When Ulu saw the bloodstained bedsheets, his entire body froze, and his mind went blank.

…How could I forget about this?!

Regret overwhelmed Ulu. He had been so focused on cleaning up Lugi's room that he had completely overlooked the mess left behind in his own.

"Visah'Su, Lord Visah'Su!" Ulu called out desperately to Hiroshi in his mind. "What do I do now?!"

Hiroshi felt a headache coming on.

Dammit, this was the one thing he hadn't accounted for.

After a brief silence, Hiroshi said, "Is there any chance—and I mean any chance at all—that you could tell him it's your own blood? Just say you have a severe case of anal fissures."

Ulu's mouth fell open, stunned. He never imagined that Lord Visah'Su could say something like this at such a critical moment. Could it be that Lord Visah'Su actually had a sense of humor?

After thinking about it, it did seem like a plausible excuse—Ulu did have this kind of issue, a long-term problem thanks to injuries that had left permanent damage. Kelser knew about it too.

But before Ulu could say anything, Kelser suddenly laughed, "Looks like you're becoming more and more like old Lugi, making things so intense."

Ulu was slightly taken aback. "What?"

Kelser tossed the bedsheet aside and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands. "I used to wonder where Lugi learned so many tricks. He's such a... creative guy. The first time I saw it, twenty years ago, I was shocked. How do I put it? He seemed to love that feeling of blossoming between life and death—though the life and death were someone else's, while the blossoming was all his. Too bad this kind of play only works when disaster strikes and life becomes cheap. Otherwise, it’s hard to find opportunities for it. A real pity."

Kelser even sighed as he spoke, looking genuinely regretful.

His words made Ulu's eyelids twitch.

Ulu didn't know exactly what kind of "play" Kelser was referring to, but he could guess.

Twenty years ago, Lugi had brought many starving boys back to the church, Ulu among them. And those children had often disappeared, a few at a time, every other night, until eventually, only Ulu was left.

He had always thought Lugi had sold those kids elsewhere.

But now, it seemed that wasn't the case.

A chill ran through Ulu’s heart, and his body couldn't help but tremble.

Not because of those children, but because… he had almost become one of them.

All these years, Ulu had thought himself the unluckiest of them, stuck by Lugi’s side. But now, it seemed he was the "luckiest" of all—because those kids never even got the chance to stay by Lugi's side.

It was no wonder Lugi had always believed he was Ulu’s benefactor, never imagining that Ulu might one day want to kill him.

To Lugi, it was his "great mercy" that allowed Ulu to live, to become a priest and inherit his legacy—a tremendous gift.

Hearing all this, Hiroshi also felt deeply uncomfortable.

What the priests of Rhyo did during the years of famine had always been in the storyline—but in the game, it was merely text. Now, here, it was history. It was hard for Hiroshi, lived in the democracy, to accept, but he couldn't show it. All he could do was watch, coldly.

"Why aren’t you saying anything?" Kelser raised an eyebrow. "Feeling guilty because I guessed right?"

Ulu took a deep breath, trying hard to maintain his earlier expression. "Heh, getting caught in something like this is indeed a bit…"

"Heh, you still don’t have the freedom Lugi had." Kelser walked to the table, picked up the tea Ulu had poured for him, and swirled it in his hand. "But let me remind you, you can only play like this during years of disaster—killing a few people won’t raise much suspicion. But during normal years, don’t even think about it. If you get caught, not even Bishop Cory can save you."

Facing Kelser's "sincere" advice, Ulu appropriately displayed a "grateful" expression. "Thank you for the reminder, Kelser."

"Oh, what’s there to thank? We’re friends, aren’t we?"

Kelser patted Ulu on the shoulder, then downed the tea in one gulp, as if they were sharing heartfelt words as true friends.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Ulu slightly exhaled in relief. Seems I’ve gotten through it… At least, Kelser’s still seeing me as a friend. If that’s the case…

Kelser suddenly shifted the conversation, "Speaking of which, after all this work, I’m tired and need to relax. How about helping me out, Ulu?"

Ulu was stunned. "What?"

"I said, help me out, Ulu." Kelser smiled again, but this smile was different from before. "Just like before. Back then, I was young, and you… you were, too."

It was like an electric shock coursed through Ulu's body.

Kelser had made it clear—how could Ulu not understand?

But he forced himself to stay calm, smiling as naturally as he could. "Oh, come on, Kelser. We’re not who we used to be. If you really want, I could—"

"Kneel." Kelser softly interrupted Ulu.

Ulu’s whole body froze.

"Don’t joke around, Kelser…"

"Kneel," Kelser repeated, his voice light, but undeniably firm.

Ulu didn't know how to respond, standing there, lost.

"Did you not understand?" Kelser sighed softly. "I said, kneel."

He gripped Ulu’s shoulder, applying force.

The strength of a knight commander bore down on Ulu, crushing him to his knees, just like… twenty years ago.

In that moment, Ulu finally understood.

He had thought he was no longer that helpless little boy from twenty years ago.

He had grown up. He had status. The robes of a priest, symbolizing power, draped over him, and the commoners called him "Father" with respect.

