This Is Blasphemy

Unlike the magnificent building above, the place they had dragged Ellie to was a dilapidated underground dungeon where not a single sliver of light could enter. The damp walls were split and crumbling, shedding fragments of stone, while cockroaches and nameless insects scuttled across the floor.

A heavy clank.

A small window opened in the thick steel door. From a hole barely wide enough for an arm, a pair of pale eyes gleamed as they fixed on Ellie.

"I'll ask you once more. Who are you?"

It was the same voice that had been asking since she was brought here. It was not the voice of the bishop who had locked her away — though she could tell, at least, that its owner outranked him.

"...I'm not a witch. I keep telling you."

They had put any number of questions to her, but Ellie, clever beyond her years, had grasped the purpose of every last one of them in an instant.

They wanted her to confirm it with her own mouth. To say that she was a witch.

"Tsk. Young as you are, a witch after all. Stubborn little thing. Admit it and this gets easier. We'll give you proper food."

The voice clicked its tongue. Hunger was hard enough for a grown man to bear — how was this emaciated child's will so unbending? Where did a little girl who looked ready to collapse at any moment find such fortitude?

"Lady Solari really did tell me."

"Enough! Still not coming to your senses? Do you truly need to starve before you'll see reason?"

Ellie's stomach growled like a roll of thunder. One meal a day — a hard lump of bread and a sip of water — had left her wracked with dehydration and hunger.

"I'm not a witch..."

The food she'd taken in was next to nothing, and the stabbing ache in her belly was agony, but Ellie never once bowed her head.

"Tsk. Then endure it. No one knows this place but me. There is no one coming to save you."

The interrogator slammed the iron door shut and left. Ellie was alone in the cell now, with nothing but a faintly glowing candle for company.

Just as the voice had said, there was no one here. Only Ellie's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own words came back to her, striking the walls and returning as echoes. The only other sound, now and then, was the squeaking of rats.

I can handle this much.

Ellie neither cried nor despaired. It had never been quite this bad — but she had lived a life that had prepared her for it all the same. The thought of the past made her back throb.

"I'm not a witch, but they keep calling me one."

In a basement that was plainly empty, Ellie spoke as if she were conversing with someone. Then she split the bread on the cheap plastic tray in half. From the stones that had fallen from the cracked wall, she built a little tower. Last of all, she set the half-loaf of bread and the candle right beside it.

"It's an altar. But does Lady Solari eat bread too? Pardon? The finest altar you've ever seen?"

Even to the girl who had made it, the thing looked truly pathetic. At the unexpected praise, Ellie's cheeks flushed a warm red.

Squeak, squeak.

A white mouse climbed onto the altar, stood up on its hind legs, and looked at her.

"Hello. You look a little unusual."

Besides Ellie herself, it was the only other presence this dungeon could claim — its other master. But it looked nothing like an ordinary mouse. The white fur was one thing; she had never seen a creature of this kind in her life.

"A hamster? No, that can't be right..."

Its features were like three black dots poked into a sheet of white paper. The ears were round, the nose pink and moist as a puppy's, and the tail was a little ball, as round as its head.

She wasn't even sure it ought to be called a mouse.

Squeak.

Unfazed by Ellie's curious stare, the mouse looked back and forth between the bread and the girl, as polite as if it were asking permission.

"You can eat it. I have my own."

Squeak, squeak!

As if it had been waiting for exactly that, the mouse snatched up the bread in its mouth and vanished into the hole it had come from.

Half her bread was gone, and she was hungry enough already — but Ellie only gazed wistfully at the hole where the mouse had disappeared.

"Could I get out like that too?"

Her voice had gone a little thin. No matter how fiercely she steeled herself, she was still a young girl. Anxiety and despair arrived without warning, and they were hard to bear.

"Pardon? Something big is coming? I don't understand what you mean. All right. I'll just wait."

"Whoa! I've never seen a building like this. The white goes so well with the snow that's falling."

It was not as tall as a skyscraper, but it had the grandeur of a famous Greek temple. Karen pulled into the parking lot across from the Solari Temple, one of Yeouido's landmarks.

"Isn't the real estate around here insanely expensive?"

The Yeouido Branch sitting inside Seoul was one thing. The plot of land the temple occupied was something else entirely. Even with its purpose somewhat changed, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it covered more ground than the National Assembly Building.

"Must have a lot of money."

"Well, yeah."

It was the most powerful religious organization in the entire Alliance. They would have more than enough without any separate for-profit ventures. And these were not the miracles of movies and books — they were miracles you could see with your own eyes.

"You stay here."

"Kku-ing? I'm fine!"

Samsaek stood up in protest, waving his front paws as if to insist Karen take him along.

