"Yes, I'm Sorry. Yes...."

Right after the exam ended, I was called to the staff room and scolded. The reason was that I'd shown a disrespectful attitude toward the proctoring teacher. I had no idea what part of my demeanor was disrespectful, but I apologized anyway. It seemed like the quickest way to move past it.

Thanks to my diligent apologies, the proctoring teacher let me go without much fuss. Just as he finished his lecture and turned to head back into the staff room—

Bam! Someone flung the door open and bumped right into the teacher's shoulder. The teacher's face twisted into a scowl.

"Hey, you...!"

He started to snap, but then he recognized the student and shut his mouth. It was Ma Yu-hyeon.

Ma Yu-hyeon scanned the teacher up and down with a face cold as ice, then bowed his head curtly. When he lifted it again, a perfectly innocent smile lit his features. The shift was so flawless it sent chills down my spine.

"Ah, sorry about that. I'm just in a rush sometimes."

"...Fine."

The teacher muttered awkwardly and retreated into the staff room. Ma Yu-hyeon watched ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his retreating back with a plodding gait, then turned his gaze to me. Those long, slanted eyes fixed on mine. He had a talent for making people uncomfortable just by staring.

"Hey, good to see you. Been a while. What're you doing here?"

Ma Yu-hyeon flashed a smile that grated on my nerves and struck up a conversation.

"Why are you coming out of the staff room?"

I shot back. During exam period, students were strictly forbidden from entering the staff room to prevent leaks of exam papers or answer keys. Yet here was Ma Yu-hyeon, strolling in and out like it was nothing.

"You know, that black thing for marking... the black thing. What do you call it?"

"Pen?"

"Yeah, that. A Sharpie! Had to return the Sharpie. Forgot mine, so I borrowed one from the staff room."

He said it so brazenly. Not only was he popping in and out for personal reasons, but the teachers didn't even chew him out for it. Meanwhile, I'd gotten reamed for something as trivial as a supposedly disrespectful attitude. It was ridiculous.

"Ah, got it."

I didn't want to chat more, so I gave a vague reply and decided to head back to the dorm. I didn't like Ma Yu-hyeon. I didn't like Seong Ha-yeon either, but it was a different kind of dislike. Talking to Seong Ha-yeon made anger boil up, but with Ma Yu-hyeon, a deep-seated disgust bubbled from the pit of my stomach.

"Where you headed? Dorm?"

But Ma Yu-hyeon tagged along anyway, forcing conversation.

I nodded in lieu of a reply.

"Heard Yeo Min-seo woke up?"

"Yeah?"

"Why the lukewarm reaction? You know she nearly died, right?"

Out of nowhere, he brought up Yeo Min-seo. I'd heard she'd almost died saving Elder Gabriel and barely survived, slipping into a coma. This was the first I'd heard she'd regained consciousness. Still, it didn't surprise me. Whether she woke up or not had nothing to do with me.

"I know."

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nodded and responded.

"Ah, you know? But your reaction's so dry... Anyway, she was supposed to die back then."

He said it like he'd wanted her dead. I glanced at his face, wondering if I'd misheard. He was smiling. That same nauseating smile.

Noticing my stare, he continued as if explaining.

"No, think about it. I saw her get hurt right in front of me, and she looked done for. But she survived?"

"So what?"

"You're the Charity Holy Mark holder... uh, right. Mighty Strength Blessing."

He ignored me and muttered on.

"Didn't you get a book when you were reelected? Pope's Spear, Mighty Strength Blessing. That the title?"

"..."

"Right? For reference, Yeo Min-seo's book is 'Pope's Shield, Restoration Blessing.' Funny, huh?"

I had no clue why he was telling me this. I kept walking in silence.

Ma Yu-hyeon pressed on.

"Pope's Spear has two: Charity and Diligence. Pope's Shield too: Kindness and Patience. Temperance and Chastity are the Pope's right ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and left wings. Humility is the Pope's eye. Only me so far, though."

