The Priest on the Peak

It was harder than I expected.

Climbing a mountain in the rain was always going to be miserable, but this was no joke. The storm had weakened, yes—but only from full typhoon to something still savage. Thick sheets of rain blurred my vision, and the soaked ground swallowed my boots with every step, turning each stride into a struggle. When I tried to avoid the mud by stepping onto solid rock, the stone was so slick that I slipped and went tumbling.

The butler ahead of me, though—was he using some kind of light-foot technique? Even granting that he had more hiking experience and knew this mountain better than I did, the difference was absurd. Rain hammered down, and he advanced without a single waver. When I started floundering, he even stopped, waited for me, and brushed the dirt off my clothes.

By the time we reached the midpoint of the slope, my stamina was gone and I was gasping.

"I think I need a short rest," he said.

"S-sorry. My stamina's just not up to this."

"Not at all. Climbing a mountain in the rain is naturally exhausting. Come under this tree—the leaves and branches are thick enough that the rain doesn't cut through as badly."

Looking not the least bit tired himself, the butler said it was only natural I was struggling and led me beneath the canopy.

"You took Ari to the cathedral yesterday."

"There were a few things I wanted to find… and a few things I wanted to confirm."

"And did you find them? Confirm them?"

"I found what I needed to find, and confirmed what I needed to confirm—in my own way."

I could feel a subtle tension coiling between us.

"Did Ari tell you any particular stories?"

Stories about how something changed after she heard the bell. Stories about hearing a hymn.

Should I answer?

I hesitated too long, and the butler stopped waiting for a reply. He simply set off again.

"That child has always been good, even from the time she was small. After she lost her parents so young, it would have been easy for her to stray… but she never left the proper path."

"She was so bright and kind you wouldn't even guess she'd lost her parents."

"Thank you. And I don't say this only because she's my granddaughter—she's a lovely girl, isn't she? But more beautiful than her face was her heart. She was the pure sort of child who believed that if you offered your sincerity, the whole world would accept it."

"Showing your sincerity. There's no better way to persuade someone."

"But there are people in this world whom sincerity cannot reach."

"Sounds like you've met someone like that."

The butler closed his mouth.

We walked, and walked, and walked some more. Thirty minutes to the summit, maybe? The rain never let up, our pace kept dropping, and I couldn't be sure. More than that… I was curious. The butler clearly wanted to say something about Ari.

How could I draw more out of him? Should I poke a little from my side?

"Just a little more strength, please. The summit is nearly upon us. Once we're up there, we can scan the routes below and see if there's a safer path."

"That's a relief. Honestly, my legs are shaking for real now."

"Did you look for the bell at the cathedral?"

An extension of the earlier conversation. This time I decided to answer more fully.

"Yes. It was right there on the bell tower. Same as before—considering no one lives at the cathedral, it was surprisingly well maintained. The bell itself was in good condition too…"

"No one lives there, but the building itself still has a purpose. The mansion's boat is moored there as well."

"So you've been the one maintaining the cathedral all this time? Father?"

Silence fell again, brief and heavy.

"It's been a long time since anyone called me that. Did Ari tell you?"

"Ari didn't say anything of the kind. The thought just came to me at some point. You said it had been empty for ages, and yet the cathedral was so clean. Who would keep looking after it? The only person who could was you, sir. But managing the mansion alone must already be hard enough—why go to such lengths for the cathedral as well?"

"You guessed from that alone?"

"Well, I went to church when I was little. It might be different from a cathedral, but to be honest, as a kid church wasn't exactly fun. The only interesting part was meeting the other children. So when I heard Ari had gone diligently to the cathedral alone from a young age, with no friends around—I suddenly thought: maybe she wasn't going to the cathedral at all. Maybe she was simply living there with her grandfather."

"That hardly counts as a well-founded deduction. It's more of a wild stab. In the end, it feels like you were simply testing me."

"You're not wrong… but it looks like I hit the mark."

The rain thickened again. Our pace slowed further, and my legs were trembling so badly now that moving at all was a struggle.

Through the sheets of rain, his words came clear and sharp.

"The Elder was a cruel man.

"It began with outrageous demands. Hand over the land. Ring the bell one more time and I'll tear down the tower.

"I paid him no mind. Even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠after I learned he had sunk into a corrupted faith, I paid him no mind. The Lord is in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heaven—what was there to fear?

"As time passed, the whole region withered. People living near the mansion left one by one, or simply vanished.

"Ari couldn't bear it."

"When you said there are people sincerity cannot reach—you meant…"

"Ari went to the mansion alone. She poured out her heart, hoping the Elder might still find kindness for the world. Ah… that child was young. Truly young. It is my fault that I never taught her, in time, that there are those whom sincerity cannot reach.

"From the day after she returned from the mansion, a fever took her. She was like a soul gone vacant—couldn't hold a proper conversation. She only shivered and said the Elder had 'kindly' shown her something.

"A strange song. A strange poem. After that, the child no longer sought the Lord…"

The mountain summit was drawing near.

