Self-Destruct... Failed?

Self-destruct... It failed?

Several days had passed. The convent had not changed much. On the surface, Mariel appeared exactly as she always had. Her steps remained impeccably neat, and the voice reciting prayers during morning services was still sacred and pure.

I fidgeted with the edge of my novice nun sleeve. It seemed my idea had been wrong after all. In my own way, I had believed it was the correct answer—that those words might bring Mariel some measure of realization and help her find a path forward. Yet even after several days, Mariel showed no signs of awakening as a Saintess.

She had not become the steadfast, resolute Saintess I remembered from the original story. Thinking about it now, that was only natural. If such a simple phrase could have resolved her torment, Mariel would not have suffered for so long.

So I simply concluded that I had been mistaken once again.

If anything had changed at all, it was the prayer hour.

Normally I sat behind Mariel. She would offer the opening prayer, and I would follow with my hands clasped, mimicking her. Whenever I faltered, she would quietly whisper the next words in a low voice. That day, however, was different.

“Ria.”

Mariel called my name.

“Today, instead of standing behind me, come here.”

The place she indicated was right beside her. I blinked in surprise. Did she want me to assist with the prayer? Or did she need help with something? But Mariel offered nothing. She simply clasped her hands together and waited for me to stand at her side.

“I… don’t really know how to pray properly.”

“I know that, dear.”

Mariel’s voice was as gentle as ever.

“Today I am not trying to teach you how to pray.”

Mariel gazed at me quietly.

“Today, I simply wish to pray together with you.”

The quiet morning prayer began. Mariel did not offer her usual long, elegant recitations. She gave thanks for another day of sight. She prayed that the nights of the wounded might be a little less painful. She hoped the lost lambs wandering in darkness would not stray for too long.

Beside her, I could only keep my hands tightly clasped. I did not know what to say. Even though I remained silent, Mariel waited patiently.

“Ria, what would you like to ask the Lord for today?”

It took me a long time before I finally mumbled, “...I hope the soup isn’t too thin today.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how crude they sounded for a prayer. Yet Mariel did not correct me. She did not scold me. She simply closed her eyes for the briefest moment, then continued the prayer as if gently embracing even those words of mine.

The change I had wanted was not this. I had hoped she would awaken as a Saintess. That she would stop wavering. I had wanted something clear and definitive. But none of that happened. The only difference was a slight shift in the way we prayed.

During those same days, Iris had not been idle.

Pia had not left many specific words in the confessional. Closest friend. An unforgivable sin. No concrete details had emerged. But what Iris needed to verify had already been decided.

Ria. The novice nun Mariel had personally brought in. The child Pia had hovered around for some time.

“By the way, what is that girl Ria usually like?”

A nun passing by with an armful of dry linens paused for a moment.

“Ah, Ria? She’s a very gentle, good child. She does the hardest chores without complaint. Though… she does seem unusually fearful.”

“Fearful?”

“She recoils in terror if anyone tries to touch her even slightly. She insists on changing her habit alone where no one can see. And if you try to treat an injury, she flinches and backs away immediately.”

The nun smiled with maternal kindness, as if it were nothing of consequence.

“We assumed it was because she was badly injured by a monster. Sister Mariel herself asked us to be gentle with the child, saying she must carry deep wounds in her heart.”

“I see.”

Iris nodded softly. Once the nun had moved on, Iris slowly lowered her gaze.

A child who avoided showing her body. A child who had been injured by a monster. A child Mariel had taken directly under her wing.

Pia’s tearful voice echoed in her mind once more.

That child… carries an unforgivable sin.

Iris pressed the edge of her gloved sleeve once with her fingertips. The next thing to confirm had been decided.

The registry from the day Ria’s name was added to the convent contained a brief note.

Iris’s fingertip stopped at the note. Inspection record. Following that single line led to a short report filed by the Inquisitorate.

Iris’s gaze stopped at the final line. Deputy Inquisitor Demian Reed. Her gloved fingertip slowly settled over the name. The folded report crumpled slightly in her hand.

Two people were in the room. One was the man whose name appeared on the final line of that report—Deputy Inquisitor Demian Reed.

