[I'm going to take the 1st and 2nd off, have to spend it with the family]
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The old geezer was actually a decent man.
The archbishop led us deeper into the cathedral. I felt like we were climbing the entire time. The spiral stairs seemed endless, every step landing on cold iron plates polished slick by the feet of countless believers.
As we walked, he chatted with me. His face looked like it had been stitched together from sun-dried leather, ridged and furrowed, stern enough to stop a child from crying at night. Yet when he spoke, he was unexpectedly gentle.
Back in the audience chamber, when he formally introduced himself, he even shook my hand. That alone shocked me. His bony palm was covered in thick, hardened calluses, like weather-beaten wood, rough against my skin. I glanced at my own soft, pampered hand—no calluses, not even a pen bump—and a strange sense of shame welled up.
That hand didn't belong to a pampered archbishop. Not even remotely.
In stark contrast was the Lady Inquisitor walking beside us. From start to finish, she wore a dark expression and said nothing. The "keep out" pressure around her was practically physical. It created a vacuum at my side, and I couldn't help thinking of a certain green lynx-spirit with an equally terrible temperament.
She had me on edge, like I was following a silent statue that might swing down an executioner's sword at any moment.
The walk went on for a long while. By the time we stopped, my legs felt swollen, my muscles aching. And yet, strangely, it didn't feel like much time had passed, because talking with the archbishop was genuinely fascinating.
He was eloquent, but with force behind it. His phrasing was precise and concise, every word landing where it was meant to. Aside from a raspiness in his voice—probably from preaching for years, like sandpaper rubbing—he completely outclassed every "leader," politician, and spokesperson I'd ever seen on TV.
We talked about a lot. About how I'd struggled to survive in Donigaton. About my impressions of Spirepeak City. About basic common sense regarding this vast star-spanning Imperium. Naturally, I also emphasized the superstition I kept encountering among civilians and troops, their obsession with "monsters" and "spirits" and all manner of the inexplicable.
I don't know if it was his mood infecting me, or if there was some hidden provocation in his words, some deliberate steering—but as we talked, my inner armchair-politics demon lit up like a bonfire. I started running my mouth, practically treating him like a late-night taxi driver taking me home. I was spraying opinions everywhere, gesturing grandly, holding forth as if I ran the world.
He simply listened. Occasionally he nodded, and every so often he encouraged me with something like:
"That's interesting."
Or:
"Your perspective is novel."
From behind, the Lady Inquisitor let out a faint, icy snort, but I didn't have the spare brain cells to care.
At last, we reached a place that immediately reminded me of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in Hogwarts. A massive, absurdly oversized circular metal door was set into a thick steel wall, its surface packed with gears and runes.
The archbishop said we were at the vault.
His "Corrupt Star" was locked inside, and he wanted me to "take a look" for him.
He pointed at the door and told me that once I went in, I just needed to walk to the end and I'd reach the collection room. I could go in first and see it for myself. Meanwhile, he intended to bring the Lady Inquisitor to a small prayer room next door for tea and conversation while they waited for my appraisal.
The suggestion sounded reasonable.
But the Lady Inquisitor—who had been silent the whole way—stood rooted to the spot beside me, wearing that immovable, deathly serious expression, showing absolutely no intention of leaving with the archbishop.
An indescribably awkward atmosphere crept through the air, like a trapped fart in an elevator. I felt like the unluckiest man alive, wedged between two colossal war machines.
"If what you have said is true, Lady Inquisitor Ireya," the archbishop finally spoke. His voice was as steady as ever. If he felt the awkwardness, it didn't show on that old, deep-set, iron-willed face. "Then there is no risk in him viewing the 'Corrupt Star.' But you and I…"
"We both know exactly what the 'Corrupt Star' is!" the Lady Inquisitor cut in, her words clearly ground out through clenched teeth.
I had no idea what she was so furious about. But from the rise and fall of her chest, her harsh breathing, and the way her blue eyes had gone wide, I could feel a cold anger boiling inside her. I just didn't know who it was aimed at, and I sincerely hoped it wasn't me.
"And…" She seemed about to say something even harsher, but her gaze flicked over me, as if she'd suddenly remembered I existed, and she swallowed the rest. Then her tone pivoted like a drawn dagger, so fast it startled me.
"I'm going in with him."
"I brought him. I'll see it through." Each word sounded like it was being squeezed out from between her teeth, absolute and unchallengeable.
"Then I have no reason to retreat either." Unexpectedly, the archbishop's weathered face bloomed into a smile.
It was a strange smile. Not pleased. More like… relieved. Like a plan long awaited had finally reached its crucial step.
"I will open the door. We will go in together."
I stood there in total confusion, like a low-level office worker trapped in a meeting room with two senior executives silently blasting each other with eye-lasers. I tried to fold myself into as small a shape as possible. If I could have turned into a brick in the wall, I would have.
Under the archbishop's manipulation, the enormous metal door erupted into a deafening grind of turning gears and a hiss of venting steam. Like a fallout shelter blast door, it slowly slid aside.
Behind it lay an even deeper corridor. Smooth metal walls. Harsh white lights. Air that reeked of disinfectant and ozone, like an airlock waiting to purge contaminants.
With a mix of anxious dread and intense curiosity, I followed behind them down the corridor and finally entered the collection room.
To be honest, after all that buildup, my curiosity about the "treasure" hidden behind what was basically a top-tier bank vault had become explosively intense.
Then, the first thing I saw scared the living hell out of me.
Right in front of me—
Was a corpse.
It sat on the far side of the room directly opposite the entrance, propped against the wall like a person who had slumped down and never gotten back up. There were no electric lights inside, only thick candles set in rings on the floor, their flames wavering.
In the dim yellow candlelight, the mummified skin looked shrunken and blackened, coated in an eerie oily sheen. Its legs were stretched straight out. Its head lolled to one side. Its mouth hung wide open, as if screaming soundlessly.
It was horrifying.
Not eight out of ten.
Nine out of ten.
(End of Chapter)
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