The Red Halo

Several days had passed.

Mariel remained alone in the empty prayer room, kneeling. Morning prayers ended, midday prayers came and went, and even when the evening bells tolled, she did not leave her place.

The nuns brought her meals several times over. The once-warm soup had gone cold, and the soft bread had hardened like stone. Someone cautiously offered her water, but Mariel never once lifted her head. A faint light still seemed to linger at her fingertips.

That day—the silver chains binding Ria. The face twisted in agony. The small fingertips stained with blood. The black brand. Daisy and Ria. The child trembling in fear atop the Purification Pyre, and the child dragged away in silver chains. What was the difference between them? In the end, Mariel could not answer.

When she closed her eyes, she saw Daisy. When she opened them, Ria’s image hovered before her. When she tried to recite the prayers, Daisy’s broken voice rose first. Mariel squeezed her eyes shut and clasped her hands together. But no answer came from the divine.

Then, small footsteps halted abruptly outside the door.

“Sister Mariel…”

It was Pia’s voice. Mariel did not raise her head. The firmly closed door remained shut for a long time. Pia hesitated outside. At last, the door creaked open with extreme care. Pia slipped through the narrow gap.

In just a few days, the child’s once-round cheeks had grown gaunt and hollow. Her eyes were bloodshot, and both hands clutched the front of her nun’s habit in a death grip.

“I…”

Pia could not bring herself to stand before Mariel. She stopped a short distance away, staring only at her own toes.

“What… happened to Ria?”

Pia continued without waiting for a reply.

“I actually had something I needed to tell her.”

Her voice trembled on the verge of shattering.

“But I avoided her.”

Her small hand tightened on the fabric until the knuckles whitened.

“Even when Ria looked at me… I turned my head first. There were words I wanted to say, but I kept running away.”

Pia’s lips parted and pressed together repeatedly.

“I was scared. It felt like Ria was hiding something. But she never did anything wrong to me. I… I just…”

Finally the thick tears she had been holding back fell with a quiet plop onto the floor.

“I never even got to say… I’m sorry.”

Only then did Mariel slowly lift her head and look at Pia. The trembling shoulders. The wet eyes. The child who had swallowed every word she longed to speak. The moment she saw that face, something deep inside her chest quietly crumbled.

It was not only Pia’s burden. She had avoided her out of fear. She should have faced her but turned away. She should have spoken but could not. It had been the same with Daisy.

Mariel had felt the pain—truly. When the young child stood trembling on the Purification Pyre. When she could not finish the prayer and her lips merely fluttered. When the child sought the Lord until her final breath. Her heart had felt as though it were being torn apart.

Yet Mariel had forced that pain down. She told herself it was the will of the order. As a saintess candidate, she must not waver. She believed the agony she carried was merely doubt born from insufficient faith.

The moment Ria was taken away had been no different. She should have reached out. She should not have let the child go. Something inside her had screamed that if she did not act now, regret would swallow her again.

But in the end she had stopped her hand. Because she could not answer the difference between Daisy and Ria. Because she feared that everything she believed would collapse at once.

Mariel gazed at Pia’s tear-streaked face.

“Sister Mariel…” Pia swallowed a sob and asked.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

That small question pierced straight through her chest.

Ria had once said it: if someone is falling, the person who sees them must extend a hand. If someone is being taken, the person beside them must block the way. Could that heart not be the Lord’s will?

The heart that ached while watching Daisy. The heart that wanted to reach out as Ria was dragged away. The heart now ringing inside her, telling her she must move before it was too late while Pia wept.

If all of it was truly His will. If the Lord would not descend from heaven Himself, but instead planted within human hearts the inability to simply abandon someone—then perhaps that was the answer.

Demian had asked what the difference was between Daisy and this child. Mariel had been unable to answer then. But now she understood.

There was no difference. She should have saved Daisy. She had to save Ria. From the past until now, what needed to change was not the two children. It was Mariel herself.

Back then she had turned away like a coward. She had hidden behind the words “the will of the order.” Beneath the heavy title of saintess candidate, she had crushed this very heart.

That was why she had let Daisy go. That was why she had let Ria go.

If she remained seated like this once more, she knew she would never be able to pray again.

Mariel slowly reached out. Her gentle warmth settled over Pia’s trembling shoulder.

“Pia.”

Pia lifted her tear-filled eyes.

“It is not too late.”

