The ugly, ruined outside of the ground-floor building was completely hidden by the unbelievable luxury of the inside design. Every single item in the hall showed off an old, crazy-expensive style that felt almost ridiculous.
At the very far end of the hall sat a huge, raised white marble altar.
Right in the middle of the back marble wall hung a giant, spotless sculpture of a pair of fully open angelic wings.
The carving was so detailed that every single feather looked like it was vibrating with life. The super-white material gave off a soft, glowing light that seemed to bend the air around it.
Next to the bright white wings, a series of huge, detailed stained-glass windows were built right into the stone, casting colorful geometric patterns across the floor.
While the civilian candidates stood totally frozen, their minds completely overwhelmed by the sight, Gi Junghyuk’s S-rank eyes did a cold, quick scan of the whole hall.
The massive amount of money needed to build a sanctuary like this made him immediately suspicious.
Every single column, banner, and object in the room showed the clear mark of a master craftsman. As someone born at the very top of a massive global company, Gi Junghyuk could easily calculate how much that cost.
To spend that kind of bottomless, endless cash meant the person running the cult could not just be a common, cheap scammer.
He had to come from an elite background that matched Gi Junghyuk’s own high-class status.
Still, that was just a guess for now. To know the truth, he needed to look at the person with his own eyes.
“The formal service will start in exactly thirty minutes. You are free to pick any empty seat to rest. I will take my leave now.”
The middle-aged woman gave a soft, sweet smile before her shape smoothly melted into the shadows of the side hallways.
Her male partner vanished a split second later, leaving the potential converts on their own.
Left all alone in the huge space, the candidates exchanged a few nervous, lingering looks before walking away to find seats in the sprawling pews.
Strangely, even though there were only thirty minutes left before the big service, the number of active followers in the hall was super low, and most of the pews stayed empty.
An exact twenty minutes passed in total silence.
Just as Gi Junghyuk’s brain started flagging the empty hall as a security risk, the heavy double doors were violently pushed open, and a massive, orderly wave of fully robed cult followers flooded into the sanctuary like a fast-moving storm.
Within seconds, the huge hall was completely packed. People filled the pews until not a single inch of space was left.
Clasping their hands together in the exact same way, the thousands of followers instantly dropped into a pose of deep, terrifying respect.
Even though there was still a little time left before the official start, every single follower moved as if controlled by a single computer command.
Caught up in the sudden pressure of the huge crowd, the civilian candidates automatically copied them, putting their hands together and lowering their heads in fake prayer.
Gi Junghyuk smoothly copied the pose to blend in, faking the ritual prayer stance to keep his cover while he waited to see what would happen next.
‘TONE. TONE.’
The loud, ringing vibrations of the sanctuary bells finally echoed through the building, signaling the official start of the service.
Instantly, the thousands of voices in the hall went dead silent, turning the whole room into a heavy, suffocating quiet.
A moment later, a pair of clean white glass doors on the right side of the marble altar slid open, and a line of high-ranking priests walked out into the light.
One of the speakers stepped up to the central golden podium, opening a massive, leather-bound book to read the main prayer.
The moment the priest spoke a sacred line, the thousands of packed followers would instantly roar the answer back in a loud, terrifyingly matched chorus.
The prayer went on for a very long time. The boring, repeated chants made Gi Junghyuk narrow his eyes in deep annoyance.
‘This is a total waste of my time. I never should have come here.’
Right when his annoyance hit its highest point, the middle doors at the back of the altar slowly slid open—and the main target finally stepped out into the light.
“Behold! Our magnificent, supreme Cult Leader has descended to bless his flock! Bow your heads and offer your absolute devotion!”
With the priest’s loud, grand announcement, the robed figure slowly walked up the marble stairs of the platform.
The long, heavy trail of his pure white robes made a soft, whispering sound as it dragged across the polished stone. Yet, unlike the heavy silk, his boots made literally zero sound.
He moved without making a single footstep.
Gi Junghyuk’s eyes locked onto the figure, unable to look away.
The smooth, unhurried pace of his walk was totally hypnotic.
The straight line of his spine, the long, graceful curve of his neck, and his slender body wrapped in heavy ceremonial silk gave off a sense of pure, unearthly holiness that was almost blinding.
His clothes were made of an impossible, super-dense white silk, heavily stitched with lines of pure gold thread that caught the light like the sun.
“…….”
In that exact split second, Gi Junghyuk’s entire brain suffered a total system crash.
For the very first time in his life, his brilliant, fast-working mind went completely, utterly blank.
He had assumed that seeing the Cult Leader in person would let him instantly spot the video edits and digital tricks used in the online clip.
Usually, the leaders of fake religious groups act super nice on the outside to hide a greedy, gross human core—something any strong psychic could spot right away.
Yes, he was totally sure the guy on the screen would show those exact same fake traits when seen in real life.
But the reality shattered his whole theory.
“Offer your deepest prayers to the Supreme Leader who constantly brings impossible miracles to our lives! Follow his light, and every brother and sister gathered in these walls will be safely guided straight to the kingdom of heaven!”
The loud, fancy speeches of the priest meant nothing to Gi Junghyuk, sounding like distant, useless noise.
His whole focus had narrowed down to a single point, locked entirely on the Cult Leader.
Amidst the ocean of thousands of fanatical followers who had instantly bent forward to press their faces against their knees in blind prayer, he stood as the only person not bowing—his chin held high, his dark eyes wide open and unblinking as he stared right at the center of the altar.
He forgot to breathe.
