After the shattering of a man's and a woman's dreams, the next morning came.
The neighbor woman stepped closer to Parakaló's house, her hands holding a small basket of ingredients. Her eyes caught the door—it was ajar.
She tilted her head, curiosity mixing with unease. "Hello? Anyone here?" she asked softly, her voice cheerful but cautious.
No answer.
She took another step, her fingers tightening around the basket. "I… I just came to borrow some ingredients…" Her voice wavered slightly.
Then she froze.
Her gaze fell to the floor.
The basket slipped from her hands.
Nékt lay there, one arm missing, his face pressed to the cold floor.
Parakaló… severed at the hip, his body split in two.
And his wife… sliced cleanly down the middle.
Her breath caught. Her hands shook. "Oh… oh my…" she whispered, barely able to speak.
Her eyes darted from one body to the next. Blood pooled across the wooden floorboards, dark and glistening in the morning light.
She swallowed hard. Her legs wobbled. "What… what happened here?"
Silence answered her. Only the faint dripping of blood echoed through the house.
A shiver ran down her spine. The horror was complete. Every instinct screamed at her to run, yet she couldn't move.
Her mind tried to process it. Her eyes darted again, searching for some explanation. None came.
She stumbled backward, terror gripping her every step.
Her legs gave way, and she fell hard onto the wooden floor.
Pain shot through her, but it was nothing compared to the horror that consumed her senses.
As she pressed her hands against the floor to catch herself, her fingers sank into something sticky.
She looked down.
The crimson liquid clung to her skin, glistening in the faint morning light.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Blood.
Her own hands were coated in it—cold, sticky, unrelenting.
A scream caught in her throat, choked by fear.
Her mind couldn't process the scene fast enough. The bodies… the blood… the silence…
She screamed, a high, piercing sound that echoed down the empty street.
Her legs carried her in frantic, clumsy steps as she bolted from Parakaló's house, leaving the horror behind but taking the image with her.
Finally, she reached her own home.
The door swung open as she rushed inside, slamming it shut with a resounding crash.
"Darling…?" she called out, her voice trembling uncontrollably.
From the other side of the room, her husband's calm voice responded, "Yes?"
He turned, and his eyes widened. Panic flared as he saw her face, pale and wide-eyed, and the glistening streaks of blood on her hands.
"What… what happened? How did the blood get on your hands?" he asked, his voice tight with worry and confusion.
She could barely speak, her chest heaving as her mind raced. Words failed her. Only the trembling of her hands and the unrelenting horror in her eyes answered him.
The room felt smaller, the walls pressing in, the air thick with the unspoken terror she carried in her trembling hands.
Through shivering sobs, the woman whispered in horror, "Parakaló… his wife… and another person… they're dead… on the floor."
"What?" Her husband's voice cracked with disbelief, confusion clouding his face. "Are you sure? You saw this… with your own eyes?"
"Yes," she replied, trembling violently. "Their bodies… cut to pieces… blood… everywhere…"
Her husband paused, taking in her fear. His jaw tightened. "Okay," he said finally, his voice calm but edged with concern. "Wait here. I'll go check."
When he reached the house, he too was met with the same unimaginable horror. Without hesitation, he immediately called for the officers.
Soon, the officers arrived, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestones as they began their investigation, faces pale with shock at the scene before them.
One officer knelt beside Parakaló's body, hand shaking as he touched the clean cut at the hip. He looked up at the others.
'This wasn't a fight,' he whispered.
'This was… execution.'
As the day passed and another morning arrived, something had changed in the streets.
People were whispering.
The market felt different.
While picking vegetables, one woman leaned closer to another.
"Did you hear about yesterday's murder?" she asked in a hushed voice.
The other woman nodded quickly, eyes wide.
"Yes… I heard even a pregnant woman was killed."
They both fell silent.
Fear lingered between them.
—
Inside a crowded bar, a man lowered his voice as he spoke to his friend.
"I heard something else," he muttered. "They found words written in blood."
His friend frowned. "Words?"
The man swallowed.
"'HOLY KINGDOM DI—'… it was incomplete."
The friend's expression hardened.
"So you think the Holy Kingdom did it?"
"I don't know," the man replied, staring into his drink. "But that's what people are saying."
