“This way, Lady Richel.”
“Acolyte Erwin, this isn’t the way to the dungeon. You aren’t planning to lead me into a side room for some… unseemly intentions, are you?”
“You joke, my Lady. You can punch a cow to death and kick through a stone wall. How could a man like me dare harbor such thoughts?”
As they spoke, the Acolyte turned a hidden mechanism. A secret door swung inward, revealing a steep stone staircase leading deep underground.
The two followed a long, narrow corridor to its end, where a wooden door stood set into the stone wall.
Creeeeeak—
“Wait… what is with these women? That vulgar cleavage, that shameless attire, those harlot-like poses… These are harlots, aren’t they?”
“Ahem. Lady Richel, the Bishop has his reasons.”
“Reasons?”
“A ‘Faithless’ should not be held in the common lockup. Too many eyes and ears. If word leaked out, it could spark a crisis. This is a matter of the utmost gravity! Utmost gravity, indeed!”
“So you locked him in the ‘Bishop’s Love Nest’?”
“Ahem, you misunderstand. The Bishop seeks to purify the souls of these fallen women, guiding them toward the righteous path. He spends his nights in deep conversation with them, preaching the Gospel, letting the light of the true path shine into the dark depths of the earth.”
“The Bishop truly is a saint,” Richel remarked dryly.
–
The cell was cold and damp.
Wang Yue leaned against the hard wall, a melancholy look in his eyes, resembling a prince who had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness.
He missed his chickens and ducks. He missed his guinea pigs, his apple orchards, and his vineyards.
He thought of how he used to wash his grapes and pack them into jars—one layer of fruit, one layer of rock sugar. It looked beautiful and smelled divine. After a few months, it would ferment into fine wine.
He didn’t drink it himself. He brewed it to sell for a good price so he could buy some pretty lambs.
His guinea pigs lived in colonies in the alfalfa fields.
Guinea pigs were delicious. Stuffed with herbs, brushed with honey, and roasted to an inviting golden brown, they were served with sweet red tea. Just thinking about it made his mouth water.
He missed his great goose, Ougen.
The master had surrendered, but the house-guarding goose was still fighting on, a tragic, epic song of blood and feathers.
It was as if the princess had already become the Demon King’s plaything while the sword-wielding youth was still burning with righteous fury.
–
In the silence, the sound of iron boots striking the floor grew distinct, approaching from the distance.
Wang Yue’s deadened eyes twitched slightly.
From the corner of his vision, he saw exquisite silver greaves wrapping around narrow arches. The heels were cut away for the tendons, fitted with sharp spurs.
Richel stood straight, her deep violet eyes reflecting the dim light. She tucked a stray strand of silver-gray hair behind her ear, letting the rest fall in a disciplined braid.
Her voice was melodic, carrying a slight, rhythmic tremor. “You’ve lost your spirit, I see.”
Wang Yue lowered his lashes and said nothing.
Richel reached out, her soft fingers gripping the iron bars one by one. She leaned closer, her beautiful face divided into three sections by the bars—each section flawless.
“I once kept a little parrot. It was just as sorrowful as you, hanging its head, refusing to sing for me. To lift its spirits, I put a snake in its cage… On the night before it died, it sang more loudly than ever.”
Wang Yue couldn’t help but shiver. This woman was definitely rotten to the core.
His slight tremor did not go unnoticed.
Richel laughed, her pearly teeth flashing. Her fingers drummed restlessly against the bars. “The way you look when you’re afraid… it’s quite cute.”
Being called cute by a girl didn’t make him happy; it just made him feel a faint sense of shame.
Wang Yue suddenly looked up. “When are you letting me out?”
“In your dreams,” the girl sneered.
“Haven’t I already converted to the God of Light? I’m not a heretic anymore!” he argued.
Richel clucked with laughter, sounding very much like a hen.
The Acolyte brought over a chair. She sat down sideways, her incredibly long legs crossing over one another. She rested her elbow on the armrest and her chin in her hand, her teasing gaze fixed on the restless boy in the ‘cage.’
A short while later, the dungeon door was pushed open. Bishop Elliot Sanchez descended the stone steps with a steady gait and dignified bearing, exuding an air of solemn authority.
As soon as he appeared, the dungeon erupted in a cacophony of voices.
“Lord Bishop! Come and have a heart-to-heart with me!”
“Darling, how do you pronounce this word in Verse 127 of the Holy Scripture? I don’t understand it!”
“My Lord, come teach me how to write. Let’s write ‘The beauty dons a new dress, quietly painting flowers in full bloom’!”
“Bishop, I want to be the first to confess today!”
The Cardinal smiled as he passed through the chorus of sirens, arriving at Wang Yue’s cell.
“My Lord, you’ve arrived.”
The Acolyte bowed and took a red-lacquered wooden box from the Bishop’s hands.
Wang Yue said mockingly, “Is this your church’s doctrine on abstaining from lust?”
“The harlot’s skirt may pass over me, but my Lord remains in my heart,” Elliot replied, squeezing out a kind yet majestic smile.
“I’m already a believer. Why am I still locked up? I’m just a farmer. What do you gain by making things hard for me?”
“The mouth of the righteous often speaks of repentance, but how can a body mired in eternal sin be cleansed by a mere sentence or two? A graced sinner is still a sinner.”
“Right, right. You’re the Cardinal; you have the damn final say on interpretation. Why don’t you explain to me why every fart you let out is treated like the gospel truth?”
“Rage will not change your circumstances.”
Elliot snapped his fingers. On cue, the Acolyte opened the box, revealing three strange items lined up inside.
Wang Yue didn’t understand and stared at them warily.
“In your case, we call it being a ‘Faithless.’ For you, shifting your faith is a talent, not a sincere conversion. Today, to save your life, you betrayed science for the Light. Tomorrow, you could just as easily sell your soul to the Devil…”
The Faithless?
Hearing the explanation, Wang Yue finally understood his situation. He sighed inwardly. Sigh, if I had just joined the Church of Light earlier, mastered the scriptures, and snagged a holy order… I could have worn black satin robes, a silver cross, looked all respectable, said ‘Amen’ every other word, and flirted with little nuns. Wouldn’t that have been better?
