Chapter 17: The Informant (4)

I was the one who drove Edwin to his death.

It was me who brought Lucio into our lives.

Me who dropped that handkerchief in the corridor to the Palace.

‘…It was all me! All of it!’

I clung to the little flowerpot and sobbed.

Tears fell onto the white petals, soaking them slowly.

The translucent petals sparkled faintly—just like Edwin’s silver hair.

I sat weakly on the garden bench in the monastery courtyard.

Just days ago, Edwin and I had sat here side by side, sharing quiet conversation.

And I’d driven him away with cruel words.

The sadness in his eyes, the way they twisted in pain—I could still see it clearly.

‘…That flower… I’m surprised it bloomed.’

Every time I glimpsed that pure white cassock in my mind’s eye, my chest felt like it was being torn apart.

Father Daniel quietly sat beside me on the bench.

‘Now that I look closely, it’s a different kind of flower from mine.

When Father Edwin bought them from the florist, he chose two flowers that were different from the rest.’

Only two.

Just two blooms that Edwin and I had shared.

A bittersweet secret meant for the two of us alone.

Mine had withered to nothing.

‘Looks like it hasn’t been watered recently, huh?

That kind of flower turns translucent when it touches water.’

I couldn’t bring myself to say it wasn’t water—

but tears that had soaked the petals through.

“Do you know the name of the flower?”

Father Daniel spoke with a gaunt, worn-out face.

“It’s called Sanhae-yeop. I believe its flower language is… ‘happiness.’”

Happiness.

Was that what you wanted to give me, Edwin?

I looked down at the delicate petals.

As the flower came into full bloom… you withered away.

Because of that, I can never truly feel happiness again.

“…Father Edwin left a letter on my desk.”

So he didn’t say goodbye to me… but he left something for Daniel.

“After receiving the summons from the Central Temple… I think he’d already made up his mind. That’s why he left me that letter.”

That morning—before dawn—when you knocked on my door…

You were already prepared to die.

With eyes swollen red, you gently patted my head and told me not to worry.

That was the last moment we shared warmth.

And I, not knowing anything, slapped your hand away and wounded you with cruel words.

“Sister… I can’t say I understood everything he wrote. I mean… the things he said—they were almost absurd, weren’t they?”

I could picture him in the candlelit dark of dawn, hunched over, filling pages with steady hands.

“…But Father Edwin wasn’t the kind of man to lie.

And neither are you, Sister Alicia.”

Father Daniel gave a weary smile, his face looking more gaunt than ever.

“I suppose it’s the task Father Edwin left to me. I’ll help however I can.”

Edwin… Even in your final moments, you were worrying about the one left behind—me.

“…Sister Alicia, you have confession this afternoon.”

Daniel’s gaze drifted beyond the fountain.

Across the way, Lucio strolled casually, a theology book open in one hand.

Just looking at the back of his round head sent a chill down my spine.

“Shall we continue this conversation then? I’ll take my leave for now.”

Father Daniel rose to his feet.

His eyes, always gentle and soft, sharpened into a cold edge—

a look far too fierce to belong to a man of the cloth.

I was afraid that if I stayed on the bench any longer, I’d run into Lucio again.

I stood up quickly and hurried back to the nuns’ quarters.

Creaaak.

The old wooden door groaned as I pushed it open.

I checked the lock over and over again before I finally felt a sliver of safety.

With slow steps, I walked to the window.

There, where the sunlight shone brightest, I placed the flowerpot.

“Did you know the name of this flower? It’s called Sanhae-yeop, Father.”

Sanhae-yeop, that’s what it’s called.

I muttered the name in a whisper, though no answer would ever return.

I leaned on the windowsill and gazed down at the petals.

I waited a long while, until the translucent, tear-soaked flower had once again dried into snowy white.

“…Well then, I’m off now. Father.”

As if the single flower were truly Edwin himself, I brought my lips to its petal.

The soft, wistful sensation against my lips made my eyes burn with tears once more.

I kept looking back, over and over, reluctant to leave Edwin alone in that empty room.

Still, I forced myself to take each unwilling step forward.

Standing at the entrance to the cathedral was Sister Susanna.

“Alicia, you’re the last. Please go inside.”

With her help, I entered the confessional booth.

I knelt on the rough, unoiled wooden floor, clasped my hands tightly, and bowed my head in solemn reverence.

“Under the rest of God, confess truthfully the sins you have committed.”

Father Daniel’s heavy voice echoed through the booth—

but layered over it, impossibly, I could almost hear Edwin’s voice instead.

“Father, I knew the truth and stayed silent.

It was only after an innocent life was lost that I realized the weight of my own sin.”

And so, I began to speak of Lucio.

With my eyes gently closed, I recounted everything in a flat, emotionless voice:

Lucio’s true identity, the threats that had never ceased,

Edwin who died because of it—

and even the night Father Daniel collapsed in the library… how Lucio had been watching from the second-floor railing.

“If only I had told someone when the threats first began…

If only I’d said something when Father Daniel was hurt, pointed out a suspect…

Then maybe, Father Edwin…”

My belated regret lingered bitterly on my tongue.

In the face of Edwin’s sacrifice, I was nothing more than a bystander—no, a silent accomplice.

“Sister Alicia, please don’t blame yourself too harshly.

What can I do to help you?

Should I make sure that seminarian never steps foot in Archelio Monastery again?”

“If you could do that… nothing would make me happier.

