Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Three years ago, the North Tower Incident happened in the winter.

It snowed heavily that night.

The academy had sealed all the gates.

When Damian was dragged to the judgment hall, he was covered in blood.

He was a North Tower student.

The North Tower took in the poor, the bastards, and the refugees from the border.

Saint Mercy Academy spoke of equality for all beings, but its seating was clearly divided.

The East Tower produced Saints.

The South Tower produced Inquisitors.

The West Tower housed tainted witnesses.

The North Tower produced sinners.

Damian was my friend.

We weren’t particularly close.

He was a man of few words, and his eyes were always bright.

He knew I secretly read forbidden books, and he knew Lian helped me correct my translations.

He once said something to us.

“You two will get into trouble someday.”

I asked why.

He said, “Because you’re both too good at pretending.”

Later, he became a heretic.

The evidence was a shattered Holy Lamp.

The testimony was provided by me.

I said I saw him performing a ritual in the North Tower Basement.

I said there were dark shadows around him.

I said he admitted with his own mouth that he wanted to destroy the academy.

It was all a lie.

The night before the trial, Lian came to see me.

He stood at the end of the rain porch, his face terrifyingly pale.

He said, “Tomorrow, no matter what they ask, say you didn’t see me.”

I asked, “What did you do?”

He didn’t answer.

He only took my hand.

That was the first time he had ever touched me of his own accord.

His hand was cold.

So cold it felt as though he had already died once.

“Evelyn, please.”

I was too young then.

So young that I thought when a proud man is willing to bow his head, he is handing over his heart.

I agreed.

The next day, I stood in the witness box.

The Inquisitor asked if I had seen Damian in the North Tower Basement.

I said yes.

He asked if I had seen evil spirits.

I said yes.

He asked if I had seen Deacon Lian.

I said no.

Lian sat below the podium.

He didn’t look at me.

Damian did.

There was no hatred in his gaze.

Only shock.

That was more terrifying than hate.

After the trial ended, Damian was taken away.

He died in the Underground Dungeon that night.

The official report said he took his own life out of guilt.

I knew he didn’t.

I went to find Lian.

He was kneeling in prayer inside the Sanctuary.

The candlelight filling the hall illuminated his face.

He was as beautiful as an unblemished icon.

I slapped him.

The sound was sharp.

His face turned to the side.

I asked, “Did you know all along that he would die?”

Lian said nothing.

I asked again, “What exactly did you do?”

Finally, he looked at me.

He said, “Don’t ask anymore.”

I didn’t understand it then.

When some people say “don’t ask,” it’s not because they’re afraid you’ll know the truth.

It’s because they’re afraid that even after you know, you will still choose them.

The next day, I was expelled from the academy.

The reason given was inconsistent testimony and flawed character.

Lian didn’t come to see me off.

Standing outside the academy gates, I saw him behind a window on the second floor of the Sanctuary.

We were so far apart.

Yet I felt like he was watching me.

Just like now.

The night before the second interrogation, he sat in my room, flipping through that Blank Confession Book.

I asked, “Do you want me to kill Damian a second time?”

Lian closed the book.

“No.”

“Then you want me to say I saw the light?”

“Because they need a Miracle.”

“They need it, so I have to give it?”

“Only if you give it will they become greedy.”

I looked at him.

He finally pulled back a corner of the veil on his plan for me.

“Three years ago, the academy used the North Tower Incident to create a heretic,” he said. “Now they want to use you to create a Saint.”

I said, “You.”

“Yes. Me.”

He was calm.

Terrifyingly calm.

“They need my coronation to be flawless. They need your testimony to prove that the trial three years ago was divine will. As long as they accept one acknowledged lie, all the lies hidden behind it will be exposed.”

I stared at him.

“And what about me?”

Lian didn’t answer immediately.

I laughed.

“I am that lie.”

“Evelyn.”

“Don’t call my name.”

He stood up.

I thought he would leave.

Instead, he walked up to me and said in a low voice, “You can refuse.”

I almost laughed until I cried.

“And after I refuse? I’ll be branded as one of the North Tower Remnants? Thrown into the Underground Dungeon? To die as quietly as Damian did?”

Lian’s Adam’s apple moved slightly.

I leaned in close to him.

“Look. You’re always like this.”

“Hold the knife to my throat.”

“Then tell me I have a choice.”