"Your faith... has it collapsed?"
Anthony cautiously said, aware of the offense in his words, but hearing the new Pope speak of such things piqued his curiosity.
"No, it crumbled long ago on the Night of the Holy Arrival, you should be aware of that."
The new Pope hesitated for a moment, contemplating how to express himself.
"I just feel a bit of regret. My awareness is no longer sharp, and my memories have become blurred. Those familiar faces are gradually being forgotten... I didn't care about this before; after all, we will eventually reunite in the retrospection of our lives, but now I cannot see them."
"So I'm trying to reflect on everything anew, since there's no God to judge me, let me be the one to judge myself."
The new Pope let out a hoarse laugh and then raised his head, looking up at Anthony.
"I just recalled the moment we met."
Anthony appeared somewhat surprised, and memories began to surface in his mind, "I remember it was a stormy night."
