person. You have taught me the difference between civilization and barbarism, so I should leave through the main gate.”

After saying this, he stepped back and closed the door.

Darkness suddenly flooded the entire room, swallowing up every last bit of light in every corner.

——————————————————

Having slept for a full day and night, Todd, aching all over and starving, was awakened by the glaring sunlight. Looking at the sun high in the sky outside the window, he vaguely remembered some important things, yet couldn't quite recall them.

After lying in bed with his eyes open for a while, the boy, having regained his senses, suddenly sat up in bed.

"Damn it! Today's a school day!"

Donning his monk's robes and carrying his books and stationery, Todd pushed open the door and ran at full speed toward Master Myris's classroom.

Sweating profusely upon arriving at his destination, he learned a strange fact from the people around him.

Master Myris left the monastery in the early hours of the morning without leaving a single word.

Unaware of what had happened, Todd rubbed his empty stomach. Thinking that there was still a long time before noon, he wandered around the monastery with the idea of ​​finding a portable food storage box—Huggins.

After a fruitless search, he was spotted by his tagalong, Jerry. Todd looked at the tall figure following closely behind him and finally remembered where the guy was most likely to be.

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