The Trial (1)

"I wish to undergo the Sanctuary's Trial."

"...Are you truly serious?"

At my declaration-like statement, the Pope furrowed his brows and repeated his question. He seemed doubtful whether he'd heard me correctly.

The Pope, who had reflexively responded that way, hesitated as if belatedly realizing his own rudeness.

"My apologies. That was somewhat discourteous of me."

Yet he continued massaging his temples, still looking weary.

Perhaps flustered by my sudden proposal, he tightly closed his eyes and let out several deep sighs.

"If this is merely a whim—"

Meeting my resolute gaze, the Pope lowered his head as if recognizing my sincerity.

"—it appears not to be."

"Yes. I'm completely serious."

"The Sanctuary's Trial is dangerous," he cautioned.

Even so, my mind wouldn't change. In this current situation, if I didn't even attempt the Sanctuary's Trial, there was virtually nothing else I could do.

Even Silpi's power was being used to sustain this massive Holy Power. In truth, my current self was little more than a slightly trained ordinary person in physical form alone.

In this state, I couldn't possibly respond to the Prophecy of Destruction that the Goddess had spoken of.

Perhaps the Goddess had planned it this way. She spoke of freedom of choice, claiming she wouldn't force anything, but what empty words those were.

After creating this situation, she still insisted the choice was entirely mine. There couldn't be a greater contradiction than this.

'...Well, whatever.'

Right now, what mattered was restoring my Link with Silpi to its original state.

"I'm fully resolved."

"...Very well."

After a brief silence, the Pope spoke those words while slowly rising to his feet, leaning on his staff. Even after hearing my answer, he still wore an uncomfortable expression, clearly not pleased with the situation.

"Follow me."

Nodding at his words, I watched as the Pope walked toward an unknown destination.

We moved deeper into the heart of the Holy Kingdom's Assembly Hall, a place I had been in before.

The further we went inside, the more I could feel the air changing.

The canary hidden in my clothes, Ria, suddenly popped out and perched on my shoulder.

Just as I was startled by Ria's abrupt movement, the Pope glanced briefly in my direction. After walking a few steps in silence, he finally spoke to me.

"That's Yurp's pet, isn't it?"

"...Yes. She entrusted it to me, saying it would be helpful."

At those words, the Pope paused for a moment. Closing his eyes in thought, he continued in a quiet voice.

"It seems that child trusts and relies on you greatly."

"Yes. I'm grateful for that."

"Don't be. If anything, I should be the one thanking you."

With that, the Pope resumed walking. He moved ahead at a slow pace, tapping his staff against the ground as he went. Following behind him, I asked:

"What do you mean by—"

"You're aware that Yurp is a Saintess Candidate, correct?"

"Yes. That's why she was fasting before, as I understand."

At my words, the Pope let out a deep sigh. The wrinkles on his face revealed the kind of worry typical of an elderly man his age.

He looked like a grandfather fretting over his grandchild's health.

"That's right... That child detested that position with every fiber of her being."

The Pope spoke with a bitter smile. I had thought of him as a sly old fox, but perhaps he had this ordinary side to him as well.

Then again, Abel had been similar.

The knowledge I'd heard from friends about him, combined with all sorts of rumors circulating, had made me unnecessarily fearful.

This must be why one shouldn't make hasty judgments about people.

As I continued this train of thought, a sudden question arose, and I asked the Pope:

"There must have been a compelling reason for appointing her as a Saintess Candidate?"

"Indeed. The situation Yurp was in at the time was quite perilous."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

A young child of the Holy Kingdom who had survived an ambush by the Arieh Empire. Perhaps because of that, suspicions about Yurp's true identity had poured in relentlessly.

Especially since relations between the Empire and the Holy Kingdom had been particularly tense at the time, sharp debates about the child had ensued.

Some spoke of exile, while others even mentioned execution.

In that situation, the only means the Pope had to protect Yurp was to designate her as a Saintess Candidate.

"So that's why you did it."

He had appointed her as a Saintess Candidate to protect her politically.

Yet Yurp herself, burdened by the position, had refused it by fasting.

The mystery was neatly resolved.

"Thank you for saving Yurp. That, at least, comes from this old man's genuine heart."

There was something oddly touching about the Pope's words.

This man, who always twisted his words when at a disadvantage or spoke with political calculation, now seemed strangely unfamiliar in his sincerity.

"That child has regained her vitality thanks to you."

