Blasphemous Kiss
The blood that had flowed down along the cross embedded in the man’s head soaked the floor. Blood, in a sacred sanctuary of all places. She herself felt as though she ought to have fainted by now, yet the man standing before her simply met her gaze with calm indifference and asked her name.
“Hic.”
Another hiccup burst from Sua’s lips, and the man’s brow creased faintly.
“Can’t you speak?”
He had heard her speaking Italian earlier, so she clearly wasn’t mute. Concluding the hiccups were to blame, he lifted his hand and peeled off the leather glove. The black leather fell to the floor and lay there.
The hand revealed was far too clean and beautiful to belong to a man. Yet its size and thickness were too masculine to be a woman’s. The thought that those elegant fingers had killed someone without hesitation sent a small tremor through her body.
He studied her in silence, then reached out. His hand slid past her fragile nape—something that seemed it would snap with the slightest pressure—and lightly cupped her chin, tilting her face toward him. He gazed quietly into her tear-filled, reddened eyes before speaking.
“Tezman. That is my name.”
What he did next was purely impulsive. Her faintly trembling lips looked cold; he wanted to warm them. If he bit them, sucked them, licked them until they grew hot, perhaps those delicate lips would finally stop shaking. The thought complete, he lowered his mouth to hers. He pried apart the slightly parted lips and pushed his tongue inside.
It was a place that had never once permitted intrusion. Unaware of that fact, he moved his tongue without restraint, roughly sweeping every corner of her mouth. Sua clenched her trembling hands and shoved hard at his shoulders. But he remained utterly motionless, like a massive wall.
“Mmph…”
How could she commit such a blasphemous act before God? A man had died, blood had been spilled, and now she—the woman who had vowed to serve God for the rest of her life—was panting as her lips were stolen.
He, on the other hand, kept his eyes open with a perfectly calm expression, observing her reaction. Watching the tears roll down from her reddened eyes, he released her lips and slowly ran his tongue across his own. The faint taste of the sea touched the tip of his tongue before vanishing in an instant.
“Sister.”
Sua’s face, as she struggled to draw each thin breath, was the very picture of someone about to lose consciousness. Gazing down at her slowly closing eyes, he allowed himself a satisfied smile.
“Sleep well.”
It felt as though someone had patted her back in the dream. The touch reminded her so strongly of Sister Agnes, who used to pat her back every night when she was a child falling asleep, that Sua helplessly sank into a deep, inescapable slumber.
“Sua.”
Someone was calling her. Even so, she did not want to open her eyes. She wanted to fall even deeper into sleep.
“Sua. Wake up now.”
Sua. Only one person ever called her that. Father Vincenzo. The oldest priest in charge of the church where she now served. The kind but rigid old priest called her Sua because she had not yet taken her final vows and was not yet a fully professed nun.
“Sua?”
When Father Vincenzo called her name once more, her eyes flew open.
“Ah…!”
Seeing her startled face as she hastily sat up, Father Vincenzo offered a gentle smile.
“You appear to have a fever. You don’t look well at all. Please return to your room and rest today.”
Only then did she notice the heat burning across her face. A deep chill had settled into her bones, making her shiver uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry, Father. I must have dozed off without realizing…”
The cross above the main altar reflected in Sua’s eyes. The moment she saw it, her heart began to pound violently. A man had died. A cross driven into his temple. And the man who had killed him had then—
“Ugh.”
As nausea rose in her throat, Sua gagged. Father Vincenzo’s expression grew grave.
“Sua. Are you all right? Shall we go to the hospital at once?”
“I-I’m fine…”
Her hand covering her mouth trembled violently. Father Vincenzo supported her as he helped her to her feet.
“We had better get you to a doctor. I will inform Father Yohan.”
“F-Father… that is…”
She needed to tell him that someone had died inside the church, yet Sua could not bring herself to finish the sentence.
It was clean. As though nothing had happened. The blood that had soaked the sanctuary floor, the corpse, and even the man who had stared at her as if he would devour her—none of it remained. Sua stood frozen, staring blankly around the church, then spoke.
“…Father Vincenzo.”
“Yes, Sua. Are you truly all right? You seem quite ill…”
“Did nothing happen? When you arrived, was the inside of the church…?”
Worried that the police might already have come and gone, Sua poured out her questions. Father Vincenzo answered with a tranquil face.
“I was surprised to find the church so spotless the moment I stepped inside. It had been polished so thoroughly that the floor sparkled like stars.”
Clean?
“Then I was startled to discover you asleep. It seems you cleaned through the night and dozed off here. But seeing how unwell you are, I am concerned. Please go to the hospital at once.”
Sua’s mind spun in confusion. Had everything that happened last night been a dream? Yet it had felt far too vivid. Even the way he had looked down at her at the very end.
As if trying to erase the face that had suddenly risen in her mind, Sua gave her head a small shake. Her clothes were not disheveled, and the church was immaculate. Everything she had witnessed last night must have been nothing more than a terrible nightmare.
Yes. A dream.
“I’m all right, Father. I think I’ll feel better after resting a little while.”
“Very well. Leave the church duties to me and rest.”
“Thank you.”
Sua bowed to Father Vincenzo and turned away. Whether from her fever or the dream, chills kept sweeping over her. She intended to go to her room, take medicine, and sleep deeply. Surely that would also quiet the chaotic, anxious emotions that had taken root inside her.
As she slowly stepped out of the sanctuary, something caught her eye. It was the holy water stoup carved from iron. Sua’s eyelids fluttered.
Among the crosses decorating its side, one spot stood out—empty. Exactly one piece was missing. As if someone had forcibly torn it away.
Goosebumps rose across her entire body as every sense awakened at once. At that moment, Father Vincenzo’s voice drifted from behind her.
“Ah, now that you mention it, one of the cross ornaments on the stoup has disappeared.”
There was no way a perfectly intact, palm-sized cross ornament could simply fall off. Sua turned toward the interior of the church, her face deathly pale. Father Vincenzo curved his eyes softly, as though to reassure her.
“Father Yohan has already requested repairs, so do not worry.”
Only then did reality crash over her with vivid clarity. It had not been a dream. The man dying before her eyes, the way her lips felt strangely swollen and hot today—everything was real. Sua’s gaze slowly rose to the cross above the central altar. A crushing guilt laced with blasphemy weighed down on her chest.
“…Yes.”
Sua fled the church as though escaping. Even as she hurried toward her room, she muttered in denial.
“No… It’s just a coincidence. The cross from the stoup…”
She should turn back immediately and confess everything to Father Vincenzo. That last night a man had burst into the church, tried to assault her, and ended up dead with the stoup’s cross ornament driven into his skull. That she had given her lips to the man who killed him.
Merely giving her lips to that man had already cracked her purity. Poverty, chastity, obedience. Everything she had vowed hundreds of times to offer wholly to God was collapsing.
Sua’s feet came to an abrupt halt. It felt as if her mind had fled and returned. If she confessed honestly to Father Vincenzo, she might never walk the path of a nun again. For her, who had dreamed of nothing but becoming a sister, there was no other choice. She would simply keep silent.
It had been a dream. Just as Father Vincenzo said, she had cleaned all night, grown tired, dozed off, and woken from a nightmare. That was all.
Her hands came together of their own accord. Clasping them tightly, she squeezed her eyes shut.
Forgive us our sins,
and lead us not into temptation.