CH-094

94 So This Is How Terrifying Growing Up Can Be

Since the first semester of last year, Veronica had often felt a profound lack of motivation for many things.

Whether it was eating, studying, or even just going outside, she needed to muster considerable psychological fortitude just to step out the door. Although she still appeared much the same as everyone remembered—some still called her cheerful, others still found her radiant—Veronica knew she had changed.

What tormented her most was being jolted awake by nightmares every night around two or three in the morning, after which she could no longer fall back asleep.

Her roommate often saw her in the dead of night, clutching a crucifix and kneeling by the window in prayer, murmuring the Holy Name of the Lord as if it were her sole anchor.

Veronica hailed from the Aldrich family of the Duchy of Sermon—a lineage that had served the clergy for generations and basked in divine grace.

Legend held that Veronica's ancestor, seeking to comprehend the will of the Lord, had ventured alone into the deepest cave within the mountain range of the Duchy of Sermon. There, for ninety days, he undertook a cloistered asceticism of silence, fasting, and prayer.

Within the cavern, he prayed to understand the suffering endured by the Son of God, and at last, he received an answer.

The Lord bestowed upon him five sacred stigmata.

That very dawn, a rainbow spanned the sky, and rosy clouds crowned the mountain peaks. From deep within the valley echoed the Lord's low, solemn whispers, lingering long.

Henceforth, the Aldrich family was revered as the "Sinless Apostles," signifying that the Lord had absolved the family of all sin and transgression, blessing all its members with fortune and eternally guiding their pilgrimage.

This legend was enshrined in the theological seminary's curriculum and became a classic tale familiar to all students from childhood.

Veronica had always taken great pride in it.

She was devout and observant from a young age, determined to carry on the family's honor.

However, after her coming-of-age ceremony last summer, everything changed.

For the first time, the family assigned her a task—to recall and document the entirety of the Diocese of Savoy's educational methods, public order, economy, and agricultural development.

To Veronica, this was an exceedingly strange request.

Yet, to her, the directives of family elders were inviolable.

Thus, she complied as best she could, meticulously recounting everything she had observed. Because she assisted frequently at the church, Veronica could clearly delineate the Church's operational mechanisms—from the recipes prepared in the guest hall, to the methods of seed selection, early seedling cultivation, and fertilization, to the construction of homemade mechanical devices, the creation of specialized herbal salves, and even the printing and papermaking of the Engineering College, as well as the hygiene and health manuals of the Medical College.

Veronica assumed this was to examine and assess whether the new operational models within the Savoy Diocese adhered to Church regulations. Upon completing her report, she even included a lengthy essay summarizing the Diocese's impeccable order, its honesty (where lost items were always returned), and the piety of its faithful. She detailed how it contributed not only to the Church but also to the wider community.

Yet, during the week before she left the Holy Capital for the Duchy of Sermon, she began noticing shops on the streets hawking, at exorbitant prices, various popular goods and foods imitating those from the Savoy Diocese in the Northern Territory. The names were changed, but the flavors were remarkably similar. Furthermore, the Church had begun publicly offering instruction on seed cultivation and seedling methods—provided one paid a hefty donative sum.

A corner of Veronica's inner world crumbled.

She sensed something was deeply amiss, but she could not articulate precisely what was wrong.

Perhaps she was simply being overly sensitive. After all, she did not frequently venture out to shop, nor was she aware of any close ties between the Church and the Savoy Diocese.

When she returned to school in the autumn, the family tasked her anew. She was to document all the Diocese's teaching methods, secretly record the Bishop's words and deeds, the content of his sermons, and note whether he associated too closely with scholars from the pro-Northern Territory natural philosophy school, or whether he had private dealings with heretics. Concurrently, Veronica was to memorize the school's various achievements and, if necessary, smuggle samples off campus.

This was plainly a covert surveillance assignment.

She was instructed to remain calm and objective, unswayed by any emotion or sentiment, and to ensure no one suspected she was conducting an inspection.

Had she not seen the "new phenomena" in the Holy Capital, Veronica might still have considered this an honorable duty.

But now, every detail she had ever recorded felt like a needle piercing her psyche.

