Mea Culpa (2)
When had it begun?
The simplest yet most important teaching of all: love thy neighbor.
The very first doctrine of the Holy Light Church.
The fact that she had forgotten it… and had even forgotten that she had forgotten.
“…”
Dominica could not move.
“…Miss Dominica?”
She remained lost in thought for a moment.
Brunel Village it was not. Yet the atmosphere was eerily similar. Well, there had never been a shortage of such places anyway.
Streets that refused to brighten even under direct sunlight, walls crusted with dust and mold. A place where curses reached the ear long before any sound of children laughing.
It was in a place like that that Dominica Alba had grown up an orphan.
No family to call her name. No hand to help her up when she fell.
She began each day with hunger and ended it with cold.
She had to survive.
Nothing else held any meaning.
The first thing she ever stole was a single piece of bread.
Her hands had trembled. Her heart had pounded like it would burst.
But the moment the food reached her stomach, relief flooded in before guilt could even form.
That was when she realized it.
It was better to live badly than to starve virtuously.
After that day, hesitation slowly vanished.
She learned how to steal wallets. She learned how to read where people’s eyes were looking.
As she grew a little older, the powerless child became a dangerous one.
She picked easy targets and threatened them. When she saw fear in their eyes, she never backed down.
It was all to survive.
At least, that was what she had believed back then.
But at night… when she curled up in the corner of an alley… an emptiness would hollow out her chest for reasons she could not name.
She did not know why.
She told herself she did not need to know.
She simply convinced herself that surviving until tomorrow was enough.
Then one day.
It was a day when rain poured down in sheets. A day she could never forget, even now.
People had taken shelter beneath eaves, leaving the muddy streets even gloomier than usual.
Dominica had just lost a fight.
The money she had tried to take had been taken from her instead. Blood flowed from a split cheek.
Her breathing came in ragged gasps.
So angry… so unfair…
But she did not cry. Crying on the streets made you look weak. And if you looked weak, the hyenas would descend in an instant.
That was when she heard footsteps.
She assumed someone had come to mock her and kept her head down.
“Get lost.”
She spat the words in a hoarse voice.
Most people left after hearing that.
But this time was different.
The footsteps stopped.
And then.
“…Are you alright?”
Dominica’s body flinched before she could stop it.
It was a strange thing to hear.
A phrase that simply did not exist in a place like this.
Are you alright?
She slowly lifted her head.
Before her stood an unfamiliar man.
His clothes were strangely eye-catching. They were far too clean for these streets, yet he did not seem to care that mud had splattered onto them.
Is he crazy?
That was her first impression.
There was only one reason someone like him would come to a place like this.
Spectacle.
The type who looked down on people at the bottom and fed on feelings of superiority.
“…What? Here to watch the show?”
The man simply looked at her for a moment.
He neither mocked her nor showed any disgust.
He only spoke one sentence.
“You’re hurt.”
Yet that single sentence.
It touched something deep inside her chest.
Until now, no one had ever described her wounds as simply being hurt.
Being beaten was natural. Falling was her own fault. Pain was the consequence of weakness.
That was the world she knew. That was how she had lived until now.
“…Are you alright…?”
She found herself murmuring in a trembling voice without realizing it.
At that moment.
The man silently extended his hand.
Without a single word…
He simply waited.
Dominica stared at that hand for a long time.
It was suspicious. It could be dangerous. There was no reason to trust him. What if this man was a slaver…?
Even so.
She did not know why.
She took his hand.
Without a shred of doubt or calculation.
It was a warm hand.
The man smiled.
“Can you stand?”
She nodded without a word.
He helped her to her feet.
Then the man spoke.
“My name is Seberian.”
The place Seberian took her to was not the main cathedral of the Holy Light Church.
It was, more precisely, an institution within the Church that protected young believers.
Abandoned children, war orphans, or those rescued from lives of starvation and wandering.
The first thing Dominica felt when she stepped through the door was…
Warmth.
Yet it felt foreign.
So foreign that it made her uneasy.
What she received first was not a question, but an offering.
“Are you hungry?”
A nun said this as she held out a piece of bread.
Dominica’s eyes narrowed at the single loaf.
What’s the price?
On the streets, there had always been a rule: nothing was ever given without a price.