But… how do you plan to get rid of him?

Before you collapsed in the library, did you… did you see Lucio?”

“…No. I still don’t remember what happened that night.

But even if Lucio wasn’t the one who struck me from behind…

It wouldn’t be hard to pin it on him anyway.”

To pin the blame, he said.

It was not something one would expect from a priest’s mouth.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Father Edwin, who was wholly innocent, smeared himself with false guilt and gave up his life. Compared to that… what’s a single lie?”

There was sorrow in Father Daniel’s voice.

After that, he said nothing for a long while.

Only the occasional shuddering breath revealed that he was crying.

“…I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Overwhelmed by guilt, I could only repeat my apology.

Father Daniel, still silently weeping, eventually forced out a hoarse whisper:

“In the name of the Lord, I grant you absolution and guide you to rest.”

He struggled to contain his emotions, yet fulfilled his priestly duty to the end.

In the name of God, he had offered to wash away my sins.

Before such miraculous grace, I bit down hard on my trembling lip and shook my head.

Father… do I truly deserve to be forgiven?

The question swirled on the tip of my tongue, never to be spoken aloud.

Father Daniel summoned the clergy into the cathedral.

Where Father Edwin once stood with quiet strength, Father Daniel now climbed the altar in his place.

“It’s only been a few days since I returned to the monastery,

and yet I must summon you again over something so unfortunate.

For that, I offer my deepest apologies.”

His left arm was still wrapped in bandages, and a yellowish bruise bloomed beneath his jaw.

“I still remember what Father Edwin told me when I was newly ordained and first assigned to Archelio Monastery…”

My eyes met Father Daniel’s.

Then, as if his resolve had solidified, he turned his gaze toward Lucio, who sat silently in his seat.

“Do not be quick to doubt others.”

Father Daniel’s steady voice echoed through the cathedral.

“But today… there was no room for doubt.

On the morning I lost consciousness, someone struck me from behind.”

At his words, murmurs began to ripple through the gathered sisters.

“It was a member of the clergy from Archelio Monastery.”

With that one sentence, everyone’s eyes darted around, bracing themselves with unease.

“…Doubt is a slippery thing.

With just a few words from me, you’ve all begun to mistrust your precious fellow clergy.”

Then, Father Daniel straightened his posture, lifting his chin as he looked down at Lucio.

“I have determined that there is no longer any room for redemption. A decision has been made.”

The seemingly innocent junior priest of Archelio Monastery—

the one often called Father Edwin’s errand boy, who treated everyone with warmth and politeness—

his face blurred in my vision, merging with the memory of Edwin.

And finally, Father Daniel’s lips curved upward in a bitter conclusion.

“As of this moment, I hereby terminate seminarian Lucio’s practicum and order his immediate return to the seminary.”

“…Ha. This is absurd.”

“Seminarian Lucio, I haven’t finished speaking.

I’ve already submitted an official petition to the seminary, and I await their decision.”

“Are you aware, Father, that you’re using your position to falsely accuse an innocent seminarian? What could I possibly gain by harming you? Is there even a single person who witnessed me striking you from behind?”

Lucio turned his head and swept a chilling gaze across the gathered sisters.

My fingertips began to tremble.

Just as I summoned the courage to raise my hand, Sister Susanna gently grasped my trembling fingers.

“I saw it.”

Sister Susanna raised her hand with resolute clarity.

“In the early morning that day, I saw the seminarian hastily leaving the library.”

Lucio’s eyes glinted with madness as he locked his gaze on Sister Susanna.

Lucio was the kind of person who would sacrifice others without hesitation to satisfy his own desires.

I feared what he might do to the elderly Sister Susanna—what cruelty he might inflict.

“…Shhh, it’s all right, Licia.”

At her low whisper, I finally understood:

Sister Susanna had realized I was the true witness, and she had spoken up in my place, knowing I was too frightened to do it myself.

“My apologies, Sister, but aren’t you quite elderly? Isn’t it possible your aging eyes mistook someone else for me?

I’m rather small in stature, and I have short hair… Perhaps you confused me with another sister?”

At Lucio’s blatant mockery, the silent sisters suddenly began raising their hands.

“I saw it too.”

“I witnessed it with my own eyes.”

“I was there—I saw everything.”

And one by one, hands began to rise, until nearly everyone joined in.

“This is an outrageous accusation!”

Cracks began to form in the innocent mask Lucio had so brazenly worn as a pure-hearted seminarian.

His expression quickly twisted into something feral, and he glared at me with a look so cold it sent a chill down my spine.

Unable to bear the repulsive intensity of his gaze, my shoulders instinctively recoiled.

“Licia, it’s all right. There’s nothing to fear.”

As I lowered my head and wept quietly, Sister Susanna gently stroked the back of my trembling hand.

“Lift your head and look around. You are not alone.”

Following her words, I slowly raised my head.

The cathedral was filled with sisters, each with a hand raised high—offering false testimony for my sake.

‘…Edwin, now I understand. I finally understand why you fought so hard to protect this monastery.’

I clenched my trembling hand into a fist with all the strength I could muster.

The naive young lady of a ducal house.

The saintess of the Empire, its empress.

The witch who had once shamed the Empire.

And now, simply a sister of the monastery—all of them joined voices to declare:

“I saw it too. In the early morning, I saw Seminarian Lucio leaning on the second-floor railing, watching the library entrance.”