Chapter 679: Confession (4)
“And then I met you.”
Merlin, kneeling on one knee, spoke with bloodshot eyes and a flushed face.
“...”
Oliver responded again with silence.
It would have been easier if Merlin had pressed him or mocked him.
If he had, at least Oliver would have had some idea of what to say.
But instead, Oliver chose silence over showing any emotion, and that silence became an invisible hand of despair, tightening around Merlin’s throat.
A near-overwhelming impulse to flee took hold.
“Huu…”
However, Merlin steadied his breath rather than running away.
He had neither the right to flee nor to collapse. All he had was a duty—though he wasn’t certain if it was as an Archive or as a temporary teacher.
Using that duty as a staff, Merlin broke the silence.
“More precisely, I found you. You, walking down the street… Do you remember? When I briefly released my magical power? You noticed and looked at me.”
Oliver remained silent.
Merlin took that silence as an answer and thought back to that moment.
The moment he first discovered Oliver.
Back then, even though he doubted his own eyes, Merlin released his power to test Oliver before he’d even formed a coherent thought.
It was a fleeting moment, so brief that even a leader of a magical faction would have missed it.
Amazingly, in that brief instant, split into hundreds of fragments, Oliver not only noticed the released power but also traced its source to find Merlin.
Those were the eyes that met his.
Merlin, without realizing it, spoke.
“‘Hello there, young man… here to look at some books?’ That’s how I greeted you. It feels like ages ago.”
Though Merlin smiled at the memory, Oliver remained silent.
Having grown accustomed to that silence, Merlin continued his story.
“For the record, I opened a bookstore because I thought I’d lose my mind if I did nothing. People who want to do something, even with limited resources, tend to frequent secondhand bookstores. Helping such people, even a little… it made things somewhat better. Oddly enough, that’s how I met you.”
Oliver kept silent—
“—So, is that why you approached me?” Oliver suddenly asked.
Was that the reason he had spoken to him, recommended books?
The question carried only curiosity, no other emotion.
There was no anger, resentment, sarcasm, or cynicism.
Oliver simply wondered why Merlin had approached him.
After a long silence, Merlin opened his mouth, and out came the ugly truth instead of a polite lie.
“Yes, that’s right. With the end possibly looming, I couldn’t simply overlook someone like you, someone from beyond this world. So I approached you to keep an eye on you.”
Merlin confessed.
He had introduced himself to Oliver and approached him to assess if he might be a harbinger of the end.
“At first, I decided to keep an eye on you. To identify if you were a dangerous being or not… That’s also why I recommended those books.”
Merlin painfully admitted each word.
It was as if every act of kindness he had shown to Oliver was merely out of fear that he might bring the end.
But Oliver, the one involved, didn’t react.
There was no sense of betrayal or indignation. Only a faint curiosity. Much like when he’d first emerged from the mine.
“Did you take me on as a temporary disciple for that reason?”
“...Yes.”
Merlin nodded, catching his breath.
“To be exact, it was because of what I saw in Martel.”
Merlin recalled the time when Oliver came to him, asking suddenly if he was a mage and if he knew anything about Martel.
He had answered honestly, feeling for some reason that he should.
The memory tired him, and he fell to both knees, utterly exhausted.
“Haah… You asked if I knew about Martel, if they were genuinely helping people.”
“You asked if I wanted a comfortable lie or an uncomfortable truth.”
“And you chose the truth. I answered everything. I even urged you not to get involved, warning you that the Tower of Magic stands above the law… But still, you went to Martel. To save a child who had no significant connection to you.”
Merlin thought back to when he had secretly observed Oliver, hardly believing what he saw.
“After witnessing that, I decided to take you as a disciple. I thought it would be safe to keep you close.”
“You made a poor judgment,” Oliver spoke, breaking his silence once again. His voice held a tone of resignation.
“I don’t understand.”
Oliver said abruptly.
