My Childhood Friend Became an Inquisitor

“Lo-Louis… Are you awake?”
“What’s wrong, Anne? At this late hour.”
“Sorry, but the thunder sounds are so scary… Can I sleep with you just for tonight?”
*

Anne left.

I stared blankly at the place she had departed for a long time. It had been a while since we fought. I can’t even remember when we last fought.

We got along that well. We were compatible from the start, and even when our opinions clashed, one of us would give in and smooth things over gently.

It had been so long since either Anne or I refused to yield our opinions.

“What I really wanted to say.”

But that’s not something you can just yield or not yield, is it? Whether I still love Anne or hate her or whatever, reality, the past already stitched into my mind, doesn’t change.

How can I not fear the main culprit who massacred my village, and how can I understand a madwoman who says all that catastrophe was for my sake?

“I couldn’t even say it.”

I’m afraid of you.
I hate you.

You who took everything from me, you who threw me into this pure white hell.

But even as I repeated these words inwardly, I wasn’t confident even to myself. Even if Anne hadn’t become so enraged and had listened to whatever I had to say.

I probably wouldn’t have been able to say what I wanted to say most in the end. Because it was also what I wanted to say least.

I know. I know I’m a strange guy.

“Puhh…”

The laughter that leaked out of my mouth crumbles in the silence.

I’m really crazy. How can that be possible? How on earth can I still love that monster?

It would have been better if it was such a pure and noble love that it could even cover my hatred for you.

However, the hatred that suddenly bloomed quickly grew to be as heavy as the old love. Love and hate too thick and deep for one person to handle.

My heart, where conflicting emotions tumbled over each other, was already no different from a battlefield. Even if I tried to turn my thoughts elsewhere, they would come back to you, and even if I barely succeeded.

When thoughts of you faded, what filled that space instead was the color of us.

‘Get a hold of yourself! Hick, please. I said get a hold of yourself…’

‘You who were so kind… Do you think she would like it if you do this?’

Our village, our connection.
I hear the screams of dying people.

The village destroyed by Anne. The yellow roofs like early spring are scarred red, the smell of blood thicker than rose scent covers the village, and even the tributary of the always clear-flowing Nern River is muddied.

As I wander through the village created by the illusion in my head looking for survivors, there are no survivors, and instead, tattered corpses and grotesque structures built using humans as materials greet me.

When I barely escape from the guilt while backing away, where I stand is in the middle of another nightmare.

The torture room, not dark but rather so bright it hurts the eyes. Under the brilliant light, evil deeds are not hidden, and the blood gushing from wounds stabbed over and over again is vividly red.

“…Huk!”

I come to my senses with the impact of hitting my head. I seemed to have been standing, though staggering, just a moment ago, but somehow I was now in the ridiculous position of having my head buried on the floor.

When I put my hand to my forehead, I feel the sensation of a warm liquid. There’s no need for first aid, so I just wipe it roughly with my sleeve, and the redness quickly spreads over the white priestly robe.

But that was only for a moment. As Anne had hinted, under the painfully pouring light, the bloodstain was quickly erased as if nothing had happened.

“I need to, get a grip.”

I try to mutter as if urging myself, but my voice lacks strength. Giving up, I leaned against the wall and looked again at the place where I would stay for a long time, perhaps forever.

A simple composition with only a bed, table, and chamber pot. Though there’s nothing else to do, I don’t want to just do nothing, so I stagger towards the table.

There was only one activity worth doing in this narrow space. To ignore the voices that kept coming even when I covered my ears, I opened a book.

The Bible compiled by the Church. The book was worn from use, but it was still well-maintained without damage.

Who was the original owner of this book? The person who stayed in this prison before me? If so, did they read the Bible so diligently despite being a heretic?

What happened to that person later? They must have left the re-education center eventually.
Whether they walked out on their own two feet as Anne boasted, or were carried out as a corpse, I don’t know.

Rustle.

I opened the first page of the Bible and began to read a familiar story.

