The Regressor's Salvation

Chapter 101

─I'll never be able to do anything right.

─Why was this power given to me?

─If it had been given to someone else, they could have done so much more.

─I'm useless...

─I'll never be able to succeed...

Tirpe no longer let the noise in her mind sway her, nor did she avoid the gazes of others.

She looked straight at them.

Until now, she had been unable to settle her heart and had wandered endlessly.

Her legs trembled as if they might give way, but I, who had matched her steps, took her hand.

Perhaps drawing strength from that, Tirpe gripped my hand tightly, as if clinging to it.

There was the gaze of the Mother Superior, meeting Tirpe's own.

Tirpe smiled awkwardly at her.

"...The Mother Superior was the person I respected most. She took care of the children, tended to the church, and never lost her smile even when doing the hardest work. For someone like me, who had no parents and was always lonely... she was like a mother to me."

For the first time since removing her nun's habit, Tirpe spoke from the heart.

"Truthfully... I wanted to see you much sooner."

But she had always been paralyzed by fear, unable to act.

She had kept putting it off. She had told herself she would come only after climbing the entire Tower, only after finding a future where everyone could be happy.

But it was only now that she had finally arrived here.

It wasn't the picture she had envisioned, but she understood now the importance of each fleeting moment that passed by every day.

"I'm much later than I thought I'd be. And... I'm not exactly in a position to hold my head high."

No one dismissed her words.

Tirpe's pale skin and cross-shaped irises already marked her as something beyond human.

Her eyelids lowered slightly, as if shielding her pupils.

"I've committed too many wrongs to face the people here again. And perhaps... they're sins I'll never be able to lift my head from, no matter who stands before me. But even if it's shameless of me... even if it's only at the very end... I wanted to see all of you."

129 regressions.

Hundreds of years.

A span of time no one could imagine enduring, filled with suffering. And through it all, she had borne every burden alone.

After that grueling endurance, she had finally returned to this place.

"I've always... been grateful."

—...For letting me live until now.

Words she had never spoken, believing they would be meaningless if she regressed again.

But now, at last, she was saying them.

"..."

Perhaps belatedly feeling embarrassed, a bitter smile followed.

In contrast, the Mother Superior could not lift her head in Tirpe's presence.

These were people who had been confined to the church, unaware of most of what happened outside.

But the depth of emotion in Tirpe's gaze made them sense the weight of her feelings.

"Truly..."

Tirpe met the eyes of each person, one by one. With difficulty, she managed a smile.

The sight she had longed for so desperately.

These were people she had always lived in fear of losing at any moment.

And yet, here they were—alive in this very moment.

"I'm so glad... I got to spend time with all of you."

At last, Tirpe released the weight she had carried within her.

A single word of gratitude—for that one phrase, she had wandered through time, tormented.

But even after all these years, the emotion within her had never faded.

"Well then... goodbye. Amen."

Having bid her farewell, Tirpe turned away. Her eyes were lonely.

Which was why I grabbed her wrist.

"Wait. That woman seems to have something to say to you."

Startled, Tirpe looked back.

The Mother Superior was walking toward her, dragging her unsteady legs. She politely refused the support of others, choosing instead to approach Tirpe on her own two feet.

"!"

Her eyes were fixed only on Tirpe, her steps carrying her forward.

The elderly nun, her face lined with faint wrinkles, spoke.

"I... don't know what burdens you carry. But..."

She took Tirpe's cold hands in hers.

"Everyone makes mistakes in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠life. Everyone sins. What matters is sincerely regretting those wrongs and dedicating the rest of your life to serving others. Isn't that what our church is for? And this place... it's one you saved and brought light to..."

The nun who had locked eyes with Tirpe now turned her gaze aside.

Tirpe blankly followed that line of sight.

Even in this ruined city, the cathedral stood pristine.

Inside were families who had survived unscathed.

"You've done nothing but protect us all this time."

A tremor spread through Tirpe's shoulders.

"I—I haven't done... anything..."

"...For three years now..."

The hand gripping Tirpe tightened.

"...Thank you. For always protecting us, Tirpe."

"..."

Those were the words the regressor had longed to hear.

Eyes that had strayed from humanity twisted with tears. Agony flickered through the shimmering droplets.

A family she had guarded, even in madness—never forgetting, always remembering.

Though no one else recalled, Tirpe ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠remembered the time she had spent trying to save them.

And now, the result stood before her.

"Thank you... Tirpe."

"Ah..."

With each regression, the time she had with the nun grew shorter.

Yet those moments were the most precious, the most meaningful of all.

The person before her now was the one she had fought so desperately to remember—to never forget.

In her memories, the nun smiled at her.

"...Thank you. For saving us."

Her eyelids fluttered shut. Even as she looked upon someone so dear, all she saw were nightmares. She had trembled every day in fear of losing them. She had turned away, unwilling to face those eyes, those hands.

But now, a mother had taken hold of those hands. A mother had met those eyes.

"So, I hope you can find happiness too."

The nun had smiled all this time, yet something had always been missing.

Now, that gap was filled—and the nun gazed at Tirpe with a smile unclouded by sorrow.

Tirpe's head dropped.

At last, she squeezed her eyes shut, letting her head fall into the nun's embrace. Quietly, the mother held her as she kept her eyes closed.

The emotions she had suppressed began to leak out.

"...I—I really... I really tried... I always did my best... But nothing ever worked..."

