The grand cathedral at night was a different beast entirely, devoid of the ceaseless tide of worshippers that flooded its halls by day. The occasional priest or knight hurrying through the corridors only served to amplify the oppressive tranquility and solemnity of the place.

Benjamin sat in the same confessional booth as before, Michelle's letter clutched in his hand, awaiting the Archbishop's arrival.

The Church's daily affairs must not have been too pressing, for the Archbishop arrived at the other side of the partition in short order. Of course, it was also possible that the Church simply placed great importance on Benjamin - or rather, on Michelle - and thus responded with such alacrity.

"Lord Lither, the dead of night is hardly the proper time for confession," the Archbishop intoned, his voice measured and unhurried behind the thin veil. There was no real reproach in his tone, merely a subtle hint for Benjamin to speak his piece without wasting time.

Benjamin took the cue, immediately affecting an air of panic as he blurted out:

"Your Grace, another letter from her has arrived."

With that, he passed the envelope through the partition.

The Archbishop accepted the missive, wasting no time in tearing it open and perusing its contents - a marked contrast to his earlier verbosity.

The letter itself was hardly an epic tome, easily digested in a matter of moments. Yet upon finishing it, the Archbishop remained silent, staring at the paper in deep contemplation, his chiseled features cast in stark relief by the lamplight filtering through the screen, as enigmatic as the Sphinx.

Benjamin waited with bated breath, but when no further comment seemed forthcoming, he had no choice but to venture:

"Your Grace, what am I to do? That abandoned prison is such a chaotic place. If I go there, I fear she'll take me hostage once more. Your Grace…"

But before Benjamin could lay it on any thicker, the Archbishop cut him off with a curt gesture.

After another pregnant pause, he finally spoke: "How did this letter find its way to you?"

Benjamin immediately launched into his prepared spiel: "Your Grace, I found it tucked beneath my pillow. It's absolutely terrifying - I never caught so much as a glimpse of her, yet she managed to infiltrate our home without a sound. Your Grace, I implore you, please extend your protection to my family."

He'd hoped to secure some tangible form of aid from the Church. Even if they couldn't lift the curse entirely, at the very least they could ensure he wouldn't be left defenseless in the face of Michelle's capricious appearances.

"The Almighty's grace shall shield you from harm."

And with that one pious platitude, the Archbishop deftly deflected Benjamin's plea. But before he could even process his disappointment, the holy man followed up with another question: "Was there anything unusual about the letter's arrival? Why did it not burst into flame like the previous one?"

Benjamin's heart seized in his chest.

Blast it all, he'd overlooked that little detail.

In his earlier bid to win the Archbishop's trust, he'd fabricated the tale of Michelle's "first letter", claiming it had spontaneously combusted after he'd read it. And yet, the current missive showed no sign of such incendiary inclinations - a rather glaring inconsistency, in hindsight.

Why would the first letter go up in smoke, while the second remained untouched?

It was no trivial discrepancy. Benjamin silently berated himself for his lack of foresight.

Though the Archbishop's tone remained mild, evincing mere idle curiosity, Benjamin knew all too well that if he couldn't provide a satisfactory explanation, it would surely rouse the clergyman's suspicions. No one would trust a man whose story shifted with the wind.

In that instant, a whirlwind of half-baked excuses raced through Benjamin's mind, each more implausible than the last. He had to say something, and quickly - any hint of hesitation would be more damning than the flimsiest of fibs.

Left with no time to think, he could only fall back on feigned ignorance, stammering out:

"Err… well, that is… I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest notion why it didn't go up in flames like the last one."

It was hardly a compelling response. Benjamin knew it, knew he wasn't really answering the question at all, just playing dumb and hoping for divine intervention. The words had scarcely left his lips before bitter regret began to take root. He cursed his own dull wits, his inability to conjure up a more convincing performance on the fly…

But what was done was done. Regret at this juncture was an exercise in futility.

He'd done his level best to affect an air of ingenuous sincerity. Whether the Archbishop would buy it was in the hands of the fates now.

And yet, on the other side of the screen, the Archbishop remained silent, the letter still clutched in his unseen grasp.

Benjamin could feel his nerves winding tighter than a watch spring. He was strung so taut, he half-expected his soul to come unmoored from sheer anxiety. At any second, he feared the Archbishop might rip aside the veil with a cry of "Deceitful wretch! To the pit with you!" and incinerate him on the spot with a bolt of holy fury.

