Words I Wanted to Say to the Cultists
The place we arrived at wasn't a prison cell. Maybe one of the guards' rooms. Instead of iron bars, it was sealed off from the outside by a proper door. Seeing it shut made my heart sink, wondering just how delayed their response had been.
The guard standing watch at the door didn't try to stop us—he just stepped aside. Iris supported me as she pushed the door open, and there on the bed lay Hanbyeol, her heart pierced through by an ice spear.
My vision blurred, and I felt strength draining from my entire body, but my high mental fortitude kept me from passing out. I pulled away from Iris and staggered toward Hanbyeol's corpse.
"H-Hanbyeol. Don't mess around like this. Come on? You wouldn't die from something like this in one hit."
I still felt a lingering aversion to touching someone else's chest, so I placed my hand on her nape instead. No pulse. Just the faint warmth of someone who hadn't been dead long.
"Hanbyeol... Unnie's here. Come on, wake up. Please, Hanbyeol..."
While she was dying, I'd been indulging in carnal pleasures—what a joke that was. I couldn't even lift my head in front of her body anymore. Did I even have the right to cry? I couldn't smooth out her contorted, pained face, nor pry open the hand still clutching the unmelted ice spear. Hanbyeol was already gone, but if things went any further wrong here, there'd be no turning back.
"You said if I did as you asked, you'd let Hanbyeol go. So why is she like this? Bring her back. I said bring her back!"
"..."
I knew it was unreasonable. But with Hanbyeol collapsed right there in front of me, I couldn't see straight—words just spilled out. Too late, I realized I'd spouted off to people who held my life in their hands, and fear gripped me. But the words were out; I couldn't take them back, so I doubled down on the outburst instead.
"You prepared all this because I can raise the dead? And you call yourselves priests? What's the difference between you and black mages?!"
"Priestess, I understand your grief, but please don't speak so rudely to the inquisitors..."
The guard, apparently assuming I was on their side, tried to calm me down in a fluster. But Hamill, arriving late, spoke flatly.
"If you're that sad, just resurrect her. Simple."
"I hope your parents get stabbed by a robber and you say the same to them."
Hamill just shrugged at my classic Korean padlip, looking down at me. Fuming, I glared at him before turning my focus back to Hanbyeol. Even in my stormy teenage years, I'd only gotten into a few scraps, and as an adult, I'd tamped down my temper. I avoided arguments altogether, knowing I lost either way—win or lose, it was always me who suffered. Beating that guy with words or fists? Not happening. Focusing on him would just waste time I could use to revive Hanbyeol. Same then as now. Fighting only hurt me. Even a win would leave me hollow.
I placed my hand on Hanbyeol's chest and closed my eyes.
The resurrection skill, which any leveled-up healer learns, has penalties in combat—no moving during the cast, total vulnerability. But outside of battle, it just demands massive mana. Exhaustion from mana depletion? I was used to it. Compared to whatever agony Hanbyeol had endured, it was nothing.
Hanbyeol. Unnie's sorry. But I can't just let you die like this. Please open your eyes again. You can't die...
I recalled the Gae Saeng guild member I'd resurrected—forgotten name and all—who'd suffered from the aftereffects. Even so, I wanted Hanbyeol alive. Was I being selfish? Even if it meant taking the blame, living was better than dead. I finished the cast.
Reciting the long prayer took less than twenty seconds. In the real world, brain damage sets in about five minutes without oxygen. Praying it wasn't irreversible, I uttered the final line and felt my mana drain out in a lump.
My already weakened body couldn't withstand the recoil—I collapsed onto Hanbyeol. Breath came in gasps, eyes refusing to open properly, but I gritted my teeth and yanked the ice spear from her chest.
Resurrection ends at revival. It just turns a life-zero corpse into a living body rapidly burning through life force. If you didn't want to watch them come back just to die in agony again, you had to act fast with follow-ups.
This was reality, so I needed to heal the bleeding wound and damaged heart. Before consciousness returned and pain hit Hanbyeol, I chanted recovery spells to mend the broken ribs and restore her heart.
Mid-prayer, blood surged up my throat. I barely turned my head to spit it out, keeping it from mixing with hers. Mana depletion meant my remaining mana had squeezed out the heal skill—tough, but reassuring. My skills had never betrayed me. As my mana poured out, Hanbyeol's wounds knit closed.
She twitched, slowly opened her eyes, turned them to me, and grinned.
She tried to speak but stopped—probably because her body hadn't fully recovered. Relief crashed over me like a wave; I hugged her tight and sobbed uncontrollably. I should have been comforting her, asking if she was okay, if it hurt—but instead, she patted my back.
"Unnie smells so good. Hehe."
"You're... laughing? Right now? Do you know how worried I was, thinking something was really wrong with you...!"
Emotions overwhelmed me. I tried to pull away but lost strength and collapsed onto her again. My chest pressing on hers must have been suffocating, yet she pulled me closer and breathed deeply. That's when I realized my body was giving off a sweet scent, and I whispered,
"Hanbyeol, there are other people here..."
"Huh? I didn't do anything."
Her shameless act made me flush, feeling like the fool. I tried to get up, but she wouldn't let go, whispering instead,
"I trusted you, Unnie. Not these people. So I stabbed my own heart."
"What...?"
So it really had been a suicide attempt. No—successful, since she'd actually died. What had she been after, risking her life like that? Trusting me with what?
