Chapter 08 ….

The charity event was a simple affair—preparing dinner and serving it to the local residents. We helped with small errands, wandered around here and there, and accepted food wherever it was offered.

Dinner was held in the church garden. Since it was still a cold season, a large tent had been set up, with several gas heaters placed inside, and everyone huddled together. The heaters weren’t as warm as one might hope, so I decided to rest for a bit in a corner, hugging a few children whose body heat ran high.

The priest, who had been called back and forth all evening, noticed me and, perhaps feeling concerned, came over and sat beside me.

“Solah, did you eat your fill?”

“Yes, I ate well. Thank you for inviting me.”

As I replied and let go of the children I had been holding, they immediately scattered in all directions, grabbing more food and chattering among themselves. The priest sat beside me and struck up a conversation, chatting about this and that.

“I’ve heard about you from Pastor Yoon Seowon quite often. Haha. I’d only heard about you, but to think you’re so sharp and composed at such a young age—it’s impressive. You’re calm enough to make even a priest feel self-conscious.”

“Thank you. I really enjoyed today.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you for your help. When everyone leaves later, would you mind helping out a bit more?”

“Of course. I have to earn my keep, after all.”

When I softened my expression and answered, the priest laughed cheerfully. Perhaps because my hands and feet were cold, a chill kept running through me, and without thinking I fiddled with the ring on my thumb.

The ring of promise seemed to carry a gentle warmth. The moment my fingertips touched it, the cold stiffness in my body melted away.

The priest noticed the ring on my hand and widened his eyes.

“A ring? Is that… one of those couple rings you share with a boyfriend?”

“No, it’s a keepsake from my parents.”

“Oh—my apologies.”

“It’s all right. I was very young, so I don’t even remember them.”

“Still, that was thoughtless of me.”

Though I truly didn’t mind, the priest seemed to feel he’d made a grave mistake and grew subdued, then quickly changed the subject.

“By the way, it’s quite an antique-looking ring. Almost like an artifact. Ah—I have a hobby of collecting antiques.”

“My father worked in that field when he was alive. I think it was probably his.”

I opened my left hand and tilted my head slightly so the priest could see the ring better. Given the flow of the conversation, it seemed all right to ask about something that had been on my mind.

“Are the cups, bells, mirrors, and even the sword in your house antiques too? I thought they were items used for communion or various rituals.”

“The items used for rituals are kept inside the church. The ones in the house are just things I collected as a hobby. Old objects have a charm unique to their age, don’t you think?”

“I see.”

“It’s a truly beautiful ring. If you continue to treasure it, your parents would be happy too. They must have left it for that reason. I hope you’ll grow up with a beautiful heart, just as they wished, and become a good, upright child. I’ll pray for you as well.”

“Yes, I think so too. Thank you.”

As I politely responded to the priest, who gently took my hand and patted it a couple of times, the tent was suddenly yanked open and a blast of cold wind rushed in.

Up until then, the heaters had made it bearable, but the sudden gust carried a terrifying chill unlike anything before. People shrieked in surprise and hunched their shoulders, then, once the cold passed, resumed their meals with grumbling complaints.

I too relaxed my tensed muscles and, out of habit, touched the ring on my left hand that the priest had just released. At least some warmth seemed to return to my body.

“Hmm, but Solah, why are you sitting all the way over here? Why not come over to the warmer side with everyone else? Asel’s over there too.”

“I’m full. I prefer just watching.”

“I see. Still, it must be cold over here.”

I was about to say it was fine, sensing he thought I was isolating myself, when the priest suddenly clapped his hands as if an idea had struck him and cheerfully suggested:

“Solah, would you like to take a look around the church?”

“The church?”

“It looks quite different from Pastor Yoon Seowon’s church, and this building is old, so it has a rather classical charm.”

“Well… yes, I am curious. I’d like that. Thank you.”

Since the priest stood up right away, I gathered myself and followed him. As we walked, he began explaining the structure of the church and sharing interesting stories.

He spoke of the relief carvings at the entrance, the Bible verses inscribed on the pillars, and the decorations adapted to local customs. Some of it was knowledge I rarely encountered, so I listened carefully.

At first I thought he was just opening the door for me, but then it occurred to me that it would be strange to trust me enough to let me wander alone—and personally, I preferred having explanations anyway. So I entered the church together with him.

The church was dyed a deep blue by the approaching evening darkness. By any objective standard, it was a remarkably atmospheric sight. The arched ceiling connecting the pillars, the unevenly polished columns, the long stained-glass windows lined up on both sides—all of it cast a bluish, mottled light that shimmered throughout the space.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? That deep area over there—the part you see straight ahead from the entrance—is called the apse…”

A strange presence lay dimly over the interior of the church. The ring faintly glimmered, as if trying to tell me something, but I was captivated by the scenery and the subtle atmosphere.

Just as Solomon had said, it seemed to be a better sanctuary than expected. From the moment I stepped inside, an inexplicable calm settled over my heart. And yet, at the same time, my nerves were strangely on edge.

