Chapter 82: The Orlando Chapel
The Holy Empire of Gusteko.
Inside the chapel of Orlando Town, sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, casting vibrant, kaleidoscopic squares onto the cold stone floor. The confession booth was dim and hushed.
A carved wooden partition divided the narrow space. On one side, a middle-aged man knelt, his voice trembling with a terror he could no longer suppress.
"Sister... I... I'm afraid. I'm terrified of the Evernight Empire."
The man's voice dropped into a ragged whisper, teetering on the edge of a sob.
"The rumors are everywhere. They say the Legion of the Dead has begun to move. Are they coming for us? Merciful Gods, we are just common folk. What are we supposed to do? My son has just learned to walk... my wife..."
On the other side of the partition, Sister Cecilia listened in silence. She maintained a perfect prayer posture—hands folded, head bowed, her expression a mask of solemn piety.
"My child, do not let fear cast a shadow upon your heart," Cecilia said. Her voice was ethereal and soft, carrying a resonance that seemed to wrap the man in a cocoon of safety. "Those undead are merely another trial walking the earth to test our resolve. Continue your path; hold fast to your faith and your kindness. For the Great Saint Lustarn watches over you, and His blessing remains with all the devout."
The man's sobbing stilled. He lifted his head, looking as though he had found a life raft in a stormy sea.
"Thank you, Sister. Truly, thank you."
He traced a sign of the cross over his chest and departed the booth, his heart brimming with gratitude. The sound of his footsteps receded, and the heavy chapel doors groaned shut. Silence returned.
Inside the booth, Cecilia let out a long, weary exhale.
Her mask of sanctity vanished, replaced by a face of utter exhaustion. she stretched her arms, her joints popping like dry kindling.
"Aaargh... I'm dead. I'm actually dying."
She hiked up one leg, resting it over her other knee—a posture entirely unbecoming of a woman of the cloth.
"I'm so hungry. Sitting here all day is turning my backside into a block of wood."
Cecilia rubbed her stomach, which let out a hollow growl in protest.
"That bastard Father Anqi... probably off wandering again, dumping all the work on my shoulders."
Muttering curses, she reached into a hidden pocket deep within the folds of her oversized nun's habit. After a moment of frantic rummaging, she unearthed a piece of crusty, stale bread—a treasure she had pilfered from last night's dinner. She gave it a quick sniff. Still good.
"I hear the Evernight Empire has launched a massive expedition... talk about a pain," she grumbled.
Cecilia's priorities were vastly different from those of the fearful villager. Undead? Skeletons? Those things were a world away. Cecilia was far more concerned with whether the war would cause the price of wheat to spike. If inflation hit the town, the chapel's food budget would be the first thing on the chopping block.
That was the real calamity.
The thought of losing her drumstick privileges made her pause mid-bite. No. That cannot happen.
Just as she was calculating how to convince the kitchen staff that she needed "extra protein to sustain her soul-soothing duties," the chapel doors creaked open.
Someone was coming.
Cecilia's body snapped into a seated position as if she were on a spring. Legs down. Hands folded. Expression: Holy.
However, she hadn't finished swallowing her mouthful of bread. She had to puff out one cheek, desperately trying to look "composed" while her jaw remained frozen.
Footsteps approached. A man in priest's robes appeared at the entrance of the confession booth.
Father Anqi.
Cecilia's expression collapsed instantly. she shot him a sharp glare. She crossed her legs again, forced the bread down her throat with a hard swallow, and took another defiant bite.
Father Anqi surveyed her with a slight, disapproving furrow of his brow. "Cecilia. Your conduct lacks the grace expected of a servant of the Divine."
Cecilia stared at the middle-aged man—his robes were always suspiciously spotless and his voice always measured—and scoffed. "Can grace buy me a sandwich? You're late. We were supposed to swap shifts at two. It's nearly four."
Anqi didn't move. He didn't even acknowledge the complaint. Instead, he looked up at the vaulted ceiling and spoke in a dramatic, sweeping tone.
"I have profound respect for the first human who ever drank milk."
Cecilia blinked. Her brain stalled for a second. "Huh?"
"What does milk have to do with anything? What is this man talking about?"