Pia’s pupils quivered.

“Really…?”

Mariel could not answer. She had received no word that the purification had been carried out. No notice had come that the disposition was complete. The Heresy Inquisition Bureau had simply taken Ria away.

If so, she could still save her. It was not yet too late.

Mariel withdrew her hand from Pia’s shoulder. The weight of the name “saintess candidate” had always been too heavy. People revered it like a blessing, but to Mariel it had felt like clothes that never fit. A person who must not waver. A person who must always be merciful. A person who must smile even while holding doubt. A person who must never collapse first before another’s faith.

She had worn those clothes for far too long. Now she could take them off. Even if the fabric tore. Even if the title of saintess candidate fell away. Even if the white robes of the Holy Kingdom were stripped from her. As long as she could bring Ria back.

It would be better in a place far from the Holy City. A place where no one raised her up or looked at her with reverence. A place where ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she would draw water from the well each morning, tend a small garden during the day, and boil simple soup each evening.

Ria would surely offer only clumsy, unpolished prayers. “I hope the soup is warm today.” “I hope it doesn’t rain too much tomorrow.” Just small, awkward words like those.

Pia might stand beside her, pretending to be the senior nun, grumbling that those were not proper prayers. Mariel would not correct her. She would accept every one of those small words as prayer in its truest form.

In that place, she felt she could hold on to the answer Ria had given her.

The heart that could not abandon another person. The heart that sat beside someone crying and reached out when someone was being taken. If that was the Lord’s will.

Mariel rose slowly from her knees. Her body, unmoved for days, staggered. Pia reached out in alarm.

“Ria,” Mariel’s voice echoed softly through the room. “I will bring her back.”

If that was truly the Lord’s will, this time she would not close her eyes and turn away.

A heavy silence had settled inside the inner conference room of the Heresy Inquisition Bureau. A sealed report lay on the table. Black wax stamped with the Bureau’s emblem sealed the document.

Carden spoke while resting his hand atop the closed file.

“This is not a matter for which we can hold Sister Mariel accountable.”

His voice was low and resolute.

“A wicked child bearing a black magic brand exploited Sister Mariel’s mercy. The child cleverly concealed the brand, and the sister remained unaware of the truth until the very end.”

Across the table, Iris quietly raised her eyes.

Carden kept his hand on the report.

“The Heresy Inquisition Bureau ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠confirmed the threat and has taken all necessary measures.”

“…Taken all necessary measures.”

Iris gracefully folded both hands over her lap and offered a thin, leisurely smile.

“Inquisitor Carden, do you intend to bury this incident here?”

Carden’s eyes narrowed.

“Every confirmed danger has been resolved. Pursuing the matter any further would only sow unnecessary chaos within the order.”

“Chaos, you say.”

Iris laughed softly, rolling the word on her tongue.

“I have no desire for chaos either.”

Her gaze dropped to the report.

“Yet beneath the name of a saintess candidate lived a child marked by a black magic brand. She wore the nun’s habit, resided openly in the heart of the convent, and received protection under Sister Mariel’s own guarantee.”

Carden remained silent.

“Can we truly end it all with the single excuse that she was unfortunately deceived?”

“Sister Iris.”

“I am not calling for Sister Mariel’s condemnation.”

Iris’s voice was crystal clear—clear enough to cut.

“However, the saintess candidate who will lead the Holy Kingdom must be more transparent and pure than anyone else. The higher one’s position, the more rigorously they must be examined.”

Carden’s finger tapped the table once.

“Any deeper investigation will shake the entire Holy Kingdom.”

“If we avert our eyes out of fear of that shaking, then we are unworthy of the name Holy Kingdom.”

Iris slowly lowered her gaze.

“A wound forcibly covered will only fill with pus and rot from within.”

A short, suffocating silence fell.

“We cannot wait until the wound festers and bursts, spreading its infection. Rotten flesh must be excised while it is still small.”

The atmosphere in the room chilled at her words.

Carden studied Iris for a moment. Then it happened.

The barrier beyond the door began to vibrate. What started as a faint tremor soon shook the entire wall.

Carden’s head snapped toward the entrance.

Bang.

The door flew open violently. Beyond it stood Mariel, alone. Her face was deathly pale, as though she had neither eaten nor drunk for days. Yet her cherry-blossom pink eyes were strangely clear and piercing. A faint but intense light flickered along the hem of her nun’s habit.

