At least I’d been given three days. Last time I’d rushed to destroy the statue out of desperation to save Theo, but this time there was no immediate pressure to set the temple on fire.
For now, I decided to take things at a more measured pace and focus on building a proper relationship of trust with Theo first. Wasn’t that the whole reason I was doing all of this — to raise him well?
I opened the wardrobe and rummaged for something Theo could wear. Naturally, there wasn’t a single piece of clothing sized for a twelve-year-old. After some deliberation, I picked out whatever looked softest and warmest and helped him into it. I had to fold the sleeves several times before his hands finally emerged.
“Sorry about this. Tomorrow we’ll go to the market and get you proper clothes.”
“Thank you.”
Theo smiled — an easy, unguarded smile. We’d known each other for less than a day, and he already seemed quite open with me. Perhaps because he was so young, he seemed to have no instinct for suspicion.
Deciding it was time to sleep, I settled Theo into the bed and moved to take the sofa for myself. But Theo reached out and quietly caught the hem of my clothes.
“Could you read me a story before I sleep? My father used to read me fairy tales every night.”
That was a problem. Of course there was nothing like a fairy tale book in this room. In fact, Shane’s room hadn’t contained any books at all.
“There aren’t any books here….”
After thinking it over, I offered an alternative.
“Then how about I tell you a story I know?”
Theo’s eyes lit up.
“Yes, please!”
“Alright… let’s see. I’ll tell you the story of Snow White.”
Fortunately, the Brothers Grimm didn’t exist in this world. I started telling Snow White from memory, then — worried it might be too dull on its own — began weaving in bits of Cinderella partway through. Somewhere around the part where Snow White was fleeing the queen in glass slippers and twisted her ankle, Theo’s breathing had gone slow and even.
Maybe that was a little too childish for a twelve-year-old.
I stopped the story. Theo was fast asleep, both hands clutching the blanket tight. After some thought, I carefully slipped under the covers myself. It was far warmer than the sofa. I lay back to back with Theo and closed my eyes.
The next morning, I went out and quickly came back with clothes Theo’s size. I didn’t buy too many — he’d be fifteen soon enough anyway.
I also threw together a simple breakfast. Cooking, unfortunately, was not one of my strengths. Fried bacon, one egg, a bit of vegetables on the side — that was the extent of it. It was hardly worth calling a proper meal, but Theo ate every last bite without complaint.
“Now that you’ve eaten, want to head to the temple with me?”
“The temple?”
“Yes. I want to ask a priest for a blessing prayer.”
I bundled Theo up in several layers of clothing, then wrapped a thick fur coat and a scarf around him. After fitting his hands into gloves, I took his hand in mine and set off together toward the Temple of Repinal.
The broken fragments of the statue had been completely cleared away. The vast space where the great statue had stood was empty now — but in front of it, people had gathered small statues of Repinal that they’d brought from home. Most were wooden carvings, hand-whittled and slightly misshapen from the effort. And yet somehow, to me, they looked more beautiful than any elegant marble statue ever had.
Theo pressed his hands together in front of the statues and prayed quietly.
“What did you pray for?”
“A prayer of thanks. That I was able to meet Lihen.”
I paused for just a moment at the name “Lihen.” You should have met the real Lihen, not a half-blood demon like me.
As we stepped inside the temple, a novice priest with short pink hair greeted us warmly. Luna — an NPC priest.
“What brings you in today?”
“I’ve come to ask for a blessing for this child.”
Even as I spoke with Luna, my gaze kept drifting around the interior of the temple. Quietly taking note of where best to set the fire, how to do it most safely.
The blessing ceremony was more modest than I’d expected. Luna placed her hands gently on the child’s head and murmured a short prayer. A faint shimmer of light flickered above Theo’s head, then quickly faded. And that was the end of it.
“All done.”
Luna said. Theo blinked several times, then looked up.
“My head feels a little clearer.”
“That’s the blessing. Your body and your heart should both feel a little lighter now.”
She smiled brightly.
Outside, the cold air brushed against our faces. Theo held my hand firmly and said:
“I’m glad we came to the temple.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. My heart feels a bit more at ease.”
I smiled and nodded at that.
“If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”
For lunch, we ate properly at a nearby restaurant.
Theo seemed endlessly curious about me as a person — throughout the meal, he fired off one question after another without pause.
My age. My hobbies. Whether I was married. Foods I liked. Foods I didn’t like.
“I’m twenty-five.”
Exactly one hundred years subtracted from Shane’s actual age of 125. It wasn’t an awkward number, whether by appearance or by human standards.
“And your hobbies?”
“Not really anything in particular.”
“Are you married?”
“No. Not even engaged.”
“What about foods you like and dislike?”
“I don’t think I’m a picky eater. I eat most things just fine.”
I answered most of the questions easily enough, but stumbled at exactly one.