"..."

"Anyway. The blessings get reclaimed right after graduation. But graduate with a Seven Virtues Seal, and you're eligible for the Pope's guard later. There are seven guards, named after the Seven Virtues: Charity, Diligence, Kindness—"

"Hey."

I cut off his rambling.

Graduate from Florence Academy with a Seven Virtues Seal, and you could apply for the Pope's guard. Each guard captain receives a matching blessing from the Pope. For example, the Charity Guard Captain gets the Mighty Strength Blessing. The blessings we execs got were inferior versions. The captain's was the real deal; ours were mere fragments. They handed out fragments to potential future captains to familiarize them early. Guard captains held the rank of monsignor, equivalent to elders. In certain situations, they wielded power equal to or greater than cardinals. I knew all this. No need to hear it from Ma Yu-hyeon.

"So what? What do you want?"

"No... why get so sharp?"

"You're the one droning on with useless crap. What's your point? Feel entitled to privileges?"

I spat out what I'd been holding back. Ma Yu-hyeon scratched his cheek sheepishly.

"Well... not exactly privileges. If anything, the opposite."

"What're you talking about?"

"The names are weird, right? Pope's Spear, Shield, wings, eye. No matter how you spin it positively, they're just 'tools,' aren't they?"

I didn't reply, so he cleared his throat and went on.

"Why's Restoration Blessing the Pope's Shield?"

"Dunno."

"With Restoration Blessing, you rarely die. Coma, incurable disease, disability maybe, but it's perfect for a shield."

"Isn't that a meat shield?"

"Exactly, a meat shield. Patience Blessing's also Pope's Shield. Get it now? Why Patience is a shield."

Patience Blessing let you take others' pain and transfer your own. If the Pope fell ill or got injured, all that suffering would fall to the Patience Guard Captain. If Ma Yu-hyeon was telling the truth.

"Doesn't that strike you as absurd? Unjust?"

We'd reached the front of C Dorm. Ma Yu-hyeon asked.

Absurd. Inhumane. And utterly unreligious. If true, Romanica existed solely for its Pope—doctrine and followers alike. We'd call that a cult. But I couldn't say it outright.

"If it's sacrifice for His Holiness, it's a blessing, not injustice. Isn't that why we become clerics?"

"Haha. Such empty words."

"...If you're gonna spout nonsense, get lost."

Ma Yu-hyeon burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. The echo of it was eerie, repulsive. At least to me.

He sighed, laughter fading, a crooked smile on his lips as his cold eyes met mine.

"Yeah, I did spout nonsense."

"..."

"Y'know, we're alike. Bound to be. Don't you think?"

I ignored him and entered the dorm. Ma Yu-hyeon and I weren't alike at all. Looks, personality, upbringing—nothing in common. Except one thing. He'd be Romanica's next Pope someday. I was Voodoo's Third Cult Leader. Leaders of religions, in that sense. But that was a stretch. He didn't know about me, so no way that's what he meant. Probably trying to build false camaraderie. Whatever his game, I ignored it.

I graded my Bible Comprehension exam. Perfect score. Time to study tomorrow's Romanica Theology.

One realization during study: For staying awake, Intoxication Spell beat pricking my hand with a pen. It really snapped me alert. Downside: when it wore off, delayed sleepiness hit all at once. Just cast it again.

Studying with spells was fun. Better to think that way.

During the Romanica Theology exam, I finished in 35 minutes again and was about to leave when Legba held me back.

I readjusted and checked 24 again. Between 1 and 4, but unsure which. Per Legba, 1 was right—for full marks, change it. But.

"Handing it in."

I submitted as-is. Pure stubbornness. Didn't want his help this exam.

Back at the dorm, Legba sighed.

"Could be right."

Graded it. 24 was 1. Legba right, me wrong. Rest perfect. Not full ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠marks, but top grade easy. Beat Seong Ha-yeon? Pray now exams over. No regrets. I'd tried enough.

