A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Long time no see, Lucia looked just as I remembered her.

Translucent skin and dazzling blonde hair. A delicate figure with a narrow face. Eyes as blue as the ocean.

Lucia appeared before me as if nothing had changed. The only difference was that she seemed a bit paler.

She appeared to be surprised, flustered, or even a bit happy at first glance.

Her emotions, laid bare without filter, changed her expression momentarily.

“…”

Grasping the doorknob, Lucia slightly opened the door and spoke.

“…Please come in.”

—

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

—

The bedroom was more modest than I could imagine.

Compared to the scale of the Basilica of the Cathedral of Tranquille, which was one of only three in the cult, Lucia’s room looked far too plain to be that of a saint.

The wallpaper and tiles were all chosen premium items from the cult, yet in the bedroom, there was only a desk, a chair, and a simple bed. There were no other necessary furnishings or objects at all.

“Um…”

As I surveyed the interior of the room with a sigh, Lucia, who was anxiously checking the hallway, suddenly threw out this explanation.

“It’s quite bare, isn’t it…? I had to quickly move and couldn’t bring much.”

“No, you don’t need to say that much…”

Unlike Veronica, Lucia is not someone who enjoys luxury.

As a cleric, she believes it’s important to keep her living space tidy, but she never bothered to bring in artworks or various pieces of furniture.

How could I criticize someone who wants to live simply?

There’s no need for that, and there’s no reason.

Lucia, who personally opened the door to let me in, looked around the hallway and quickly locked the door.

Then she ran her fingers through her hair in an awkward manner, standing in a clumsy posture and stealing glances at me.

“Um… Frederick?”

“What is it?”

“I… I was wondering why you came here…. Is it okay to ask?”

Lucia asked cautiously, her voice subtle, as if she was hoping for something.

Her fingers interlaced and then unfolded, her hands clasped together and then spread out.

She was so nervous that she couldn’t even meet my gaze properly, twisting her body, much like a child rising before dawn, excitedly checking beneath a glittering Christmas tree.

Wondering if Santa Claus might have left the precious gift she desired.

I rolled my eyes over to Lucia, who was glancing my way and finally opened my mouth.

“I heard rumors that ever since you met with the Pope, you’ve been suddenly in seclusion. I came to find out what happened.”

“…”

At that answer, Lucia’s head snapped around.

Unlike just moments ago when she avoided my gaze as if burned, she now held her head high and looked straight into my eyes.

With dumbfounded eyes staring at me, Lucia, clearly flustered, suddenly murmured.

“…Was that the reason you came?”

“What about it?”

“…”

Lucia’s lips pressed tightly together.

At the same time, her rosy lips poked out.

“…What did I do wrong?”

“…No, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Pouting like a duck, Lucia trudged over to the bed and plopped down.

With her hands neatly folded on her lap, she took a small breath and calmly asked me one question.

“Who did you hear about my meeting with the Pope from?”

“Saint Veronica.”

“…Then do you know what happened that day?”

I approached her and shook my head.

“No, I just heard you met. If I were to add anything, it would be that after the meeting, both you and Pope John XVI had noticeably dark expressions, right? But what exactly was said there?”

“Ah, um…”

Perched on the edge of the bed, Lucia spoke hesitantly, trailing off her words unlike usual.

Her fidgeting fingers combined with a face filled with subtle emotions. A vague interjection and a deep sigh escaped her lips for a moment.

As I sat beside her and urged her for an answer, Lucia began to mumble.

“I… made a small mistake…”

“In front of the Pope?”

“Yes…”

“What did you say?”

“Well…”

Lucia pulled a pillow from the bed into her arms. As if embarrassed, she buried her face in it and answered in a weak voice.

“I called him an old geezer…”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, it was a slightly different nuance, but I did say old geezer…”

“Who did you call an old geezer…?”

The words tumbled out between her pillow case.

“…The Pope.”

—

Before I arrived at the cult.

Lucia had chatted with the retiring Pope on two occasions.

Following their private meeting, both Pope John XVI and Lucia wore expressions that suggested something was off. The Pope stormed out with a face full of rage and Lucia fled the scene with a distraught expression, covering her mouth.

Before the conversation began, clerics witnessed the abrupt temperature drop from the warm atmosphere.

A political dispute arose between the Pope and the saint.

The Pope criticized Lucia’s actions of visiting the Magic Tower after renouncing her status as a saint.

The saint directly criticized the Pope’s policies, and so on.

Similar rumors circulated among the clerics who had been present, and word eventually reached me through another saint, Veronica.

