These are memories from a past life — bleached white by time, worn so thin that running a hand over them feels like they might crumble to dust.
My parents died in an accident when I was still an infant, or so I was told.
I was too young. No faces remain. No voices.
Memory has always been unfair that way. It erases the most important things first.
At the funeral, relatives gathered and passed words back and forth over me.
Who'll take him. You do it. No, you.
The words were about me, yet I was treated as though I weren't there at all.
In the modern world, raising a one-year-old was a burden.
Everyone knew it. So no one stepped forward willingly.
In the end, I was sent to my aunt's house — a woman who had reached forty still alone.
It wasn't a choice so much as the result of pushing me toward whoever was least inconvenienced.
"What a pain in my ass."
My aunt never bothered to hide her complaints.
Even as a very small child, I understood that those words were aimed at me.
I was afraid of her. So I always held my breath. I wished that even the act of breathing wouldn't draw her notice.
My aunt was a devout believer.
She went to church every week.
"Smile. If anyone asks you anything, just smile. You understand?"
Whenever she went to church with her designer handbag, she brought me along.
Like a piece of evidence for her faith.
People thought well of her.
A believer raising an orphaned child with love.
In front of those gazes, my aunt would stroke my hair with a gentle, benevolent expression.
But when no one was watching, it was different.
She yanked my hair. She slapped my cheeks hard.
Young as I was, I never even thought to fight back. Resistance wasn't an option. I simply endured.
Every time I went to church, I prayed.
I pressed my palms together before the God they called omnipotent, and I begged in complete earnest.
Please let me escape this pain.
Please let me be happy.
The prayers always ended. The world never changed.
The word salvation was as weightless as air.
"The pastor wants to see you. Just go talk to him for a moment."
One day.
My aunt pushed me into the prayer room.
A middle-aged pastor with a soft, kindly face was undoing his belt.
His hands seized my body.
I ran with everything I had.
I tore free of those hands, burst out of the prayer room, and screamed through my tears.
The air of that day, the smell, the sensation beneath my feet — all of it is still vivid.
The incident ended there.
When we got home, my aunt beat me as though she meant to kill me.
And the moment I came of age, I fled that house like I was running for my life.
To me, religion was like dirty water.
Something that reeked of rot. Something I had no desire to drink.
Was that why, I wonder.
Perhaps that was why I found myself drawn to a person named Tiana Pilrn.
Someone who had endured trials enough to shatter any faith, and still believed in God.
Someone who chose belief over doubt, every time.
To me, she was less a believer than something closer to a true saint.
"…Yeah."
"Let's go to church sometime."
I surfaced from the long reverie.
"Let's go to church sometime."
I nodded.
I wanted to see with my own eyes what it was that Tiana believed in. The real thing.
Whether it was truly a faith that let people live —
or just another face, no different from what I had seen for so long.
Whether everything I had witnessed was the whole of it,
or whether I had judged too early, too easily.
I wanted to find out.
Of course, there was another reason as well.
'I need to keep an eye on Cardinal Teo, too.'
Cardinal Teo.
A young clergyman who enjoyed the Pope's absolute favor. Currently serving as a theology professor at the Academy.
On the surface, he was known as a diligent and compassionate believer — a man who practiced the word of God in his own life. In reality, he was the exact opposite.
The more the Church's authority waned, the bolder he became.
Under the banner of restoring that authority, he spared no means and no method.
The eyes of a man who does not see his own wickedness as wickedness are always that clean.
'He used Tiana.'
Tiana Pilrn — a soul of pure, unclouded sincerity.
Cardinal Teo had been laying plans to use her as a tool.
'Right now he's sizing her up.'
The church Tiana wanted to visit.
It would almost certainly be the one where Cardinal Teo was staying.
In the original story, she went there with Taibeon, not me — they wandered around as if on a casual stroll, and the incident began when they witnessed the Cardinal's wrongdoing…
"Tiana."
"Mm?"
"Isn't Taibeon coming with us?"
"…No. He said he's not going. He told me to take you instead."
A wry smile settled at the corner of Tiana's lips.
That little bastard, Taibeon.
Pawning his own sister off on someone else.
The story had gone off-script.
In the original, Taibeon was supposed to go to the church with her. They'd wander around as if on a leisurely walk, stumble upon evidence of Cardinal Teo's corruption, and that's how the whole affair would begin.
But now I was the one standing in that place.
For reference, in this world, cathedrals and churches are more or less the same thing.
Both fall under the influence of the Holy See, so the distinction between them isn't particularly significant.
"Where is Taibeon right now?"
"I don't know. He said he went off to spar with his friends."
Tiana let out a small sigh.
"Is going to church with me once really that unbearable for him?"
"…"
"…Mati, do you not want to go either?"
"I'm going because you asked me to."
At that, Tiana seemed to relax a little, and she smiled.
"You'll like it. When you sit quietly and pray there… your heart feels at peace."
She folded both hands over her chest and closed her eyes.
The gesture was so natural it looked like part of her body — like faith had grown into her bones.
"Tiana. About the church — I know a place. Could we go there instead?"
"A church you know?"
"It's not far from here."
If the story had gone off-script, it was my job to manage the fallout.
I couldn't let Tiana walk into the Cathedral of Saint Berce.
"Sure, if you want to go somewhere, let's go."
Fortunately, Tiana agreed without hesitation.
I took her to the church.
* * *
I hadn't been to church before, so I didn't know many places.
But there was one church that the family had been sponsoring.
My sister was the one managing it now.
The Anna Church.
Named after a woman born into the Moretti family several hundred years ago, who had chosen the path of a nun.
A slightly secluded spot, set apart from the city center.
