CHAPTER 22……………………………………………
– You Died,
I spoke to him, who lay asleep without even being able to open his eyes, forcing strength into the corners of my trembling mouth.
“My introduction is rather late. I’m Shallen Melissa.”
I don’t know whether you remember me.
If Harold hadn’t asked, I would never have come to see you.
I hadn’t been able to meet the Pope since becoming a saint, and it took quite a long time for that to turn into hatred and resentment.
Even after he died, I was still a saint.
Even on the day I was sent to prison, you were not among the objects of my hatred.
It was only when I learned that saints had starved to death in this prison while you were not ill that I finally, belatedly, looked back on Melissa.
The person Fabivan followed most was you.
At the thought that I would have to use my holy power on the one who had begun this tragedy, the fingertips of my outstretched hand trembled finely as I hesitated.
I closed my eyes for a long moment, then opened them and looked at the Pope again. At that instant, a subtle change was occurring in him.
I wasn’t doing anything—yet the color drained from his pallid face, the wrinkles deepened, and his cheeks grew gaunt, as though life itself were being sucked away.
“What is this…?”
As I spread my trembling hand and examined the Pope’s condition, my eyes widened.
“…His holy power.”
I quickly lowered myself and brought my fingers to the tip of his nose.
A faint breath.
Up until the moment I entered this room, his divine power had flickered like a dim light, but now it didn’t feel extinguished.
The Pope’s divine power had vanished.
His face had clearly lost more vitality than before. If he had used holy power, his complexion should have improved.
If that had been the case, I would have forced myself to think that, in this strange situation, the Pope had unconsciously used his holy power for natural healing.
Though there was still time before his death, the Pope before my eyes looked as though he might die at any moment.
I stretched out both arms and poured in the holy power I had hesitated to use. He couldn’t die now.
My brows twitched instinctively as I sensed something was wrong.
The Pope couldn’t receive the holy power I was sending. As if the vessel meant to hold it had already shattered, he couldn’t contain it.
Healing didn’t work, so I even bestowed a blessing, but his body accepted nothing I gave.
No matter how close to death a body might be, when blessed, its complexion should return and its expression grow peaceful, as if guided toward a calm death.
My lips dried out as something I had never experienced unfolded before me.
You endured a whole year in this condition? That couldn’t be possible.
Maybe it was only my feeling. But why was I so uneasy? Was the future changing?
A change in the present was certainly what I wished for—but not the Pope’s death being hastened. That must not happen.
Had I been careless again? I closed my eyes tightly and hurriedly sought my god.
Gloria, my god.
My mother.
What is it that I am missing?
I thought that the god who never answered had, today as well, chosen not to look upon me.
I lifted my lashes, which had been cast down for so long. My narrow field of vision widened past halfway and soon opened even more.
My holy power weakly settled inside his body. The Pope’s fingertips twitched.
“Your Holiness!”
My voice echoed loudly in the room. The holy power he held felt like sand in my hand, as though it might slip away at any moment.
His once-faint breathing grew loud enough to strike clearly against my ears.
It had to be now. I continued pouring in my holy power. You must not die now.
Before I was ready to move forward, he must not die.
So…
“Please don’t die yet.”
The holy power, barely held on the brink, could not enter any further.
A metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as I bit down on my lower lip.
The Pope’s motionless lashes trembled faintly.
As they fluttered upward halfway, eyes that looked hollow were revealed.
“…Your Holiness, Your Holiness!”
I didn’t know whether my voice was reaching him.
He didn’t see me, only slowly blinking while staring at the ceiling.
“Your Holiness. Are you conscious?”
Had I ever, in my lifetime, called out to him this desperately?
Even in such an absurd situation, I felt desperate. I hoped the anxiety I felt—that he might die at any moment—was nothing more than needless worry.
“…Please.”
A small voice slipped through his cracked lips.
I leaned my upper body closer to him.
“Save me. I—I… I’ll return the holy power I stole. I’ll give it back. So please, s-save…”
The Pope couldn’t finish his sentence and let out a long breath.
His breathing seemed labored.
Before long, his heavy eyelids covered his eyes. Whether he had already lost consciousness, there were no more words.
Only his shallow breathing, as though it might go out at any moment, told me he was still alive.
I called out to him again, asking what he had just said, what it meant—but there was no answer.
I tried to wake the Pope again, but as if it were futile, the holy power that had settled in his body dissipated.
He once again looked as though he might die at any moment.
Knock, knock. At the small—very small—sound of someone knocking on the door, I withdrew the holy power that had failed to reach him and let my arms fall limply.
Turning toward the door, I swallowed dryly.
Could it be Fabivan?
I bit the tender flesh inside my mouth until it nearly tore. Unable to calm my pounding heart, I walked toward the door.
The person behind it didn’t open it first. That alone told me it wasn’t Fabivan.
When I slowly opened the door, Harold—the man I had seen that morning—came into view.
“Your Grace.”
What does this man know?
Harold glanced through the gap in the door at the Pope, then turned his gaze to me.
“It’s quite late, Saint.”
As if he had expected this, there was no disappointment in his voice.
“Have you ever closely observed His Holiness the Pope, Your Grace?”
He nodded once, slowly. It was an answer that seemed to say he was showing me something.
What does this man want?
In my past life, I hadn’t known him well, so it was hard to judge him rashly.
Glancing briefly at the stairs he had climbed, he spoke.
“You look very tired. You should return now.”
I turned my head and answered while looking back into the room.
“But His Holiness—”
“It’s late. It would be best to rest.”
“…Yes.”
I stepped forward and closed the door. It had been a hollow day. I had come to see the Pope, yet learned nothing.
Carrying only questions, I went down the stairs. Behind me, I could hear Harold’s footsteps following.
Without turning to look at him, I asked,
“Do you usually come at this hour, Commander of the Temple?”
There must have been a reason he came to me. I was certain he hadn’t come simply to escort someone he had barely spoken to because it was late.
“Yes.”
At his answer, I held my tongue.
When we finished descending the stairs and stepped outside the building, darkness had settled over the sky, just as Harold said.
“Saint.”
At the voice from behind, I turned around.
“I’ll come to see you again later.”
“Yes. Then I’ll be heading back first.”
After a brief bow, I headed toward my room.
The Pope’s words from earlier kept circling in my head.
Stolen holy power.
It didn’t seem to mean having received a blessing. Then did he mean it literally?
But was holy power something that could be stolen? I’d never even heard of such a thing.
Perhaps he had lost his mind and spoken nonsense. Yet it was hard to dismiss it as such when the moment his vitality vanished—as though something were stealing it—was so vivid.
Lost in thought as I walked, I found myself in front of the prayer room.
Perhaps because it was now a place only I used, I kept coming here.
Without intending to return to my room, I pushed open the prayer room door.
I walked up to the large statue of Gloria. Once again, I had come to you—the one I had hated all day.
And yet, if I truly was a child of god, I could breathe more easily here than anywhere else.
I sat beside the statue and leaned against it.
“Lady Gloria. Is it possible for someone to steal holy power?”
If what the Pope said was true—
Then… had mine been stolen as well?
