* * *
“……Hey…!”
“…You…!”
Suddenly, muffled noise came from above the surface.
And then, Ranshel’s body—once submerged—was pulled out of the water.
Unable to breathe properly, warmth touched his lips, forcing air into his lungs.
Cough!
He spat out the water lodged in his throat and coughed violently.
The ropes binding his hands were undone, and strong arms held him upright.
Hot fingertips gently brushed his cheek.
Ranshel forced his heavy eyelids open.
Darkness gradually gave way to light.
Ah.
Those crimson eyes, those radiant pupils… they looked like the sun.
Dazzling, like the morning light breaking through the horizon.
Heat slowly welled up in Ranshel’s eyes.
Tears formed and soon fell in thick drops.
Zavad pulled him tightly into his arms.
“…Ah, I…”
“……”
“…You…”
Zavad said something, but Ranshel couldn’t hear it—his eardrums must’ve burst.
Even so, the blurry sound of that voice brought a strange comfort.
Whether from the torture or the water, Ranshel’s body wouldn’t stop trembling.
To keep him from going cold, Zavad ran warm hands over his skin again and again, hugging him closer, holding him tighter.
Ranshel’s tears wouldn’t stop.
The arms around him were too warm.
Strong and solid, as if they were saying his weight was nothing to bear.
He shouldn’t see this as hope.
He shouldn’t latch onto something like this again.
He knew it would only lead to despair—and yet, Ranshel reached out and held Zavad in return.
Their chests pressed together, and it hurt.
The pain was like fire spreading through his whole body.
If it was for this man—he’d become the villain without hesitation.
He’d fall as far as he had to.
That thought again filled his heart.
Even if it meant throwing himself into a volcano, letting his whole body burn—
He still couldn’t let go of this feeling…
Among the monks, a poisoning incident had occurred.
When Frey brought the news, Zavad immediately sensed something was wrong.
“All meals for the monks are prepared by the clergy.”
He and Frey followed Danie to the dining hall where the incident had happened.
The Head Cleric briefly explained the situation to the Saintess and her fiancé.
The poison was found only on a specific table.
The conclusion that the perpetrator must be among the clergy assigned to that table seemed plausible at first glance.
But something felt off.
Zavad asked the Head Cleric:
“Which table were you assigned to?”
“Ah, I didn’t serve any particular table myself. I oversee all the clergy as a whole…”
“Then, in effect, doesn’t that mean you were responsible for all the tables?”
“…Are you suspecting me?”
“The clergy who served that table are all being interrogated, aren’t they? The Head Cleric shouldn’t be the only exception.”
The Head Cleric insisted he had nothing to hide and would comply with any interrogation.
At that, the Saintess stepped in.
“This happened within the Holy Temple. I bear responsibility too. Why don’t we talk together for a moment?”
There was no need to go through the Holy Army’s formal procedures.
The Saintess was only suggesting a conversation.
The Head Cleric agreed, and they headed to a meeting room on the outskirts.
As soon as they entered, Danie closed all the curtains.
Frey leaned back against the wall.
Zavad strode right up to the Head Cleric.
“I won’t waste time. Do you admit your guilt?”
“No. I’m innocent.”
The Head Cleric answered with a straight back.
Zavad tilted his head slightly.
“Then why did you summon the Holy Army so quickly?”
“Well, an incident occurred threatening the lives of monks, so…”
“You didn’t even know what kind of poison it was—so why didn’t you call a healer first? It could’ve been a fast-acting toxin that kills within moments, couldn’t it?”
“That, I…”
“If you didn’t already know what poison was used, then you are guilty of endangering the monks. You failed to provide immediate medical aid.”
Color drained from the Head Cleric’s face.
Zavad drew the sword at his hip and stepped forward.
“There’s no need for interrogation. Whether you personally poisoned the food or neglected your clergy, you’re already guilty.”
The Head Cleric staggered back as Zavad closed in.
Before he knew it, he was backed into the far wall.
“As the Saintess’s proxy, I have the authority to conduct high-level interrogations.”
“W-wait, please, just listen! I swear I—”
“From this moment on, you will be treated as a criminal.”
Zavad grabbed the Head Cleric by the collar without hesitation.
“Confess your sins now and make it so the wrongly imprisoned followers can be released.”
“…I-It wasn’t me! I don’t know anything!”
“Oh, really?”
Grabbing the High Priest by the collar, he dragged him to the center of the room.
Then, clutching the back of his head, he slammed his face onto the table.
“Argh!”
“Then I’ll make sure you know from now on.”
Zavad restrained the High Priest from behind, pinning one of his hands flat against the table.
“I’ll ask questions. If I don’t like your answers, I cut off a finger. Got it?”
“Y-You can’t…!”
“Don’t worry. The Saintess will heal you the moment you’re hurt. Even if all your fingers are cut off, not a drop of blood will spill. The pain will only last a moment. Though… your fingers won’t grow back.”
The High Priest, face gone pale, looked around desperately and cried out.
“Saintess! Please help me! Stop him!”
Watching from the corner, Frey shook her head, looking pitying.
“If this were any other case, I might’ve helped you. But this time, I can’t.”
“S-Saintess…!”
“You shouldn’t have touched that, of all things.”
With that, Frey turned her back entirely.
The High Priest’s face collapsed into utter despair.
“Alright. Let’s begin the questions.”
Zavad drew his sword.
Before even one finger was cut off, the High Priest broke down and begged to confess.
As expected, it was him who’d poisoned the chalice.
He had targeted Ranshel to frame Zavad as the perpetrator of the poisoning incident — all in an attempt to smear the Saintess’s name by accusing her fiancé of committing a crime within the sacred grounds.
“Who ordered you to do it?”
“Th-The senior member of the ‘Resurrection Prayer Group’…”
“Resurrection Prayer Group?”
“It’s… the prayer group organized by the Archbishop.”
The Archbishop’s prayer group — the very one they’d been investigating all along — had finally been named.
Zavad’s face turned cold, and Frey let out a sigh.
It was a prime chance to dig deeper, but Zavad didn’t waste time.
He dragged the High Priest back to the dining hall.
He knew the man held crucial information that could help his mission.
Still, he made a choice that cost him that advantage.
Even if Ranshel was his favorite servant, he shouldn’t be more important than his ultimate goal.
Zavad couldn’t understand why he was acting this way — but there was no time to reflect.
With the High Priest’s confession in hand, they followed the awaiting guards to the fasting prayer retreat, where the wrongly imprisoned were being held.
Nine followers were there.
Only Ranshel had been separated, as “evidence” had been found during his search, and he was being interrogated separately.
“Take me to the interrogation room. Now.”
Confirming that the Saintess was with them, the Holy Guard led them to the underground prison within the retreat.
A guard standing at the entrance blocked Zavad’s path.
“You can’t enter without the commander’s permission—”
Zavad immediately drew his sword, the blade flashing from its sheath in an instant, now pressed against the guard’s neck.
“This is the last time I’ll say it nicely.”
“…”
“Open it.”
Sweat formed on the guard’s forehead.
Though he was a trained member of the Holy Guard, he hadn’t been able to react.
That’s how fast and precise Zavad’s swordsmanship was.
The thought that Zavad might be as skilled as the commander himself made resistance impossible.
The guard unlocked the heavy lock and opened the thick door.
Zavad stormed inside.
* * *