“There were chances to figure out my true nature, weren’t there? Through the emotions I offered and the tests I undertook.”
Oliver mentioned the emotions he had gifted Merlin in Martel and the battle in the frozen land.
“All of it… wasn’t it a means to understand my true nature?”
Merlin answered with silence.
That silence was a confirmation.
Merlin had shown kindness to lower Oliver’s guard, then used pretexts like rewards and tests to discern his true nature.
Even driving him to the edge in the frozen land had been part of that plan.
And there, Merlin had found his first clue to Oliver’s true nature.
Hell Summon.
He had seen Oliver summon hell itself.
“Then, you had some suspicion about my true nature.”
“It wasn’t a certainty.”
“But you did have some inkling.”
Merlin confirmed with silence.
With that answer, Oliver asked another question.
“Then why didn’t you kill me?”
Ironically, Oliver asked the same question as the Archpriest and others above.
Why hadn’t Merlin killed him?
A question as ruthless as it was peculiar.
Instead of answering immediately, Merlin knelt fully, bending his body forward.
In that posture, he looked as if he were worshiping or begging for mercy.
“...Because I was afraid.”
Merlin’s tone shifted.
Oliver responded with silence.
“The end of the world is a grand and delicate machine designed by God. I simply lacked the courage to intervene and kill you, unsure of what consequences it might bring.”
Merlin confessed. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered killing Oliver—he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“I also wanted to believe. To believe that you weren’t the Prince of Hell, that you weren’t.”
Merlin admitted. Though he rationally thought Oliver was an agent of the end, he desperately wanted to believe otherwise.
“So, instead of making an immediate decision, I kept you by my side, observing and attempting to control you, hoping that as long as your shell remained intact, there wouldn’t be an issue.”
Merlin confessed. Accepting Oliver as a disciple had been driven by one man’s fear and frail hope, not by kindness.
“But you repeatedly broke free from my control, and each time, I deliberated… if I should kill you then… over and over.”
Merlin admitted the countless times he had contemplated killing Oliver.
Oliver listened quietly to the confession.
“Our Archive knew long ago. That humanity would come to this. That we would invite our own end, blinded by desire and defiance of order. That we would bring suffering to beings like you.”
Merlin slowly extended a hand toward Oliver.
“Still, we couldn’t prevent it. We knew that if we tried to forcibly curb humanity’s greed, we’d end up killing countless people by our own hands. So, despite knowing everything, we couldn’t stop it. Because we are human, too.”
Merlin’s outstretched hands clung to the hem of Oliver’s pants.
Oliver could read Merlin’s emotions from that grip.
Desperation, guilt, yet still a wish for mercy.
And in that grip, Merlin pleaded.
“However, still shamelessly, I beg you this. Please… please do not forsake us.”
...
Holy See State.
Small but with a history of over a thousand years, one of the oldest countries.
Amazingly, The Holy See State had never strayed from its role throughout its long history.
Its duty was to support Saint Hall, the heart and root of the Pater Church.
Saint Hall’s territory had not expanded once since its foundation, and its population had rarely exceeded a thousand.
This meant it held only enough administrative regions and staff to assist Saint Hall.
However, The Holy See State did not only contain the Saint Hall.
No matter how large Saint Hall was, it divided residential and administrative zones for efficient processing and management, with separate institutions by function.
There was the Police Bureau for general security, the Seminary to train priests, and the Holy Knights School to nurture holy knights.
Among these, there were institutions known only to a few, even among residents of the Holy See State.
One of these was the Holy Knights Inspectorate, which could arrest, detain, and interrogate holy knights.
Even holy knights were only human, and a few would occasionally cause trouble.
Each time, the Inspection Bureau handled them quietly, and this was such a case.
“Dame Joanna.”
A regular-looking building, indistinguishable from the surrounding structures.
In its underground chambers, a holy knight addressed Joanna, who sat across from him.