...Enough? How hard? A few all-nighters qualify as effort? Inefficient. Distracted by thoughts, fantasies, sentiments. Wasted time, cut study, missed goals, pulled all-nighters. Sitting all night, glued to books doesn't count as hard work. Yet I thought "tried enough." Pathetic. What did I want? Pity? Empty consolation? Easy life on others' help?

Others tried tenfold harder. Mine innate; losses my fault. Not only me struggling. No right to whine.

"Work out?"

"Read then?"

Legba urged rest. But rest wouldn't untie the knot. Needed distraction. Not exam study post-exams. Useless long-term. Spell practice drained stamina. Exercise too. No books. Library too far. In chapel, chat with Kang Ji-a or uncle. Dorm felt vast.

His voice always calm.

"Doubt I'll sleep."

"Can't just lie there doing zilch."

Lay down. Ceiling high.

"Maybe..."

Thought comfortable. Felt sorta.

"..."

True. Mood swings worse lately. Snapping at trifles, laughing inappropriately. Idle anxiety, busy anxiety. Probably dreading choices ahead. But not vague future fear—clear threat to life. Too many nerve-frayers: Gu Jun-hyeok, Mun Yo-seop, Seong Ha-yeon, Ma Yu-hyeon. And unseen foes like Seong Yu-da, the Pope. Surrounded by enemies seen and unseen. Immersion dulled it; release brought it roaring back.

"Studied ~3 weeks, few hours daily?"

"17 hours better results?"

"Oh... obvious."

Sarcastic.

"Dunno..."

"..."

Holy War's end, first dozens of Loa—memories hazy. Rejected or rejecting. Remaining ones horrific. Days dazed, neither asleep nor awake. Blacked out in pain, woke to blood-smeared walls. Dug ears to block Loa voices. No one to turn to. Uncle only kin, strained ties.

"Nothing compared."

Two hardship types: surmountable, endurable. 7 years ago: endurable. Couldn't overcome alone; shut eyes/ears, wait. Now: surmountable. All future pale beside it.

"Legba... comforting no help, helpful no comfort."

Cryptic. Helpful today, not comforting. Preferred advice over platitudes.

"Forgot. Chat now?"

"Nah, she'll answer."

Loa personalities vary: good/evil, docile/violent, wise/foolish. Granbwa: good, docile, wise. Even mad, she'd respond.

"Granbwa, talk?"

No reply.

"Hello?"

Still nothing. Silence. Miffed, one last polite call.

"Won't answer?"

"Oh."

Granbwa's voice, sharp thorns in tone. Legba right—furious. Not easing with offerings.

Granbwa's Loa Powers versatile: terrain battles, plant scouting. Later, perfect 'prayer'/'song' could upheave earth. Broad, powerful. Must appease for powers. Mad, no lending/response.

"Joking. Really mad?"

"My fault. Cool off?"

Wise Loa suck. Quick on uptake, hard soothe.

"Don't need powers. Just wanted apologize. Hurting you upsets me, chokes appetite. Really."

"No fair?"

Her voice quivered.

"One tree = disregard life...?"

"Retract. Sorry."

Quick ones suck.

"Tree dying anyway. Bad roots, would've withered in pain. Sobo'd agree."

Sobo appeared.

"Mercy not me. Why lump me?"

Hastily clarified. Sobo continued.

Granbwa's voice tearful, cutting Sobo. Sobo taunted and vanished; her sobs filled my head.

"...Apologize for Sobo."

"Why so stubborn."

Granbwa's hurt irreversible. Could've smoothed; Sobo deepened rift. Frustrating.

"Just ask straight: What'll cheer you?"

"Cherish plants henceforth. No Sobo near plants."

Legba defended self, bailed. Sobo, Legba—useless. Sighed.

"What then...? Trust me?"

Favor. Manageable. For Granbwa—or her powers. Waited silently, praying easy.

(To be continued)