"Because," Anqi continued, looking past her, "the creature he was facing was quite likely a bull."
Cecilia stared.
Father Anqi finished his thought, then offered her an impeccable, courtly bow. "I must be off. I have more lost lambs to seek out."
With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, his pace light and efficient. The sunlight through the window caught the edge of his robes, giving him a genuinely saintly glow for a brief second.
"GET BACK HERE, ANQI! YOU'RE NOT LEAVING!"
The only response was the chirping of birds from the courtyard. Cecilia shook with fury, slamming her half-eaten crust of bread into the floor.
"Damn it! He escaped again! Now I'm stuck here for the rest of the day!"
She screamed at the empty pews. After the echo died, the room went quiet. Cecilia stared down at the piece of bread lying on the stone tiles. Dust was already clinging to it.
Her stomach growled again. It was a loud, desperate sound.
She hesitated for exactly three seconds before stooping over and honestly picking the bread back up. She blew the dust off with a huff and stuffed the rest of it into her mouth, chewing in a sullen, defeated silence.
"Just you wait, Anqi... next time... next time I'm going to—"
She began mentally cataloging a hundred ways to get revenge. Maybe she'd dye his robes pink. Or replace his vintage wine with vinegar. Or, better yet, swap the Holy Scriptures he used for his sermons with that trashy romance novel she hid under her mattress—The Overbearing Knight's Forbidden Desire.
A twisted, dark smile spread across her face. "Heh... heh-heh-heh..."
A small boy, who had just entered the chapel to pray, stopped dead. From the shadows of the confession booth, he saw a nun letting out a terrifying, villainous cackle at the empty air.
The boy dropped his wooden toy sword in fright. He turned and bolted toward the door, screaming as he ran:
"I'm never playing with Onee-san Cecilia again! She's a monster!"
Cecilia's laughter cut off. Her heart gave a jolt. That kid, Jamie, had the biggest mouth in town. If he went around telling stories, her reputation was finished. Worse, if the Mayor heard, he might cut the donations to the chapel.
"Wait! Little Jamie! Don't run!"
She managed to catch him at the chapel gates. "Jamie, listen to me. That wasn't a 'weird laugh.' I was... I was practicing an ancient exorcism chant! Yes! A very holy chant!"
She tried to make her face look as sincere as possible. Jamie sniffled, looking at her with deep suspicion. "Really? You looked scary. Like the witch in my daddy's book who eats naughty kids."
"I promise!" Cecilia gritted her teeth. She rummaged through her pockets, her heart bleeding as she fished out a copper coin. She pressed it into Jamie's small hand.
"See? This is a reward for a brave warrior. You witnessed a secret training session, so the Gods decided to bless you. This copper is lucky. It'll protect you from monsters."
Jamie looked at the coin. His crying slowed. Cecilia breathed a sigh of relief. Good. One copper and the problem is buried.
Then, Jamie spoke.
"But Father Anqi gave me two coppers yesterday."
Cecilia's smile froze. "Anqi... gave you... two?"
"Uh-huh." Jamie tucked his coin away. "He told me not to tell anyone he was using the donation box money to tip the wandering bards."
Cecilia felt her head buzz. That bastard! Not only is he skipping work, he's embezzling! And he's corrupting the youth!
"Jamie," Cecilia said, inhaling deeply to stay calm. "What else did Father Anqi tell you?"
"He taught me a new game," Jamie said innocently. "He said if I ever see Sister Onee-san hiding bread in weird places, I should tell him, and he'll give me three coppers."
Jamie smiled at her with total innocence.
So that's it.
Anqi, you absolute snake.
No wonder her emergency rations—hidden behind the confession booth panels, under the altar candle holders, even in the choir's sheet music pile—kept vanishing the next day.
Jamie saw Cecilia's face turning a violent shade of red and assumed he had been too greedy. He clutched his coin and skipped away, shouting back:
"Thank you for the blessing, Sister Cecilia!"
Once he was out of sight, Cecilia could no longer contain her rage.
"ANQIIIIIIII—!!!"
A roar echoed over the town of Orlando, startling a flock of pigeons off the chapel roof.
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