What was happening?

She didn’t even have time to grasp the situation before knights clad in armor bearing the Church’s emblem stormed in and dragged them away.

Just before their rough hands turned violent, Isabelle was torn from her parents and pulled down into the depths below.

Beneath Attley Castle lay an old banquet hall, long abandoned.

The doors were thrown open, and she was shoved inside—so suddenly she nearly lost her footing and fell.

Thud.

The doors slammed shut behind her.

Left alone, Isabelle rushed forward and pounded desperately against them. The banquet hall doors, built to open from both sides, were far too heavy for her to move on her own.

“There must be some mistake! Heresy? That’s impossible—!”

Then—

The massive doors, unmoved no matter how hard she struck them, slowly began to open.

Forced back by their sheer weight, Isabelle stumbled away.

The door had clearly opened yet a shadow still loomed over her.

A strange sense of déjà vu crept in.

Isabelle slowly lifted her head.

A man stood before her, tall and powerfully built to the point of being almost overwhelming, holding a lantern in one hand as he looked down at her.

Unlike before, when he had worn armor, he was now dressed in black priestly robes.

But Isabelle recognized him instantly.

“H-how are you…?”

“That’s quite a cold welcome for a first meeting.”

Tenetta stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his gaze fixed on Isabelle as she staggered back, her face drained of all color.

“Lady Isabelle Attley.”

‘A first meeting?’

Isabelle faltered.

Just moments ago, in the cathedral where she had been about to marry Chester, Tenetta had acted as though he already knew her.

It had been brief—but unmistakable.

“My name is Tenetta Achilleton, and I am here in my role as an Inquisitor.”

Introducing himself as though they had never met, he walked past her and deeper into the abandoned banquet hall.

Each step he took made the lantern in his large hand flicker.

Setting the only source of light in the room at the end of a long table, Tenetta took a seat on one side.
Then, with a small gesture, he indicated the chair across from him.

“Come. Sit. Let’s have a little conversation—consider it part of the investigation.”

Still reeling, Isabelle swallowed hard and stepped forward.

‘Does he… not remember his past life?’

In the dim glow of the lantern, his profile looked sharp, cold—utterly unreadable.

She couldn’t glean a single clue from it.

Either way, if he truly was an inquisitor, resisting him would only make things worse.

So Isabelle did as she was told and sat down.

Swallowing again, she finally spoke.

“My family… is not heretical.”

“Mm… yes. The ones confirmed to be heretics are the Line family.”

Had the Line family ever been heretical in her previous life?

No—never.

Not during the three years she had been married to Tenetta in her first life, nor in the brief time she had been preparing to marry Chester in her second.

The Line family had always been safe.

“How could this…?”

“A report was filed. It claimed that Count Line had been piling up corpses underground and engaging in profane acts.”

“……”

“The Church conducted a search. It turned out to be true.”

The sheer horror of his words left her blinking in stunned silence until she suddenly remembered that she and her family had also been branded as heretics.

She hurried to defend herself.

“Our estate’s basement is clean. You can see for yourself—”

“Not exactly spotless.”

The man glanced around.

Isabelle silently prayed that he wouldn’t look too closely at the dust strewn across the abandoned banquet hall floor, or the cobwebs clinging to every corner.

After giving the long-neglected hall a cursory inspection, Tenetta turned his gaze back to her.

“But there don’t seem to be any corpses here.”

“Then… why…?”

“Your father maintained quite a close relationship with Count Line.”

“……”

“According to current doctrine, the family and associates of heretics are all considered heretical as well.”

It hadn’t always been enforced so strictly.

But after the religious reforms, heresy—above all else—was to be purged, regardless of rank or status.

It was a brutal system of collective punishment.

And yet, the power of the Church had grown so great that even the imperial family could not easily oppose it.

In an empire where the power of religion reigned supreme, heresy meant only one thing—death.

At a loss, Isabelle could do nothing but clench and unclench her hands.

Tenetta watched her in silence.

“Do you want to clear your name?”

She lifted her head.

“Is… there a way?”

“There is.”

Hope flickered across her face, only to fade just as quickly when he continued.

“They say heretics will use any vile means to save themselves. So if someone accused of heresy burns in fire or sinks in water, they’re taken as innocent.”