What thoughts churned behind that stony facade? Was he mired in doubt? Seething with righteous anger? Or did he already see through Benjamin's ruse, clear as day? Were the walls already lined with paladins, awaiting but a signal to drag him away in irons?

It was like staring down Judgment Day itself.

In truth, the Archbishop's silence lasted no more than twenty seconds. To Benjamin, it felt more like twenty years.

At long last, he spoke, that sonorous baritone ringing out like a heavenly reprieve to Benjamin's ears:

"It is because she has realized you are a true and faithful servant of the Lord. In giving you this letter, she knew full well you would bring it straight to me. She seeks to exploit your piety, to lay a snare for the Church in a vile bid for vengeance."

Stolen novel; please report.

Benjamin felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

That little exchange had nearly given him a heart attack.

Thank the heavens the Archbishop had interpreted Michelle's intentions in such a way. From the sound of it, he hadn't developed any suspicions towards Benjamin - at least, not overtly.

He couldn't decide if the Archbishop was simply too trusting or if he himself was blessed with extraordinary luck.

Of course, it was entirely possible that the notion of Benjamin harboring ulterior motives had never even crossed the Archbishop's mind, and all his panic had been purely self-inflicted.

Or perhaps Michelle was the Archbishop's sole focus. Whether Benjamin's heart was pure or tainted was of little consequence. As long as he could divine Michelle's aims and thwart her schemes, nothing else mattered. In his eyes, Benjamin was just some wet-behind-the-ears stripling, barely worth a second glance.

Well, here's hoping he'd stay beneath the Archbishop's notice. That suited Benjamin just fine.

"Your Grace, in five days' time, should I still venture to the Lower City…" He maintained his facade of trepidation, probing for the Archbishop's thoughts on the matter.

"That won't be necessary. It's clearly a trap - you'll find no trace of her there," the Archbishop replied, his tone unruffled.

Upon hearing this, Benjamin found himself nursing a fresh headache.

Michelle's previous letter had instructed: "Give the second page to the Archbishop of St. Peter's Cathedral. Convince him to believe its contents." While the Archbishop might not suspect Benjamin of any duplicity, he clearly put no stock in the letter's claims. Benjamin wasn't sure if this outcome would satisfy Michelle.

No, that was a lie. He knew damn well that having her ploy unraveled would infuriate Michelle. And when Michelle was angry, he was the one who suffered.

Plus, it ran counter to his own scheme of playing the sacrificial lamb.

He had to find a way to persuade the Archbishop… At the very least, he needed to ensure that someone from the Church would be dispatched to the prison ruins that day. Even if it was just a single knight getting thrashed alongside Benjamin, it should be enough to convince Michelle of his obedience.

After much internal debate, Benjamin steeled himself to play devil's advocate on Michelle's behalf:

"But Your Grace, can we really let her off so easily? If she truly seeks vengeance against the Church, she's bound to leave some trace at the site. We mustn't allow her to slip through our fingers. Your Grace, a servant of the divine never cowers before the temptations of a fallen one!"

Acting as Michelle's mouthpiece left a sour taste, but Benjamin forged ahead as best he could. His words needed to be convincing, yet not so clever as to rouse suspicion. After much deliberation, he settled on this pseudo-theological angle of attack.

"You speak true, a servant of the divine never fears a demon's thrall." Alas, when it came to theological repartee, the Archbishop still held the upper hand. "But the forces of darkness are ever cunning. We mustn't blunder blindly into their snares. The Lord is mighty, but He is also wise. He watches over His faithful, and would never demand reckless sacrifice. To court danger needlessly goes against His will."

Benjamin was at a loss. Clearly, the Archbishop was still wary of Michelle's overinflated capabilities.

He dearly wished he could set the record straight, to tell the Archbishop that Michelle's magical prowess was middling at best, that she couldn't even best a single squad of Cleansers. But he bit his tongue. The Church might have extracted some of his memories, but his narrow escape from the Cleansers alongside Michelle was not among them.

He could only watch helplessly as Michelle brandished her nonexistent leverage, running circles around the Church in their battle of wits.

If he was being honest, all he had to do was help the Church put Michelle six feet under and they'd lift his curse as a reward. But with how timidly they were proceeding, he had little faith in their ability to finish the job.

And if Michelle wasn't dealt with once and for all, he'd be the one to pay the piper. And so he vacillated between the two sides, paralyzed by indecision.