Joanna, stripped of her armor and wearing only a shirt and pants, lifted her head.
Handcuffed, she showed no signs of torture, yet looked extremely haggard.
Whether from prolonged interrogation or worry was uncertain.
As Joanna raised her head, the holy knight seated across from her posed a question.
“Let me ask again. Did that being manipulate you with black magic, leading you to commit acts of hostility and insult against the Archpriest?”
The question carried a heavy implication.
It wasn’t out of genuine curiosity but as if he wanted her to just agree…
No, he was demanding agreement.
As a holy knight herself, Joanna understood this better than anyone.
In fact, she not only understood it but had once performed such actions herself.
Hauling people down to isolated basements, pressuring them until they provided the desired answers.
When she closed her eyes, memories of her own deeds flashed through her mind.
“Dame Joanna. Open your eyes and answer.”
The holy knight gave a stern command, and Joanna obeyed, opening her eyes to respond.
Although it wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
“No, I was not under black magic. I acted in opposition to the Archpriest purely of my own will.”
Bang!
Upon hearing her response, the holy knight slammed his blessed fist onto the table.
Fortunately, the table, made of iron, only dented rather than breaking.
“Are you truly in your right mind? Why insist on choosing the path of ruin when we are offering you a way to survive?!”
Unable to contain his frustration, the holy knight berated her. He then seemed to regain his composure, leaning closer to Joanna and muttering in a low voice.
“We’re trying to protect your life and honor, Dame Joanna. You failed to capture that being, hid what you found in Landa, and even met with him privately… even confronting the Archpriest on his behalf! These alone are grave enough offenses to bring you death with severe dishonor.”
The holy knight’s words were no empty threat.
Failing to capture Oliver in Wineham might have been excusable, but meeting with him privately in Landa without reporting it, as well as raising her voice at the Archpriest in his defense, amounted to serious crimes that could strip her of her status as a holy knight.
Furthermore, showing open hostility toward the Archpriest was a crime so grave that it warranted execution by fire.
Yet the Pater Church had chosen to offer Joanna a way out, instead of taking the strict path of justice.
This leniency stemmed from the fact that Joanna had played a part in defeating the Pied Piper and from the internal situation in the Pater Church, which wished to avoid further turmoil.
So they kindly presented her with a path of survival, requiring only her nod of agreement.
Her actions in Landa would be overlooked, and her open hostility toward the Archpriest dismissed as manipulation by Oliver.
It wasn’t difficult.
In an authoritarian religious organization like the Pater Church, where hierarchy and obedience were absolute, whatever the higher-ups decided became the truth.
Dissenters were simply branded as heretics or subversives.
The long history of the Pater Church demonstrated this handling of numerous internal issues.
But this time, it wasn’t going to be that simple.
Joanna herself continued to refuse.
“I understand. But that doesn’t change the facts. I acted purely of my own will. In Landa, I found Oliver, met with him secretly, and raised my voice at the Archpriest—all of my own accord. I was not under his control.”
“Argh! Why are you doing this?!”
The holy knight finally snapped, shouting.
Being a holy knight himself, the frustration was intensified by their shared history.
Joanna answered his question.
“Because it is the right thing to do.”
...
“However, still shamelessly, I beg you this. Please… please do not forsake us.”
Merlin pleaded.
In the deepest prison beneath Saint Hall.
Oliver, seated, looked down at Merlin in silence.
An eternal silence filled the underground prison, and finally, Oliver spoke.
“I can still see it.”
Merlin, gripping the hem of Oliver’s pants, slowly lifted his head.
And so he could see.
Oliver’s face, shrouded in darkness, as the surrounding shadows twisted and writhed with eyes and mouths, glaring.
The shadows felt like an insatiable maw, brimming with rage and resentment.
“I can see the sins of you and everyone else. As vividly as if they were happening now.”
Merlin closed his eyes slowly, and Oliver continued.
“I… cannot.”
He couldn’t do it.