* * *

After sending Harilson back to his room, I turned on my heel.

If his directions were accurate, the believer scheduled for confession would already be waiting in the confessional.

That thought made me feel a little rushed.

Crossing the corridor in brisk strides, I spotted the slightly ajar right door of the first confessional.

That door was meant for the believers’ entrance, so it seemed likely that someone had entered but failed to close it properly.

It wasn’t uncommon for first-time confessors to make such mistakes, so I closed the door for them without a second thought and entered through the adjacent door.

“Ah.”

Just as I was about to say hello, my lips parted.

Beyond the semi-transparent partition, a silhouette of a man came into view—one that felt strangely familiar.

The sharp, clean lines of his form and the faint floral scent wafting through the partition struck a chord in my senses.

My fingers twitched, and my body froze mid-motion as I was about to sit.

An instinctive voice inside whispered the identity of the figure.

That man… it had to be Kaindel.

It couldn’t be anyone else.

Reality slipped away at the unexpected encounter.

So the believer Harilson was supposed to meet… was Kaindel?

Why? If Kaindel sought confession, wouldn’t he prefer to go to Ein?

What on earth did he want to discuss with Harilson?

It felt like I had stepped into a labyrinth with no exit.

The intentions I thought I had understood about Kaindel now seemed impenetrable.

If I had known earlier, I wouldn’t have come.

Regret washed over me too late.

As I stood frozen, Kaindel suddenly lifted his head, seemingly curious.

The shadow on the partition stretched, growing longer.

“Today, I just….”

“…”

“Huh.”

Kaindel murmured something incomprehensible before tilting his chin sideways.

It was as if he had just noticed me standing behind the partition.

A moment later, he sighed and let out a low chuckle.

“It’s been a while.”

No further words were offered.

Yet even that much made it clear he knew exactly who I was.

There was no point in pretending otherwise.

I watched him lightly tap on the partition, acknowledging my presence, before I finally sat down.

My hands reached for a pen and paper.

The temple always kept writing supplies in the confessional for believers who found it difficult to speak aloud about their sins.

As expected, there was a fresh sheet of paper and a pen on the table.

I wrote a short prompt to start the conversation and slid it through the small opening in the partition.

[Go ahead. I’m listening.]

Temple confessions followed a simple procedure.

Once the priest signaled readiness, the believer shared their story however they preferred.

Often, it unfolded like a conversation between the two.

Occasionally, the believer would ramble alone while the priest simply listened, as per their request.

“Have you been well?”

Apparently unaware of confessional etiquette, Kaindel began with a casual inquiry.

[Yes.]

“I’m glad to hear that.”

His unreserved manner made my brow furrow slightly.

Whether I had been well or not was irrelevant.

All I wanted was for him to finish his confession and leave.

I swallowed my unspoken complaints, ones a priest could never voice.

Perhaps it was because we hadn’t met in a while, but I felt unusually irritable in his presence.

My usually composed demeanor always seemed to crumble around him, replaced by constant annoyance. It was bewildering.

“I’ve been reflecting on what you said to me last time.”

As I bit my lower lip, Kaindel spoke, his calm voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

[What I said?]

“Yes, you called that person a lowlife.”

[Ah, I did.]

“Looking back, I was the ignorant one. I lashed out at you unnecessarily. I’m sorry.”

I had expected him to dredge up my past remarks to chastise me.

Instead, Kaindel offered a straightforward apology, acknowledging his own mistakes without any excuses.

The unexpectedness of it left me momentarily stunned.

Then I found myself pondering his choice of words.

Ignorant.

That implied he hadn’t known about the rumors surrounding me.

Was that why he had been so shocked before?

But as a prominent figure in society, it seemed unlikely Kaindel wouldn’t have heard them.

So where did his past reactions stem from?

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I felt.

It was a puzzle I couldn’t solve.

Giving up on deciphering it, I wrote carefully:

[If you find them.]

“Find them?”

[If you find the person you’re searching for, what will you do?]

“…I don’t know. Apologize, perhaps.”

[Do you want their forgiveness?]

“I’m not sure I deserve it.”

[Then…]

“I don’t know, but at the very least, I’d like to talk to them.”

Kaindel’s voice was sincere as he confessed, but the partition obscured his expression.

His emotions were a mystery to me, revealed only through his hands and voice.

“I want to see their face.”

His tone softened further, carrying a weight of longing.

[Do you regret it?]

My pen moved again.