Upon hearing the news for the first time, I thought the rumor that “the Pope and the saint had a political dispute” was quite plausible.

John XVI, who ascended to the papacy via the Inquisition, was a conservative cleric and staunch politician who outdid Raphael.

In contrast, Lucia was a fairly plain character without any political color.

If anything, one might say she had a moderate, reformist stance.

With these two contrasting personas having a conversation, I naturally assumed that their relationship soured due to political differences.

What’s more, recently, Lucia had sent a letter to the Duke of the northern regions asking for cooperation. Even if she wrote it in the name of capturing demons, considering the relationship between the empire and the cult, and the Magic Tower and the cult, it was a considerably political act.

So I found myself suspecting, with some hesitance, that the Pope might exert some form of pressure against her regarding that matter.

Coincidentally, around that time, rumors of a rift between the Pope and Lucia reached me as well.

But, as always, reality betrayed my expectations splendidly.

“…So, you just called the Pope an old geezer to his face, is that it?”

“I-I didn’t say ‘old geezer.’ I didn’t use such a rude expression. But the nuance was similar….”

“So you didn’t say ‘old geezer’ but implied he was one. It’s like saying you were drinking and didn’t technically drive under the influence?”

“…”

Lucia buried her head deep into the soft pillow.

If my subordinate had done that, I’d have probably scolded them good, but unfortunately, Lucia wasn’t my subordinate; she was my colleague.

The feeling of my nape tightening was vivid.

I gripped the back of my neck, turning away and sighed deeply.

“No… Let’s set that aside for now. What exactly did you talk about that would make you express yourself like that about an 80-year-old? Did you guys discuss political matters or something?”

“Politics…? No, the Pope isn’t the kind of person to discuss that with me.”

At my mention of politics, Lucia suddenly flinched and waved her hands in denial.

She insisted that she wasn’t a politician and that the Pope wasn’t such a base individual either.

“I’m not suited to speak of complicated matters like politics. Sister Veronica and the Pope discuss the weightier issues of the church, but that’s not my forte. Just think about it…”

Hearing Lucia’s words, it made perfect sense.

Unlike Veronica, who’d spent over ten years living as a saint while acting as both a lobbyist and politician, Lucia did not have the qualifications to be a politician.

She had been active across conflict areas and the enemy country, the Magic Tower, but those efforts stemmed from a desire to save lives, not motivated by particular political interests or diplomatic ties.

Even if I were Pope, it wouldn’t be necessary to bring Lucia in and engage in political discussions.

Moreover, given that she had already been awarded medals for subduing demons, there would be no reason for him to humiliate her using past events.

“That’s true, but…”

Yet still, the questions lingered.

“Then why was the Pope so angry that day? What do you mean by old geezer?”

“Ah, that’s…”

Peeking around nervously, Lucia began to reveal the situation quietly.

“Actually, that day, a religious argument unfolded between the Pope and me…”

—

It was a peaceful day.

For Pope John XVI, the past month had been a nightmare.

Clerics from the Inquisition died, and a rift emerged between the cult and the empire over the deaths of combat magicians.

The assaults launched from the rift added fuel to the conflict with the demon races. Amidst rising tension, vile entities, too shameful to name, began to appear on the earth.

Undead, necromancers, demons.

The wicked beings, allied with humanity’s betrayers, revealed themselves in the northern regions, leading the legions of hell.

Upon hearing that news, Pope John XVI knelt before the statue of the Heavenly God in the Mediuss Cathedral and fervently prayed. Just as he had at the moment of creation, asking once more to send down an army to vanquish the demons.

He prayed earnestly, yet once again, there was no response.

God remained silent, and the darkness looming over the north deepened day by day.

Then one day.

On the very last moment of the year, as the Pope was preparing for the New Year’s prayer, unexpected news reached him.

It was a victory report stating that the demons had been quelled.

The ones who subdued the demons were five individuals, among whom two were clerics of the cult.

Veronica, who had heard the voice of an angel and performed miracles to rise to sainthood.

And Lucia, who followed her to become the second saint in history, an unprecedented honor.

Though she hadn’t officially received canonization yet by church law, no one in the cult believed she was unworthy to be called a saint.

Pope John XVI was one of those individuals.

“Here’s some tea from the eastern diocese. Please have this.”

“Thank you, Your Holiness.”

He personally handed brewed tea to Lucia.

With a kind smile, the Pope praised her in a gentle voice while savoring the minty aroma of the tea.