At a small shop near the corner of the street, the shopkeeper spoke quietly to a group of customers.
"They say a whole village was destroyed by demons," he whispered. "But some claim it wasn't demons…"
The customers leaned closer.
"They say it was the Holy Kingdom."
Gasps followed.
"And where did that rumor come from?" someone asked.
The shopkeeper hesitated.
"From a young survivor… that's what I heard."
Rumors spread faster than truth.
Whispers turned into suspicion.
Suspicion turned into doubt.
Some believed the Holy Kingdom was responsible.
Others denied it fiercely.
"Why would they do such a thing?" they argued.
But doubt, once planted, does not need proof.
It only needs fear.
That evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the streets in orange light, Nifti and Vanessa walked toward the market to buy groceries.
The streets were crowded as usual.
But something felt… different.
Whispers followed them.
Not loud.
Not clear.
But present.
Nifti slowed her steps slightly. "Vanessa… do you feel that?"
Vanessa kept her gaze forward. "Feel what?"
Nifti lowered her voice. "They're looking at us."
Vanessa finally glanced around.
Several people quickly looked away.
Two women standing near a fruit stall leaned toward each other.
"Those are temple girls…" one murmured.
"I heard the message was about the Holy Kingdom…" the other whispered back.
Vanessa's fingers tightened around the basket she was holding.
"…It's just rumors," she said quietly, more to herself than to Nifti.
A man near a butcher stand stared openly at them before muttering, "If it's true…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Nifti swallowed.
"…Let's just buy what we came for," she said softly.
The usual warmth the temple girls once received was gone.
No friendly smiles.
No casual greetings.
Only glances.
Suspicion.
Distance.
As they walked past the stalls, the murmuring grew softer—
—but heavier.
Rumors had begun to grow roots.
And roots were far harder to remove.
Nifti's steps suddenly stopped.
"…What did you just say?" she asked.
The murmuring man stiffened.
Vanessa turned quickly. "Nifti…?"
But Nifti had already stepped forward.
"You said Chorío was destroyed by the Holy Kingdom," she continued, her voice firm but controlled. "Who told you that?"
The man looked uncomfortable, glancing around at the growing attention.
"That's what people are saying," he muttered. "A young survivor said so."
"A survivor?" Nifti repeated. "What survivor?"
"I don't know!" the man snapped defensively. "That's what I heard! They found words written in blood! 'Holy Kingdom—' something!"
The surrounding crowd began whispering again.
Vanessa stepped closer to Nifti and lowered her voice.
"Let's not do this here…"
But Nifti didn't move.
Her eyes were sharp now.
"Do you truly believe the Holy Kingdom would slaughter civilians?" she asked quietly.
The man hesitated.
"…I don't know," he admitted. "But why would someone write it in blood if it wasn't true?"
That question hung in the air.
Heavy.
Unanswered.
Vanessa gently pulled Nifti's sleeve. "This isn't the place."
Nifti looked around.
People weren't just whispering anymore.
They were watching.
Judging.
Measuring.
The warmth that once surrounded them was gone.
In its place—
Doubt.
As they walked back toward the temple, the murmurs of the market still echoed in their minds.
Nifti's steps were faster now.
Her jaw was tight.
"I'm sure it's Shin Yato," she said suddenly.
Vanessa looked at her in surprise. "What?"
"Something was off about him from the start," Nifti continued, her voice low but firm.
Vanessa frowned. "How can you be so sure?"
Nifti stopped walking.
"Because he's the only young man we know who survived the demon attack on Chorío."
The name hung heavy between them.
Vanessa's expression shifted slightly.
Nifti's eyes hardened.
"And now suddenly there's a 'young survivor' spreading rumors that the Holy Kingdom destroyed a village?"
She clenched her fists.
"It's him."
Vanessa hesitated.
"…That doesn't prove anything."
"It proves enough," Nifti replied. "I'm going to confront him."
Vanessa immediately grabbed her arm.
"Don't," she said firmly. "Not like this."
Nifti looked at her.
Vanessa's voice softened, but remained steady.
"Let's tell Saintess Kyria first. She deserves to know about these rumors."
A brief silence followed.
The temple gates were now in sight.
Nifti exhaled slowly.
"…Fine," she said at last. "But if I'm right…"
Her gaze darkened.
"I won't stay silent."