My mind was peaceful, but every physical sense was taut. I couldn’t understand why.

When I drew in a deep breath and filled my lungs, a surge of static-like sensation rolled in, grand and heavy—like standing on a foggy plain as waves crashed in.

Something vast spread out before me, something impossible to put into words. I felt as though I had stepped into an unfamiliar world with no tangible form. And at the edge of that immense, desolate ground, I stood.

I felt as if I wanted to peel something away. Just one layer.

Something was blocking me. Something.

I suddenly snapped out of my thoughts, gasping as I opened my eyes. The priest had stopped explaining and was staring at me intently. I blinked a few times and fiddled with the ends of my hair.

“Ah… sorry. The atmosphere was so nice, I must have spaced out without realizing it.”

“I understand. That’s why, Solah—may I ask you for one thing? It’s a difficult request, but just one.”

“Yes? Go ahead.”

At my hasty reply, the priest smiled in his characteristic way and clasped his hands together earnestly, almost as if in prayer.

“Give me that ring.”

I rolled my gaze around a couple of times, trying to grasp the meaning of his words, before my lips finally parted.

“That’s difficult. Father, this is—”

“I hesitated because it’s a keepsake from your parents, but that ring possesses a power far beyond what you imagine.”

Did he know that this was a ring of promise, befitting the new master of this sanctuary? The thought flashed through my mind—but suddenly, the back of my neck went cold. It felt as though someone with icy hands had just stroked it.

A shiver ran through me for no reason, and an inexplicable sense of unease made me step back.

“F-Father…”

“I’ll return it to you after I finish just one task. It won’t take long.”

“Th-that is…”

Moonlight filtered through the stained glass, dyeing his face blue. In the darkness, only the priest’s face floated pale and distinct. I instinctively rubbed my eyes. The static-filled air that had been clouding my thoughts now seemed to seep into my vision as well. I couldn’t see his face clearly. It felt as though thick fog filled the space around us.

An unnameable distrust bloomed within my heart.

“I’m sorry, Father. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Why…?”

As I stalled and took another step back, the fog abruptly cleared. The noise gnawing at my mind dissolved like foam, and I met a pair of glaring, bloodshot eyes.

Only then did I realize something was terribly wrong. Skin split and twisted like that of a reptile slowly parted colorless lips.

“Why?” it asked again, its distorted pronunciation buried beneath a hissing sound.

“How dare you—why?”

“Father…”

Murmuring in a near-groan, I retreated a few more steps and clamped my mouth shut. There was no doubt.

A demon with the face of a serpent.

The Duke of Filth, Botis.

“Why, when I’m offering to erase that damned heretic Solomon from this world and return everything to you!”

With a thunderous crash, my vision flipped. A searing pain flared across my back. White light exploded before my eyes.

Before I could even regain my senses, something cold and rough seized my left wrist. I instinctively clenched my fist as if to hide my thumb, but a grip far stronger than any human’s clamped down on my wrist, crushing it as if to break it.

Through my blurred vision, I saw the serpent’s face. Within the barely opened mouth lurked a crimson darkness.

The fingers he held began to tremble and were forced open. The ring of promise—always slightly loose on my finger—wobbled precariously, as if about to slip off.

The man climbed atop me, prying my fingers apart and tugging viciously at the blue-glinting ring. Moonlight refracted through the stained glass wavered wildly. My thoughts fractured into chaos, then suddenly came to a dead halt, as if snagging on something unseen.

“Stop, Duke of Filth Botis!”

At my desperate shout, Botis’s hand froze mid-motion. His blood-red pupils rolled as he stared at me. My gaze locked with those slit, reptilian eyes.

The simplest way to command a demon is to call its name with force. But the only name I knew was its human-language name, not the true name in their own tongue. It would have little effect. Besides, I had no confidence my power would work against such a strong demon.

Worse still, in my panic I had blurted everything out, effectively shattering Solomon’s repeated warning not to reveal my existence. Botis, wearing the priest’s skin, flicked out his tongue.

“One who knows my name—are you a sorcerer? Your name?”

Revealing one’s name is akin to mortgaging one’s soul. Once the root is known, curses become possible. Since he still didn’t know my name, it seemed Botis’s consciousness existed separately from the priest’s.

Recalling what little theory I’d studied, I tried to shake off his hand and retreat—but cold, sticky scales wrapped around my ankle, and in the next instant I was flung like a piece of laundry.

I crashed into the back row of pews with a deafening bang. My head burned and spun—I must have struck it hard.

I tried to push myself up, only to swallow a groan. My entire body hurt. Looking down, I realized my left arm was bent at an unnatural angle. I couldn’t be sure if it was broken, but the moment the injury registered, a tidal wave of pain surged through me, turning my vision red.

“Solomon.”

I groaned his name through clenched teeth, though it was an irrational reaction. I just wanted something—someone—to cling to. I knew full well he couldn’t enter this place.

Botis, a demon bound to a physical medium, had invaded the sanctuary only because its master had personally brought in a vessel. Solomon, lacking direct permission, could not.

