CH-041

After Herens came to the bread shop's back kitchen, Sona used the excuse of "children shouldn't interrupt adults talking" to send Finnian away, keeping him from listening in further.

But how could Finnian simply let that go? He had heard with his own ears that something had happened in the ecclesiastical district, and he had heard Herens mention "Alistair." Finnian's instinct told him Father Alistair had definitely run into a serious problem, and so he absolutely needed to understand what was happening that had made Herens sneak up to the shop through the back door like this.

Finnian quietly went and asked Herens: "What did you and my aunt talk about?"

Herens's eyes flickered, then his expression immediately smoothed back to calm. He patted Finnian's shoulder — the unmistakable manner of an adult about to start brushing off a child.

Sure enough, Herens smiled in an offhand way: "Just some trivial church business — nothing too serious."

As he said it, his mind flashed back to Sona's warning: "About the deaths — don't say it in front of children. They'll be scared, they won't be able to sleep at night."

In practice, what kept a child awake at night was not only a murder case but their own insatiable curiosity. That night Herens absolutely could not sleep.

In his mind he kept replaying the last words Father Alistair had said to him before leaving: "If I don't come back on time, if there's no sign of me within two hours, find a way to escape on your own."

Herens had waited nearly all afternoon with no sign of Shu Li returning from Deputy Archbishop Hugo's. He didn't know where to find him, so after circling the area near Hugo's residence and offices without catching a glimpse of Father Alistair, he acted on Father Alistair's instructions and left the Carson church's lodgings first.

Perhaps Father Alistair had his own plan? Herens kept trying to read the deeper meaning in Father Alistair's words. Because the cathedral had shown no major movement and things were still relatively contained, how far ahead had the priest actually anticipated things? What exactly was going to happen in the cathedral? Would it be as bad as he imagined?

Herens had never expected to run into an old acquaintance on the very first day of arriving in Carson City. And it was someone he absolutely hadn't anticipated — someone who had appeared in the guise of "a priest," moving alongside Deacon Gideon.

Father Corny. That was an absolutely unimaginable title. When Herens had left the Grand Cathedral, Corny had still been just the child next door — a child he had watched grow up, as close as brothers, fifteen years of knowing each other.

But one tragedy had torn that relationship apart entirely, pushing the two of them to opposite sides.

It had begun with Corny's sister's child — who, because of the church's negligence and endless deferral, never received the aid they were owed. What made him even more furious was that the church, even after the fact, remained cold and dismissive, providing not even a single decent funeral or word of concern. For Corny's family, this wasn't merely the loss of a dearly loved life — it was the trampling of their dignity and their right to justice.

After that, they had regarded the church as their enemy, and had poured their rage onto Herens, who had been serving as a church knight at the time.

Herens remembered that rainy night and the assassination. In the rain, he had watched Corny's brother-in-law run through the chest by a knight's longsword, crashing heavily to the street. And Corny's sister, weeping as she threw herself forward trying to reclaim her husband's body, was directly pierced through the abdomen by another enforcing sword. That scene caused something in Herens to collapse.

He had stood in the rain and stared blankly as the blood mixed with rainwater and flowed into the cracks of the stone road, spreading and seeping, staining red the entire length of the street. And in that chaos, he caught Corny's gaze from behind the crowd — a hatred beyond all words. Corny's eyes were hot with tears, locked on Herens — who had done nothing, or who had been unable to do anything. That silent hatred carried shredding grief and pain. Like a poison-dipped thorn, it drove hard into Herens's chest, nailing itself into the depths of his soul.

In that moment, Herens felt he had with his own hands killed his dearest friend and ruined both their lives.

He couldn't defend the church, couldn't bear Corny's devastating accusation. In the end he had instinctively turned and walked away — not a calm withdrawal, but something closer to fleeing in blind panic.

And now Corny had appeared in his life again. Herens sensed — this was no simple matter. Corny's reappearance was the harbinger of a storm.

Back then, he had been a coward — without even the courage to stand up for the people closest to him. He had never made peace with that.

Now he had met Father Alistair — who still believed in faith, pure to the extreme, bringing a saving light. Herens didn't want him to die an innocent death.

Herens could not explain clearly whether this was projection, or compensation, or an impulse toward redemption. He only knew that if Father Alistair died too, then there was no point in this life of his.

He had to protect this person. Whatever the cost.

He had also gone to find Corny, working up the courage to speak with him for the first time — telling Corny to release his hatred, that Corny could even kill him to vent his anger. But faced with a Herens who insisted on taking blame, even willing to let Corny kill him, Corny was calm and cold to the point of near-emotionlessness.