He believed he had changed, that everything had changed, that those dark days were long behind him.

But now, the force on his shoulder told him otherwise.

Nothing had changed.

He was still that dog—a dog that could only kneel.

A consuming humiliation washed over Ulu, making him tremble all over, but he didn't dare resist. He knelt there like a fool, motionless.

"Good. That’s it. You were like this, twenty years ago." Kelser observed Ulu's reaction with satisfaction. Then, he moved his hand to the back of Ulu’s head, pushing him closer bit by bit. "Come on, let me relive it—relive the old you."

Ulu, like a puppet with its strings cut, was manipulated by Kelser, inching closer to him.

Suddenly, a knight's voice sounded from outside the room. "Commander! We’ve found that black market dealer named Yonso."

Kelser stopped, annoyance flashing in his eyes, though he quickly concealed it.

"Damn it, of all times." Kelser shoved Ulu aside and hurried out of the room. "Keep him under control, I’m coming!"

He didn’t look at Ulu again, treating him like an unneeded toy.

Once Kelser was gone, Hiroshi let out a sigh of relief.

Though it had nothing to do with him, Hiroshi definitely didn’t want his journey here turning into something... disgusting. He had already been thinking about how to stop it.

Thankfully, that guy left.

Ulu remained there, lying on the ground like a broken toy.

Hiroshi stayed silent, just watching.

Who knows how long passed before a hint of light returned to Ulu’s eyes. He spoke softly, "Lord Visah'Su, are you still there?"

Hiroshi answered with a simple "Mm."

"Please, hear my prayer."

"You want me to kill Kelser?"

"No. Not just Kelser." Ulu’s body trembled again, as if caught in extreme fear, but his murky eyes were filled with rage and madness. "All of them… all those who look down on me… I want to kill every single one of them."

Seeing Ulu’s frenzy, Hiroshi smiled.

"No problem."

As long as you can pay the price.

…

Kelser walked out of the church, immediately spotting the black market dealer held down by two knights.

Two more knights were rummaging through the dealer's goods, pulling item after item from his dark bag. Most of the items were contraband—mind-altering powders prohibited by the Four Great Faiths, soul-devouring worms that consumed the brain.

But none of these were what the knights were after. Under Kelser's watchful gaze, the knights went through everything in the bag, finally shaking their heads.

"Report, Commander, we didn’t find it."

Before Kelser could speak, the dealer began to shout, "Hey, hey, hey, this is unnecessary, really! I might have sold a few things that aren’t quite legal, but isn’t this a bit much? Do you have the wrong person? Or maybe you just want my goods? You can take everything—I get how things work, no need to make a scene."

Kelser, already irritated from having his "fun" interrupted, lost whatever patience he had left. He stepped up and kicked the dealer in the stomach.

The dealer doubled over, blood spurting from his mouth.

"Listen, I don’t have time to waste on scum like you. You ruined my mood, and that pisses me off. If you want to live, stop playing games and tell me—where did you sell that thing?"

"Wha… what thing?" the dealer coughed, "I don’t understand."

"You don’t understand? Fine, I’ll tell you, but I’ll only ask once." Kelser drew his sword, stabbing it into the ground. "You have one chance to answer. Say you don’t know, and I’ll cut your head off. Got it?"

Finally realizing the situation, the dealer nodded repeatedly.

"Good, look at my mouth." Kelser said, enunciating each word. "The thing I want—is the box you sold recently."

"B-box?"

"Yes. To be precise," Kelser narrowed his eyes, "the finger… in the box."

"Finger?" The dealer’s eyes widened in shock.

In that instant, the dealer realized why the Knights of Rhyo were after him.

If Kelser had only mentioned a box, the dealer wouldn't have known which one—after all, most of his goods came in boxes.

But a finger… there was only one possibility.

The realization drained all color from the dealer's face. "No, no way… that, that was… real?!"

Kelser wasn’t surprised by the dealer's reaction. He sneered, "Since you know what it is, just tell me who you sold it to. You’d better be honest. Even if you stay silent, we have a thousand ways to make you talk."

The dealer opened his mouth as if to answer.

Kelser waited.

But several seconds passed, and the dealer remained silent, his face frozen in an attempt to speak.

Realizing what was happening, Kelser's expression changed drastically. He rushed forward, ripping the dealer's shirt open, revealing black runes crawling across his skin like countless worms.

The curse was killing him.

"Damn it! The cult—the cult is cursing him!" Kelser cursed, "Information about the finger leaked, and they don’t want us to know where it went. Damn it! Look at me! Tell me who bought the finger so I can save you!"

In truth, there is no way to save him. Once the curse started, death was inevitable.

But Kelser still said it.

And as Kelser expected, the dealer, clinging to his last hope, grabbed at Kelser’s hand, stammering, "S-save me…"

"Tell me, who bought it?!"

"S-sold it to…" The dealer strained to lift his head, pointing toward the church. "T-the priest…"

With those words, the dealer collapsed, lifeless.

Kelser shoved the dealer's body aside, squinting as he slowly turned toward the church behind him.