My Childhood Friend Became an Inquisitor

“You should hope that’s the truth, not an excuse.”
“W-What do you mean? I’m going to marry Louis anyway…”
“Yes. For that boy you love so terribly.”
*

When I woke up, Anne wasn’t by my side.
All sorts of sensations and voids whirl and stir me up. The blanket that had covered me comfortably now feels rough, so I shook it off and got up.
I don’t think I dreamed, but my body was soaked in cold sweat. Knowing it would dry anyway, I shook it off and got out of bed.
A phantom pain closer to itching than throbbing races through my senses, as if small bugs were crawling and gnawing on my body. But it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t control my own body.

“Are you up?”

If I wait for a moment in the silence, soon your figure appears beyond the horizon.

“Sorry. I thought I’d just be gone for a moment, but the space got twisted. I was late trying to find my way back.”

“Ah… It’s okay.”

Anne, who came close, was holding two bowls. Anne, who still crossed the bars without hesitation, lightly put them down in front of me.
One was the porridge I had eaten before, and the other seemed to be water.

“You were hungry, right? Eat.”

Anne no longer told me to say grace before meals. I hesitantly picked up the spoon and started eating the porridge.

Come to think of it, even desires felt somewhat restricted in this space. The hunger and thirst that only awaken when faced with food make me newly aware that I’m human.

The bland and tasteless porridge, literally close to flavorless, took away even the pleasure of gastronomy. I quickly emptied the porridge bowl while Anne watched contentedly, then reached for the water bowl.

“Ugh.”

Unlike the porridge, a groan involuntarily escaped as soon as I put the water to my lips. Anne tilted her head at my frowning face.

“What’s wrong?”

“This tastes strange.”

It was hard to explain. It was bitter, and though the water itself was cold, it felt scorchingly hot going down my throat, as if I was gulping down boiling tea.

But I wasn’t actually burned, and once I swallowed it all, the pain subsided again. It only hurt in the moment of swallowing.

I managed to swallow one mouthful without spitting it out, but the bowl was still half full of the translucent liquid.

“You have to drink it all, Louis.”

“What is this?”

“Holy water.”

The calm explanation evokes painful memories that haven’t yet scarred over. Right, the Inquisitor’s torture included something related to this.

Of course, it’s nonsensical to say I won’t drink water for the rest of my life just because I was water tortured, but… Why this, of all things.

Just recalling that moment makes my body start to tremble. Anne, sensing my distress, instantly moved closer.

Clatter.

Anne quickly caught the water bowl I had dropped or thrown. But a few drops inevitably splashed out, and my body flinched in reaction where the droplets touched.

Anne gently held the caught water bowl and offered it to me again. I had to suppress the urge to overturn it completely.

“You have to drink it all, Louis.”

“…Do I have to?”

“Yes, you have to.”

A parrot-like repetition of the same words. There was no room for compromise, so in the end, I took the water bowl again.

If I resisted any further, Anne’s warm gaze might be withdrawn. Frowning like when I grumbled about not wanting to take medicine as a child, I eventually accepted the water bowl.

The difference is that I’ve become an adult, and the one supervising me is no longer the herbalist uncle, but a much scarier girl.

“Mmph.”

I open my mouth and tilt the bowl, swallowing the holy water.
I thought I’d empty it all at once rather than repeatedly swallowing it, but it seems that was too much.

“Kup, cough! Cough!”

In the end, I dropped the bowl. The bowl rolling on the floor, the cough spat out from my mouth, scatter sparkling droplets of light indiscriminately around.

Suddenly, as if winter had arrived, the temperature of the gaze watching me with spring light drops sharply.

“Louis?”

Still the same voice, same face, same smile.
The atmosphere of the space changes completely. As if the colors making up the world were repainted. From warm colors to slightly colder ones.

But even though I knew of her change, I had no time to humor her. I was busy clutching my throat and spitting out what I had swallowed.

The regurgitated holy water droplets were messily scattered all over the white space, neither evaporating nor pooling. Is it because this space only erases dirty things?

Anne gently wiped the scattered droplets and said for the third time:

“You have to drink it all, Louis.”

Although hands usually absorb or evaporate water quickly when wet, the holy water seemed to follow different laws, as her slender fingers remained wet and glistening.

Carefully applying the scattered holy water droplets to her hand, Anne used her other hand to forcefully open my mouth, which was still coughing and clutching my throat.

Delicate, yet irresistible fingers are forcefully inserted.

“Urp, cough…”

When I’m forced to lick her fingers, a burning pain rushes in. Even if I struggle and bite her hand, not only does it not leave a mark, but my teeth can’t even pierce her soft and delicate skin.