Though his young face still carried a trace of youth, his eyes did not waver easily. Beside him sat Senior Inquisitor Carden. The hem of his black uniform was slightly worn, and the holy emblem at his waist bore the patina of long use.

Iris placed the folded report on the table. Demian stopped speaking the moment he saw it. It was a report that had already been processed.

“You were the one who filed this report, Deputy Inquisitor Demian.”

Demian did not lift his eyes from the document. “Why do you ask?”

“I have heard something about that child that I cannot simply overlook.”

Carden’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly have you heard?”

“That she may be connected to black magic.”

Carden’s gaze dropped to the report. “Your source?”

“I cannot reveal it.”

“Then the Inquisitorate cannot take action.”

“I am aware.”

Iris bowed her head slightly. “That is why I am not making an official accusation. I am merely requesting verification in my own inadequate name.”

Demian’s fingertips froze above the report. Iris did not miss the reaction.

“The report lists it as a temporary reaction from a monster bite.”

“It was handled according to regulation.”

“Were you truly certain of that?”

Demian did not answer immediately. “There was no falsehood in the report.”

“I am sure there wasn’t.”

“Black magic residue was confirmed. There was a bite wound on her right arm. A wound from a monster could indeed leave traces.”

Demian’s gaze stopped at the bottom of the report. “However… the residue was deep.”

Carden asked in a low voice, “Deep?”

“Too deep to be dismissed as merely the remnants of a monster’s wound—”

The words cut off there. Iris slowly lowered her eyes.

“Especially when the child is one personally cherished by our most noble Sister Mariel. Should we not verify it all the more carefully?”

Carden’s gaze turned to Iris. “We cannot allow any unconfirmed danger to remain at her side.”

Iris lowered her eyes again. “I pray my old woman’s worry proves to be nothing but groundless fear. We cannot allow any unnecessary risk to reach Sister Mariel, can we?”

“And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if there is nothing?”

“Then it ends there.”

Iris’s voice was unbearably merciful. “It will become a matter that never happened—for the child or for Sister Mariel.”

“And if there is?”

Iris remained silent for a moment. “Then it will be for the Inquisitorate to judge.”

Iris bowed her head and quietly steadied her breathing. If there was nothing to Ria, this incident would be quietly buried. They had simply verified one child due to suspicious traces. The procedure might have been slightly excessive. But she could not ignore the possibility of something impure touching Mariel. That was how it could be summarized.

But if there was something… then Mariel would have to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠answer. Why she had kept the child close. Why she had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hidden her behind her own name. Why she had sheltered a child touched by black magic in the very heart of the holy order.

And even if no evidence directly linking Mariel emerged, if Mariel faltered because of that single child, that alone would be enough.

Mariel.

Iris chewed the name silently in her heart. I will watch and see just how tightly your proudly cherished mercy will strangle your own throat this time.

“Ria.”

I was organizing dry linens in front of the laundry room when a familiar nun beckoned from the corridor.

“Could you help me for a moment? There’s something I need to check, but it’s a bit heavy to carry alone.”

“Yes. Where should I go?”

“This way. It won’t take long.”

I set down the linens and followed her. Since prayer hour had long passed, the corridors were quiet. The nun stopped in front of an inner room.

“Here it is.”

Creak. The heavy wooden door opened. The moment I stepped inside, the door closed quietly behind me.

…

There was nothing in the room. No boxes, no baskets, no linens that needed checking. Instead, the two Inquisitors I had encountered last time while trying to slip away from Mariel were waiting for me.

My heart began to pound violently.

“If we startled you, I sincerely apologize.”

The middle-aged Inquisitor spoke gently. A courteous, benevolent smile hung on his face.

“A small report came in, so we only wish to verify a few things as per procedure. There is no need to be afraid.”

I forced down the scream rising in my throat and steadied my breathing. “What is this about?”

My voice came out drier than I expected. The middle-aged Inquisitor continued smiling.

“There have been rumors of suspicious presence within the convent.”

“Suspicious… presence?”

