Chapter 21: Trust
"I'm docking your pay!"
The moment those words were out, Lucian hadn't even registered that he'd said them.
It was the reflexive standby he'd developed in his previous life as a team leader — every time Silshana started talking and couldn't stop, that line was how he shut her down. He'd never needed to think about it. It came out the way breathing did.
But now —
The words fell. The room went suddenly quiet.
The kind of quiet that felt almost solid, as if the candle flames had stopped moving.
Because the Supreme Pontiff had gone to his knees.
In those clouded eyes, something was trembling violently.
Lucian blinked.
"Your Grace doesn't need to worry — I was talking about that idiot Silshana."
He added it reflexively, still trying to work out —
Did this old man think he was docking his pay?
Lucian had some recollection of the Theocracy's salary structure. The higher the rank, the lower the pay, if he remembered correctly. Someone at the Supreme Pontiff's level probably drew a monthly stipend that wouldn't cover a mid-ranking capital noble's drinks tab.
Actually — could Silshana have designed that rule specifically to get at him?
Lucian had never hesitated to attribute the most devious motives to Silshana.
But the Supreme Pontiff did not rise.
On the contrary, he bowed lower.
Down that aged face, two lines of tears wound through the deep creases and fell onto the cold floor, each drop making a sound too small to hear in any ordinary room, but in the silence here, perfectly clear.
"Lord God of Judgment..."
His voice was shaking badly, as though it took everything he had to produce a complete sentence.
"You misunderstand..."
Lucian raised an eyebrow.
"A matter of money is nothing." The Supreme Pontiff raised his head, that tear-streaked face holding nothing now but something close to fervent devotion. "You could dock my pay for the rest of my life and I would welcome it gladly."
Lucian was mildly startled.
Was this old man's faith really that profound?
No.
He looked at those eyes and suddenly registered something —
In those clouded eyes there was no fear. No flattery. Only something he couldn't read.
Something like anticipation. The relief of someone who had been waiting a long time for something, and had just seen it come.
"Lord God of Judgment."
The Supreme Pontiff's voice steadied, suddenly.
"Please forgive this old man's earlier discourtesy."
He remained kneeling, but the look on his face had become something more composed. More genuine.
"Please forgive this old man's testing of you. Even to the point of feigning belief and deceiving you as I did."
He said it with complete sincerity, the contrition on his face unmistakably real.
Lucian's pupils contracted, barely visibly.
What does that mean?
This old man was performing just now?
Lucian looked at the old man kneeling on the floor and rapidly replayed the conversation from the beginning. From the moment he'd walked in, the old man's reactions had been shifting — first shock, then doubt, then the look of someone who had "finally come to believe," and now he was saying all of that was an act?
Lucian was genuinely impressed.
That level of performance, in his previous life, would have earned him Best Actor at any awards ceremony.
"Until just now."
The Supreme Pontiff raised his head. In those clouded eyes, a light that was almost sacred.
"This old man has finally confirmed that you are the Lord God of Judgment."
Masaka.
A sense of impending disaster rose quietly in Lucian's chest.
But the Supreme Pontiff did not stop.
"This is a secret known only to each successive Supreme Pontiff."
His voice carried a thread of solemnity, his whole bearing as though bathed in some sacred light, the tear-tracks on his face catching the glow.
"The key information the Lady of Death left behind for confirming your identity —"
He paused, drew a breath, and spoke in a tone close to recitation:
"'Anyone who threatens to dock my pay doesn't need any further verification. That's definitely our guild leader.' — Silshana."
The room went silent again.
More complete than before. More absolute. As if the sound of breathing itself had been taken away.
The candle flames swayed.
Lucian stood in the light, not moving.
His face was without expression.
A crisp "#" was forming slowly on his forehead.
This time Lucian's composure was gone for real.
"Silshana —"
He forced the name out through his teeth, each syllable ground as though it had passed through a millstone.
"You absolute idiot —!"
The outrage rang through the sealed room. The candle flames shuddered with it.
Then he drew a long breath.
Just as he was about to say something —
"Please. Forgive the Lady of Death."
The Supreme Pontiff bowed lower still, his forehead nearly touching the floor.
His voice carried a careful, tentative plea, as though he were terrified that this "God of Judgment" might, in his fury, destroy whatever relics the Lady of Death had left behind.
He paused, as though choosing his words.
"After the Lady of Death witnessed the arrival of the Eight Desire Kings, she had already deduced that you would someday descend into this world as well."
Lucian nodded. That was within his own predictions — it was part of why he was here in the first place.
"And?" He kept his voice as even as he could manage.
The Supreme Pontiff finally raised his head.
That aged face held only something close to devout seriousness.
"The core mission of every Supreme Pontiff of this Theocracy has been — to find you. Lord God of Judgment."
He paused, a flicker of something complicated passing through those clouded eyes.
"Except..."
"Except what?"
"Except the Lady of Death said you were rather..."
The Supreme Pontiff's voice caught.
He rapidly organized his thoughts in silence.
What the Lady of Death had actually said: "That guild leader of mine is a complete coward. He'll definitely change his appearance and hide. When you're searching, don't just watch for the powerful ones — keep an eye on the beggars at the roadside too."
Could he say that?
The Supreme Pontiff offered a silent prayer: Lady of Death, please find it in your heart to forgive this old man's presumptuous editing.
He drew a breath and spoke in a considerably more dignified tone:
"The Lady of Death said you were rather... cautious, and might change your appearance. Out of concern that we might not recognize you, she left that divine message."
Silshana was calling him a coward. Lucian translated this without any difficulty.
"What this old man had not anticipated was that the appearance you chose to change to..."
The Supreme Pontiff looked at Lucian's six-year-old face and physically swallowed the rest of the sentence. He deployed every gram of wisdom and composure accumulated over an entire lifetime to keep his expression from breaking.
"Would be so... young."
Having said it, he lowered his head, his expression a picture of devotion. The Lord God of Judgment surely had his reasons for choosing this particular incarnation.
A second crisp "#" was forming slowly on Lucian's forehead.
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