Anne lightly pulled her lower body and straddled my chest. Just that alone completely pinned me down, and I couldn’t move my body properly. In that state, carefully and delicately.

With one hand fixing my mouth open, and the other wiping the scattered holy water droplets around to make me lick them. A stinging heat that pricks all over.

After wiping all the holy water around, she takes the bowl and pours all the remaining holy water into me.

“…!”

Even while pinned down during the violent seizure, my body leaped. Pressing down even harder, Anne looked down at me. Her expression was expressionless, as if looking at something obviously natural.

Unable to believe that cold and chilly gaze was directed at me, my body freezes even in the midst of pain.

Meanwhile, all the water is swallowed beyond my throat, and the pain disappears as if washed away. I had already experienced this phenomenon before. Not when I was tortured by the Inquisitor.

When I touched the holy barrier spread on the silver bars.
Pain that leaves no scars on the flesh, as if burning only the soul.

Even though everything was over, Anne didn’t move to get off, just quietly looking down at me. That gaze was so similar to when she kidnapped me from the village.

The nightmare of the past vividly comes back to life. Over the still beautiful face of the girl devoid of emotion, a helmet fluttering with glorious silver light is superimposed.

My terrified reaction. Trembling eye corners, gaze trying to avoid, convulsing body. Only after confirming these did Anne’s expression soften again.

“It’s okay, Louis. It’s all over.”

Anne moved away from me and lightly lifted me up like a doll as my legs had lost strength, then hugged me gently and patted my back. But unlike before, the trembling that started again showed no signs of stopping.

It’s strange. I couldn’t understand.

Sometimes Anne seemed like a girl unchanged from the past. A child with a weak and immature mind who loves and cherishes me, and on the other hand, fears being abandoned by me.

And on the other hand, Anne appeared to be a cold-hearted Inquisitor and blind fanatic. A warrior of endurance who would do anything for some mission I couldn’t understand, willingly enduring my hatred and walking a thorny path.

“Meals are once a day.”

Rather than simply conflicting, the two personalities that sometimes seemed to rush to opposite extremes mixed together.

With a face both gentle and strong, Anne looked at me with a determined expression.

“After meals, there will be study of the Bible. Then a short break and meditation, sometimes there will be questions and answers, or you might meet other priests or heretics.”

“Ah… uh…”

“When it’s proven that all the darkness has been lifted, after the ‘test’ is over, they’ll let you out.”

If all this is really for my sake, can’t you explain it to me?
Why I’m called a heretic. What’s the absurd reason that it’s because I don’t love you. You criticized other Inquisitors’ torture as unreasonable, so why are you inflicting incomprehensible pain on me?

You said you’d protect me but you hurt me, you hug me gently but choke me. It’s always been like this. Since we met again, your actions have always been consistent in their inconsistency.

Sometimes so lovingly as if you’re going crazy with how much you love me.
Sometimes so sadistically as if you want to see me writhing in pain.

Saying it’s all over, Anne sighed deeply as if she had no choice when I showed no signs of calming down, and forcibly stood me up.

There was an overwhelming difference in simple physical ability even before power. Being lifted around like a toy, I was forcibly seated in front of the table where the Bible was placed.

Finally, I turned my head and faced Anne standing behind me.

“……”

I didn’t know what emotions were contained in my gaze. However, no matter how I thought about it, it didn’t seem likely to be stained with goodwill.

Unlike her intense reaction to the words ‘I’m afraid of you’, this time Anne calmly received that gaze.

With a sad smile, she lightly stroked my hair, which I had no strength to push away.

“You might not understand now. No, you can’t help but not understand.”

Why are you making that expression?

“…But, believe me. All this is for your sake.”

That was as far as she revealed her heart. Soon, Anne returned to an expressionless face and rummaged in the air to pull out a candlestick.

As Anne grasped it, the candle lit up without any manipulation. I quickly turned my head away, unable to look directly at the sharp and keen light that was even more intense than the purifying light filling this space.

However, what spread like a halo from behind my back was not just light, and my nape quickly turned red from the heat that was unbelievable to have come from such a small candlestick.

Closing my eyes doesn’t allow escape from reality, and when I open them, all that’s in front of me is one shabby book.

“Open the book, since it’s the first day today… let’s read from the very beginning.”

They say the persecuted prayed to God, but if the persecutors bear God’s power, where should I pray?

Will there be an answer in this book revered and called the Bible? It didn’t seem likely.

But because Anne was behind me, I had no choice but to open the first page of the Bible.