“Nothing has been confirmed yet.” He added very softly, “If you cooperate, this will be over quickly.”

I glanced toward the door. The younger Inquisitor stood in front of it. Expressionless face. Unwavering eyes. He looked exactly as he had when he seized me at the carriage stop last time.

“Please speak with Lady Mariel first.” I spoke slowly. “If this is something I must be questioned about, Lady Mariel should know.”

At those words, the middle-aged Inquisitor’s smile deepened slightly. “It is not such a serious matter. There is no need to cause Lady Mariel unnecessary worry.”

His voice was endlessly gentle. “If it truly is nothing, of course.”

My mouth went dry. No answer came.

“Now, show us your hands.”

I slowly extended my hands. The younger Inquisitor looked at the back of my hand, then my wrist. His gaze traveled up my arm and stopped near the wound on my right arm. That much, I had expected. The bite wound from the monster. The faint black magic residue that remained.

But the younger Inquisitor’s gaze did not stop there. It moved to my collar. Below my neck.

I took a step back. The younger Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Just a moment.”

I hurriedly clutched my collar. “That place—”

Before I could finish, my wrist was seized. The grip was impossibly strong. Far too powerful for my small frame to resist. Fingers first grabbed my collar. My neck instinctively shrank back.

“Wait…”

The word never fully left my mouth. The younger Inquisitor forcibly pulled my hand away from the collar. My fingers were pried open. Another hand swept my silver hair aside. The skin beneath my nape was coldly exposed.

My breath caught and my heart plummeted. The younger Inquisitor’s eyes reached my nape. The middle-aged Inquisitor also lowered his gaze to the same spot.

The black brand was not visible. Instead, there was a distorted scar that looked like an old burn melted by fire. The skin was uneven and hardened. A faded trace remained on the surface, as if scorched long ago.

“…It’s a burn scar.” My voice trembled faintly, but the words somehow emerged. “I got it when I was young.”

I tried to grab my collar again, but my wrist remained caught. “It’s so ugly… I just didn’t want to show it.”

The night Mariel had discovered it. Mariel had done this. Using the power of a holy relic granted only to Saintess candidates, she had twisted it to lay an old burn scar over the black brand like a shell. Visually, it should have been impossible to discern the true nature beneath.

That was what I had thought.

The younger Inquisitor’s hand moved. An inexplicably strong sense of dread washed over me. Before I could even think to stop him, a small holy relic began to glow at his fingertips.

I had seen that light before. The light that had brushed past when Mariel placed her hand on my nape. The light of a relic given to Saintess candidates. There was no time to wonder why an Inquisitor possessed it.

Instead, one person’s face rose first in my mind.

Iris.

The skin beneath my nape went cold and my entire body froze. She had been aiming for me from the beginning.

Before the thought could finish, the cold relic touched the burn scar.

Crackle. Crrrackle!

The shell covering it shook. The lines that had hardened like an old scar split thinly, and beneath them rose the outline of black lines.

The brand.

I had to run. That was the only thought in my mind. The instant I tensed my toes to retreat, the younger Inquisitor moved.

Clatter.

A spine-chilling metallic sound tore through the room. Silver chains burst from inside his sleeve like a snake. Instead of falling to the floor, they twisted in midair as if alive, then lunged at my wrist with open jaws.

Clang.

“Ugh…!”

My wrist felt like it would snap. The sensation of cold lasted only an instant. The next moment, burning pain surged from my wrist. It was not like being burned. It felt as if something was slicing finely along the inside of my bones rather than across my skin.

“Ah, aaaaagh…!”

The scream barely escaped. My breath was choked off first. The silver chains imbued with holy power did not stop. The chains wrapped around my wrist crawled up my arm, crushing my elbow, shoulder, and collarbone in turn.

I twisted my body, but the more I struggled, the deeper the chains dug in.

“Hng, ah, aaaaagh…!”

The area beneath my nape grew hot. No—hot was not enough. It felt as if something sharp was scraping inside the place where the brand was engraved, tearing at every black line embedded in my body one by one.

“Ugh, ugh… khk, stop…!”