“You have worked incredibly hard this past month. It must not have been easy to catch a demon.”

“It was difficult, but it was something someone had to do.”

“I’m truly pleased to hear that from the saint. I also feel quite guilty, though.”

The Pope leaned back in the pure white chair, as pristine as the garments he wore, his face weary as he surveyed the trees in the garden.

“I know there are many priests who sleep with a cross in the north. And knights who fought like dragons.”

“…”

“The news that the demons have been subdued may not heal the wounds they suffered, but if it spreads wide, at the very least, the priests and knights may find peace in death. That thought brings me some solace.”

Conversations revolving around death were always heavy.

And so, Lucia, who had participated in the demon suppression, bowed her head in prayer, while the Pope, waiting silently for it to end, waved his hand as if awkward.

“I misspoke. It was not my place to speak lightly in front of a hero who faced the demons. Forgive me; I had no intention of troubling your heart.”

“It’s alright, Your Holiness. It’s all in the past.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

With a smile, the Pope removed his cap and tidied his hair.

The cool breeze ruffled his white hair, tickling his nose. Then, wearing an innocent expression like a child, the retiring Pope broached the main topic.

“As I mentioned earlier, today I wish to discuss the future of our church together. It’s a theological topic. Do you have much interest in theology?”

When the Pope posed the question, Lucia set her teacup down and clasped her hands neatly.

“I do not possess specialized knowledge like someone majoring in biblical archeology, but since I have devoted myself to the clerical life, I have much interest in theology.”

“Ah, what pleasant news! I hear many priests avoid such dreary topics, but it seems you think differently. Haha.”

With a bright laugh, the Pope initiated a conversation on matters relating to religion.

“Saint. I wish to ask you a question first.”

“Please, speak, Your Holiness.”

“What does religion and faith mean to you?”

As with philosophy and religion, the subject quickly turned into airy talk.

It was a question that seemed to ask whether the chicken or the egg came first, and Lucia took a moment to ponder before responding.

“Religion and faith, that’s a rather philosophical topic.”

“Was it a difficult question? I can grant you plenty of time.”

Lucia shook her head.

“The answer has already been reached. I believe the difference between religion and faith lies in one’s attitude.”

“Attitude?”

“Yes. The attitude of a person.”

The Pope nodded, as if inviting more discussion.

“Religion and faith may seem considerably similar. Religion is faith, and faith is religion. Many believe both are inseparable.”

“And what about your thoughts? Do you believe we can separate religion from faith?”

“Not quite. The common view that religion and faith are inextricably linked is valid, and I sympathize with that viewpoint. However, while I believe they are essentially the same, I do think there is a clear difference.”

“What difference do you see?”

“Let me give you an example.”

Lucia picked up a piece of bread sitting on the table.

“This bread is an ordinary piece of bread, but according to the teachings of the cult, it is part of the divine essence.”

“As it is written, ‘And he took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said: Take, eat; this is my body.’ It is recorded in the scripture.”

“I will assume this bread represents God’s teaching.”

Lucia placed the bread down and began her explanation.

“When you hand bread to a hungry person, they will most likely eat it gratefully, without worry or concern. However, a wise person doesn’t just eat the bread; they look for a way to procure new bread.”

“Procure new bread?”

“Eating the bread may satisfy immediate hunger, but it won’t solve tomorrow’s hunger. A wise person finds a way to ensure they can eat tomorrow, whether by working to earn more bread or learning how to bake it. Apply this to religion and faith.”

“…”

The Pope gasped in realization, seeming to understand.

“Oh, the difference between someone who believes in God’s teachings without question and someone who seeks to understand and interpret God’s will.”

Finding Lucia’s response satisfactory, Pope John XVI poured more tea for her, savoring it with a pleased smile.

“Then there’s another question I wish to ask you.”

“Please, go ahead.”

“Do you believe we can truly be forgiven for our sins?”

This time, the topic again took on philosophical dimensions.

Sin and forgiveness.

“Even the most exceptional person cannot satisfy everyone. Can you claim to have never sinned even once in your life?”

At the Pope’s question, Lucia shook her head firmly, denying it.

“No.”

“Neither can I. Especially when it comes to matters involving my children.”

Suddenly, the Pope’s words sparked a look of discomfort on Lucia’s face.

That was to be expected, as matters involving the Pope’s children were one of the dark sides of the Vatican that no cleric dared to mention.

Based on the teachings of the scripture conveyed by the magi and the historical backdrop of abuse and war, the early Vatican allowed clergy to marry.