Dizzy, I braced against the bed by her shoulder to stand. She let go easily, whispering,
"You've saved me so many times. I didn't want to be a burden. They were probably planning to hold me hostage. But you saved me again this time."
"..."
"I'm yours now, Unnie. Body and soul."
"You... don't say things like that lightly."
Her mind must not be fully clear yet. The resurrection aftereffects hit hard—I felt guilty. But I couldn't have let her die, so I gritted my teeth, telling myself I'd done my best.
Her final words came soft, as if she'd drift off any second.
"Hehe, dying and coming back feels kinda nice, but tiring. Unnie, I'm beat... just gonna rest a bit..."
Sensing the worst, I held a finger under her nose and sighed in relief at her steady breath. Tension released; I slumped against the bed. My legs shook—I couldn't stand straight.
But I had to say what Hanbyeol couldn't. As the adult. If it were just me, I'd compromise and let it slide. But a child's life nearly ending? No concessions.
"Satisfied now? You pushed her till she died, and you had to watch her come back to be happy? How could you do this to someone with a little sister?!"
"Eve, there's some misunderstanding..."
Iris approached, looking troubled—maybe to comfort me, or clear up a real misunderstanding. But if so, she could say it from there. Unable to shake the fear they'd take Hanbyeol hostage again, chaining us to their will, I picked up the unmelted ice spear and aimed it at her.
"Stay back. You priests who serve God treat lives like dust—how can anyone trust or follow you?"
"We are heresy inquisitors. No mercy for heretics."
"Of course. Fanatics lost in your own twisted interpretation of God's will! That's you! Must be convenient—kill someone, then blame it on 'God's will'!"
Spitting out words I'd bottled up even when street preachers grabbed me in crowds felt cathartic, but my heart pounded. Screaming and fighting wasn't my thing. Still, sometimes you have to do what you're not good at. Handing them control now meant Hanbyeol could die anytime. Mindful of the guard's eyes, I kept the spear trained on Iris as she approached, Hanbyeol on my back.
Trembling at the tip, but showing no fear, Iris kept coming. So I shortened my grip and turned the spear on myself. Better to threaten with her sister's body than swing uselessly at them.
Only then did Iris's pupils quake; she halted.
"One more step, and I stab."
"Calm down and lower the spear. We're not here to harm you or the mage. Your actions just proved your power isn't demonic. Right, Brother Hamill?"
"No evil aura at all. Same as any ordinary priest's power—just stronger."
"We apologize for our rudeness so far. Eve, you'll be exalted as a saintess. With resurrection and your record of redeeming sinners. If the mage wishes, she can shed her outsider stigma and gain a fine new status. So lower the spear, and let's talk slowly."
"Saintess" made me flush—it sounded too embarrassing—but my pale, dizzy face hid it well.
"I've said it over and over: do whatever to me, just let Hanbyeol go. But this is the result? How can I trust you now? Saintess or whatever, I'll never work with you!"
"W-Weren't you three from the same church?"
The guard, watching our farce, asked cautiously. Hearing it back, it was a bit embarrassing. I was just a lowly priestess—bishops or the Pope ordered, I obeyed. Inquisitors looked important on sight. But did a veil-less priestess need to uphold that? I'd already decided to go rogue—no small details mattered.
Seeing no room for compromise, Iris stepped back, murmured with Hamill, then bowed to me.
"We're truly sorry. You're both free to go. Please calm down, and we'll speak again later."
"I have nothing to say to you."
Glancing warily, I struggled to hoist Hanbyeol onto my back. The ice spear wouldn't melt despite my warm hands—numbness let me switch grips, but its weight was heavy, and with Hanbyeol, my depleted stamina buckled. Teeth gritted, spear aimed at myself, I moved. Thankfully, neither Iris nor Hamill budged. The guard just scratched his head, eyeing us.
"Don't follow."
To show I was ready to stab myself anytime, I nicked my nape with the tip. Blood trickled—maybe too deep?—but a later heal would fix it scar-free.
Iris flinched visibly, arm outstretched, then bit her lip. Seeing her twist in pain over her precious sister, ignorant of others' lives—it felt satisfying deep down.
Reaching the stairs to leave the basement prison, I climbed each step with all my strength. Sweat poured like rain, but Hanbyeol had endured worse. Glancing back often, I confirmed Iris and Hamill hadn't followed from the room. Like Jesus carrying the cross up Golgotha—wait, reversed? Mind foggy, but they were gone, so I used the spear as a cane.
Legs quaking, breath ragged—but I couldn't collapse here.
Basement level 1. Exhausted, carrying Hanbyeol up the stairs, the guards stared questioningly, but none helped or greeted. Good thing. If I could just reach Daesik's guild...
Suddenly, my vision spun.
Couldn't overcome this with mental fortitude alone? Or had it held me this far? Body giving out, I pitched forward.
Just a bit more to escape the prison. As I fell, I didn't twist to cushion Hanbyeol—better if I got hurt. Maybe broken bones would clear my head. Staring at the approaching floor, I thought blankly.
But the braced-for impact never came. Someone had caught me and Hanbyeol. Amid it, Hanbyeol was slung onto another's back, and the ice spear flew from my hand.
"Ah, ahh..."
Recognizing who held me, I sighed in despair. Iris glared down at me.
How had she closed that distance without me noticing? I'd checked after the stairs—they hadn't followed.
"Saintess. Don't forgive me."
Her lips moved like a demon's, foretelling my fate. I decided to pass out. My depleted stamina and frayed mind couldn't face this reality anymore.