“What do you do for work?”
A difficult question. I could hardly confess to being a Demon Legion Commander. But making up some ordinary profession off the top of my head would only cause problems to unravel later. After some deliberation, I finally settled on this:
“…I’m unemployed.”
“What’s unemployed?”
“It means I don’t have a job.”
At that, Theo picked up the menu again. He looked over the price of the beef soup he was eating and his eyes went wide.
“Is it really alright for us to be eating this?”
“It’s fine. I inherited quite a bit of money.”
I had decided to become a man of leisure living off a parental inheritance — in other words, a self-appointed home guardian.
Theo deliberated, then set the menu aside and picked up his spoon again — but he soon muttered with a worried look:
“I still think you should find some kind of work, though.”
“You’re right. I’ll try.”
I scooped up a spoonful of soup and answered absently.
Next we stopped by a bookshop and bought actual fairy tale books. The illustrated picture books with color were quite expensive, but for Theo’s sake, the cost didn’t feel like any sacrifice at all.
I also picked out a few books for myself. A History of Imperial Faith. The Ecology of Demonkind. How to Care for a Child. On the surface they appeared to have nothing to do with one another.
For dinner, I bought bread from a nearby bakery and we ate at home. I spread jam on the slices and served them with milk, and Theo ate it all without a word of complaint. Still, I felt I should learn to cook a little more properly. I wanted to give him a wider variety of things to eat.
That evening, I read him one of the fairy tale books we’d bought at the shop. It was a heartwarming story about a hero vanquishing the demons. Theo adored it and begged me to read it again and again.
Once I’d confirmed that his breathing had gone fully steady and even, I slipped silently out of the bed.
It was time to go about my secret nighttime business.
* * *
Late at night, the temple doors eased open. The priest on duty, who had been dozing off inside the confessional, rubbed his eyes and straightened himself up.
A clear, resonant voice drifted through from beyond the curtain.
“I’ve come to make a confession.”
“What sin have you committed? Confess all to the Goddess of Dawn, Repinal.”
The priest recited the prescribed words in his usual rote manner.
“I haven’t committed it yet. But I intend to, shortly.”
The unexpected answer made the priest tilt his head. The rosary in his hand swayed lightly.
“Might you be able to tell me in more detail what sin you’re planning to commit?”
The priest asked carefully. An answer came promptly. A voice at once cunning as a serpent and pure as a white dove.
“Two nights from now, at midnight — I’m going to set this temple on fire.”
“What—!”
The priest shot to his feet and threw the curtain aside. In that instant, the air in the temple went cold. The visitor’s face was not visible. Or rather — the face was fully exposed, and yet it could not be made out. The blinking eyelids, the curved line of the lips — all of it was visible, and yet the overall impression refused to take shape. As though a fog had settled over the mind.
The red pendant with its geometric eye-shaped crest caught the amber glow of the lantern and glinted with an unsettling light. That was how the priest knew. The Legion Commander who had destroyed the statue had returned — to deliver another nightmare. The priest gaped, jaw slack, his body trembling with terror.
“I wanted to put your love of the goddess to the test.”
The Legion Commander smiled. There was a deep, playful edge to the curve of his mouth.
“When you know in advance that the temple is going to burn — will you stand and fight the flames?”
That demonic gaze bored straight through the priest.
“Or will you empty the temple and flee to save your own lives?”
A suffocating silence fell. It was the Legion Commander, as ever, who broke it.
“For what it’s worth — I’d stake everything on the latter.”
A cool smile spread through the darkness.
The Legion Commander vanished without a trace, just as he had when he’d destroyed the statue. As if he had never been there at all.
The priest’s trembling hand reached for the bell and rang it. Other priests came rushing in, and deep within the temple, a meeting was convened.
The chaos did not last long.
Any other temple might have dismissed the Legion Commander’s threat as bluster. But the priests of the Temple of Repinal were different. More than anything, they despised hollow ceremony and courage worn only for show. The safety of the priests and the faithful — that was the most important principle this temple had always upheld.
“People must be alive to praise the goddess.”
The High Priest said, with full sincerity. Not one person raised an objection.
The conclusion came swiftly. All priests save the High Priest alone would vacate the temple. The faithful were informed under the pretense of a “temporary closure for ritual preparation.” At the same time, the situation was relayed to the knights’ order. Every knight assigned to defend the temple was issued armor carrying a fire resistance enchantment.
The High Priest stood alone before the altar, watching the temple empty around him with a quiet sense of loneliness. The place where the goddess’s shattered statue had once stood. Now filled instead with the small statues the faithful had made with their own hands. He gazed upon that space and prayed softly.
“God, destroy all evil.”
And from somewhere in the darkness, someone watched all of this in silence. The 13th Legion Commander, Shane — with ash-gray hair the color of cinders and hollow blood-red eyes.