As they walked toward the temple gates, Nifti suddenly stopped.
Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with anger.
"Do you remember what the Holy Kingdom did for us?" she asked quietly.
Vanessa looked at her.
"When we were small… we were abandoned," Nifti continued. "Left in the streets. Starving. Waiting either to die… or to sell our bodies just to survive."
Her hands clenched.
"Saintess Kyria took us in. She gave us food. A bed. A name. A place we could call home."
Vanessa lowered her gaze.
"I know," she said softly. "I still remember it clearly."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then they entered the temple.
They searched until they found Saintess Kyria in the prayer room.
She was kneeling quietly, hands folded, bathed in soft candlelight.
Her expression was peaceful.
"Saintess," Nifti called gently.
Kyria opened her eyes and looked at them.
"Yes?"
Nifti hesitated for only a second.
"There are rumors spreading in the city," she said firmly. "They're saying the Holy Kingdom is corrupted… that it killed the guards… and destroyed Chorío village."
A faint flicker of surprise crossed Kyria's face.
But she remained calm.
She slowly stood.
Vanessa stepped forward.
"They say the information came from a young survivor."
Kyria's eyes moved slightly.
"…I see," she said quietly.
She looked at Nifti and Vanessa and gave a small nod.
"Tell me everything."
The prayer room felt heavier now.
The candles flickered gently.
Outside, rumors were spreading.
Inside, doubt had just entered sacred ground.
Nifti's hands were trembling.
"I'm sure it's him," she said. "Whenever I see his faint smile… and those eyes… it sends a chill down my spine."
Saintess Kyria looked at her calmly.
"Nifti," she said gently, "you should not judge a person by their appearance."
"But I'm not!" Nifti insisted. "It's not just his face. It's the way he looks at people. Like he's measuring them."
The prayer room fell silent.
Kyria closed her eyes briefly.
"…Even so," she said softly, "accusations without proof can destroy an innocent person."
Nifti bit her lip but didn't back down.
After a moment, Kyria spoke again.
"Very well," she said. "I will ask him about it."
Her voice was calm.
Her expression serene.
But deep inside—
A small unease stirred.
Because if she was honest with herself…
Something about Shin Yato had always felt slightly… distant.
Too composed.
Too controlled.
Just then, a loud voice broke the tension.
"Hey, idiot! Why do you look like someone stole your food?"
Lish walked toward them with her usual playful grin. Beside her was Jenney.
But the moment they saw Nifti and Vanessa's serious expressions, their smiles faded.
"…What happened?" Jenney asked.
Nifti exhaled slowly.
"There are rumors spreading," Vanessa explained. "About the Holy Kingdom destroying Chorío."
Lish blinked.
"What?"
"They say a young survivor is spreading it," Nifti added. "And I think it's Shin Yato."
Silence fell over the hallway.
Lish's expression darkened slightly.
"…That's a heavy accusation."
Jenney folded her arms. "Do you have proof?"
"No," Nifti admitted. "But I have instinct."
Lish looked between them.
Then toward Saintess Kyria.
The atmosphere inside the temple had shifted.
Not loudly.
Not violently.
But subtly.
Like a crack forming in glass.
Saintess Kyria turned slightly.
"Jenney," she said calmly, "where is Shin Yato right now?"
Jenney straightened. "He's still in the healing chamber."
Kyria nodded.
"Very well. You should all return to your duties. I will speak with him myself."
Her voice remained gentle. Composed.
She began to walk away.
But suddenly—
"Saintess, wait."
Nifti stepped forward and caught her hand.
"I'm coming with you."
Kyria looked at her.
"It's not necessary," she said softly.
Before Nifti could argue again—
"I'm going too," Lish declared, folding her arms. "I want to see whether this idiot is right or completely wrong."
Nifti glared at her, but didn't respond.
Vanessa stepped forward next. "If this concerns the temple… I should be there as well."
Jenney nodded. "Me too."
For a moment, Kyria said nothing.
She looked at each of them.
Determined faces.
Suspicious eyes.
Unsettled hearts.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
"…Very well," she said at last, offering a small, calm smile. "Let's go together."
And so they walked down the temple corridor.
Five pairs of footsteps.
One quiet destination.
And at the end of that corridor—
A man who may already know they are coming.