My Childhood Friend Became an Inquisitor

“If you really don’t like it, I can’t help it, but I still wish everyone could get along.”
“…Why?”
“Anne, you don’t have any friends in the village besides me now. If I were to disappear one day…”
*

Anne was walking down the corridor of the Great Cathedral.

All armaments were prohibited in this sacred place. Thus, she was now wearing only priestly robes, without armor or mace.

The body lines slightly revealed outside the loose priestly robes were so delicate that the girl bearing the golden cross looked like just a devout cleric. Unless one knew her face, no one would guess her duties.

Her bare white feet, uncovered by anything, tread lightly on the marble floor as smooth as her own skin. Though called a temple, she navigated this building, now larger than even the imperial palace as the center of religion and holy land, with familiarity.

Never once losing her way, as if she had lived here for a very long time.

Her steps, which had been threading through the maze-like complex corridors, stopped in front of a certain door. Anne knocked without hesitation on the door that seemed too large for one person to use.

“Come in.”

The responding voice was gentle yet cool, like the Yefrinse River that cooled the early summer heat.

Upon opening the door and entering, inside sat an elegantly aged old man at a laurel wood table. His blue eyes, which suggested he must have been a great beauty in his youth, remained clear and blue, unclouded by the years.

“I have come at your summons, Brother Vito François.”

“I’m sorry for calling you right away when you must be tired.”

Without anyone taking the lead, they both bent their wrists together and made the sign of the cross. As they were all brothers and sisters in the Lord’s embrace, formalities were unnecessary among family.

However, the hierarchy was clear. Even setting aside the difference in age, no matter how much they proclaim it, perfect equality between humans cannot be realized.

Cardinal François. This seemingly frail old man was a pillar of power who could have aimed for the papacy if not for ‘just one blemish’ – no, he would have undoubtedly become so.

“The reason I called Sister Anne today is…”

One of the highest in the secular world, excluding God and Ailim.

The fact that she was granted a private audience with him proved Anne’s status and uniqueness.

“Is it because of this ‘judgment’?”

Although those who hold power tend to become arrogant, François showed no such traits at all. Is it because he knows there is a parent above him?
Far from being enraged at being interrupted, he merely nodded gently, even wearing a faint smile.
However, this did not mean that this old man was as weak and harmless inside as he appeared on the surface.

“Yes, of course, I’m not doubting you, sister.”

She was being doubted.

Thinking about it, it was natural. The Church does not accept those with unclear pasts, and it was already known that Anne was from Yefrinse.

Yet in this matter, she had volunteered for the role of judging her hometown. Even pushing aside another brother who had originally been assigned.

“Only… it was a situation where sufficient flexibility could have been exercised, and I wanted to ask with what heart you chose this thorny path of hardship.”

His gentle voice had dignity, but lacked the majesty befitting a person of power.

Just as someone who knew nothing would see Anne as merely a delicate priestess, they would see François as just a kind-hearted and weak old man.

Like an orphanage director caring for orphans, or an aged butler of a noble house nearing retirement. Of course, if François were merely that, he couldn’t have overcome all sorts of dark struggles and trials to sit in the most brilliant position.

“I.”

Clear lake and cloudy sky, different yet similar eyes meet each other.

“Rather, I thought that’s precisely why I should go. Despite claiming to be the most exemplary believer, I failed to guide even those close to me to Ailim…”

Anne spoke as she had prepared beforehand.

“…If I can no longer give salvation, at least let me give them rest with my own hands.”

She stops mid-sentence as if overcome with emotion. It wasn’t just an act.

A monster unaware of pain and sorrow, with a frozen heart. The person before her might be like that, but Anne believed she wasn’t such a monster.

She was simply enduring and bearing it silently. Just as she had done every night pierced by loneliness and solitude.

“I’m sorry, I’ve touched on your wounds, sister.”

“…It’s alright, brother. This too… must be a trial I have to overcome.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Anne gazed at the beautiful old man’s face, unfaded by time.

It was difficult to read his inner thoughts. Was he empathizing with her sorrow? Or was he contemplating new traps to set for her?

At the end of the silence, François clapped his hands as if to change the atmosphere. It was an innocent gesture, like that of a child.

“That’s right, a welcome guest has come, and I’ve been too unkind. Would you wait a moment? I’ll bring out some tea.”

“I’m fine…”

“Don’t take away this old man’s pleasure. Some good tea leaves have just arrived.”

A gentle voice that didn’t allow refusal. In the end, Anne had no choice but to nod in agreement, bowing her head.

“…I understand.”

François, smiling gently, soon turned his back to her and began brewing tea.

The scent of tea that made one feel as peaceful and stable as its owner’s temperament spread through the small room. As he brewed the tea, the old man hummed a little tune, a pleasant sound like a childhood lullaby.

Even though he was personally doing what a servant should do, his movements showed no clumsiness or excess, as if he had always done this. Soon, François brought out two cups of tea on a tray.

“Please.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Anne lifted the teacup with an elegant posture according to ingrained etiquette, and lightly sipped the sky-blue tea. And she almost immediately spat it out.

It’s scalding hot! If even she, who bore the Holy Body, felt it this way, it would be even worse for an ordinary person, yet François, with his aged body, was savoring the tea without the slightest tremor.

“Isn’t the tea fragrance nice?”

Anne, unable to answer due to her scalded tongue, nodded reluctantly.

In fact, aside from being too hot, it was indeed a precious tea. After the tea cooled a bit, Anne too could willingly enjoy its flavor.

A beautiful color like the blue sky captured in a teacup. The taste was close to flavorless, but the scent was subtle yet deep, with a power that naturally relaxed one’s mind the more it was savored.