Trust in her family and suspicion warred within her, pulling her in opposite directions, robbing her of peaceful sleep night after night as she could only turn repeatedly to prayer.

Upon returning to school last autumn, the guest hall began selling various sweet potato products.

Because agriculture across the entire diocese followed a unified crop rotation system, the featured produce varied each year and season, drawing a steady stream of merchant caravans.

The sweet potatoes harvested this year possessed a natural sweetness.

During student camping trips, they would roast sweet potatoes over the fire or boil them.

There was also butter-roasted sweet potato—sliced in half, then brushed evenly with butter on the cut surface to infuse the entire dish with flavor.

Beyond basic roasted sweet potatoes, there were sweet potato pancakes, crispy on the outside and soft within, deep-fried, and baked sweet potato gratins.

The Church also taught residents how to preserve them through the winter.

These methods and foods, which in the Savoy Diocese could be bought for a mere couple of copper coins, Veronica later saw replicated throughout the Holy Capital during the winter, priced at over ten times the amount.

The humble sweet potato, once considered unfit for refined tables, had suddenly become the latest novelty across the entire Holy Capital.

For Veronica to remain ignorant of what was transpiring would be sheer self-deception.

Her only solace was that the Savoy Diocese did not restrict others from emulating these basic practices. Some classmates and friends, homesick for the flavors of Savoy, would ask their family elders to prepare the dishes for them.

These scattered voices eased Veronica's anxiety somewhat.

They soothed her.

Everyone was doing it. She wasn't the only one.

Yet, this past winter, during a visit to the Duchy of Sermon, Veronica received a new assignment.

"The Duchy of Sermon is now shrouded in the sorrow of the Black Death. Everyone fears death, everyone dreads the disease. Amidst such suffering and despair, the Diocese of Savoy enjoys such happiness. This is a contemptuous slight against our agony. By what right do they do this?"

Veronica found such words utterly incomprehensible.

Even attempting to grasp her father's meaning brought her only pain and vexation.

Ever since her coming-of-age ceremony at fourteen, she had begun to feel that her former carefree life had been nothing more than a beautiful, insubstantial dream.

Now, she spent her days performing strange tasks.

Her father declared, "Does the Savoy Diocese turn a blind eye to our deaths? They should be aiding the Duchy of Sermon."

Veronica felt this matter had little connection to Savoy. Summoning her courage, she hesitantly replied, "But the Duchy of Sermon has its own diocese. If they cannot manage, could they not request assistance from the Holy City personnel in the Capital?"

Her gaze shifted to Cardinal Victor, who stood nearby.

Cardinal Victor's eyes gleamed with a benevolent light as he spoke. "Veronica, you do not know how many of our clergy have thrown themselves into this cause, one after another, suffering countless casualties. Churches throughout the Empire have poured their efforts into this matter. Yet the Bishop of the Savoy Diocese has not contributed even a fraction of that effort. Is that reasonable?"

Veronica could not quite follow the logic in his words, but she dared not contradict a Cardinal. She could only remain silent. "..."

Cardinal Victor could more or less tell that his words hadn't truly sunk in. He continued, "Do you know that the Savoy Diocese refuses refugees?"

Veronica recalled that the Savoy Diocese strictly controlled the settlement of outsiders, meticulously checking the identities of everyone entering or leaving.

"While other Duchies, with benevolent hearts, care for the pitiable children of God, the Savoy Diocese is utterly selfish."

Cardinal Victor fixed his gaze steadily upon Veronica. "To put it plainly, the Bishop of Savoy appears kind to everyone, but his kindness is conditional. You know that the Lord loves all people, bestowing blessings unconditionally and impartially. Yet the Bishop of Savoy, entrusted with the grave duty of heeding the Lord's sacred voice, only does what benefits himself. Do you know what that is called?"

Veronica was silent. "..."

Cardinal Victor stated, "It is called selfishness. He is a hypocrite. He cannot possibly be a true mouthpiece for the Lord."

"..."

Veronica felt this judgment was excessively harsh. "But Bishop Alice truly bears many responsibilities. The fact that the people of the entire Savoy Diocese now take pride in living here is entirely inseparable from Bishop Alice's guidance and assistance."