"Look! We've even got the spaceship bag!"

He hopped onto the carrier they now kept permanently in the back seat and patted it with his paws.

"We don't know what's in there. I don't know much about holy power myself."

The Holy Warriors were one thing. If a barrier or something of that sort detected Samsaek, it would become a headache.

"Still..."

"A monster might set off the wards."

"I am not a monster! I'm a Spiritual Beast!"

Samsaek bellowed, but Karen only poked him in the belly. He didn't press any harder — but that potbelly was still plenty round.

"Talk to me after you've lost some of this greedy potbelly, O Sacred Spiritual Beast. Didn't I catch you raiding the fridge at dawn yesterday?"

A long tail swaying in the glow of an open refrigerator, a shadow-monster in a dark kitchen — the first time, Karen had thought it was a ghost.

"What kind of Spiritual Beast has an appetite like that?"

"Kku-ing..."

This time Samsaek had nothing to say. He simply shrank into himself. After a diet of mountain-spring water and bland leaves, every processed food in this world had been far too delicious.

"If anything happens I'll text you, so just keep an eye on things from outside."

"Master? Isn't this place safe?"

There were plenty of people, and it was the heart of Seoul. The security was tight, besides.

"There are a lot of things about temples I don't know. And you're going to need to drink this and cause a scene."

Karen opened the subspace in his necklace and drew out two bottles of potion.

"Looks nasty."

Samsaek had a point. It was a plain earth-colored potion — the murky brown of muddy water right after rain. One look at the color, and the taste it promised, was enough to make Samsaek's face fall.

"This changes your appearance, so make sure you drink it and raise hell."

"For real? Then why haven't we been using this?"

"It only lasts two hours at most. And there's a decisive reason. Our little monster cat is going to hate this one the most, I bet."

"W-what is it?"

Samsaek tucked his tail against his body in advance, already frightened.

"Of everything I've eaten in a hundred and sixty years, this tastes the worst. And you lose your sense of taste for three days. Everything you chew or drink will taste like dirt — just like this color."

"Kku-iiiing! I am absolutely not drinking that!"

"Hahaha. I figured you'd hate it. This one's the thirty-minute version. Drink it and come out when I give the signal."

Karen burst out laughing, handed one bottle to Samsaek, and twisted the cap off the other himself.

"Ugh. This is a taste you never get used to."

Even Karen, who had neither greed nor prejudice when it came to flavor, found himself complaining. Finely ground sand mixed with water might actually have gone down easier. The dreadful liquid slid down his throat. He grimaced and opened the car door.

When it shut with a click, the face that turned away was an entirely different one. The build was the same, but the hair had become the most common color in the Alliance — black — and the once-narrow face had given way to more prominent cheekbones and an angular jaw. A Western-looking handsome man in his thirties.

Samsaek was left alone in the car, but the ignition was linked to his watch anyway. If he got hot, he could turn on the air conditioning himself, or wander off as he pleased.

A motor whirred.

"Master!"

Karen had not even taken a few steps through the snow piled thick on the road before the window slid down and Samsaek's head popped out.

"What? If things go well I'll be back soon. When I'm done we can grab something tasty and go."

But Samsaek's expression was deadly serious — the same look he'd worn inside the Ellinia Gate, in the moment before they were separated, with monsters closing in.

"Whatever you do, do not cause trouble in there. I really, really don't want to drink that."

"...Are you actually a pig? I'll try."

Karen didn't take it that seriously himself. What could go wrong? It was Seoul, after all. He switched on the watch at his wrist, set a two-hour alarm, and started walking toward the temple, reading over the personal details Director Kang had prepared for him.

They even wrote that much? As expected, our Director Kang didn't miss a thing when it came to getting work done.

By the time he finished reading, he had arrived at the temple entrance. Even with cold snow gathering on their heads, the Holy Warriors standing guard did not so much as flinch. A gleam of interest lit Karen's eyes.

The Holy Warriors aren't bad, though.

See one, know ten. In Belial, wars with temple factions had always started with the rank-and-file sentries. They'd try to shake you down for a "donation" just for looking around inside.

Once he stepped through the doors, the interior bustled with people who had come for every sort of reason. Some to pray. Some to tour. And some, like himself, to make a donation.

"I'm here to see the bishop."

Karen called out to a priest who was passing by.

Who does this man think he is?

Such rudeness — and inside a temple, of all places — drew a frown between the priest's brows.

"His Grace the Bishop is not someone one simply—"

"Here."

Karen drew the business card Director Kang had prepared and handed it over. The priest's sour expression reversed itself a hundred and eighty degrees.

"Ah! You must be the brother we were expecting. His Grace has been waiting for you."

