(Narrator POV)
Yuuta and Father Nelson sat inside the guard camp near the church gate, a stone structure built against the lower slope of the mountain. The place was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against the chest rather than soothing it.
Father Nelson occupied the captain's chair at the center of the room. His posture was relaxed, his hands resting gently on the armrests. Each breath he took was slow and measured, as if the world outside held no urgency at all.
Across from him, Yuuta sat stiffly on a wooden bench.
His eyes wandered restlessly—from the stone walls to the hanging weapons, from the torches to the floor beneath his feet. His leg tapped against the stone unconsciously, the sharp sound echoing in the stillness.
Father Nelson noticed it immediately.
He smiled faintly.
"You may relax, Yuuta Konuari."
Yuuta straightened at once.
"I—I am relaxed, Father Nelson."
The bishop's smile widened just a little.
"Oh?" he said gently. "Then your feet are betraying you."
Yuuta froze. He glanced down, realized what he was doing, and immediately forced his leg to stop moving.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It's just… this situation is too much for me."
He hesitated, then looked up.
"What if this is all a test?"
Father Nelson leaned back slightly.
"Do not worry," he said. "When I tell you there will be no test, you may take my words seriously. I mean them."
Yuuta frowned.
"But why?" he asked. "Why are you going this far for me?"
He clenched his hands together.
"What privilege do I hold for you to do something like this? I haven't done anything worthy. I haven't performed any great deeds. You barely even know me."
Father Nelson tilted his head.
"Pardon me," he said calmly. "What do you mean by 'good deeds'?"
Yuuta let out a slow, unsteady breath.
"I mean…" His voice faltered, then steadied with effort. Each word felt heavier than the last.
"I am a liar. I lie even when the story is true. Sometimes I lie without even realizing it."
Father Nelson replied calmly, without judgment.
"Everyone lies," he said. "No one gives the complete truth without fearing accountability."
Yuuta looked away, his eyes fixed on the stone floor.
"But I don't pray to God," he admitted. "Not truly. I was born a Christian, yet I was barely ever interested in those things."
Father Nelson answered softly.
"Prayer does not decide whether a person is good or evil.".
Yuuta swallowed hard.
His throat tightened as he finally reached the regret that had haunted his entire life. He stared at his own trembling hands, unable to lift his gaze.
"I am a rapist," he said. His voice cracked. "And a coward who ran away after committing an unforgivable sin."
Father Nelson stiffened.
"Pardon?" he said quietly.
At first, he thought Yuuta might not be serious. But the way Yuuta's hands shook, the tears gathering in his eyes—there was no performance here. No exaggeration. Father Nelson did not interrupt him. He allowed the weight to pour out.
Tears fell before Yuuta could stop them.
They slid down his cheeks in silence, warm and heavy, blurring his vision as he stared at the stone floor beneath his feet. He didn't bother wiping them away. At this point, it felt pointless to pretend.
"I slept with a woman I barely knew," he said at last.
His voice was low—almost hollow—as if the words were being dragged out from somewhere deep inside his chest. Speaking them aloud made them feel heavier than they ever had in his mind.
"And I turned her royal life into hell."
The sentence ended, but its weight didn't. Yuuta's shoulders sagged, as though the memory itself was pressing him down. He clasped his hands together, fingers trembling slightly, knuckles pale.
"At the time," he continued, forcing himself to breathe,
"I told myself it didn't matter, It's all Dream. I told myself it was just a dream mistake. Something that would disappear if I walked away."
He gave a short, broken laugh.
"But, Still mistakes don't disappear," he whispered. "They follow you."
Yuuta lifted his head just enough to speak again.
"I made her pregnant when she was at the peak of her most important work," he said.
"When the whole world was watching her. When everything she had sacrificed for was finally within reach."
His throat tightened.
"And I ruin her life."
The word came out sharp, almost cruel.
"I didn't Admit. I didn't stay. I didn't even try to take responsibility," he admitted.
"I chose the easiest path."
His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his skin as if punishing himself.
"Like a coward and told myself it was all Dream, even though I knew it was bit off to be dream."
Silence settled between the two of them. Father Nelson did not move. He did not interrupt. He simply listened, his presence steady, patient.
Yuuta's breathing grew uneven.
"Despite everything," he said again, softer this time,
"she spared me."
His voice cracked.
"She could have destroyed me," he continued. "She had every right to hate me. To curse my name. To make sure I paid for what I did."
Tears fell freely now, dripping onto the stone floor.
"But she didn't."
Yuuta pressed his palm to his chest, as if the pain there was too much to bear.
"She loved me," he said. "Even after I hurt her. Even after I ran."
His shoulders shook.
"She raised my child in a cruel world where no one accepted them," he went on.
"A world that whispered behind her back. A world that looked at her with suspicion and fear."
He swallowed hard.
"She gave up everything—her future, her pride, her peace."
"And she never once complained."
Yuuta laughed softly through his tears, the sound full of bitterness.
"She protected me… even when I didn't deserve it."
The room remained silent.
Not an empty silence—but a listening one.