My legs gave out and my knees buckled. As I collapsed onto the cold marble floor, my fingertips scraped at empty air.

No. This could not happen. If I was caught like this, it was over. If I was dragged away from here, I would never escape again.

I could not run. Then there was only one option.

Self-destruct.

The instant the thought surfaced, familiar characters flickered before my eyes.

At that moment, the silver chains dug into the area beneath my neck.

“Kh, aaah…!”

The window before my eyes seemed to shake. The characters refused to form properly, as if shattering. The letters floating in front of me blurred like ink soaked in water.

I gritted my teeth and summoned the window again.

Crack!

The chains tightened once more. This time around my nape. As if gripping the brand directly, the silver crushed the black lines.

My mind went white. “Ah, aaaaah…!”

A scream leaked out. I could not even tell if the sound was coming from my own throat. My body crumpled to the floor. I tried to draw breath, but no air entered.

The pain that began at my wrist traveled up my arm and pierced all the way to the top of my head. My vision flashed and a strange ringing filled my ears.

Self-destruct. Quickly.

My body would not move. My fingers only scraped against the floor.

The characters rose once more only to be torn apart. No further thoughts could form. It hurts. Even that thought could not remain.

The silver chains glinted at the edge of my vision. The younger Inquisitor’s toes came into view. My shadow twisted across the floor. And then—

Finally, as if every light had been extinguished, the world sank into perfect darkness.

Mariel remained alone in the prayer room. Morning prayer had ended, but the spot where Ria had stood only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moments ago was still empty. That child did not even know how to pray properly. She did not know where to place her hands or what words to offer the Lord.

Yet Mariel could not correct her clumsy words. They had not sounded like something that needed correction. Within that child lay the answer Mariel had failed to grasp for so long. Ria was both a child she must guide and a child she must listen to.

Perhaps the Lord had not sent this child to be taught by her, but rather so that she herself might learn from the child.

It was the moment that thought crossed her mind.

The door burst open violently.

“M-Mariel!”

It was Pia. She must have run desperately; she could barely breathe, her face deathly pale.

“Ria…!”

The words would not come out properly. “The Inquisitors… in the room… Ria went into that room…!”

Pia pointed down the corridor with a trembling finger. Mariel could not understand every word, but she understood one thing clearly.

Something had happened to Ria.

Mariel moved at once. The corridor felt impossibly long. Nuns turned their heads in surprise, but Mariel did not stop. Pia tried to follow but stumbled, yet Mariel could not turn back.

When she reached the door, a man’s low voice came from inside.

“Prepare for transport.”

Bang!

Every gaze in the room turned toward her at once. And Mariel saw.

Ria had collapsed miserably on the floor. Her small wrists were bound in silver chains. The chains wrapped around her shoulders and nape, digging into her flesh. She was unconscious.

Yet what struck Mariel first was the face twisted in pain. Furrowed brows. Lips parted and bloodless. Fingertips and the floor covered in bloody scratches from clawing at the ground. The black, hideous lines on her nape were fully exposed.

Mariel’s fingertips froze. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment, as if her breath had been severed. Mariel slowly opened her lips.

“Remove your hands from that child immediately.”

The atmosphere in the room sank as coldly as Mariel’s voice. Carden first bowed his head politely.

“Lady Mariel, forgive us for the disturbance—”

“I said, remove your hands.”

Demian did not release the silver chains binding Ria. Mariel’s eyes fell on that hand. Bright holy power began to gather at her fingertips.

Carden glanced down at Ria for a moment. The small child collapsed on the floor. The face twisted in pain. Yet not a trace of pity could be seen in his eyes.

“She is truly a cunning and wicked child.”

Mariel’s fingertips stiffened ever so slightly. Carden continued in a gentle voice.

“She hid a black magic brand and took shelter beneath the mercy of a Saintess candidate.”

“……”

“You did not know, Candidate.” He bowed his head respectfully. “What this child was hiding. What she was evading by using your name as a shield.”

Mariel did not answer. Carden’s voice remained courteous and gentle to the end.

“You have been deceived by this child, Candidate.”