The priest began to guide him with sudden courtesy. They passed through the outer sanctuary permitted to ordinary visitors and entered the inner sanctuary, and a splendor beyond all comparison wrapped itself around Karen.

"Impressive."

In old cathedrals, fragments of colored glass were pieced together into pictures, and the light coming through them created an atmosphere all its own.

"It is all by Lady Solari's grace. Instead of glass, we carved natural crystal, and here and there we set gemstones to make the Goddess Solari's beauty shine all the brighter."

Rubies, sapphires — even diamonds failed to catch the eye. A massive red diamond had been set as the sun, the church's own symbol, and that said everything that needed saying. At one carat — two hundred milligrams — a stone like that ran easily over a million dollars.

"And the god likes this?"

"If the house where He and His servants live is beautiful, would He not be pleased?"

Karen had meant it as a jab. The priest answered with pride.

There's no talking to this. I wouldn't win if I tried.

Karen did not think of himself as a particularly good-natured man — but this was a different grain of thing entirely. A very different grain.

"...Just take me to the bishop's room."

Knock, knock, knock.

"Your Grace. Brother Oh Jaemin has arrived."

"Ohh! Come in, come in! I've been waiting!"

A bishop with a kindly, well-fed face opened the door himself and came out to greet Karen. Directly behind him, two men stood guard. They were not wearing the white coats Karen had seen on the Holy Warriors at the entrance.

"A pleasure."

The bishop paid not the slightest attention to his visitor's rude manner of speaking. One look at the hundreds of millions already donated, and a smile came of its own accord.

I'll have more to offer His Eminence the Archbishop.

A vote for a new Archbishop would be held soon. He already felt a step closer. He could not bribe the man outright, of course — but a modest residence, gifted in the temple's name and placed in the Archbishop's hands, would do nicely.

"And those two?"

Karen nodded toward the men at the bishop's back.

"Ah! They are the ones who faithfully protect me. You need not worry about our conversation leaking — I trust them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠completely."

Not Holy Warriors in white coats, but other men standing as the bishop's guard... He could no longer even guess at how this place worked. Karen decided to concern himself only with the reason he had come.

"Enough talk. I just want to look around."

"Of course. I'll guide you personally."

"Alone."

"Hmm... even so, that's a bit..."

So it's not impossible.

The way the bishop let the sentence trail off meant there was something he wanted. Obviously, there was only one thing.

"I'll donate the same amount again."

"Very well! In exchange, we will assign one Holy Warrior to remain at a distance, for your safety. That much, I'm afraid, we cannot waive."

No matter how generous the donor, they could not simply let a man wander the temple alone. Appearances had to be kept. There had to be a pretext.

Jingle, jingle.

The bishop pulled a cord hanging at his side. A bell rang, and a Holy Warrior came running in.

"Holy Warrior Hangil! Reporting for duty!"

"We'll assign one as the rules require, but he won't be a nuisance to you."

Karen took one look at the Holy Warrior and understood the bishop's consideration perfectly. The tense face. The overly loud voice. The rigid bearing. Anyone could see he was a fresh recruit — which meant he would not be fussy or sly the way a veteran would.

But to talk about the man so openly, even if he was a subordinate? This place was even more of a mess than expected.

Well... not my problem.

Karen smiled back at the bishop.

"Excellent. Hangil, was it? Let's go."

"Take your time looking around. Holy Warrior Hangil — take good care of our brother."

"Yes, sir! Understood!"

Our brother, huh. Unbelievable.

This goddess Solari, Karen thought, was a remarkably generous deity. Different tastes, perhaps? If it were him, he'd have grabbed the back of his neck and keeled over.

With the booming voice of a brand-new Holy Warrior at his side, Karen began his tour of the interior.

"Take me to where the holy relics are displayed."

He made a show of looking this way and that, and the moment they had put some distance between themselves and the bishop's room, he said it as if he had been waiting. Time was wasting. A glance at his watch told him he had an hour and a half of the transformation left.

"The holy relics, sir?"

Karen looked at Hangil, standing at rigid attention far off, and beckoned.

"Come here. I can't hear you from that far."

"But His Grace said to remain at a distance..."

"I'm the one who asked for that. I've changed my mind, so come here."

"Yes, sir!"

Hangil hurried to Karen's side. When he arrived, Karen spoke in a warm voice entirely unlike the blunt tone he had used until now.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

"Ah... not at all!"

"Doesn't seem like 'not at all' to me. Looking at you, you joined purely out of faith in Lady Solari — and instead of guarding the bishop, you've been reduced to an errand boy. Isn't that right?"

"Absolutely not!"