Errands. Violence. Or something even filthier.
So she did not take the bread right away. But the nun did not press her.
She simply smiled and said,
“You can eat it slowly.”
Those words made even less sense… but in the end, she snatched the bread like a starving animal.
Then she took a bite.
It was the first soft, warm bread she had ever tasted.
…She nearly cried.
So she chewed and swallowed even faster. Crying would make her look weak.
That night.
Dominica lay on a real bed.
Not a floor covered in mud, but an actual bed.
She did not have to endure the rain. She did not have to stay awake clutching her belongings in case someone stole them in the night.
Yet she could not sleep.
Her body remained tense, instinctively preparing for a surprise attack.
For several days, she could not fall asleep properly.
Even when the other children smiled and spoke to her, she gave no reply.
On the streets, everyone had been an enemy.
Competitors to fight over food. A world where letting your guard down meant a knife in the back.
That was all she had ever known.
But here…
The children were sharing their bread, tearing it in half.
“You haven’t eaten enough yet, right?”
She could not understand it.
Why?
Why would they share?
The things she was expected to do were simple.
Help with cleaning sometimes, gather for meals, and attend mass to learn the teachings of the Goddess Yustia.
But even those were not mandatory.
“You may come if you wish. It’s alright if you don’t.”
Those words sounded even more suspicious to Dominica.
So for several days, she did not go.
While the other children entered the chapel, she sat alone in a corner of the courtyard.
It was a familiar way of life.
Being alone was familiar.
…Yet strangely, the longer she stayed, the more uncomfortable it became.
She was supposed to feel comfortable alone, but the longer she spent by herself here, the more her heart felt hollow.
Eventually, one day.
She made the excuse of mere curiosity and opened the chapel door.
Inside, it was quiet.
A priest was speaking in a gentle voice.
It was not some grand sermon.
There was no talk of saving the world or judging sinners.
Just one simple phrase.
“Love thy neighbor.”
Dominica frowned.
…Was that it?
The priest then told the children simple fables.
Stories of a child who helped a fallen friend stand. Stories of sharing bread with the hungry.
Tales so simple even children could understand.
At first, she scoffed.
The world did not work that way.
If you lived like that, you would starve to death.
That was common sense to her.
But strangely…
As she listened, something in her chest kept stirring.
And a few weeks later.
It was the day she received permission to go outside.
She walked behind the nun and the other children, still warily scanning their surroundings.
That was when she saw him.
A beggar sitting in the mouth of an alley.
A man in tattered clothes, so thin his hands looked like bones. He seemed too weak even to lift his head.
…He looked exactly like she once had.
That was why she could not look away.
“…”
In Dominica’s hand was a single copper coin.
It was quite a lot of money to her. Her hand trembled. Not because she was reluctant. This hand had only ever existed to take things from others.
A familiar voice whispered in her head.
Why would you give that away? Have you become a fool? You could use it yourself.
But.
The words from mass came back to her.
Love thy neighbor.
…Could something like that really be possible?
She slowly approached.
Then almost threw the coin at him. The beggar looked up at her in surprise.
And he said,
“Thank you.”
At those words, she froze.
It was the first time she had ever heard them.
No one had ever thanked her before.
Her heart pounded violently.
Thump. Thump.
The hand that had only ever taken from others.
Had, for the first time, given something instead.
…She could do it too.
In that moment.
Dominica smiled, ever so slightly.
That night.
She sat in the very front row of mass for the first time.
She quietly bowed her head.
Not to survive, but to learn how to truly live.
In her heart, she made a vow.
She would no longer be someone who took. She would become someone who protected.
She would live as a follower of the Holy Light Church, obeying the teachings of the Goddess Yustia.
“…That was how it was supposed to be.”
Dominica let out a long breath.
Something long buried deep in her chest was threatening to burst free.
The path she had walked until now. As a follower of the Holy Light Church… and as a Heretic Inquisitor.
She was no longer certain if that path had truly been right.
Countless judgments. Countless executions. All carried out in the name of God.
At least… that was what she had believed.
But.
What if.
What if that path had been wrong all along?
Then what stained her hands was not justice…
but simply violence.
“…I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.”
Dominica gave a small, bitter laugh.
A laugh mixed with self-mockery.