The butler no longer used formal speech with me. He was no longer a butler. He was only a priest whose granddaughter had been taken hostage.

"I went to the mansion and begged and begged. I abandoned the lawsuit. I abandoned the cathedral. I simply fell to my knees and prostrated myself, praying only for the Elder's mercy. Only after I had laid everything down did Ari rise from her bed again…

"I have to protect my granddaughter…"

"Did you lay down your position as a priest then as well?"

"What else was I supposed to do? I devoted my entire life to the Lord. When Satan fell upon me and my child, the Lord did not extend His hand.

"You're fairly strong of heart. That is your misfortune. If you had simply waited and wept like the children left behind at the mansion, this would already be over—but you're making it difficult.

"I agonized until the very end. Whether I should act with my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own hands, or leave you for the Elder to offer up himself.

"But six is enough. Three have already been offered, and two remain at the mansion—so at the end, this old neck of mine will be sufficient. There's no need for the Elder to dirty his own hands with you as well…"

At the summit, the priest turned to face me.

Ah. Things really were taking a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hard turn. When we first started the climb, I had thought the treacherous rain-soaked trail would offer any number of easy openings. But while I could barely keep my own body upright, the priest had pulled so far ahead that no gap ever appeared… and only once we reached the top, with me completely spent, did it come to this.

I clenched my teeth and drew my dagger.

"So you prepared in advance after all. Were you wary of me? Or did you mean to harm me? It doesn't matter either way."

The next instant, the priest launched himself at me as if taking flight.

For the first time since we entered the Mansion of Terror—through moments when people were dying right in front of us—Sage's Advice finally activated.

The instant the alert appeared, before thought could form, my body moved on its own and took three steps left—

Along the path between my new position and the priest, a rotten log buried in the ground gave way and collapsed. The priest's foot landed on it as it crumbled; he lost his balance and staggered.

Now? I yanked my dagger free and lunged—and in that same breath:

Another alert in under a second. I recoiled on pure reflex.

At almost the same moment, a spike—or an awl—shot up from the priest's robes and grazed my body.

"And what is that supposed to be?"

"You brought a weapon. Did you think I came empty-handed?"

We hadn't even been fighting five seconds, and already two uses of Advice were gone. The conclusion was clear. This priest was unmistakably stronger than I was.

But I'd known from day one that his physical ability outstripped mine. Of course I'd prepared another move. In this downpour, though, I couldn't use it. I needed to change the ground.

Had I thought too long? The priest had already recovered his balance and was charging again.

I'd felt it from the start—this old man had to have trained in some kind of martial art. How else could he run without a single tremor through a space packed with rotting timber, slick rock, and sliding mud?

—Slip.

In the end, I lost my footing first. My balance shattered, and I went rolling across the ground. I hurriedly shoved my upper body upright just in time to see the priest, seizing the opening, rush in.

The third Advice. For a fraction of a second, I faltered. Not dodge left or right—grab a rock? But even while that thought flashed through my head, my arm moved on its own and yanked the stone free. Something absurd happened.

The rock I'd seized had been propping up a half-rotted tree on the left. The moment I pulled it away, the dead timber collapsed and came crashing down over the charging priest. He twisted hard to avoid it—but this was terrain where even ordinary walking was enough to lose your footing. He lost his balance completely and went down.

Should I close in? The hesitation didn't last long. I already knew better. Rushing in recklessly was extremely dangerous. I hadn't inflicted a fatal wound, and I had no confidence I could beat a still-armed priest at close range.

I scanned the surroundings and spotted a tree dense with branches and leaves, shielding the ground beneath from the rain. Over there, I could use my trump card.

I sprinted toward the tree, fingers closing on the object I'd kept hidden against my chest. The second I arrived, I spun around.

In that brief span the priest had already risen and was charging me again.

Hissssss!

"AAAAAARGH!!!!! GHHHHH—! You son of a bitch, what the hell did you—!"

The priest who had not been broken by the storm, the wind, or the brutal mountain terrain now writhed on the ground like a child. The sharpened candlestick-spike clattered away somewhere as he thrashed through the mud, rubbing frantically at his face.

Two days before we entered Room 102, when the monster that came out of the pool had fallen on everyone, Eunsol noona had the presence of mind to buy liquid capsaicin from the HP Market and drove the thing off with it. Everyone thought the same thing then: that was an outstanding weapon. When you couldn't get a gun, liquid capsaicin was, in a certain sense, even better than a short blade.

Unfortunately, she'd emptied most of it on the monster. All that remained was a thin film at the bottom of the bottle—barely enough to fill the base of one of the hotel's scented spray cans. She managed to make two of them, and without a second thought she handed one to me.

Why me? Thinking about it now, maybe she'd already trusted me in her own way even then. Either way, that judgment hadn't been wrong.

At last… it was time to end this blood-soaked fight on a rain-lashed mountainside.

I tightened my grip on the dagger and closed in on the still-twitching priest.

—Thuk!

Something stabbed into my thigh.

Ah. If I'd had even one Advice left, it would have told me to dodge. A shame.

My body, already at its limit, collapsed.