“Where is Ria?”

Carden rose slowly from his seat.

“Candidate Mariel.”

“I have come to take her back.”

The tips of Iris’s fingers trembled with delight inside her sleeve.

At last. Mariel had come here of her own accord. All for one child named Ria. All for one child bearing the brand of black magic.

She had cast aside the title of saintess candidate, the strict laws of the Holy Kingdom, and the authority of the Heresy Inquisition Bureau. She had walked in herself. Willingly.

Iris barely suppressed the smile threatening to spread across her lips.

Could there be clearer proof than this?

Mariel was no longer a pitiful victim who had been deceived. She was a traitor who had stormed the Heresy Inquisition Bureau to rescue a heretic tainted by black magic.

The saintess candidate meant to stand in the purest place of the Holy Kingdom had willingly stepped into the shadow she should have avoided above all else.

Now no one could cover it up. Because the name Mariel stood so high, her fall would be all the more spectacular.

Iris drew in a slow, deep breath. The name that had occupied the highest place was finally plunging into ruin.

But in the very next instant, as she savored the taste of victory, Iris’s smile froze.

Light bloomed beneath Mariel’s feet. It swept across the Heresy Inquisition Bureau’s emblem engraved on the floor and pushed back the barrier lines. The consecrated silver daggers hanging on the walls trembled. The restraints on the altar began to glow one by one.

Iris let out a soft laugh.

“Sister Mariel.”

Her voice remained gentle.

“Do you understand what you are doing right now?”

Mariel gave no answer.

“You have forced your way into the Heresy Inquisition Bureau with power, all to rescue a mere child of black magic.”

A holy relic began to shine at Iris’s fingertips.

“Now there is truly no room left for excuses.”

At that moment, every inquisitor in the room moved at once. The patterns on the floor blazed with light. Silver restraints flew from the altar toward Mariel’s ankles. Silver daggers lifted from the walls and aimed at her. Even from within Demian’s sleeve, a silver chain shot forward.

Only then did Mariel slowly raise her head. She did not swing her hand. She simply took one calm step forward.

Thud.

The sound was small, yet that single step pressed down on the entire room like a mountain. The restraints hurtling toward her ankles froze in midair. The silver daggers quivered before they could reach her. Demian’s chain halted as though blocked by an invisible wall and swayed helplessly.

“…!”

Demian’s wrist twisted backward. He clenched his teeth and resisted, but the chain would not advance another inch.

Iris’s holy relic erupted with fierce white light. Yet the moment it met Mariel’s radiance, the relic’s glow wavered. Once. Twice. Then, like a candle in the wind, it flickered precariously and died.

The smile on Iris’s lips slowly vanished.

She had known Mariel was stronger than her. But this was not simply stronger. The Heresy Inquisition Bureau’s barrier was being pushed back. The consecrated restraints. The inquisitors’ silver daggers. Even her own holy relic. Everything yielded before a single person—Mariel.

Mariel paid no attention to the stunned stares. She repeated only one question.

“Where is Ria?”

The air grew heavy once more. The report on the table slid to the floor. One inquisitor could no longer endure and fell to his knees.

Mariel spoke again.

“Bring the child.”

Carden stepped forward.

“Regain your senses and stop this, Sister Mariel.”

Mariel’s gaze finally settled on him.

“Where is Ria?”

Carden’s lips pressed into a rigid line. He remained silent for a moment, then answered.

“She is already dead.”

Mariel’s pupils shook very slowly, as if something inside her had broken.

As though she had not properly heard the words.

“…What did you say?”

“That child is already dead.”

After a brief silence, a cold voice flowed out.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Mariel took another step closer.

“The purification ritual has not even begun.”

Carden did not reply.

“There was no announcement that the Purification Pyre had been opened in the square, nor any notice that the execution was complete.”

Mariel’s voice dropped lower.

“Bring Ria to me. Now.”

“We did not purify her.”

At the emotionless answer, Mariel’s breath caught in her throat.

“…What do you mean?”

“An unknown and powerful curse energy resided within the child’s body.”

Mariel’s fingertips stiffened minutely.

“A curse…?”

“We determined she could not remain inside the Holy City.”

Carden’s voice never wavered.

“Yet we could not simply leave her be.”

“No…”

“We judged that placing her on the Purification Pyre would be too dangerous.”

The room fell deathly silent.

