“There’s almost nothing you need to do, child. You just place your hand on the sacred stone in the Hall of Truth and see whether it gives off light. It isn’t difficult at all, so try not to be too nervous.”

“The sacred stone?”

“It’s a device that measures a person’s innate sacred power. It looks something like a rock.”

“If I touch it, will it give off light?”

“If you were born with sacred power, it will.”

“What if it doesn’t? What happens then?”

The boy looked up at her with a frightened face, nestled against her like a doll, and Mirha paused.

“…If it doesn’t give off light, I’ll find another way to take care of you.”

Mirha promised. The boy curled his small fists tight.

“Even if I don’t have sacred power, please don’t abandon me. I’ll do whatever you say. You can use me as a servant.”

“Child, it’s illegal to put a young child like you to work as a servant.”

Mirha answered gently to the boy’s desperate whisper. Her eyes were cold despite her mild tone. It was anger directed at every piece of human filth that freely exploited this child illegally until now.

“It’s all right if you don’t have sacred power. If you can’t become a knight because you lack it, we’ll find another path. There are all kinds of people in this world, and all kinds of callings. Not becoming a knight doesn’t make your existence worthless. Never.”

There was one way for Mirha, who could neither adopt a child nor become a foster parent, to become the boy’s official guardian. Taking him in as a trainee knight and making him her student.

Of course Mirha already had Taniel, but in principle a knight could take up to three students, so she wouldn’t need to break any rules for the boy’s sake.

All of this was only possible on the condition that the boy possessed sacred power, however. Carrying the boy from the Moonlight Night Palace toward the temple for the measurement, Mirha swallowed down her anxiety.

‘If this doesn’t work, I’ll find another way. Just as I promised him.’

There would be time enough to devise a new plan after confirming whether the child had sacred power. Mirha steadied herself and walked on with the boy in her arms. Taniel followed close behind.

At last, a beautiful and magnificent building of lapis lazuli, marble, and pure gold appeared on the horizon. The ancient temple of Santir, the capital, the stronghold of the central church.

“That’s the temple. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Mirha whispered. The boy didn’t answer. He was too busy staring at the temple with his mouth open, struck silent again. The black pupils ringed by pale blue irises swayed, seemingly entranced.

“…Dame Mirha. Is that place heaven?”

The boy finally asked. Accustomed to ugly, cold, and filthy things, the child found such a beautiful building unfamiliar. His world, made up of slums and slave auction houses, had always been bleak.

Mirha let out a short laugh. The sound was so unlike her usual self that the boy flinched and looked back at her. Something felt off.

‘What is it? Did I say something wrong?’

Whether from a lifetime of reading the room to survive, or simply because he was born perceptive, the boy was unusually good at sensing other people’s moods. It served him well at times, and at other times it was a curse.

The laugh Mirha just let out was short, sharp, and rough. It didn’t suit the adult who was nothing but warm toward the boy and her student.

The boy remembered exactly one other time Mirha gave off a similar feeling. The first time she met him, when she dismantled the slave auction house and beat everyone involved to within an inch of their lives.

“No, that place isn’t heaven.”

Mirha answered kindly, the trace of a laugh still on her face. It was an expression closer to a sneer than a smile.

“It’s a building erected for the glory of God, but in the end it was designed and built by human hands.”

And we humans are not simply beautiful, the way that building is. Humans can be kinder and nobler than anything else, but they can also be crueler and more contemptible than anything else.

“That place is a temple. The organization of clergy is called the church, and the physical space where they reside is called the temple. Not only the resident priests and clerics but ordinary worshippers come to hold services there as well.”

The boy looked baffled by the gentle explanation. Priests? Clerics? Worshippers? Mirha smiled bitterly at the boy’s blank stare.

“Child, have you ever seen a member of the clergy?”

“A few times. Only from a distance.”

“I see.”

In a holy nation where religion and daily life were closely intertwined, basic knowledge of the church was practically common sense. It was sad that the boy never had the chance to receive even that basic education.

“Clergy are people who serve God and devote themselves to others. Those without sacred power who handle administrative work are called priests, and those with sacred power are called clerics. Priests manage the church’s administrative duties, and clerics conduct services. The head of the church is called the Pope, and His Holiness holds authority and power equal to the chief senator in the Senate.”

“The Senate?”

“The Senate is what we call the assembly of those who govern the nation. They create policy, set budgets, and distribute taxes.”

“Taxes…?”

“It’s the money needed to run the country. For example, look at the road we’re walking on right now. It would be difficult for any one person to build all of these roads on their own, wouldn’t it? So the Senate collects taxes from people and uses that money to lay the roads all at once. Taxes are used for many other things as well.”

The boy knew almost nothing, even the most basic things. Mirha went on explaining one thing at a time, without a trace of impatience.

“Then what about that building? Was the temple built with taxes too?”

The boy asked with wide eyes. For a child who moments ago didn’t know what taxes were, it was a rather sharp question. Mirha smiled at the boy’s quickness and answered carefully.

“No, the temple was built with donations, not taxes. Donations are money that worshippers offer to God. Most church operations, beyond the construction of temples, are also funded by donations.”

“Money offered to God?”

“That’s right.”

“If it’s money offered to God, why do humans spend it? Is it because it’s a building erected for the glory of God?”

The boy asked with innocent eyes. It was a sincere and guileless question, possible only because he truly knew nothing. Mirha paused.

“That’s right, because it’s a building erected for the glory of God. And in principle, everything the church does is considered the will of God. That’s why humans spend the money offered to God.”

The boy was perceptive enough to notice that Mirha’s gentle expression had stiffened slightly.

He sensed something, but his spirit was still too bruised to dare ask further, and he hesitated timidly.

Taniel, walking quietly alongside them and listening to everything, also noticed that her teacher’s manner carried more of an edge than usual. But the mature girl wisely held her tongue.

By then, the three of them arrived at the temple. Mirha passed through the ornate temple gates with the boy in her arms. The gates stood wide open, and the vast courtyard beyond was filled with people.

“Anyway, this is the temple.”

Mirha said warmly. The boy forgot the unease he felt earlier and gaped around at his surroundings. Taniel thought his expression was rather adorable.

“To reach the Hall of Truth, we need to enter that building.”

Mirha pointed to the building on the left, and the boy nodded with an expression crushed by the sheer scale of it all.

Everything was too dazzling and too beautiful, and he felt like an impurity that didn’t belong here, something shabby and out of place.

“There’s no need to be afraid. You are a child loved by God too. You have every right to be here.”

Sensing the boy shrink into himself, Mirha spoke to him gently. She stroked the boy’s neatly combed black hair and patted his thin cheek. Her gaze on him was warm.

“Remember this one thing, child. You, me, Taniel, His Holiness the Pope, we are all the same creatures before God in the end. So don’t make yourself small.”

The boy, who never met the Pope, had no way of knowing how radical it was for Mirha to treat him and the Pope as equals.

But one thing was certain. That he and Mirha and Taniel were all the same before God, he couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be. It was an impossible thought.

‘There’s no way I’m the same as you.’

Kind as you are, and brilliant as your student is, you both belong to a world far more beautiful and noble than mine. No matter how hard I try, I could never become the same as you.

“Yes, Dame Mirha.”