Over the skies of Rome.
The bright sunlight shone upon the doors of a certain church, while the kettle on the stove hissed and bubbled as water boiled.
Two young girls sat together; the blue-haired one quietly reading the newspaper.
"Hey, Ciel. You know, if I could've always been like this, from the very beginning until now… things would've been better."
Ciel hesitated for a long moment before answering softly.
"…Mm."
"I mean it. If I had always been this way, then forget the Magus Association barging in to provoke the Church—even those stubborn Dead Apostles would see the mark of the Church and immediately fall to their knees begging for forgiveness."
"…Mm."
Ciel recalled what she had once read in internal Church archives: sometime around the 5th century, the Holy Church, together with the Western Roman Empire, suffered a catastrophe that nearly annihilated them both. In the aftermath, her teacher, Be'ze, rebuilt alongside the Eastern Church, uniting the remnants.
It was said that back then, the Holy Church had been the world's greatest organization—supreme in both thaumaturgy and worldly power, unmatched by any rival. Though it had declined, even a dying camel is larger than a horse. Even now, it remained a vast institution, able to rival the Clock Tower itself.
"It's true, you know. If not for that time I let myself be deceived by a certain worm, then things like the Clock Tower or Dead Apostles—those would've been trivial to erase."
"…But still…"
Ciel began to speak but faltered. She glanced toward the little girl, carefully guarded by the Church—the one who had been brought from the Far East only a few years ago. She had steeled herself to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Finally, forcing herself past hesitation, she spoke:
"It's school time now. You should be going, Sesshōin Kiara."
"No. I don't want to go to school."
The black-haired girl shook her head, smiling with a strangely benevolent warmth.
"Don't you understand what I mean? What I'm saying is: the Holy Church has no authority to control me."
Sesshōin Kiara—the name itself was infamous within the Church. Not the word Kiara, but the weight of her deeds.
An orphan born and raised deep in Japan's mountains, she had annihilated countless cults by the age of seven with nothing but her innate talent for thaumaturgy.
Even as she insisted she was a devout Buddhist, she inevitably drew the attention of the Japanese Church. At their first meeting, the local bishop nearly declared her a saint on the spot and immediately reported her to Rome.
Naturally, given her name's resemblance to a figure in Church history, the higher-ups treated her with utmost caution.
The result was obvious: over a hundred Executors were dispatched, along with three Burial Agency operatives, who "gently" escorted her to Rome—where she remained for two years.
"And another thing, Ciel—I need to correct you."
The black-haired girl spoke with solemn conviction.
"…Hm?"
"Call me Kichijōin Kiara. I'm a Buddhist. And let me emphasize this clearly: your Holy Church has no right to imprison me. To do so is a crime. I'll be filing a complaint with the Buddha."
"…But you understand our teachings so deeply. You get perfect scores every time. Why insist on being a Buddhist?"
Because she no longer had the face to remain in the Church. Every time Kiara remembered her past actions, shame crushed her. It was all Francesca's fault—that wretched worm that had ruined her, that had led her to commit those deeds, to speak those words before that person…
Unable to face the Church again, she abandoned herself and chose Buddhism instead.
As for wiping out cults? That had been nothing more than a desperate response to the endless accusations and evidence piled against her in Japan. Of course, there had also been a measure of penance in it.
Her so-called perfect grades were simply the result of the Church's curriculum: thaumaturgy lessons wrapped with dogmatic indoctrination. For Kiara, such studies were laughably easy—she had even helped write parts of the syllabus in the past. Still, determined not to repeat her mistakes, she chose to excel flawlessly, knowing it would help her later infiltrate the Church's "dark side."
Yes—her aim now was not to rise as Pope again, but to join the Burial Agency and aid the Church from within.
In her view, the strange fact that she had awakened a thousand years later was itself a form of divine love. As the one responsible for so much sin, she believed it was her mission to bear the burden of reviving the Church.
As for the title of Savior… she could not bring herself to accept it. Not yet. Her own guilt still weighed too heavily.
"…Regardless, you're going today. You've already skipped a full week. That's my limit."
"Even so, no matter what, I don't want to go."
"…Why?"
"The reason's simple. Because I'm a Buddhist. Call me Kichijōin Kiara. Also, I'm a nun, which means I can't attend another faith's courses."
"…You're right. As a Buddhist, that makes sense."
Relieved, Kiara exhaled. But then Ciel continued in her matter-of-fact tone:
"But even so—you still have to go. School is… fun."
"…What if I treat you to curry tonight in exchange for covering for me?"
Ciel swallowed, poured herself a glass of water, and sipped.
"…No. I don't like a lazy life."
Faced with this immovable wall, Kiara realized she was trapped. Once, she had been the leader of the Church; now, without her Scripture to lean on, she was blocked by the disciple of the disciple of Be'ze—the very one who had become progenitor of the Dead Apostles. Truly, the whims of fate were cruel.
The savior who wanted to skip school, but could not, could only sigh in resignation.
Still, knowing Ciel's past filled Kiara with guilt for the immense losses she herself had caused the Church.
As one of the few survivors of the French Incident, Ciel had seen the Dead Apostle Ancestor firsthand. To the Church, such people were "contaminated objects," forever marked. They could only live cloistered lives, unless chosen as Executors.
And Executors rarely survived. Most burned out within two years; those who endured longer emerged broken in mind and soul. Sending victims into the fire as disposable weapons—this was what the Church had become.
Worse still, the current hierarchy struck deals with Dead Apostles to gain secret arts and prolong their lives. Vile hypocrisy. None more so than Cardinal Mario.
Kiara thought of her two years within the Church. Perhaps her greatest deed had been preventing the higher-ups from sacrificing Ciel in a scheme to eliminate Be'ze and claim his Mystic Code. Ciel, at least, was a woman of true faith. She must not be devoured by those vultures.
If it had been in her own era—if she had commanded the Church back then—the French Incident would never have happened.
Had the Dead Apostles dared appear, they would never have left alive.
All of them—Ancestors, True Ancestors, every lingering phantasmal beast—would have been eradicated without effort.
—No. No, no. I must not think like that. Not anymore.
We need peace. Everyone alive in this world, they are all "human" in the eyes of the Lord I once served. Even the blood-drinkers. They too must be protected.
"…If only I had always been this way… perhaps you wouldn't have suffered as you did. Perhaps all of you could have lived your lives in peace."
At the doorway, the black-haired girl muttered under her breath as she prepared to leave for school. Then she paused, turning her gaze eastward—toward America.
That filthy worm… still alive? It tricked me so well back then. Heh…
"…What is it?" Ciel asked, noticing her expression.
"Innocence belongs to those who do not know. Innocence belongs to those who know but lack power. But to have power and do nothing—that is a sin beyond denial."
The Savior girl spoke with a radiant smile, one so bright that for the first time, Ciel saw in her something akin to the glory of the Lord Himself.
"There's someone who should have gone to hell long ago, yet still breathes. This time, I'll make sure they suffer a fate worse than death."
"…Forget hell. Just go to school."
"…Yes."
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