Granted entry, Botis would have immediately poisoned a blade using something like foodstuffs and made it his true medium. The important point was that the priest’s body was not the real vessel.

To defeat Botis, the true medium had to be destroyed—and to destroy it, the priest would somehow have to be dealt with, and then the sword in the house finished off. The problem was that overcoming this situation itself seemed far beyond my abilities.

Solomon, you said we’d start carefully, without taking risks.

Letting my possibly broken left arm hang limp, I reached out with my right hand and forcibly clenched my left into a fist, then wrapped my right hand over it.

The grip on my ankle tightened again. I heard a sickening crack from my leg. This time, however, Botis seemed intent on persuasion rather than immediately throwing me again.

Judging by the fact that he hadn’t managed anything despite all my shouting, it seemed Botis lacked magical talent—and at least I didn’t need to worry about being cursed right away.

As I thought that, he slowly pressed his serpentine body over mine and whispered coldly.

“Hand over the ring, young sorcerer. I will grant you power and glory.”

“And what do you plan to do with it?”

I tried to hide my hands beneath me and pull my legs in, but Botis grabbed my hair, slammed my head against the floor, and hissed menacingly.

“What will I do?”

“I will tear apart the soul of the heretic who sealed me in that damned bronze jar, ensuring he never finds salvation! And I will bring about the end of this land! I will defile, trample, and shatter the name of the god who dared imprison me in that dark, empty world for thousands of years! Rejoice, girl—I will grant you the highest seat in the new age to come!”

There was no way I’d hand over the ring after hearing that. What use was a lofty position after the end of the world? I wondered if I might really die here—but for now, I curled myself tighter.

Botis made a sound like nails scraping against iron.

“Would cutting off your head and wrist let me take the ring?”

Was he insane? After casually uttering words that completely derailed the genre of my life, Botis continued to yank my hair as if nothing were amiss. Groans escaped me, but I clung desperately to my sanity.

I couldn’t die yet. None of my efforts—to secure a stable, peaceful, reasonably ordinary future for my grandfather—had borne fruit. I needed to live.

Since I couldn’t die quietly, I twisted my body to counterattack. My leg bent painfully as I turned, but I ignored it. And just as I faced Botis head-on, ready to try anything—

A blaze of crimson fire suddenly filled my vision.

A massive sword wreathed in flames surged forward, stopping mere inches from my face.

The sickening thud reached my ears a moment later. Pinned by a heavy force pouring down over me, my senses dulled.

“Fire.”

I unknowingly held my breath, then gasped it out.

“The Sword of Flame…”

The grip holding me gradually loosened. My twisted leg slowly returned to its place. On the blade hovering before my eyes, red flames flicked like tongues.

I awkwardly dragged myself backward.

A massive blade piercing straight through Botis’s face. Flames like a burning sunset wrapped around its tip. And beyond it—

The one who had driven it down.

A person.

No—

“An angel.”

The word slipped out reflexively, even to my own surprise. From a distant memory, an angel suddenly took tangible form before my eyes.

I knew this man. Scenes from my strange childhood life surged back like a panorama, and his face overlapped them faintly.

I couldn’t see his features clearly in the darkness, but the ends of his hair rippled red like waves. The tall man’s dry gaze turned toward me—golden, lonely, and beautiful beneath the blue moonlight.

His lips moved slowly. Like the tolling of a bell, like a sacred wind from some distant realm rushing toward me, his voice whispered from afar.

“By the name of the Father, I proclaim.”

It was a voice I had heard before.

With cold indifference, the man lowered his gaze, then casually swung his sword. Crimson-gold flames tore sideways through Botis’s face and devoured his body. Only then did I snap back to reality. A shrill scream echoed violently in my ears.

“Father!”

Panicking belatedly, I looked at Botis’s body. Though shaped like a serpent, it was still the priest’s body—only briefly used by Botis. I tried to rise in haste, but dizziness sent me collapsing sideways.

Botis aside, it would be disastrous if the priest were killed. I tried to stop the man, but as I staggered, he mercilessly spun the greatsword with one hand and aimed it at Botis again.

“O lowly being that crawled out of the darkness.”

Hair blazing like molten gold at sunset, elegant golden eyes gleamed coldly beneath the blue moonlight.

“I, Archangel Raphael, annihilate you.”

As if delivering a sentence, he plunged the massive sword straight into Botis’s chest. A blast of scorching air rushed out. I reflexively raised both arms to shield my face, and moving my broken arm sent a jolt of agony through me.

Red radiance swirled above the man’s head, and my loosened hair whipped wildly in the heat.

Now—pause this surreal moment for just a second.

At this instant, I faced a very practical problem.

A demon possessed our town’s priest and threatened me. Then, like a hero, the angel from my childhood appeared and drove a massive greatsword into the demon’s chest—right where the heart should be.

No ordinary person would calmly accept that an angel slew a demon. So who died here? Botis—or a human?

And who would be accused of murder?

Of course—me.

What a perfect mess.

At this age, I was about to be saddled with a murder charge for a crime I didn’t commit.