Marriage was a blessed act acknowledged even by the Heavenly God.

However, the scripture emphasizes living a life of self-restraint.

Marriage and self-restraint.

At first glance, they seem unrelated topics, but in ancient times, the thoughts of clergy were quite different.

Clerics of the Vatican viewed reproductive activities involved in marrying as potentially leading to misguided desires.

Thus, there was a time the Vatican banned marriages altogether.

Although the prohibition was eventually revoked due to the vehement opposition of prominent theologians and clerics, the trend began to rise where relationships between clergy and the opposite sex were treated like taboo.

Therefore, clergy and monks of the cult generally interacted secretly with the opposite sex, away from public scrutiny. However, once their relationship was revealed, it was they who had to bear the crushing aftermath.

This tendency only increased with rank.

In any given year, hundreds of complaints against bishops and cardinals regarding clandestine relationships would flood the Vatican. Most of those complaints were penned by other clerics vying for power.

Thus, high-ranking clerics faced two choices regarding their love lives.

First, they could retire willingly to preserve their love before a rival could send in a complaint.

Second, they could conceal their private lives so thoroughly that no rival high-ranking cleric would suspect a thing.

Most high-ranking clerics chose the latter. The Pope himself did too.

John XVI, who was the bishop at the time, had a child he fathered without a marriage certificate.

Thanks to that, he rose through the ranks of the Inquisition and claimed the papal seat, while his son grew up as a child without a father.

For more than twenty years, John XVI’s private life remained hidden until it was revealed to the world long after he ascended to the papacy. All thanks to a letter from his son.

On the day his son’s letter filled the front page of the daily newspaper, the authority of the Vatican faltered, and the Pope, the subject of the scandal, found himself facing immense criticism from both inside and outside.

Yet, even after decades, John XVI continued to hold strong to his position as the Pope.

The reason was simple.

The son who wrote the complaint had passed away.

“My son died of acute alcohol poisoning. His body couldn’t withstand the relentless drinking and feasting.”

The Pope quietly recalled the distant past.

At that moment, clouds concealed the sun, casting a shadow over his face that contrasted starkly with his white attire.

“I was called a monster by the bishops and cardinals back then. Even those who believed in me spoke ill of me behind my back. I understand their feelings fully. I didn’t hold funerals for my wife or my son, not even once, despite not being married. It’s no wonder I appeared inhuman.”

“……”

“Enough about me.”

Gathering himself with a sip of tea infused with mint, he placed his hands on his knees. He then resumed questioning Lucia once again.

“Do you truly think we can be forgiven for our sins?”

Lucia, who had remained silent, now lifted her gaze to meet the Pope’s.

“No.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Forgiveness without repentance is but a false peace sought for self-satisfaction.”

Lucia’s answer made the Pope smile.

“Are you referring to the sacrament of confession? I agree with you on that. People seek forgiveness with their mouths, but the moment they turn, they commit sins again.”

“That’s not it, Your Holiness. Even if they confess to a priest, a person’s sins don’t disappear.”

At Lucia’s firm reply, the expression on John XVI’s face subtly shifted.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Your Holiness. Sin is not like waste. It doesn’t just vanish when forgiven.”

“Waste?”

“Sin is a wound. It can only be forgiven when accompanied by an apology and responsibility; it doesn’t disappear just because a priest claims to forgive on behalf of the victim…”

“Are you out of your mind?”

The Pope exclaimed.

The gentle smile vanished, replaced by fury. With a raised voice, the Pope reprimanded her.

“Sin is not waste? The sacrament of confession cannot rid one of sin? Are you saying that all the confessors in our parishes have merely been accepting waste this whole time? Are you genuinely saying that?!”

“That’s not what I mean, Your Holiness. I’m not belittling the importance of the sacrament of confession.”

“But just a moment ago, you denied its efficacy. You said it was useless. You claimed that one cannot confess sins and attain forgiveness. Didn’t you just say that?”

“Your Holiness. The church may think so, but doubts and questions can arise within the laypeople and believers…”

The Pope slammed his fist down on the table.

Faced with the wrath and discontent on his face, Lucia paused her words momentarily.

However, there were things she needed to say, so taking a small breath, she uttered the final point.

“People don’t think that way anymore. The church has built walls around itself for too long. To those outside the walls, the world inside the walls—the cult—seems like a small realm confined by outdated rules.”

“…Does that mean our church is a stagnant, unprogressive group?”

“Yes.”

Lucia nodded firmly, adding,

“It’s saying it seems out-of-touch.”

—