“Therefore, immediately after restraining her, we moved her outside the Holy City.”

Mariel’s trembling lips parted.

“Where… exactly…?”

“The northern coastal cliff on the outskirts of the Holy City, where the sea currents are the most violent and treacherous.”

The light blooming at Mariel’s fingertips cracked and scattered.

Carden did not look away.

“There, we bound her limbs and dropped her from the cliff.”

A suffocating, deathly silence swallowed the room.

“The execution is already complete.”

The room grew still.

Mariel stared at Carden with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a dazed, empty gaze. She could not even blink.

“It’s… a blatant lie.”

This time her voice was smaller, more pitiful than before.

“That cannot be true.”

Carden placed the sealed document on the table. Black wax bearing the Heresy Inquisition Bureau’s emblem sealed it shut.

Mariel stood frozen, unable to move.

Carden broke the seal and unfolded the paper. It was the official disposal record.

“…Ah, aah… no.”

Mariel’s voice cracked grotesquely.

She had told Pia she would bring Ria back. She had thought she could discard the name of saintess candidate. She had thought it would be fine to leave the Holy City far behind. She had thought she could simply boil soup in the evenings and listen to Ria’s clumsy prayers. She had believed it was not too late.

Yet during the few days Mariel had remained motionless, Ria had been taken outside the Holy City. She had been thrown from a cliff where violent currents raged below. No one had held the child’s hand.

She had said it was not too late this time. She had said she would not turn away this time.

Mariel’s lips trembled violently. The scream rising in her throat never made it out. Somewhere inside her mind, something snapped.

At first it was resentment. Why, Lord? If this was what You intended, why did You send the child to me?

The light at her fingertips shook thinly.

Carden was saying something—chaos, procedure, disposition, Holy City. The words reached her ears but their meaning did not.

Was this what You wanted? To make me see what I had turned away from? To show me once more that I failed to reach out for both Daisy and Ria?

Mariel’s knees slowly buckled.

Was that why You sent the child to me? To see whether I would turn away again? To see whether I would be too late once more? To see what this foolish one must lose before she finally opens her eyes?

She collapsed to the floor. Her bloodless lips parted slightly, but no sound emerged. Her eyes lost focus and grew dull.

And then Mariel quietly closed her eyes.

Iris gritted her teeth. Suddenly Mariel had gone completely still. The holy power that had been pushing back the Heresy Inquisition Bureau’s barrier faded. The tremor running through the barrier stones embedded in the walls gradually subsided.

This was the perfect opportunity. Right now.

“What are you all doing?” Iris’s voice sliced through the conference room like a blade. “It is now!”

Yet even at her shout, none of the inquisitors moved rashly. They only exchanged quick, uneasy glances. No one dared take the first step toward Mariel.

Iris’s eyes twisted with fury.

“That woman attacked the sacred Heresy Inquisition Bureau in order to shelter a traitor tainted by black magic!”

She took one step forward.

“She is no longer a saintess candidate, nor a nun who serves the Lord.”

Mariel did not move. She remained seated with her head bowed.

Iris shouted again.

“Subdue her immediately!”

At that exact moment, someone drew a sharp breath.

“But…”

Iris whipped her head around. The young inquisitor who had spoken was deathly pale. He was staring at Mariel.

“That… that is…”

“What do you mean, ‘that’?”

Irritation clear in her voice, Iris turned her gaze toward Mariel—and froze.

Mariel was shedding tears of blood. From beneath her closed eyelids, a vivid red line slowly traced down her cheek. No—it was not flowing from her eyes. The crimson droplets were falling from above her head.

Plop.

One drop landed on the corner of Mariel’s eye. The red that spread across her closed eyelid ran down her cheek in a long streak.

Iris’s gaze slowly followed the trail of falling blood upward.

Above Mariel’s head, a crimson halo floated in the air.

A halo. The one and only proof of a complete saintess in this world. The sole mark granted to those chosen by the divine, the representatives who performed miracles.

Along the edges of that halo, crimson droplets gathered as if they would overflow at any moment.

The room fell so silent that even breathing could be heard.

Plop.

Another drop fell. It touched the corner of Mariel’s eye ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and drew one more red line down her pale cheek.

Beneath the falling blood, Mariel sat with both eyes peacefully closed. The corners of her bloodless lips were faintly lifted.

She was smiling. Quietly. Benevolently. Like one who had received a divine revelation.