His words sounded as if they were protecting Mariel. “Those touched by black magic are always like this. They recognize human compassion, seize pity, and shake it. They first grasp the kindest hand.”

His gaze returned to Ria. “And then they crawl inside along that hand.”

The light gathering at Mariel’s fingertips grew denser. Carden did not retreat in the slightest.

“Please set aside your anger and be at ease.” He spoke quietly. “The Inquisitorate will take care of this matter.”

Mariel’s eyes grew coldly still. “Take care of it?”

“It means we will cut it away before it can reach you, Candidate.”

Carden smiled gently. “Not a single stain or flaw will remain on your name.”

A brief silence.

“This wicked child deceived and tricked you, Mariel, and we stopped her before it was too late.” He added very slowly, “That is all that needs to be recorded.”

Mariel opened her mouth as if she had not heard a single word.

“I will count to three.”

Even Carden’s previously courteous lips tightened minutely.

“Mariel.”

“Three.”

A faint light spread through the room. The holy power extending from Mariel’s fingertips swept across the floor. The air grew heavily oppressive. The hem of her habit fluttered.

Carden’s voice grew urgent. “Would you truly discard your name for a mere single child?”

“Two.”

The light grew denser. Demian’s hand hardened like stone over the silver chains binding Ria. Carden spoke again.

“Do you not know how many people believe in you?”

No sound reached Mariel’s ears. The only thought that remained was that she must make them release Ria from those chains. Right now. She could not allow them to take the child away.

“One—”

“Do you remember a child named Daisy?”

Mariel’s fingertips stopped. The light in the room wavered. It was the voice of the young Inquisitor, Demian. He was not looking at Ria. He was quietly watching only Mariel.

“Ah.” Demian let out a very small laugh. “Of course you would not remember.”

How could she possibly forget? Daisy. The tiny hands. The shoulders that had trembled to the very end before her eyes.

The pitiful child who, because she had been touched by black magic, had been forced to accept purification before salvation. What expression the child had worn at the end. Who she had searched for with trembling lips until the last moment. Mariel had never forgotten even once.

Daisy had tried to stammer through the prayers she had learned with trembling lips. Lord. Please. I— The prayer had broken off there. The fragile voice had never managed to complete the sentence.

It had begun that day—Mariel’s habit of recalling the Lord’s silence before His mercy.

Demian spoke quietly. “She was a child you purified.”

The room fell silent. “She was my younger sister.”

Only then did Demian truly enter Mariel’s vision. The tightly pressed lips. The faint shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes. The jaw that tightened minutely whenever he swallowed his emotions. Behind that cold face, the face of the child she had seen so long ago—Daisy—flickered past.

Mariel’s lips parted with a faint spasm. But her throat was blocked, and no sound emerged.

Demian’s gaze fell on Ria collapsed on the floor. “They said that child would not even be able to enter heaven.” His voice was calm. “They said the sin of touching black magic was too deep, and purification alone was not enough.”

Mariel could not breathe.

“That is why I began this work.” Demian’s fingertips moved ever so slightly over the chains. “To repay the sin that child could not repay in my place.”

He looked at Mariel again. “Then what is this child?”

The light gathered at Mariel’s fingertips trembled. “What is the difference between Daisy and this child?”

Demian’s voice shook violently for the first time. “Daisy was purified before you, and this child was hidden beneath your hand, Mariel.”

Mariel could not answer.

“What exactly is different?”

Those words seized Mariel’s ankles. What the difference was. Why Daisy had to die, and why Ria had been kept alive and hidden. Mariel could not say.

Light still flickered at her fingertips. That light could reach Ria. The silver chains binding Ria could be severed with a single gesture. Driving out the Inquisitors before her would not take long.

But Mariel’s hand did not move. It could not move at all.

Demian did not lift Ria gently. Still bound in chains, he hoisted her roughly as if moving a designated object. Carden bowed his head politely one last time.

“A wise decision, Mariel.”

The door closed. The footsteps receded. Mariel remained standing in that place. Until the sound of Ria being taken away had completely vanished. Light still lingered at her fingertips. Yet that light saved nothing.