As if the walls themselves were bearing witness to his confession.
Yuuta lifted his head slowly.
His eyes were tired—not from lack of sleep, but from carrying a past that refused to loosen its grip. When he finally met Father Nelson's gaze, there was no challenge in him. Only a question he had asked himself countless times, now spoken aloud.
"What good deeds could you possibly see in me," Yuuta asked,
"when you barely know who I truly am?"
Father Nelson remained silent for a moment.
He studied Yuuta not as a priest measuring sin, but as a man listening to another man who had finally stopped running. His hands rested calmly in his lap, his breathing steady, as though he was allowing Yuuta's words to settle before answering.
"I see regret," Father Nelson said at last.
"And regret is not a small thing."
Yuuta frowned slightly, unsure.
"Many people live their entire lives without ever realizing they were wrong," Father Nelson continued.
"Some justify their actions. Some bury them. Some pretend they never happened."
He leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm.
"But you remember. You feel the weight of it. And that weight has shaped you."
Yuuta swallowed.
"You believe your past defines you," Father Nelson said.
"But a person is not measured by the worst thing they have done—
they are measured by whether they understand it was wrong."
Yuuta's hands tightened.
"You carry shame," Father Nelson went on.
"You carry guilt. And despite how painful it is, you do not deny it."
He paused.
"That is not the heart of an evil man."
Yuuta's eyes trembled.
"But I don't do anything worthy," he said quietly.
"Erza protects me. She bears everything. I just follow behind."
His voice dropped further.
"I feel like I exist on the side of my own life.
The only thing I truly know how to do… is love her."
Father Nelson smiled—not with pity, but with knowing.
"You misunderstand something very important," he said.
Yuuta looked up.
"Love is not a small thing," Father Nelson said.
"It is not a consolation prize for weakness."
He held Yuuta's gaze.
"Many people are strong. Many are powerful.
Very few can love deeply without trying to control, possess, or escape."
Yuuta's breath caught.
"To love someone while accepting your own flaws," Father Nelson continued,
"to remain beside them even when you feel unworthy—
that requires courage."
Father Nelson exhaled slowly, as if releasing a long-held thought.
"The reason I allowed you to marry without a test," he said at last, his voice steady and composed, "is because I saw genuine love in your eyes."
Yuuta's body stiffened at the words. He had expected condemnation, or at least doubt—but not this. He lifted his head slightly, unsure whether he had heard correctly.
"And in your wife's as well," Father Nelson continued, his tone softening. "That love made me happy."
Confusion crossed Yuuta's face. He shook his head faintly and spoke in a low, uncertain voice.
"I'm sorry, Father… I don't understand what you mean by that." He hesitated before continuing. "This is Gilgal New Life Church. The holiest place on this earth. How can something like love be enough here? How can it replace a test that even kings failed?"
Father Nelson smiled—not in amusement, but with the patience of someone who had waited years to be asked this question.
"After our Lord returned to heaven," he began, "this church was created to stand as a witness. Not to power, not to wealth, not to authority—but to the purity of human intent."
He folded his hands together, his gaze drifting briefly toward the distant church halls.
"Since that day, we have received countless marriage requests. Kings, nobles, rulers, and men who believed the world itself bent to their will. Every one of them sought this place for glory, status, or validation."
His eyes returned to Yuuta.
"Not one came for love," he said calmly. "And so every single request was denied."
Yuuta remained silent, listening intently.
"Then," Father Nelson continued, "we received yours."
Yuuta's breathing slowed.
"It was not submitted by you," Father Nelson said, watching his reaction carefully. "It was submitted by your wife."
Yuuta's eyes widened slightly.
"She is among the wealthiest individuals in the world," Father Nelson went on. "Her rise was sudden, absolute, and undeniable. Any church on this earth would have accepted her without hesitation—had she offered money."
He shook his head gently.
"But she did not."
Yuuta felt his chest tighten.
"She offered nothing," Father Nelson said. "No gold. No donation. No condition."
He leaned forward slightly.
"She sent only a single statement: I wish to marry in this church because my husband is religious."
The words struck Yuuta harder than any accusation ever could.
"We investigated you," Father Nelson continued. "We learned of your past. Your poverty. Your mistakes. Your ordinariness. And yet, even after wealth entered your life, she never left your side."
His voice grew quieter.
"She showed no attachment to riches. No hunger for recognition. As long as you were with her, nothing else mattered."
Father Nelson allowed a brief silence to settle between them before speaking again.
"Now tell me, Yuuta Konuari," he said gently, "do you truly believe I could reject a devotion like that?"
Yuuta lowered his gaze, his fingers curling slightly as if trying to grasp a thought that kept slipping away.
"But even then," he said quietly, "it's still her sacrifice. It's her love that keeps giving." His voice trembled, though he tried to steady it. "What reason do I have to love her that deeply in return? That's why I'm always afraid. I feel like I can't stand beside her. She's… far above me."
Father Nelson listened without interrupting, his expression neither surprised nor disapproving. When Yuuta finished, he nodded slowly, as if acknowledging a truth that had already been spoken many times before.