She found herself ridiculous. The woman who had spent her life interrogating the sins of others… was now doubting her own life.
Elian watched her quietly for a moment before speaking.
“Why do you use such formal speech with me?”
It was an entirely unexpected question. Dominica blinked.
“…Because I am nothing now.”
She had tried to say it calmly, but her voice trembled slightly.
“I am no longer a Heretic Inquisitor… nor even a follower of the Holy Light Church.”
The moment she spoke the words aloud, the reality finally sank in.
All the names that had once supported her were gone.
A nameless human. That was who she was now.
In the brief silence, only the sound of the river could be heard.
Then Elian spoke.
“I see.”
A short reply.
Then he continued.
“But even so, I do not think you have changed, Miss Dominica.”
He slowly reached into his robe.
What he pulled out was a single necklace.
A small metal ornament. A torch-shaped symbol—the emblem of the Holy Light Church.
Dominica’s eyes widened.
“…That’s—”
The very necklace she had given him.
The proof of his temporary priestly qualifications.
Elian gazed at it for a moment.
He rolled it gently in his palm, then—
“You see…”
With a casual swing of his arm toward the river.
The necklace drew an arc through the air.
It glinted brightly in the sunlight for a brief instant…
Splash.
And vanished beneath the water.
“…?”
Dominica’s mind went blank for a second. She could not comprehend what she had just seen.
That had been proof of qualification. The mark that the Holy Light Church had acknowledged him.
Yet… why?
Why had he thrown it away?
Elian kept his eyes on the river as he spoke.
“Even without that necklace, I will continue to act as I always have.”
He turned to look at her.
“Even if I have no official standing… the teachings of the Goddess Yustia must be carried on.”
As he spoke, a breeze stirred. Ripples spread across the surface of the river.
“…”
Dominica could say nothing. Something inside her chest tightened painfully.
Until now, she had lived relying solely on her qualifications.
Yet this man was saying he would act with nothing but his faith alone.
In that instant, something inside her collapsed.
No…
The tightly sealed door within her had been thrown open.
“…What is that supposed to mean?”
Her voice was a mixture of laughter and tears.
Her eyes burned. She had not even noticed the tears forming.
She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Dominica Alba did not cry. At least… the old her would not have.
But now, it no longer seemed to matter.
“…Still.”
She steadied her breathing.
“I feel much lighter after saying it all.”
A slightly awkward smile formed on her lips. It had been a long time since she had worn such an expression.
“Thank you.”
Elian gave a small nod.
The torch has been cast into the river.
Yet the flame of true faith burns brighter than ever.
Lumen, the capital of the Lustia Holy Kingdom.
The central cathedral of the Holy Light Church.
What stood out were only the thick stone walls, neatly arranged bookshelves, and endless stacks of documents.
It was a space where paperwork took precedence over faith.
A priest who had walked down the corridor paused briefly in front of the door to steady his breathing, then knocked.
“Come in.”
The voice from inside was calm.
Seberian was seated there.
He did not even raise his head as he continued moving his pen.
“A report, I assume.”
“…Yes, Lord Seberian.”
The priest carefully offered the document. Only then did Seberian stop writing and accept it.
The room was filled with nothing but the sound of turning pages.
Flip.
His reading speed was neither fast nor slow. It was the attitude of someone who already knew the outcome.
A moment later.
“…It failed.”
A subtle tone that carried no emotion whatsoever.
The priest who had delivered the report continued in a stiff voice.
“Most of the personnel deployed are now combat incapable…”
Seberian’s hand paused.
Without lifting his eyes from the document, he asked,
“And?”
The priest swallowed.
“…How should we handle their disposal?”
Only then did Seberian raise his head.
His gaze turned toward the priest. After a brief moment of thought, he spoke indifferently.
“Useless hunting dogs are not kept for long.”
“…”
Seberian picked up his pen again and added,
“…Handle it quietly.”
“I will take care of the official report to the higher-ups.”
The priest immediately bowed his head.
“…Understood.”
He left and closed the door behind him. His hurried footsteps could still be heard from inside the room.
“Hmm…”
Seberian paused with his hand still on the report and stared at it.
On one side of the document.
A single name caught his eye.
Elian.
His finger tapped lightly atop that name.
Tap.
Tap.
The corner of his mouth lifted, ever so faintly.