"You flatter me."

"As repayment, I'll tell you about the Trial."

I instinctively halted my steps at the Pope's words. He, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who had been walking ahead, also stopped in place and turned to look at me.

"...Really?"

"Yes. Though only as much as I'm able."

Only as much as he's able? Was there some kind of restriction preventing him from speaking further?

According to Yurp, no one had ever spoken about the Sanctuary's Trial before.

A fleeting thought crossed my mind—perhaps the Goddess herself had placed restrictions to prevent anyone from speaking of the Trial.

As I pondered this, the Pope continued.

"Remember one thing above all."

"What is it?"

"No matter what happens, you must never forget your name."

Never forget my name, huh.

I couldn't grasp the meaning behind his words. What kind of trial required such advice?

A dull ache formed in my temples, and I frowned.

"To be precise, it's your 'self,' but I suppose there's little difference."

The Pope's cryptic words only deepened the mystery. I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but he shook his head.

Whether it was a sign that he could say no more or not, the Pope didn't speak again after that.

After walking for what felt like an eternity, a door finally appeared before us. A small, pure white space, no larger than a modest garden—and at its center stood a solitary door.

The door stood alone on the white floor, without walls around it, giving off an unsettlingly alien impression.

Was this bizarre door really the one I needed to pass through for the Trial?

"The moment you open that door and step through, the Trial will begin."

"...I see."

I had thought I was prepared. But now, faced with the Trial itself, tension coiled in my chest, impossible to ignore.

For a brief moment, the thought crossed my mind—Should I have come at all?—but I shook my head and dismissed it.

Right now, I had to clear this Sanctuary's Trial.

If I didn't, I'd be left powerless, just like in the past—forced to endure, swept along by circumstances beyond my control, with no strength of my own.

Suddenly, the Emperor's golden eyes flashed in my memory, fingers tightening around my throat. An itch prickled at my neck, but I clenched my teeth and resisted the urge to scratch.

There was no turning back now.

With that resolve, I stepped toward the door. Grasping the handle, I pulled it open roughly. Beyond it yawned an abyss of darkness.

An impenetrable pitch-black void began to seep into my vision.

And then, as the darkness swallowed everything around me, my consciousness snapped like a thread.

§

Sometimes, my eyes open on their own, even without an alarm.

The strangely refreshed, invigorating feeling upon waking—Ah, I must've slept really well for once—led to a single, immediate thought:

'Oh no, I'm screwed.'

I hastily shoved the blanket aside and sat up. Outside the window, the sun was already high in the sky.

As if mocking me for oversleeping, the midday sun hanging directly overhead felt unbearably spiteful. Frantically, I turned to the alarm clock beside the bed.

Its second hand wasn't moving—had it broken?

Was that why the alarm hadn't gone off?

Maybe the battery had died. It had been months since I last replaced it.

'Did I have... plans today?'

I didn't think so.

At least, not if my memory was working right.

Besides, it was Saturday—no part-time job to rush to.

A few university assignments still lingered at the back of my mind, but, well. A few hours of suffering in front of the computer would take care of those.

With that thought, I folded the blanket.

A blanket covered in tiny stars. For a moment, I wondered—Was this really the one I slept under?

'...I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠don't know.'

My body felt incredibly refreshed, but my mind was tangled in knots.

How to describe it? Like I'd forgotten something I shouldn't have forgotten.

The same feeling I'd had when I completely blanked on plans with a friend and went to work instead.

"Must just be my imagination."

After neatly folding the blanket, I opened the bedroom door. The scent of soybean paste stew hit my nose.

Familiar, yet somehow foreign. As I tilted my head in confusion, a clattering sound came from the kitchen sink.

If my memory was right, this was definitely my self-renting room. But how could someone else be here?

Curious, I walked toward the kitchen.

There, a man stood ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cooking, wearing an apron.

His striking gray hair and silver eyes. The scar near his eye and his sharp gaze.

He stirred the stew with a ladle before noticing me and turning.

"Oh, you're awake?"

His warm expression as he greeted me. Only then did his name come back to me.

"Abel? What are you doing here all of a sudden?"

"Huh? Didn't I tell you?"

Abel looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"I said I was coming over to your place today, remember?"

"To my place? Why?"

"Well, because I'm your boyfriend?"

His words sent that same sensation clawing through my mind again—the feeling of having forgotten something I shouldn't have.

What the hell is going on? I couldn't make sense of any of it.