The nun listened without a word, patting her back. And so, Tirpe rambled on like a child seeking comfort.

Her sobs gradually faded into weary lamentations.

"Three years ago, the day before you left... you had such a terrifying look on your face. I held you back and asked, but you never answered. And then... you left, still wearing that awful expression. But now..."

The nun looked at Tirpe. Her face was a mess of tears. A wrinkled hand gently cupped her cheek.

"You've returned to the Tirpe I once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knew."

Tirpe's lips trembled at the touch. She scrunched her eyes shut. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Perhaps it's thanks to this person."

The nun turned a kind gaze toward me. I stiffened reflexively but didn't look away.

"...You've met someone good."

Superior Lee So-yeon's eyes held depth.

『Lee So-yeon's Ability — 「Character Appraisal」』

"Pure... and clear. And the life within you, too."

Lee So-yeon smiled, looking at Tirpe's stomach.

"I don't know who they'll take after, but though they might be mischievous, their nature is warm."

Tirpe stared dumbfounded at her own belly.

"That's a relief. You're not alone anymore."

Lee So-yeon took a small step back, observing the two of us.

"...A new family, Tirpe."

Tirpe sobbed and hugged her stomach. The tears wouldn't stop. Yet even as she wept, she managed a faint smile and answered.

"...Yes."

The weight the regressor had carried began to dissolve.

Just by meeting the nun's—her mother's—gentle gaze, she was already being purified.

"Congratulations... my daughter."

Tirpe's lips stilled for a moment. Then, slowly, they softened.

And in a tiny voice, she replied.

"...Yes. ...Thank you... Mother."

With her tear-streaked face, Tirpe pulled her mother into an embrace. The weeping mother held her just as tightly.

I took a step back and watched over them.

Everyone in the cathedral did the same.

The moment Tirpe, having finally calmed her tears, pulled away from the nun,

I approached the convent superior and spoke.

"Mother Superior. Forgive me for overstepping, but..."

Glancing at Tirpe and the child in her womb, I met the superior's gaze again.

"Would you be willing to become the child's godmother?"

"Huh?"

Tirpe let out a startled sound, flustered.

But the convent superior only gave a wry smile. Her gaze shifted elsewhere.

A nun could not become a godmother without permission from her order's superiors.

Just then—

Someone stepped forward from the crowd.

An elderly priest, clad in the long black cassock reserved for clergy.

"Haha. Sister, what is there to hesitate about now? Isn't this a joyous occasion? For the sake of a child's happiness—must we really cling to regulations at a time like this?"

The priest, laughing heartily, turned to me.

"In that case, may I humbly offer to be the child's godfather?"

The priest who had guided Tirpe like a steadfast father.

He had volunteered with pure goodwill.

"...Yes."

Tirpe answered, unable to fully hide her moved expression, her voice trembling slightly.

Together, we entered the cathedral.

—...Do I even deserve to step inside this place?

Just as Tirpe's anxiety threatened to resurface, I took her hand. Startled, she turned to look at me, steadied herself, and strode confidently into the cathedral.

"By the Lord's blessing..."

A simple baptism was conducted for the unborn child, and it was over in an instant.

Surrounded by everyone, Tirpe slowly lifted her head.

The place she had always longed to return to.

Tirpe looked at the nun.

"...May I ask for one last indulgence?"

The nun smiled and nodded.

"I don't like the word 'last.' So ask anytime, Tirpe."

After a brief hesitation, Tirpe spoke, her voice slightly tense.

"...Could you name my child? I've always... wanted it to be from you, Mother."

The nun gazed at Tirpe's belly, then closed her eyes. After a long moment, she murmured:

"Reni."

The name the convent superior spoke with a smile.

"Reni would suit her well, Tirpe."

Reni.

Light. Noble. Bright. Beautiful.

"Reni..."

Tirpe caressed her belly, savoring the word.

『The half-human, half-Fallen Angel, Reni, expresses joy.』

"It's a lovely name."

And then, as if relieved, she smiled.

The ceremony was over.

At once, people rushed to Tirpe's side—those who had missed her since her long absence from the cathedral.

"Sister Tirpe!"

A young woman who looked like a college student threw her arms tightly around Tirpe.

"...I—I got into art school... with the scholarship money. My tuition, my living expenses... everything was covered, all this time..."

"...I'm glad. That's the result of your hard work."

Tirpe hugged her back.

"We... never went without here. We always had food... warmth. We were..."

The others struggled to find words.

But among them, one young man glared at me.

"Y-you bastard!!"

Eyes wide, he seized me by the collar.

I could have dodged—could have subdued him a hundred times over—but I let him grab me without resistance. Shocked gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Ghk..."

Tears streamed down his face. In them, I saw deep affection for Tirpe.

"...If you ever make her cry... I won't let it slide."

It was the reckless, presumptuous talk of youth.

But.

"Make sure... make sure she's happy..."

Watching him weep for Tirpe's happiness—his first love—I could only see it as the passion of youth.

"Yeah. Don't worry."

After an awkward silence, the atmosphere grew so warm it almost weighed on Tirpe.

"Come back... anytime. I'll hear your confession whenever you need."

Tirpe gave a small nod.

Then her gaze turned to the nun—no, to everyone who had lived with her in the cathedral.

"Thank you... all of you." ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

With those final words, Tirpe was able to smile—truly.

And so, Tirpe left the cathedral behind.