Hangil denied it with force, but his eyes shook without mercy. Karen ran his tongue lightly across his lip.

Rookies really are the same wherever you go. Fresh and entertaining — but if I tease him any more he might cry, so I'll stop.

"Let's just go to the relics. Lead the way."

"Yes, sir! This ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way!"

They set off toward the holy relics, but after walking a long while without arriving, Karen grew a little irritated.

"Why is this so far? I thought you said holy relics?"

"We're almost there. Uh... is it here?"

Hangil opened the door in front of them, sweating, his face a picture of panic.

A long, grating creak.

Unlike the bishop's room, the unoiled, rusted hinges set Karen's nerves on edge as they opened.

"That's..."

The guidance, at least, had been accurate. Inside, something sat alone on a central table, a museum-style barrier rope drawn around it.

But that...

"That's a restaurant stainless steel cup."

He rubbed his eyes and looked again, in case he had seen it wrong. It was the kind of stainless steel water cup you found stacked in a tower inside those square sanitizers at any ordinary restaurant.

"That's blasphemous! It's the holy grail the Saint drank from when he was thirsty—"

"Look with your own eyes. What does that look like to you?"

"....It's a cup."

Hangil, faced with the holy relic, had nothing to say. To his eyes, too, it was just a stainless steel cup.

This is a place we weren't supposed to enter, if you ask me.

The temple would never say so outright, but this was surely a spot that was off-limits by unspoken rule. If Karen had come with anyone who had even a little experience, they would never have let him in. And even if an outsider happened to see it — who would walk into a shabby storeroom like this?

In Karen's judgment, that cup was the Solari Church's dirty laundry. They could not destroy it, because of what it symbolized. They could not put it on display, either. A white elephant of an object.

Something's definitely wrong with the Saint.

Holy relics could only be made by a Saint or a Saintess. It was not so much that they were "made" — objects that frequently touched the Saint's body, or that held meaning for him, simply became relics. But something had gone wrong with their owner, the Saint, and so they had lost their power.

This kid only ended up here because he doesn't know anything.

Anyone else would have had the sense to guide him to something that merely looked impressive. Ordinary people wouldn't know holy power from a hole in the ground anyway. The money, it seemed, had been well spent.

"Where did you hear about that cup? You've never heard it firsthand, have you?"

"How did you know, sir? I only overheard my grandfather—I mean, the District Overseer—mention it in passing."

"You... never mind."

No wonder the way here had taken so long. The kid had gotten lost because it was his first time. Too much of a rookie to admit he didn't know the way, he had searched until he stumbled on the place. And on top of that, information picked up through a connection to someone presumably high-ranking — a District Overseer. Coincidence stacked on coincidence.

Coincidence, is it...

Karen had not so much as a speck of faith in any god. But one thing a passing priest had said had stuck with him.

He still didn't know. But even Karen acknowledged the power that gods possessed. Was this a coincidence manufactured by that god? Or a coincidence born of human uncertainty?

The corner of Karen's mouth twisted slightly. He did not much enjoy the feeling of being a piece on someone else's board. For now, though, he knew nothing. There was only one thing he was sure of. The object in front of him, called a holy relic, was just a cup.

"Do you feel any holy power from that?"

Karen asked Hangil, who was still looking thoroughly lost.

"I can't really tell from this far, sir."

No. It was not that he couldn't tell. It was that he didn't want to know. Hangil's pupils shook violently.

"Then we'd better take a proper look."

"W-wait— you mustn't approach it!"

Before Hangil could stop him, Karen walked up to the holy relic behind the barrier rope. Security this sloppy didn't make sense to begin with.

"Brother! You mustn't touch it!"

"Catch. It'll break. Wait... it's stainless steel, so it won't break, will it?"

Paying no mind to Hangil's cry, Karen took the holy relic in his hand and threw it, without the slightest hesitation, straight at him.

"AAAAAH! The holy relic! The holy relic!"

Hangil threw himself forward and snatched it before it could hit the floor. Then he lost every scrap of a Holy Warrior's composure and bellowed at Karen.

"How could you handle a holy relic so carelessly!"

"Does that still look like a holy relic to you? Look at it properly with your own eyes."

"...."

The truth he had not wanted to admit had landed in Hangil's own hands. He had noticed it from the first glance, if he was honest. And according to what a senior had told him, even if ordinary people wouldn't, a Holy Warrior like himself should get at least some reaction from holding a holy relic.

"It used to be a holy relic, sure. Now it's just a cup, I'm telling you. Haven't you ever drunk water at a restaurant?"

"O God... why have you given me this trial..."

With Karen's thoroughly blasphemous remarks, Hangil faced the greatest crisis of his life of faith.