I Became the Childhood Friend Who Commits Suicide

Chapter 83

“Holy Water…?”

As soon as she understood the meaning of the words, White Sheep turned her gaze toward the voice’s owner.

A petite girl with an air of mystique stood before her, her lavender hair shimmering faintly.

Though she was unfamiliar, White Sheep didn’t lower her guard as she asked,

“Who are you?”

“The spear that ends everything.”

“…What?”

The cryptic response made White Sheep tilt her head in confusion.

Had the girl hit her head amidst the chaos of the war?

Yet the ominous energy radiating from her suggested otherwise.

“By the way, what is this Holy Water?”

What mattered most at the moment was understanding what had happened to Valentina. If the Holy Water granted the power to defeat an apostle, White Sheep needed to know everything about it.

“It’s a medium that pushes human strength to its absolute limits. But it’s flawed—created by humans, not gods.”

“So, it has side effects?”

White Sheep glanced back at the spot where Valentina had been.

The girl had lost all semblance of human form, her body now a shimmering puddle of liquid on the ground.

If that was the side effect, it was horrifying.

No one could possibly survive in such a state.

The price of power was life itself.

“They’ve become the Holy Water. Drawn by its power, their blood, bones, and flesh have all transformed into it.”

“Foolish.”

“No. They intended this. It lets them stop the apostles while creating more Holy Water in the process.”

White Sheep frowned at the girl’s words.

This entire situation—was it all planned?

Even from this brief explanation, it was clear how dangerous this was.

The Holy Water could grant immense power instantly.

Those who consumed it would become Holy Water themselves due to its side effects.

That water could then empower more humans.

Repeating this process a few times would give humans a decisive advantage in the war.

But such a plan ignored one critical keyword: sacrifice.

No one would willingly give up their life.

Even if it was efficient, it violated basic ethical principles.

Ignoring that might lead to victory, but could they still be called human afterward?

“…I need to inform my teacher about this.”

If this continued, they would surely lose the war.

White Sheep turned to leave the auditorium, intent on finding her teacher.

However, the lavender-haired girl blocked the doorway, stopping her.

“Step aside.”

“you must choose.”

“My name is White Sheep.”

“This war is not an end but a fleeting step. Soon, you’ll face a choice you cannot avoid.”

Confused by the girl’s cryptic statements, White Sheep replied coldly, without hesitation,

“Whatever happens, I will side with my teacher.”

“Even if that choice means losing everything?”

“My teacher and the apostles are my everything.”

Their gazes lingered in the air for a moment.

The girl, her face inscrutable, finally spoke.

“You’ll find them at the cathedral.”

Just as White Sheep was about to respond, the ground trembled violently, accompanied by a deafening roar.

Boom!

The sudden shock caused White Sheep to stumble.

She quickly regained her balance, but by the time she looked ahead, the lavender-haired girl had vanished like smoke.

“…What on earth…”

It felt like waking up from a chaotic, nonsensical dream.

As if everything she had just experienced had no rhyme or reason, much like a fleeting dream that evaporates upon waking.

Standing there momentarily, White Sheep decided to move again.

She was told the cathedral held answers.

Perhaps her teacher was there, as the girl suggested.

It was worth checking, even if only as a slim chance.

Resolving herself, White Sheep left the auditorium but paused briefly.

Looking back, she realized she was the only one left there.

Except for the unsettlingly glimmering puddle of liquid.

—

The cathedral was easy to find.

Amid the crumbling ruins of the academy, it was one of the few structures left untouched, standing pristine.

Before entering, White Sheep tilted her head upward, gazing at the cross perched atop the building’s spire.

It stirred no particular emotion in her.

After all, this place had nothing to do with her.

As she pulled the door open, the creak of rusty hinges shattered the silence.

The interior was quiet—peaceful, even. There didn’t seem to be anyone inside.

If she confirmed that, she could simply leave without hesitation.

That was her plan.

Yet her feet carried her deeper inside, as if drawn forward.

The stained glass windows lining the walls depicted various biblical scenes.

Despite herself, she found her eyes lingering on the artwork as if she were in a gallery.

The Temptation in the Wilderness.

The Sermon on the Mount.

The Last Supper.

The Crucifixion.

And finally, the Resurrection.

After taking in all the scenes, her gaze fell upon the statue of a man nailed to the cross.

She studied the figure intently, a question forming in her mind.

The man looked to be in agony.

His head adorned with a crown of thorns, his hands and feet nailed to the cross.

His body was covered in wounds and blood, with a particularly severe injury on his side.

Yet his expression was calm.

There was no trace of pain on his face.

Did the Bible describe his final moments this way?

Or had the sculptor simply chosen to portray his death as something sacred?

What had this man truly thought as he hung there?

Beside the statue was a small painting she hadn’t noticed before.

It depicted him carrying the cross up a hill.

In that instant, a fleeting vision flashed through her mind.

A girl stood before the painting of Jesus carrying the cross, praying.

The girl was none other than White Sheep herself.

“……”

A hallucination? Or a memory from long ago?

Suddenly dizzy, White Sheep clutched her head.

Fear gripped her.

She had yearned to recover her lost memories, but now that the possibility was in front of her, it terrified her.

What if she changed completely?

What if her values, will, and thoughts—her entire being—were replaced by something unfamiliar?

That thought was more terrifying than anything.

“I’m content with who I am now,” she whispered as though in confession.
But it was more of a desperate plea.

“Please, don’t take anything away from me. I don’t want to lose anything else…”

Anything else?

Had she already lost something before?

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto a pew.

At that moment, as if in response to her prayer, the pendant she always wore slipped from her neck.

The pendant fell onto the pew, resting as a pristine white cross.

White Sheep stared at it, motionless, gripped by an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Wasn’t there an inscription here…

[But the one who endures to the end will be saved.]

“……”

The moment she read those words, fragments of memories scattered in her mind like a whirlwind.

Unfamiliar sensations overwhelmed her, and she clutched her head as if it might shatter.

No.

This isn’t me.

I’m not Yoo Hana.

I’m White Sheep, a member of the apostles and my teacher’s disciple.

She rejected the flood of memories, resisting with all her might.

The cost of doing so was immense.

Now she could only groan in agony, barely holding back screams.
Her rationality teetered on the brink of collapse.

Unable to endure it alone, she sought salvation like a lamb crying out for help.

Someone, please save me.

Please, free me from this torment.

Teacher.

Help me. Please.

At that moment—

Bang!

The doors burst open violently.

White Sheep momentarily forgot her pain, her gaze drawn to the figure in the doorway.

The bright sunlight cast the face in shadow, obscuring it.

Slowly, the figure stepped toward her.

What was she feeling?

Not even she could say.

All she could do was wait.

Wait for him to call her name.

“Yoo Hana.”

“Ah…”

The familiar voice.

When the light revealed his face, White Sheep stared in a daze, her lips parting slightly.

His eyes burned with fierce determination.

After a long hesitation, Hana spoke his name.

“Kim Si Woo…”