That house was not very large.
But to Lioren, it was the first time he had felt that he had a place where no one drove him away.
No more footsteps of a landlord in the corridor.
No more wary glances from those living beyond the shared wall.
Only cold stone walls… and silence.
Within that silence, Lioren began carving more of the cult's magic circles.
At first, he hesitated.
The previous times he had received divine magic still lingered in his body — the sensation of blood heating up, his heart pounding, his soul as if squeezed tight by someone, then suddenly released.
But then he realized — if he kept being afraid, he would never obtain what he wanted.
So he tried again.
This time… he did not let himself lose control.
The exhilaration after the ritual still came — like an undercurrent rising from the bottom of his heart — but he forced it down.
He did not let it devour his reason.
"I am not a slave to this…"
He once muttered that to himself.
---
Every morning, Kiriel made breakfast for him. After eating, he would leave.
His shadow stretched long across the dew-damp ground.
Lioren walked to the church like a pilgrim.
Only at night did he return — the scent of candle wax and dried blood still clinging to his clothes.
Kiriel never asked what he did during those rituals.
She simply placed a plate of food before him.
"Eat."
Her voice was always calm.
But many times, when Lioren happened to look up, he caught her gaze lingering on his hands — where the veins stood out after the rituals.
She looked for a long time.
Then turned away.
---
The wraith within the mansion functioned like a model steward.
Yet sometimes, late at night, when Lioren awoke, he would see that violet flame quietly standing there, watching him.
Not speaking.
Just watching.
He did not know whether it was guarding him… or waiting for something.
---
A year passed like water dripping through cracks in stone.
---
The church — one year later.
The bell rang.
Hundreds of believers knelt down.
Lioren knelt among them.
His head lowered.
But in his heart, there was no longer the devotion from before.
Only one question remained:
When will I be chosen?
The priest spoke.
"The time has come."
The air tightened like a drawn bowstring.
"I will choose the three most devout lambs."
A finger pointed downward.
Not him.
Not him.
Not him.
A cold sensation slid across his chest.
He had endured all those rituals…
And it was still not enough?
The priest said,
"I hope you will find the truth."
Lioren bowed his head.
But inside, there was no violent disappointment — only exhaustion.
---
Outside the church.
Kiriel looked at him for a long moment before asking,
"Well?"
Lioren said,
"I failed."
His voice was neither sad nor angry.
Only empty.
"But they will be leaving by carriage."
Kiriel gave a faint nod.
"Then we switch to another plan."
---
While waiting outside the city gate, Kiriel suddenly asked,
"What is your wish?"
Lioren was silent for a long time.
He looked at the gray sky.
"I want this world to become brighter."
Kiriel frowned.
"Brighter…?"
Lioren said,
"I endured all those rituals for that."
His voice softened.
"Every time divine magic flooded into my body… I thought — if I become stronger, I can change everything."
Kiriel looked at him.
Something flickered in her eyes, something difficult to name.
Perhaps pity.
Perhaps worry.
---
Then a noise echoed from an alley.
"So noisy," Kiriel muttered.
She stepped into the alley.
The sight inside made her halt.
Two elderly people were being beaten.
The sound of bones striking stone.
Hoarse, ragged sobbing.
And on the back of someone crawling on all fours — a little girl holding a whip.
When the girl looked up, her eyes shone brightly.
"Sister Kiriel!"
For a moment, Kiriel almost smiled.
But then she saw the two old people.
"What are you doing…?"
"They are my slaves."
"They are my parents."
The girl said it without trembling.
No tears.
Only pride.
When she explained how she had hired hunters and bought a healing slave just to torment them every day — a cold sensation slowly spread in Kiriel's chest.
Was this once the trembling child?
The one who used to cling to her?
Now — her eyes looked exactly like those who had once tortured her.
The slave girl used her power to heal all their wounds completely.
Immediately, the little girl lashed the whip across the healer's back. Kiriel unconsciously clenched her fist.
"You useless slave, do you pity them more than yourself?"
"I bought you to heal them so they could live half-dead, not to fully heal them!"
The slave girl stammered,
"P-please… please forgive me, Master…"
Lioren was wrong…
A thought crept in.
Not everyone deserves to be saved.
---
When Lioren appeared at the entrance of the alley, Kiriel had already regained her composure.
"What's in there?"
"Nothing."
He saw the bloodstain on her clothes.
His heart sank slightly.
But he did not ask.
Not because he did not care.
But because he was afraid — that if he asked, he might have to face something else.
---
When the carriage appeared, Lioren acted decisively.
The three people inside died almost instantly.
His hands did not tremble.
Afterward, he threatened the driver.
When he sat down, he breathed deeply.
He glanced at Kiriel.
Ever since they left the alley — she had not said a word.
Darkness swallowed the carriage.
Within that silence, something was changing.
Not loudly.
But irreversibly.
"Even a puppet can have quite real emotions."