Chapter 1

Chapter 1

When the judgment bell tolled for the third time, I was kneeling on the black stone floor.

Twelve Inquisitors sat high above.

The holy icon behind them cast its eyes downward, as if tired of watching people tear each other apart.

I heard someone in the gallery whisper, “That’s her. The one who committed perjury three years ago.”

“How does she have the nerve to come back?”

“She got a heretic student killed.”

I didn’t look up.

The iron chains shackled to my wrists were as cold as snakes.

The Dean asked me, “Evelyn, do you admit that your testimony from three years ago was forged?”

I looked at a crack in the floor.

The crack was very thin.

Like a mouth that couldn’t close.

“I admit it,” I said.

The gallery immediately erupted.

The Dean raised a hand, and all voices were pressed back into their throats.

“Do you admit that your return to Saint Mercy Academy today was orchestrated by someone else, with the intent to slander Saint Candidate Lian?”

I finally looked up.

Lian sat on a white chair to the right.

A Candidate Saint could not participate in a trial.

He could only observe.

His white robe was buttoned up to just below his Adam’s apple, a silver cross resting against his chest. His face was thinner than it had been three years ago, but his eyes and brows were still gentle.

That kind of gentleness was very deceptive.

It had deceived me once.

And it had deceived everyone else.

The Dean asked again, “Do you admit it?”

I said, “I do not.”

Lian’s eyelashes twitched.

Very faintly.

But I saw it.

An Inquisitor threw a secret letter in front of me.

The letter paper spread open, revealing my handwriting.

I had written many letters to Lian.

Some begging for help.

Some hurling insults.

And some admitting, line by line, that I still missed him.

This one was none of those.

But it was a very good imitation.

The Dean said, “This letter proves that you were instructed by the North Tower Remnants to ruin the coronation of the Candidate Saint with lies.”

I let out a laugh.

The laughter sounded harsh in the great hall.

“If I wanted to ruin him,” I said, “I wouldn’t need anyone’s instructions.”

The gallery grew even more chaotic.

Lian stood up.

Everyone quieted down.

The moment he stood, even the candlelight beneath the holy icon seemed to shrink.

The Dean frowned. “Candidate Lian, you do not have the right to speak.”

Lian didn’t look at him.

He looked at me.

That gaze pierced through a hall full of condemnation and landed on my face.

Like a hand.

Gently pressing against my wound.

And also pressing against my throat.

“She is lying,” he said.

My fingertips stiffened.

The Inquisitors exchanged glances.

Lian continued, “But her lies are not meant to slander me. Her lies are the will of God.”

Someone gasped.

The Dean said sharply, “Do you know what you are saying?”

“I do.” Lian stepped down from the white chair.

He walked to my side, step by step.

The silver chain swayed gently against his chest.

He looked down at me.

His voice was so soft that only the front row could hear it clearly.

“Evelyn committed perjury three years ago because she saw sins that we did not see.”

I looked at him.

He looked back at me.

I suddenly understood.

He wasn’t here to save me.

He was here to put me back on the edge of the blade.

The Dean said, “Lian, step back.”

Lian crouched down.

He reached out and touched the iron chains on my wrists.

The icy pads of his fingers brushed against my skin.

I almost shivered.

He said softly, “Don’t be afraid.”

I gritted my teeth.

“What do you want me to do this time?”

His eyes were very clean.

Cruelly clean.

“Keep lying.”