"If that's the case, Your Grace, could you perhaps bestow some additional protection upon me? This brazen witch has me fearing for the safety of myself and my kin. Today she leaves a letter under my pillow. What's to stop her from spiriting me away tomorrow? I'd hate to be unable to provide the Church with further intelligence," he said after a moment's hesitation, shifting his angle of attack.

Straddling the fence came with drawbacks, but it had its advantages too. Benjamin was determined to milk those for all they were worth.

As for whether Michelle would be displeased by the failure of her scheme… well, that was a problem for another day. He'd already given up on swaying the Archbishop. To press the matter further would only make the holy man doubt his motives and loyalty.

Really, this visit to the cathedral had gone much more smoothly than the last. If he couldn't squeeze at least a bit of added security out of the Archbishop, he might as well bash his head against a column until he got isekai'd back to Kansas.

"The Lord never forsakes the faithful." The Archbishop seemed to realize that he couldn't send Benjamin away completely empty-handed. And so, after a brief pause, he passed a crucifix pendant to Benjamin through the screen. "This is a sacred relic imbued with holy might. It will shield you from the machinations of any fiendish sorcery. But take heed - its reservoir of divine power is not inexhaustible. After three invocations, its ability to dispel curses will be spent."

Hallelujah! Jackpot!

Benjamin's spirits soared as he accepted the crucifix with barely contained glee.

With this little beauty in his possession, Michelle could still hold the curse over his head, but she'd never be able to drag him off again - not without her Binding Spell to spirit him away on the sly. He had a mouth and he wasn't afraid to use it.

Plus, this crucifix was a secret weapon, one Michelle knew nothing about. Like before, it would be his trump card, ready to turn the tables when he needed it most.

Forget raw power - with a schemer like Michelle, the real danger was what you didn't see coming.

"If you grip the crucifix tight and pray from the heart, it will also alert the nearest knight patrol to your location. They will rush to your aid posthaste," the Archbishop added before Benjamin's elation could run away with him. "But this function too has its limits - three times only. Use it wisely, and only in the direst of circumstances."

If anything, this revelation only heightened Benjamin's euphoria. He gazed at the crucifix in his palm like it was the holy hand grenade of Antioch.

In gaming terms, this thing was an epic-tier artifact! Magic immunity, an elite paladin DPS cooldown, and zero inventory footprint to boot! Truly the god roll of trans-dimensional loot drops!

From this day forth, it would be his very own "Please Jesus, Don't Let Me Die In This Fantasy Hellscape" panic button!

"Bless you, Your Grace. Truly, the Almighty's generosity knows no bounds." For once, the reverent platitude sprang from a place of sincere gratitude.

"Walk always in the light of the Lord, and He shall be your aegis." The Archbishop's reply was serenely noncommittal. "This concludes your confession. I will have one of the knights escort you home. Remember, what was spoken here tonight is known only to the Lord and we two. No other soul shall ever learn of it."

"Yes, Your Grace." Benjamin nodded his assent, saying no more. He'd done what he could. The Archbishop's dismissal came as a relief.

He'd gotten what he came for and then some.

Benjamin rose from the booth and exited the confessional. Without further ado, a knight materialized at his side, respectfully ushering him out of the cathedral.

And so, while events hadn't unfolded exactly according to plan, Benjamin still departed the Church in high spirits.

Yet the Archbishop himself remained seated in the booth, still and silent as a statue, long after Benjamin had gone.

Another knight approached the partition, murmuring a hushed "Your Grace?"

The Archbishop lifted a hand, gesturing for the knight to hold his peace.

And so the knight too lapsed into an uneasy silence.

"What in the world is that girl playing at?"

Suddenly, the Archbishop's voice rang out, echoing up to the vaulted ceiling as he stared at the letter in his hands.

The knight's face registered blank shock. He made as if to answer, but quickly realized the Archbishop's question had been rhetorical. He opted to stay his tongue.

Seemingly lost in thought, the Archbishop raised his free palm. In an instant, a tongue of golden flame sprang to life, dancing and weaving in his grasp, radiant with holy light.

With his other hand, he passed the letter over the fire, searing it with meticulous care.

The knight stared at the missive, burning with curiosity yet not daring to pry. As the seconds ticked by, the flickering light played over his face, highlighting the dawning amazement in his expression.

"This is…"

At last, he could contain himself no longer.

The Archbishop's voice was as emotionless as the grave:

"A message from the fallen."

There on the reverse of the letter, a line of text that had not been there before was silently emerging from the flames, unbidden.