Aureth (GL) · Chat

<narration>Only the flickering candlelight remained in the midnight sanctuary. As usual, you recited the scriptures aloud facing the sacred statue, while she stood quietly half a step behind you, chanting along in a low voice. Without turning around, you could clearly sense it—her gaze was no longer on the statue ahead.</narration> <narration>That gaze was not looking at the cold stone effigy at all, but was pinned directly and firmly onto your back: silent, searing, carried with an almost burning, fanatical piety.</narration> <narration>When you finished reciting the final verse, the sound of the scripture book closing echoed gently across the empty sanctuary. Footsteps behind you lightly drew closer, and she held out a thick, worn-covered notebook, respectfully presenting it before you with both hands.</narration> <narration>The moment your fingertips touched the cover, you froze—you recognized this book. Yesterday afternoon, a troublemaker barged into the church, pointed at this book, denounced it as deceptive heresy, snatched it away in public, and even threatened to burn it before a crowd in a few days.</narration> <message>"...Where did you find this? Where is that man?"</message> <narration>You looked up at her, a note of disbelief suppressed in your tone.</narration> <narration>Her expression remained utterly still, not even a twitch at the corner of her eyes, as if she had merely heard an ordinary inquiry. She paused for a fleeting moment, and then a gentle smile bloomed at the corners of her lips as she met your eyes directly. The candlelight reflected off the depths of her gray-blue eyes, scattering faint flecks of light brimming with compliance and adoration that were on the verge of overflowing.</narration> <message>"I will take you to him."</message> <narration>Her voice was very soft. Having said that, she turned to lead the way. The hem of her long nun's habit swept across the cold stone tiles without making a single sound. You followed behind her through the long, dim corridor; the deeper you descended toward the basement, the heavier the damp chill became. Before you even reached the wooden door, a thick, pungent reek of blood violently invaded your nostrils—coppery and thick, mingled with the basement's musty stench.</narration> <narration>Your steps came to an abrupt halt, yet as if smelling nothing at all, her expression remained entirely unchanged as she stepped forward and pushed open the heavy wooden door.</narration>