"If you truly believe yourself to be guilty," Corny's voice was very soft, "then you should stay exactly as you were back then — say nothing, do nothing." Corny glanced at him coldly: "That is fairness, and that is your chance at atonement." Herens froze. If Corny had cursed him, struck him, that would have eased things somewhat. But he wasn't even bothering to question why past-Herens had done nothing. He simply used that cold and merciless standard to nail what had been Herens's cowardly escape back into place as a present-day cursed constraint, preventing the now-changed version of himself who wanted to make a difference from moving at all.

Three days after that inconclusive conversation, the first death occurred in the cathedral. The victim was Ecclesiastical Prefect Leopold.

When Herens heard Deacon Gideon's call for help, he was the first to arrive and provide assistance. When he touched the body while pulling it out, he knew immediately — a freshly dead body would still have warmth and texture. This one did not.

He had instinctively searched for Corny's gaze, and received a hidden, cruel smile in return.

This sent a chill through him, and he instinctively looked away.

Afterward he saw the blood-weeping statue — a warning against the church's corruption and its straying from its path. And it was precisely this statue that made Herens certain all of this was Corny's handiwork. Because in their youth, Corny had once, to prank believers who had bullied him, pulled a similar stunt of making a statue appear to weep.

Herens was afraid — he didn't know how far Corny intended to go, or what degree of satisfaction would make him stop and pull back. And when facing Father Alistair, Herens still didn't know what to say.

Because of his own inaction, the Archbishop had already died. And choosing at this point to continue shielding Corny — that too was wrong within him.

"Ah..."

Herens let out a deep sigh.

When he had left the cathedral, he heard the sounds of the fire. Could he really run? Could he really leave Father Alistair?

Even if that was Father Alistair's own instruction.

Had Father Alistair already anticipated this step and made the decision on his behalf? Herens suddenly felt the depth of Father Alistair's wisdom — wisdom that exceeded the ordinary — and the compassion of a mercy that encompassed all things. At the same time, his soul was profoundly moved by that light.

A near-mournful, anguished murmur resonated in the quiet room: "Father Alistair..."

Before the sound had faded, a head poked in from the doorway: "The Lord says: if you want to go see someone, then go."

Finnian! Herens reflexively pushed back: "Why aren't you asleep? It's so late."

Then he also corrected Finnian: "The scripture doesn't have that line."

Finnian made a few clicking sounds: "You haven't read it deeply enough. Father Alistair has said it before — in Ecclesiastes it says 'whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.' If you feel restless just sitting here, you can't stop thinking about Father Alistair. You obviously feel you should go find him, which is why you're sighing so much! Get up and go!"

Finnian slipped right into Herens's room and said: "If I'm wrong, argue back."

Herens was entirely unable to argue with Finnian. After a long silence, he couldn't help saying: "You'd make a good theological debater."

"What's a theological debater?"

"Deputy Archbishop Hugo Faulkner is a theological debater — someone who debates theology, to consolidate and reinforce faith. They're generally senior scholars who have studied theology deeply, and don't usually participate in church administration. But in the Grand Cathedral, theological debaters have been invited by the church to serve as Archbishop-level clergy. At the highest level, even the Pope must listen to their advice and opinions." Herens introduced this to Finnian. "Theological debaters are all eloquent people. You clearly have potential."

Finnian listened, rapt. But more than the theological debater title, he still wanted to know about Father Alistair. "So what exactly happened to Father Alistair?"

Herens naturally couldn't say. How could a child be involved in something like this?

Finnian, the moment he noticed the change in Herens's expression and the corners of his mouth, knew he was about to be brushed off again. So he simply said outright: "If you won't say, I'll go myself!"

Compared to Finnian's headlong bravery, he himself was far too cowardly. But even if Finnian wanted to go right now, there was no way to get close. "The duke's cavalry used the pretext of assisting with the investigation to have the military seal off the entire cathedral. They've essentially controlled everyone's ability to move in and out. So how would you get in?"

Finnian immediately fell into thoughtful silence: "......"

He paced back and forth a couple of times. Herens's eyes followed him back and forth.

Finnian suddenly clapped his hands: "I know what to do."

"What?"

"You said it's the duke's cavalry guarding the cathedral, right? Apart from the duke's own people, who else could direct these men?"

Herens drew a complete blank: "Who?"

"If it were the duke's son — that would work, wouldn't it?"

"Leslie?" Herens thought back to arresting that child, since he was always hovering near dying or injured animals. The impression he had of that child was of a strange, unsettling aura about him — oppressive and dark — that made one uneasy.