Because she often visited the church and volunteered with Sister Rita, she had seen firsthand how spartan Bishop Alice's lifestyle was.

Aside from the unalterable formalities required of his episcopal office, the food he ate came from vegetables and fruits he grew himself or produce gifted by farmers. Sometimes he simply ate the leftover scraps from the guest hall kitchen.

The clothes he wore were old garments from four years prior; his summer attire had been washed thin and faded.

His living quarters were the same as everyone else's; whatever he had, others had too.

When winter turned cold, if he could forgo using the heating supply, he would conserve that portion.

As for surplus funds, they were invariably allocated first to the basic necessities of the vulnerable—the elderly, women, and children.

Consider the simplest example—

As everyone knew, Church public latrines were essentially only for men. Women had to find a secluded spot on their own or return home to relieve themselves.

While others dismissed the call for "gender-segregated public latrines as a need imagined by sentimentalism," Bishop Alice had already prioritized the construction of clean, sanitary facilities for girls in all schools, churches, and public areas of the town.

Veronica wasn't entirely sure about the sentiments of the general populace, but the clergy and sisters all hoped the diocese could develop just a little further. That way, there might be some spare coin to allow Bishop Alice to live a bit more comfortably.

Whenever they came across something nice, they would always set it aside for the Bishop first.

For instance, when she accompanied Sister Rita on errands, if Sister Rita was shopping, she would invariably pick up some small extra item for the Bishop, something not on the list. It might not be strictly appropriate, but Veronica felt that watching Sister Rita do this was akin to watching a mother shopping for her child—knowing or sensing what he would like, the purchase list always contained an unplanned extra.

Precisely because she saw how many people cherished Bishop Alice, Veronica herself was quite fond of him too, and wished even more people would come to like him.

In all her life, this was the first time Veronica had heard anyone speak of Bishop Alice in such a manner. It left a bitter taste, and she desperately wanted to flee.

Her emotions were still rather transparent.

Growing up, she had not lived in a repressive environment. At most, she understood the need to watch her words depending on the setting, to observe decorum and show respect. She had never been taught to conceal her feelings.

This naturally did not escape the Cardinal's notice.

So, Cardinal Victor heaved a deep sigh. "I had not intended to speak of this. But now I must."

Those few words immediately piqued Veronica's curiosity. She couldn't help but frown as she looked at him.

Cardinal Victor asked, "Haven't you been searching for news of your uncle Martyat all this time? It is time you learned the truth."

As these words fell, Veronica instinctively looked toward her father.

His nod plunged her into a state of acute panic. Could this matter truly be connected to Bishop Alice?

Why bring it up now, of all times?

Cardinal Victor stated, "In truth, four years ago, Martyat met with his accident in what was then the Diocese of Carson—the present-day Diocese of Savoy. If you do not believe me, feel free to ask the residents who were there at the time. The priest of the Savoy Diocese was present then, and he, along with a certain knight, conspired to have Martyat executed on the spot."

"The knight even gave the priest a token."

"Bishop Alice caused Martyat's death."

Veronica felt as if the sky had collapsed and the earth had split open. Shock and incomprehension outweighed her grief. Her mind was a maelstrom of chaos, and she could only mechanically parrot the Cardinal's words. "...You say, Bishop Alice caused my uncle's death?"

"Because you were so young at the time, we could not bear to tell you the truth."

Veronica's father responded with a heavy expression. "We didn't believe it ourselves. Four years ago, when you said you wanted to seek the truth, we thought it might actually be a good opportunity for you to visit the Northern Territory yourself. We also considered the possibility that we were all mistaken, that Martyat was simply too busy and hadn't had the chance to contact the Church."

"Only now, after all this time, are we forced to admit it. He is dead."

"He died just before the Bishop of Savoy's name rose to prominence. Or, one might say, Martyat served as the stepping stone that propelled the Bishop of Savoy to become the center of attention in the Northern Territory. He perished silently, in exchange for a so-called divinely ordained Northern Bishop. Now everyone sings the praises of this young Bishop. Isn't that peculiar?"

Cardinal Victor's words closed in relentlessly. The calculation in his eyes was like the fleeting, chilling glint of a dagger as its blade turned—startling and impossible to look away from.