The light in her eyes died completely.

Any ordinary person would die before they could ever prove their innocence that way.

What Tenetta had suggested—with that calm, almost pleasant expression—was no different from telling her to kill herself.

Suppressing the faint sting of humiliation, unsure whether it had been intentional, Isabelle asked,

“…Is there any other way?”

“Isabelle—ah, I can call you that, can’t I? If you fail to clear your name, your family and property will be confiscated anyway.”

There was an unmistakable edge of mockery in his tone.

Isabelle blinked.

‘Is he trying to provoke me?’
‘Or is this simply how he conducts interrogations?’

The man who felt both familiar and utterly foreign to her asked,

“Anyway, you’re still unmarried, aren’t you? No fiancé either.”

Hesitant, Isabelle nodded.

After briefly studying her expression, Tenetta spoke.

“Marry a priest with divine power.”

His tone was light, almost refreshing—as if there could be no clearer answer.

“If someone chosen by Pax steps forward and stakes their divine power to prove your innocence, do you think the Church could say anything against it?”

It was well known that if a priest formed ties with a heretic, they would lose their divine power and be excommunicated.

He continued, as though laying out something obvious,

“If you’re safe, the Attley family will naturally be spared as well.”

“…Is that even possible?”

“It is. The Church’s judgments tend to be… selective. They won’t go so far as to execute a priest’s entire family as heretics.”

Setting aside how blatantly corrupt it sounded, where was she supposed to find a priest at such short notice?

Not all clergy possessed divine power.

Only those who had received an oracle — namely, members of the Holy Knight Orders or those of Cardinal rank and above — held such authority.

Even if she managed to reach someone who met those conditions…

Isabelle could already picture herself standing before him, desperate and pleading.

‘Would you… marry me? My family’s been accused of heresy, and the only way to prove our innocence is to marry a priest…’

‘Ah, don’t worry. We’re not actually heretics. Of course, if you lose your divine power because of me, we’ll all be executed—but that won’t happen. We’re innocent, after all…’

…What kind of lunatic would agree to that?

It wouldn’t even be strange if the answer she received was:

“This woman is mad. She should be executed immediately.”

As Isabelle’s face grew paler by the second, Tenetta watched her quietly, then tilted his head slightly.

“You’re quite fortunate, Isabelle.”

“…I am?”

“You’ve already found someone who meets the conditions, haven’t you?”

A hand too rough and calloused to match his elegant face lifted, pointing to his broad chest—muscle barely concealed even beneath his priestly robes.

“Favored by the gods, unmarried, and not unpleasant to look at… you won’t find better conditions than this, no matter how far you search the continent.”

Isabelle’s lips parted as she realized—

He was offering himself.

Even without remembering the past…’how could he say something like this?’

Unable to hide her disbelief, she asked,

“What if I really am a heretic?”

Of course she wasn’t. But the man standing before her was spouting such absurdities that she couldn’t let them pass unchallenged.

Heretics were said to burn in h*ll after death. This was a place where flames hotter than any in the world would consume them; a place where heretics and unbelievers would be cast in and made to suffer for eternity.

That was the doctrine.

Tenetta looked down at her, expressionless. In the dim light of a single lantern, his blue eyes appeared darker than ever.

“Isabelle… do you know what the bride and groom vow to each other at a wedding?”

“…I was taught that the marriage vow is offered to Pax.”

It was a safe answer—one that should have raised no issue before a man of the cloth.

But Tenetta ignored it entirely.

“A wife promises her husband, and a husband promises his wife—eternal love and devotion.”

“……”

“If I can be with a woman who’s made that kind of vow… what does it matter if I burn in the depths below?”

For something spoken so casually, it carried a weight far too heavy—almost cruel.

And far too intense for something said to a stranger.

Isabelle found herself at a loss for words.

“I was joking.”

You can’t even close your mouth.

Tenetta lightly tapped her chin, lifting it, as the corners of his lips curved upward. It was the first smile he had shown.

His features were flawless—his smile almost too perfect, as if painted—and yet, to Isabelle, it felt like mockery.

A faint trace of humiliation flickered across her delicate face.

Tenetta saw it and didn’t so much as blink.

Then, he rose from his seat.