It was the genesis of a world. In the beginning, when nothing existed in chaos, only the Lord was present, and feeling bored in the infinite void, Ailim yawned three great times.

From those yawns, the sky, earth, and sea were created respectively, and Ailim lay down where the three worlds met.

In that tossing and turning, where sky and earth met, land animals were born; where sky and sea met, birds were born; where earth and sea met, sea creatures were born.

Where sky, earth, and sea met, at the foot where Ailim’s shadow fell, humans were born.
They inherited the reign from Ailim to rule the world.

And then.

The world became human’s, but Ailim, worried about the young and foolish children, always stayed by their side and protected them. However, as time passed, the unworthy children became insatiable and discontented.

We are perfect and complete, so why do we need a god? Even if he claims to be our parent, isn’t he just raising us and constraining us, preventing us from becoming greater than god?s rebelled against god. Instead of punishing them with a flood, god gave them everything in the world as his creations desired and fell into a promised sleep.
Thus began the age of humans. The world I’m living in now.

“…Whew.”

After reading that far, I closed the Bible due to the rising nausea and dizziness in my stomach.

I don’t know why, but I feel my physical condition rapidly deteriorating. The light seems to stab at me more fiercely and violently, and the silence after even the sound of turning pages has ceased chokes my breath so severely it’s almost suffocating.

Before falling into the swamp of delusions once again, I compulsively recalled the next contents of the Bible in my head. They say books were hard to come by in that era, but the Bible was the one book that reached even remote mountain villages.

Of course, I knew the contents too. Although my memory becomes hazy towards the later parts.

The age of humans without god was neither as free nor as glorious as they thought. Absolute protection disappeared, absolute abundance was withdrawn, so humans had to cultivate everything solely with their own strength.

However, under Ailim’s excessive protection, they hadn’t learned even the simplest skills, so hunting or farming was impossible for the first humans. In the end, those who remained repeated what they had always done.

Praying.
But the object of their prayers had fallen asleep as they wished, so humans now had to choose a new god. The first one to rebel against god. The one who expressed dissatisfaction and finally asked the parent to give everything and fall asleep.

It is said that Rowe became the first ruler of mankind.

However, despite his arrogant words and affected dignity, he was ultimately just a human.
No matter how excellent, one can never fill the vacancy of god. In the end, Rowe was hanged by those who worshipped him, just like Ailim who had been their parent.

The subjects tore the king’s body into a hundred pieces with their bare hands, and finally escaped from hunger by swallowing his blood and flesh.
We are all descendants of the king-eaters. That’s why Rowe exists in everyone’s heart.

“Tell me.”

The dark voice that leads people to corruption, the evil god who was worshipped by heretics who expelled god and was expelled himself.

That existence was not just a simple superstition, but as seen in Anne’s actions, officially recognized by the Church. Rowe, whose physical body was torn apart, has no form and can change into all things in the world and whisper in everyone’s voice.

If I’m really a heretic, why can’t I hear even the voice of the evil god?

Anything would be fine if it could break this damn silence. Running around like mad, shouting, flapping clothes wildly only lasts for a moment. The moment I stop moving from exhaustion, the swamp-like silence pulls at my feet again.

The floor of the re-education center is unbreakably flat and solid, but I felt like the ground would collapse and swallow me whole the moment I took a step, like those who disappeared beyond the horizon.

Suffocation, no. Sea of blood, I was afraid of you, on that night when thunder struck, actually I was afraid of lightning too. Warmth, that stopped the trembling.

Even if I wave my arms as if embracing something, only emptiness falls into my arms.

The abnormal symptoms started from the moment no one was by my side. Though I’m aware that something is wrong, I don’t know how to properly restore my convulsing body and hallucinating mind.

No, actually I do know. If only someone, anyone, please, if only you were here.
I want to hate you, but I can’t. Because that’s the only intact thing left in me.

If I lose even that, I feel like I’ll lose myself entirely.

After muttering words I couldn’t understand myself, I suddenly raised my head.

“Anne?”