"I did him a big favor. He'll definitely agree to help us." Finnian said with full confidence.

What he wanted to do, he immediately acted on. But Herens harbored many doubts. First, it was the middle of the night — there was no realistic way they'd run into Leslie. Second, even if Leslie was the duke's son, he had absolutely no authority in Savoie pastoral district, so how could he command the duke's directly subordinate military cavalry?

Despite all this, Herens didn't stop him. Because only when Finnian hit a wall would he know to give up.

But to Herens's surprise, not only did Finnian successfully run into a freely wandering Leslie, but Leslie actually engaged him in conversation.

For Finnian this wasn't a coincidence. Because back in Savoie pastoral district, he had long observed that Leslie had a habit of wandering alone around certain fixed spots — he very much disliked staying in his own home. And Finnian also knew Leslie had no complete indifference to the church's affairs, and would sometimes appear near the cathedral. Though it was late and the streets were nearly empty, Finnian had an instinct that Leslie might well still be hovering in that stretch between the cathedral and the duke's manor. Even if he couldn't find him, he could also quietly go to the manor and find him — he still remembered the area Leslie had indicated for his room when Father Alistair had once asked where Leslie was staying, and Leslie had unconsciously pointed out the general area. So he retraced the route from that day walking Leslie home and sure enough — he spotted Leslie standing under a dim street lamp, apparently deep in thought.

Finnian's heart stirred. He walked up and called softly: "Leslie!"

Leslie turned at the sound, his gaze flat, but he didn't immediately leave. He looked Finnian over for a few seconds as though guessing what this person had to say.

Finnian didn't make him wait, and said directly what he wanted — they needed to get inside the cathedral.

"If you just want to get into the cathedral," Leslie said with complete indifference, "just say you're one of the cathedral's clergy. Nobody will stop you."

This one line hit Herens like a bucket of cold water turned to enlightenment.

Indeed — if the duke wanted to control the whole cathedral, he wouldn't block clergy from entering. Herens had completely overlooked this in his panic.

For the first time, Herens realized the child in front of him was genuinely very sharp.

Finnian immediately said: "I know that works. But getting in is easy — getting back out is the hard part. Naturally I wouldn't have come to find you if that were all I needed." Herens found he'd gone silent not because it was a children's exchange, but because their thinking moved so fast he genuinely couldn't keep up.

Leslie glanced at him briefly: "...Why should I help you?"

"Because you ate my mango," Finnian said with complete justification.

"And?" Leslie said. "I only satisfied your vanity in wanting to show kindness. In showing off nicely in front of that priest, you already got your benefit. Demanding good from me in return is both rude and unreasonable."

Finnian was stung by Leslie's puncturing of the truth about his performance in front of Shu Li, and felt stung. But he wasn't deterred. Leslie, seeing Finnian was already feeling stubborn, could tell by the look on his face that oil and salt wouldn't work on him: "What on earth do you want? If you don't help, why are you talking so much nonsense?"

Leslie looked at Finnian steadily: "I'm curious about one thing. Just answer me."

"You're definitely not curious about Father Alistair — you just want to know about his preferences," Finnian's alarm bells went off immediately.

He knew Leslie was off. Ever since Father Alistair appeared, Leslie was always sneaking looks at him, sometimes even specifically going out of his way to talk to him and get Father Alistair's attention. Leslie was weird!

"You can't try to steal Father Alistair from me. He's mine!" Finnian warned very seriously.

Leslie was stunned for a moment, looking at him as though he hadn't quite understood, and without even the interest to mock him, only frowned and asked in return: "Why would I be interested in him?"

Finnian relaxed at this — good. Then Leslie spoke: "Compared to him, I'm actually more curious about you."

"What?" Finnian frowned.

He'd always thought Leslie was strange, and now he was even more certain — Leslie was definitely very strange. Not only were his thoughts very erratic, his emotions were also disconnected. He was always going from one thing to something completely else, and it was hard to follow.

On the other side, Leslie wasn't at all concerned about what Finnian thought, and simply threw out his question.

"What's so good about him that you pay him such close attention?"

In Leslie's view, Finnian had a loving family and a happy life. Yet this child, who didn't cling to his parents and didn't particularly seek his peers, was so interested in this priest he'd only known a short while. Was a priest better than family and friends? Or was it just this particular priest who was better than Finnian's family and friends?

Leslie wanted to know this.

Finnian immediately pulled a face at Leslie: "You said you're curious and then you expect me to tell you? Hmph — I'm not telling you!"

"......" Leslie had hit a soft wall with Finnian and fell silent for a few seconds. Then he spoke. "You tell me, and I'll help you."