Her mind, which had been tense in preparation for meeting François, unknowingly relaxed. The old man, as if asking about everyday matters, casually pushed a question towards her in an unremarkable tone.

“By the way, I heard that you left one survivor in that ‘judgment’…”

“Louis is.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake, but unless she was Ailim herself, she couldn’t take back words once spoken.

She is an Inquisitor. She shouldn’t refer so familiarly by name to someone she had judged.

“It’s alright. I knew that Sister Anne had an acquaintance with that person during her time in the secular world.”

Although François maintained a gentle tone throughout, Anne felt a pressure of a completely different dimension from before.

Inquisitors are always those who fight on the frontlines against heretics. The Church is grateful for their dedication and sacrifice, but on the other hand, they monitor them for corruption and betrayal. Because Inquisitors are too close to heretics.

Wasn’t there such an anecdote? A hunter who sustained himself by hunting beasts one day came to pity them, and in the end, covered in beast blood, he himself became a beast.

“No. I…”

If a hunting dog pities the prey and doesn’t bite, or if it has grown too old with all its teeth fallen out to bite, its fate was decided.

Taking the place of the uncaught prey on the banquet plate.

“I, it’s not like that…”

The blue eyes were still smiling kindly.
Just like on that day when hundreds of innocent people were burned alive as the source of the plague.

“The reason I kept that heretic alive is not because of clumsy mercy.”

At that moment, her turbulent heart settled calmly.

Anne was no longer swayed. While her kindness was shown only to one person, her coolness was a virtue as renowned in the Church as the Cardinal’s composure.

The girl who was called a ‘weirdo’ for not batting an eye while watching countless people burn alive is now praised as an punisher who is not shaken by any deception or cruelty.

“Ah, of course, the faithful Sister Anne wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“It’s true that I had an acquaintance with that heretic in my childhood… but there was a separate reason why I had to keep him alive.”

It’s not a complete lie. Anne’s feelings had grown too large to be considered mere friendship now.

“Oh, what reason?”

“When I conducted a solo reconnaissance before the annihilation, I saw a person who was that heretic’s ‘fiancée’. You know that I lived in that area during my childhood. That person was someone I had never seen before.”

“Are you suspecting that this fiancée is the root cause of this incident?”

“Yes. Personally, I’m not just suspecting, but certain.”

Once the flow started, the rest wasn’t difficult. What she had prepared beforehand, what she thought of on the spot. Evidence and logic interlocked seamlessly to become a shield justifying her actions.

“Why is that? Couldn’t it be an ordinary person who settled in the village while Sister Anne was away?”

Just as her love for him was steadfast and unchanging, his love for her couldn’t have changed either. Unless some superstitious and heretical force had intervened.

But unfortunately, one person’s belief couldn’t be evidence. Anne played a different card instead of saying what she really wanted to say.

“I couldn’t find her during the ‘judgment’. It’s not just that she was absent at that moment; even in subsequent searches, not a single trace was found.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. The commander of the Crusaders shared the same opinion.”

Of course, the Crusaders were grand only in name, no different from ordinary people except for receiving a small share of God’s blessing. It was natural for them, ignorant about evil and darkness, to agree with the Inquisitor’s words.

“That heretic, Louis Berger, is the most important key to finding the ‘fiancée’.”

This was the justification she would present this time.
To eradicate the true servant of evil, they needed to keep alive this minion who was also a clue.

After listening to Anne’s defense, François seemed to ponder for a long time again, then suddenly struck at an unexpected point.

“Is there anyone else who witnessed this ‘fiancée’?”

“…No.”

Of course, there was also a flaw in such a claim.

That she was the only one who had seen this significant existence.
The reason this almost forced argument could gain any persuasiveness was because the speaker was an Inquisitor.

To deny the words of an Inquisitor would be to disregard their authority and doubt their corruption. As betrayal was easy, Inquisitors who still maintained trust became objects of special respect.

Of course, Cardinal François was a figure who could overshadow even the authority of such Inquisitors, but faced with Anne’s firm attitude, this time he chose to take a step back.

“If you saw it clearly, sister, then it’s undoubtedly closer to the truth than if dozens of people had seen it.”

Hastily agreeing with the defense would only reveal a shallow bottom. Anne just slightly nodded her head with a calm attitude.

Despite her attitude that bordered on disrespect, François’s face remained serene. His composure, built up over decades, seemed so solid that it couldn’t be broken by any rudeness or provocation.

On the other hand, Anne’s coolness had not yet reached that level.

“If it’s as you say, that fiancée is certainly not an ordinary existence, so perhaps we should have dispatched two Inquisitors.”

“There’s no need to go that far.”

“We never know when a tiny seed of evil might grow into a great tree. I was worried we might miss signs of dark clouds, and fortunately, Brother Berdo listened to this old man’s words.”

“…Pardon?”

Not worn down by enduring harsh storms, but simply turning away from the world. Thus, when faced with a situation that cannot be ignored, the mask comes off.

“You must know that Brother Berdo was originally assigned to this judgment. Although it’s not as holy and important a mission as Sister Anne has taken on…”

François’s expression remained gentle and kind as he spoke these words.

There was no trace of malice, hatred, or glee to be found anywhere. This aged cleric truly believed so. That everything he did was for God, for the world.

And for Anne’s sake.

“Accepting my suggestion, Brother Berdo willingly agreed to get his hands dirty with such lowly and base tasks as torturing sinners. To show such responsibility even for matters outside his jurisdiction… isn’t he truly an exemplar among Inquisitors?”