"Do not worry," Father Nelson said gently. "I understand why you think that way. And I also know how you can be freed from that will."
Yuuta looked up, startled.
"Remember this," Father Nelson continued. "In this universe, nothing is ever wasted."
Yuuta frowned slightly, confusion surfacing on his face.
"Nothing is wasted?" he asked. "What does that even mean?"
Father Nelson smiled faintly and asked instead, "Do you know why the Earth is round?"
Yuuta blinked, surprised by the sudden shift, but answered instinctively.
"A round shape allows smoother rotation," he said. "It stabilizes gravity and makes it easier to remain centered within the layers of space in the universe."
Father Nelson's smile deepened, impressed, yet his voice remained calm and patient.
"In this world," he said, "whatever you do does not disappear. It does not vanish into nothingness. It returns to you—tenfold."
Yuuta listened, still unsure.
"There are old legends," Father Nelson continued, "that say if you do good, it returns tenfold. If you commit evil, that too returns tenfold. The world never gives without taking, and it never takes without returning."
He paused briefly, letting the words settle.
"That is why your wife's love will return," he said softly. "And when it does, you will have to endure it, just as she endures loving you now. The weight of love is not lighter simply because it is beautiful."
Yuuta's brow furrowed. The meaning felt just out of reach.
"So… what does that mean?" Yuuta asked slowly. "Will I lose everything? Will misfortune follow me?" His voice hardened with old pain. "I didn't gain anything in the first place. I already lost everything in my childhood. I don't have anything left to lose."
Father Nelson looked at him with something close to pity, though his eyes remained kind.
"I wish you could understand what I mean," he said. "But perhaps your soul is still too young to grasp it."
Yuuta opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, Father Nelson rose from his seat. He stretched his arms lightly, as if preparing for a walk.
"Come," Father Nelson said. "We must start climbing the stairs as well."
Yuuta hurriedly stood.
"Father, wait," he said. "What did you mean earlier—"
Father Nelson was already moving. He opened the gate and spoke without turning back.
"Once you step outside," he said, "I will show you what I mean."
Moments later, they stood beyond the gate once more. The scene outside was peaceful and warm. Grandpa was laughing as Elena chased butterflies across the courtyard, her small footsteps light and quick. Allen was nearby, carefully checking the luggage. Erza sat slightly apart, absorbed in her novel, as calm and distant as ever.
The moment Yuuta stepped forward, Elena noticed him. Her reaction was instant. She rushed toward him at a speed far too fast for a child, leaping without hesitation and slamming straight into his stomach.
"Ouch—Elena!" Yuuta groaned, staggering slightly.
Elena giggled, hugging him tightly.
"Papa is strong!" she declared proudly.
At the same time, Allen rushed forward and dropped to one knee, his voice filled with relief.
"My master," he said, lowering his head. "I'm glad you are safe. I was extremely anxious."
Erza closed her book and stood up, walking toward Yuuta with measured steps. Her expression was sharp, her tone even sharper.
"What took you so long?" she said, scolding him the way a mother scolds a son who returns home late at night.
Yuuta rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.
"I'm sorry," he said. "We were just… talking."
Father Nelson watched the scene unfold, a gentle smile forming on his face.
"That," he said quietly, "is what I saw. Love."
Erza's face instantly flushed red.
"Who said I love him?" she snapped. "I was only worried because he's weak. Every time I leave him alone, he gets himself hurt. Useless mortal."
Yuuta immediately protested.
"I don't hurt myself as a hobby," he said defensively. "The threats I face are just beyond what I can handle."
Father Nelson laughed softly, shaking his head.
"I believe my decision was correct," he said with certainty.
Yuuta finally turned back to him, the earlier question still weighing heavily on his mind.
"Father," he asked, "what was it you said I would understand once, i go out with you ?"
Father Nelson looked at him, his smile calm and knowing, as if the answer was already standing right in front of Yuuta—waiting for the day he would finally see it.
Father Nelson stopped at the foot of the stone staircase and slowly lifted his gaze. The stairs stretched upward toward the church, winding along the mountain like a silent trial carved into the earth. Time and countless footsteps had worn the stone smooth, yet the climb still looked merciless.
He studied the stairs for a moment before speaking.
"You simply have to climb them again," Father Nelson said calmly.
Yuuta let out a tired sigh. His shoulders slumped slightly as he followed Father Nelson's gaze upward.
"I know," Yuuta replied. "I already knew I would have to climb them."
He said it without hesitation, unaware that there was more weight behind Nelson's words than he realized.
Father Nelson turned to him then, his expression unreadable.
"But this time," he said gently, "you must do one extra thing."
Yuuta frowned, confusion settling in. He glanced once more at the long stairway, then back at Father Nelson.
"An extra thing?" Yuuta asked. "What kind of extra thing?"
Father Nelson's eyes softened, but his voice did not waver.
"You must climb the stairs," he said, "while carrying your wife in your arms—until you reach the top."
For a moment, Yuuta thought he had misheard.
"…Pardon?" he said, his voice slipping out before he could stop it.
To be continued.