What caught the eye first was the worn exterior, weathered by the full weight of years.
"I didn't know there was a church in a place like this…"
"It's a bit run-down, isn't it?"
"No, no! The church back in my hometown was even smaller than this. As long as you can pray, that's all that matters!"
Tiana clutched her cross and looked around the courtyard.
It was a small church with weeds sprouting here and there.
In one corner of the yard, a young girl was crouched down, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick.
Tiana clasped her hands behind her back and walked over to the girl with light, easy steps.
"Hello?"
"…?"
"My name is Tiana Pilrn. What's yours?"
"Anna."
"Anna. What a pretty name. What are you doing?"
"I'm drawing an angel. Right here."
On the ground was a chubby little angel — clumsy, but made with care.
"But who are you, miss?"
"I came to pray, following a friend."
"Oh! I'll go get the sister for you!"
The girl jumped to her feet and ran into the church, shouting at the top of her lungs.
"Sister! There are guests! Guests!"
"…Oh, there was no need to shout like that…"
Tiana trailed off with an awkward smile.
A moment later, a nun with silver-streaked hair appeared.
She looked us over with sharp, stern eyes.
"You're here to pray?"
"Pardon?"
"If you're here to pray, do it quietly and be on your way. I won't interfere."
Her voice was low, but precise.
"Oh…"
"And you, young lord."
Now it was my turn.
The nun's gaze fixed on me directly.
"Save the courtship for somewhere else. This is not that kind of place."
"…Do you know who I am?"
At my question, the nun didn't change her expression at all. She pointed at my hair and eyes with the tip of her finger.
"Ashen hair, ashen eyes. You'd have to be blind not to know."
"I'm not here to court anyone. We're not together like that. We simply came to pray."
Even as I said it, it sounded like an excuse to my own ears.
"Understood. The prayer room is this way. Follow me."
Tiana nudged my side with her elbow.
There was a faint unease mixed into her whisper.
"…Mati, is this right?"
"…It should be."
It was my first time at a church.
I'd come thinking it was simply a church the family sponsored — I hadn't expected to be received like this.
She knew who I was and still kept that attitude. I had no idea what kind of nun she was.
I was uncomfortable on the inside, but I quickly reconsidered.
'Then again, it makes sense.'
From the nun's perspective, it probably looked like the family's young lord had sneaked off to a church for a secret rendezvous.
For a devout religious person, that would be a sensitive situation.
The exterior was worn, but the interior was immaculate.
Not a speck of dust on the floor, and sunlight spread softly through the space.
What reached me first, though, was sound.
Children were running up and down the corridor, reading picture books together, passing the time.
"Sister, Sister! Look at this! Did I draw this or what?"
"Sister… I wet my pants."
"Sister, won't you read us a story?"
Children ran through the corridor and clung to the nun from all sides.
It should have been noisy. Strangely, it wasn't grating.
The nun's face remained as stern as ever.
"You drew that well. You could be a painter someday."
"If you wet your pants, go wash up first. You can do it yourself, can't you?"
"You know Sophia, don't you? Sister is busy, so ask her to read to you."
She spoke plainly, but there was no coldness in it.
The children didn't seem hurt.
They burst into giggles and scattered.
Watching that, Tiana murmured quietly.
"…This is a strange place. It's different from where I go."
"Saint Berce?"
"Yes… they look after children there too, but if you run around like this, you get scolded."
"What do they do instead?"
"They study the scripture in a classroom. That's how it's supposed to be."
Tiana quickened her pace and drew up beside the nun.
Cautious, but carrying a clear question.
"Is this all right?"
"What do you mean?"
"…That the children don't study the scripture."
The nun paused and looked at Tiana. Not to judge — to understand.
"I am not an examiner, and this is not a seminary. This is a place that tends to the little lambs under the light of the Word."
"…"
Tiana fell silent. Her expression was one of tangled thoughts.
"Here we are. The prayer room."
The nun opened the door and said:
"All actions other than prayer are forbidden."
The nun showed us to the prayer room and disappeared.
The door to the prayer room closed, and in the quiet little room, only Tiana and I remained.
On the floor were cushions to kneel on, and an open Bible with a prayer written across its pages.
I awkwardly dredged up what memory I had and knelt down.
Tiana quietly settled beside me.
"…Haha."
A short laugh.
"This is a strange place."
"What is?"
"Well, it's a church, but they don't make the children study scripture. That's odd, isn't it."
I shrugged.
"Is it?"
To me, an atheist, it felt less like a shock and more like curiosity.
It was simply different from the church I had known.
If anything, the fact that it didn't feel suffocating made it seem… pleasant.
"Do you think it's wrong, Tiana?"
"It's wrong."
Tiana was firm.
"This is a church. It's a place to spread the word of the Most High. Not teaching scripture here… that's wrong."
There was no wavering in that conviction.
"I see."
I said nothing more.
This wasn't a matter of persuasion.
"…You said you don't believe in God, Mati."
"I did."
"Can I ask why?"
"Because He doesn't exist."
A short, unadorned answer.
That was enough for me.
A brief silence passed, and then I asked.
"Then why do you believe, Tiana?"
Tiana didn't hesitate.
"Because He does exist. He is there. God."
Her voice sounded as though it might catch in her throat.
She turned and looked at me steadily.
She pressed her lips together and held my gaze.
Green eyes met mine head-on.
In the small prayer room,
two kinds of air that would never mix hung clearly apart, each distinct from the other.
"This time we came where you wanted to go, so next time let's go where I want to go."
"The Cathedral of Saint Berce?"
"Yes. It's where Cardinal Teo goes. He leads the Sunday service there. You should come too."
What lived in those eyes was not certainty — it was conviction.