[Your words sound like someone filled with regret.]

I knew I had asked too many questions, but I couldn’t stop myself.

It felt like something I needed to ask.

Kaindel hesitated, silent for a long time.

His well-formed hand lingered on the table before he finally responded.

“If I said I regretted it, would anything change?”

His self-deprecating response was accompanied by a faint downward tilt of his head.

“At first, I was okay. I believed they’d come back soon.”

A series of fragmented sentences, muttered as if to himself, trailed off into meaningless musings.

The shadow projected onto the partition started to shrink, mirroring his diminished tone.

“I thought he wouldn’t have gone far. So I figured if I just waited quietly, he’d come back on his own.”

At first, I couldn’t make sense of his words, but soon realized he was reminiscing—about me.

Recognizing that Kaindel was in the midst of a confession, I set down my pen and pushed the papers aside.

“After that, I thought I’d lock him away. Anywhere—someplace I could break apart if it meant keeping him from ever leaving my sight again. I even cleared out the basement for that purpose. I stocked it with the books he loved and some refreshments.”

Ah.

I listened in silence as his reflections unfolded, but a faint twist formed at the corners of my mouth.

Refreshments and a basement—what an oddly discordant combination.

I’d been to the Schudelgarten’s basement a few times before.

Back then, it had been an armory. Judging by his words, it seemed the space had recently been converted into something resembling a lounge—for the purpose of keeping me confined.

The idea of locking me away was so unlike Kaindel.

Even when we’d been lovers, Kaindel had never imposed restrictions on my movements, though he did have my whereabouts reported to him.

He liked it best when I chose to stay by his side voluntarily.

And so, whenever he left decisions to me, I always acted in ways he desired.

“I waited a full year for him. The whole cycle of four seasons, waiting.”

Kaindel’s gaze drifted, as if he’d forgotten I was even there.

His words sounded as if they were spoken to himself, which made me unconsciously hold my breath.

The terms four seasons and a year echoed in my ears.

“When my patience ran out, I thought only of wanting him back. I decided I’d apologize for everything I did wrong and beg him to understand.”

But I never even got the chance to beg for forgiveness.

Kaindel’s quiet addition carried a faint, scattered laugh.

He was probably even wearing his characteristic eye smile.

I suddenly felt his gaze shift toward me, piercing through the partition.

I met his eyes without flinching.

“If this feeling is what regret is, then yes, I’ve regretted it deeply. There hasn’t been a single day over the past two years that I haven’t regretted.”

“……”

“Every night, I dream the same nightmare. He smiles so brightly at me, but no matter how far I reach, I can’t touch him. And when I finally do, he only fades the harder I try to hold him, until he disappears completely.”

“……”

“And then, eventually, morning comes. The same, ordinary morning as always. Each unremarkable morning is followed by nights full of nightmares, and then it starts all over again.”

“……”

“I hated the loneliness so much that I tried to keep someone—anyone—by my side. I didn’t want to wake up from those nightmares alone.”

“……”

“But every time I tried to kiss them, I felt disgusted. I couldn’t bear it—I was sickened by myself. Isn’t that strange? The moment someone else touched me, it felt like bugs were crawling all over me. Even the gloves I always wore became useless. The bugs seeped through, digging into me.”

Kaindel casually unveiled such disturbing confessions, then pulled a pair of leather gloves from his pocket to show me.

I immediately recognized them.

They were the gloves he wore to formal occasions.

He’d been wearing them a year ago when he came to find me in Aiden Village.

The realization made me gasp, swallowing down a breath that caught painfully in my chest.

The sight of those gloves alone made the ground feel like it was collapsing beneath me.

I wanted to flee the confessional, but some invisible force pinned my legs in place.

What did he expect me to do with all of this?

What was I supposed to say?

I was overwhelmed.

My thoughts spiraled into chaos.

At the same time, like a shadow play, the Kaindel I once knew resurfaced, projected onto the partition.

His figure danced in my memory—the last banquet he attended in the capital, escorting some noblewoman.

He had worn those same gloves then.

If my memory served, he’d held her hand with them.

There had been no trace of revulsion on his face then—no hint of someone touching bugs.

And yet.

It felt like bugs crawling all over me.

Crawling all over…

Crawling…

Kaindel’s voice echoed in my ears, growing faint and loud in turns, grating against my nerves.

Just as I reached the point of wanting it to stop, he slowly finished his story.

“And so, I couldn’t do anything.”

* * *