"Veronica, after so many years, there is no concrete evidence left. Perhaps it is best you simply forget about it?"

The moment the words settled, Veronica stared at Cardinal Victor in shock. "How could I possibly do that?"

"Then what can you do?" the Cardinal countered.

"I... I... What can I do?" The girl was visibly rendered incoherent. Her feet shuffled restlessly in place. Instinct screamed at her to flee, yet her honest and resilient character forced her to remain, forbidding her from shirking these dreadful revelations.

But what could she possibly do?

Cardinal Victor's gaze drifted lightly over the girl's smooth forehead and delicate hair. The once so spirited maiden, the one who had boldly declared her intention to become a Holy Knight, now seemed so fragile and vulnerable. It was as if a flawlessly beautiful and delicate flower had bloomed from within a hard stone—astonishing and breathtaking.

He placed a hand on Veronica's shoulder and patted it soothingly, lowering his voice. "There is much you can do."

Although his sudden intimacy made her uncomfortable, amidst the chaos, it offered the girl a sliver of hope.

She seized upon it immediately, asking with earnest focus, "Could you give me a hint?"

"We can test the character of the Bishop of Savoy. If he is truly pure and holy, he will surely pass the test."

"What test?"

"I possess fresh blood from a victim of the Black Death. You are a student there and close to the Church. They will not easily search your luggage. And you have the opportunity to approach the Bishop of Savoy. Scatter this substance in his living quarters or his work area."

The most terrifying aspect of the Black Death was its infectiousness.

Merely exchanging a few words with a sufferer could be enough to contract the plague, which was why treating physicians had to wear specialized masks.

The Cardinal's horrifying words continued without pause. "If he truly is blessed by the Lord, he will surely survive the Black Death."

Veronica pictured the ghastly scene, her face turning ashen. "And if he is not? Wouldn't that make me a murderer?"

"Wake up," Victor said. "In that case, he caused Martyat's death, and the Lord is punishing him. You must understand, Martyat was a Sinless Apostle. Any act of his is forgiven. And so are yours. Even if you kill, you will be cleansed of the sin."

The Cardinal repeated, "You are an Aldrich, after all!"

"I..."

Was this what it meant to be an Aldrich? To do such things?

The Cardinal leaned his head gently against Veronica's, a gesture of paternal affection. "And if you ever truly feel soiled, come to me for help at any time. I will wash away all the filth upon you. Remember, I will always be behind you."

"..."

Veronica could not accept having to do something so monstrous. She pushed the Cardinal away on the spot and fled.

But her refusal was powerless against her family.

Before she returned to school, her father forced the medicine bottle into her hand. "If he survives, he becomes the hope for saving the entire Duchy of Sermon. Veronica, do not be selfish. Do not be weak. Think of your helpless grandparents, trapped in the plague with no escape."

"You must save them."

"The blood of the Aldrichs flows within you. This is not a burden, but a privilege. To bear choices more difficult than others is what sets us apart from ordinary mortals."

"..."

Veronica had never imagined she would one day so fiercely resist growing up.

She realized for the first time that growing up, and shouldering such responsibility and hope, was something so terrifying, so despairing, so utterly nauseating.

And this was the mission of the Aldrichs.

Veronica prayed throughout the carriage ride that she might never have the opportunity to see Bishop Alice.

Perhaps, as he often did, he had gone to another diocese for study and exchange and would be unable to return for a long while.

Perhaps her luggage would be searched, the bottle found, and she would be accused of a crime and sent back to the Holy Capital.

But upon arriving at the diocese, not only was she not searched, she even encountered Bishop Alice.

He was standing not far from the town gate, affectionately holding Finnian's little sister, who was drowsily nestled against the Bishop.

And Finnian, usually so composed and restrained before his fellow students, was now, right before her, smiling brilliantly without even realizing it. It was not hard to imagine why all the friends at the Theology College were so fond of and close to this Bishop.

Veronica stood rooted to the spot.

If she truly caused the death of Bishop Alice, she would lose all her friends forever.

To her, that would be no different from death itself.

Yet her family was waiting for her.

"..."

She did not know how to choose.